A Year at Meadowbrook Manor

by Faith Bleasdale

  He was in with the ponies.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked, before even greeting him.

  ‘It’s Brian, he’s hobbling, and crying out, so I need to check his hooves, but no one else is here yet. I hope you don’t mind me asking you.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, of course I don’t.’ Harriet was fond of all the ponies but she and Brian had a sort of affinity. He was the new boy in the paddock, and she felt a little bit like the new girl at Meadowbrook. Brian had been welcomed by Gerald, Cookie and Clover, the goats were indifferent, but he was still unsure of his place in the paddock and she knew that feeling. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘If you could hold him and keep him still, comfort him, then I can check out his hooves.’

  ‘Hey, Bri, it’s OK, it’s me.’ Harriet put her arms around his neck, and stroked him, whispering into his ear. He was still making a bit of a racket but started to calm. She watched as Connor gently checked his hooves and found what was causing discomfort.

  ‘Somehow he’s got an old bit of nail stuck. Harry, I’m going to have to pull it out but he won’t like it.’

  ‘Hey, baby, keep calm and Connor will fix you,’ Harriet cooed nervously. She felt a little foolish talking to the pony this way, as if he was a baby, but she didn’t know what else to do.

  Connor opened his vet bag, took something out and started to yank at Brian’s hoof. Brian cried out so loudly that Harriet nearly lost her grip. She tightened it, hushing him, stroking and whispering into his ear.

  ‘Nearly there,’ Connor said. He was getting a bit sweaty as he worked, trying to be gentle. Finally he released the leg. ‘Done!’ he shouted triumphantly.

  Brian, surprised at his leg being freed, broke free of Harriet, headbutting her so she fell over.

  ‘Bloody hell.’ Harriet lay splayed in the paddock, Brian looming over her to see if she was all right, alongside Connor. ‘Brian, don’t act like you care now, you pushed me.’ She felt a little red at the undignified way she was sprawled on the grass.

  ‘Here, take my hand.’ Connor reached out and pulled her up. Brian trotted off as if nothing had happened.

  ‘Stop laughing,’ Harriet snapped.

  ‘Sorry, but it was quite funny. Thank you for helping, you’d make a pretty good assistant. Can I get you coffee, or breakfast to make it up to you?’

  ‘Yes, because I’ve missed your mum’s yummy breakfast actually.’ Her pride was bruised, as well as her bottom.

  ‘Can’t promise anything so grand, but I probably have toast, and the bread might not even be mouldy.’

  ‘Great. What an offer.’

  Fortified by toast and marmalade – she loved how old-fashioned Connor was in so many ways – they set back out to the sanctuary. He wasn’t due at the practice until later so he said to make up for this morning he would help her muck out the stables.

  ‘Who knew that city girl Harriet Singer would enjoy getting her hands dirty,’ Connor teased as she started raking up old hay. She threw it at him.

  ‘Shut up, Connor, this is temporary remember,’ she said as he brushed the hay off.

  ‘Ah, not converted you yet then?’

  ‘I have to admit, I don’t mind it as much as I first thought, but I still think I’m probably more of a desk sort of person. Hey, shall we go and check on the rest of the animals.’

  ‘Lead the way, m’lady.’ Connor pinched her bottom and Harriet flushed. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t help it!’ he laughed. She shook her head and walked off, trying to hide her blushes.

  ‘Hey, Fred,’ she shouted, waving as he was feeding the chickens, something that she was getting used to seeing.

  ‘Jenni’s had to go to sort out something, so I’m doing this alone today,’ he said, as the chickens clucked happily around him.

  ‘You look almost at home with them.’ Connor grinned.

  ‘Oh I am, honestly, although Elizabeth Bennet and Emma seem to have a bit of a rivalry for my attention.’ Two of the chickens looked up at that point.

  ‘Nothing surprises me here, nothing,’ Harriet said. ‘Right, see you later, Freddie, we’re off to check on the others.’

  They just entered the field where the pig pen was when Harriet stopped. Betsy and Buddy had been joined by two more pigs, Napoleon and Cleopatra – two more fully grown micropigs. But as Connor strode forward, Harriet grabbed his arm and pulled him back slightly.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘I think Gus is talking to them.’ Gus was stood leaning on the side of the pen; while the pigs ate, he did seem to be chatting away.

  ‘Shall we eavesdrop?’ Connor asked.

  ‘Oh God we really shouldn’t,’ Harriet said, before dragging him behind a tree where, of course, they listened to what Gus had to say. Harriet clamped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. Poor Gus. He was such a sweetheart, but honestly, he was talking to the pigs as if they were human.

  ‘So, I’m trying not to worry about the future of Meadowbrook and live in the present, something I’ve never been very good at,’ he was saying. ‘Always planning ahead me, even as a young boy, Harry will tell you that.’

  Connor looked at Harriet, who shook her head.

  ‘Anyway now, with the loss of Dad, the painting and the gardens, I feel as if I can breathe again and so I am trying to be more impulsive. Which brings me to Amanda—’

  ‘Come on,’ Harriet hissed and dragged Connor away through the other entrance to the field so Gus didn’t see them.

  ‘Hey,’ Connor said when they were out of earshot. ‘Why did you drag us off, I wanted to hear what he had to say about Amanda.’

  ‘But it was too private. If Gus wants to talk to either of us, he knows where we are. But it’s not fair to spy on him.’

  ‘I know, you’re right. Do you remember when we spied on him when we were teenagers, when he brought Rachel home for the first time?’

  ‘Oh God, yes, we hid didn’t we because we wanted to find out what she was saying about us.’

  ‘Yes, but only because she didn’t like us,’ Connor pointed out.

  ‘Me, Connor, she didn’t like me. Told Gus I was far too sure of myself.’

  ‘Well, you were quite.’ Connor grinned.

  ‘Maybe then but not anymore,’ Harriet finished. ‘Anyway, poor Gus, if he likes talking to the pigs we shouldn’t ruin that for him.’

  ‘No, we shouldn’t. Besides, it’s well known that they are very good listeners,’ Connor said.

  ‘That’s what Gus said. Oh, look there’s Pippa.’ She waved over to her sister.

  ‘Oh hi,’ Pippa said, running up to them. ‘Guess what, I’ve just taken the dogs out with the dog walking volunteers and one of them, Pat, said that he’s managed to find homes for three of the dogs, they’re coming in later to do the paperwork.’

  ‘How did he do that?’ Harriet asked.

  ‘He’s been telling everyone and anyone who’ll listen at the local golf club and it’s paid off.’

  ‘Who needs PR when you’ve got Pat?’ Connor said. ‘Right, ladies, I need to get off to work, but, Harry, why don’t you meet the people who want to rehome, with Jenni of course, see how the process works?’

  ‘Sure,’ Harriet agreed, although she suddenly had a thought which made her heart drop; she hoped it wasn’t Hilda they would be taking.

  Chapter 16

  ‘Oh God, it’s going to rain,’ Pippa lamented as she discarded the piece of toast she had been playing with.

  ‘Pip, it’ll be fine,’ Harriet replied, trying to comfort her sister. The summer fête meant a lot to all of them and all their nerves were a little shredded. However, as usual, Harriet felt that she had to be the one to keep it together. She looked out of the window and her confidence dipped slightly. The dove grey sky looked a little threatening.

  ‘Besides, we’ve set up a lot of marquees,’ Freddie stated calmly. ‘We’ll just shove as much as we can undercover if we need to.’ Freddie and Pippa actually made a complementary team; he was laid-b
ack, she was slightly neurotic; a perfect mix to organise a summer fête, it seemed. They had also become closer than ever, which was doing Freddie no end of good. He had drunk a lot less and been busier than Harriet had ever seen him. She hadn’t wanted to make too much of a big deal about his drinking, Gus had warned her against it, but they had all cut down. Not having wine every night, or brandies or cocktail hour, and Freddie had joined them. He even said waking up without hangovers was a revelation. But then he was busy and happy, which probably helped keep him away from alcohol a bit more.

  ‘And anyway, we all have the Meadowbrook spirit, we won’t let a bit of rain ruin the village’s best annual event,’ Gus announced. ‘The gardens have never looked better. We’re expecting a record number of visitors.’

  ‘And I’ve spent hours training Hilda,’ Fleur piped up. Harriet smiled. The dog show was going to be quite an event. Not in the same league as Crufts, more ‘Crusts’, as Freddie had named it. But what their rescue dogs lacked in pedigree and talent they made up for in enthusiasm and personality. Everyone involved in the sanctuary plus the volunteers from the dog walking group were taking part, the aim being to rehome some of the poor loves. Connor had reluctantly agreed to host the show and Fleur had begged to be allowed to partner with Hilda.

  It had given Harriet an opportunity to spend more time with Fleur, and Gus, as he always came out to watch Fleur trying, and mainly failing, to get Hilda to do what she was told. It had been a good, no, a necessary bonding time for them all. Gus was beginning to learn that what Fleur needed from him wasn’t money, but love and time. It wasn’t that Gus didn’t want to spend time with her, it was that he didn’t know how. Harriet thought that his ex-wife, Rachel, had sapped so much of Gus’s confidence that he didn’t know how to be himself, and the way she controlled his relationship with their daughter had ensured that Gus was always insecure around Fleur. But Fleur, twelve, very mature in many ways, and about to turn thirteen, was developing a mind of her own and the great thing was that her love of animals, and of Meadowbrook, meant she was demanding to spend more time with them and therefore her father. Her mother didn’t stand a chance.

  Harriet had tried gently to encourage their relationship, and Gus’s confidence with Fleur was growing by the day.

  ‘Right, well today is for Dad,’ Harriet raised her coffee cup in a toast, ‘and therefore we need to do our best.’

  ‘I remember last year’s fête,’ Pippa said, tears welling. Harriet knew it would be an emotional day, she just didn’t quite know how she would deal with it yet. ‘Dad opened it with such great flourish.’

  ‘Oh yes, I remember Granddad’s speech about how special Parker’s Hollow was, how much the sanctuary meant to him and how being part of the village community was imperative for Meadowbrook.’ Fleur smiled, sadly.

  ‘Gosh, Fleur, you remembered that practically word for word,’ Gus said.

  Again, Harriet felt a pang that she hadn’t been there for her father’s final event.

  ‘Even I came down,’ Freddie said. The final nail in the guilt coffin.

  ‘Yes, but, Fred, you got drunk in the sherry tent,’ Gus pointed out.

  ‘I did, because it was very nice sherry.’

  ‘Tut.’ Mark didn’t look up from the newspaper.

  ‘What was that, Mark?’ Harriet asked. Mark had been in a foul mood since arriving the previous evening. Harriet wasn’t sure if it was because Pippa had been so preoccupied with last-minute fête arrangements that she’d barely paid him any attention or maybe he’d had a bad week at work. But this was a side to Mark, a moody side, that she hadn’t yet encountered. She thought perhaps this was what her father was talking about when he had said, in his pre-will video, that he wasn’t sure Mark was right for his youngest daughter. Harriet had brushed it off when Pippa reassured her that their father had got the wrong end of the stick, for Pippa’s sake, but now she was beginning to wonder.

  ‘Sorry what?’ Mark said.

  ‘You tutted loudly,’ Freddie said.

  ‘Oh, it must have been something I was reading.’ Mark smiled, grimly.

  ‘So, Mark, what are you going to do today to help out?’ Harriet asked. She knew she was poking the bear but she thought maybe she would begin to find out exactly who the man married to her sister was.

  ‘I’ve told Pippa I’ll support her in whatever she needs. In fact I shall be by her side all day.’

  ‘Thanks, Mark, I do appreciate it,’ Pippa said, leaning over to kiss her husband.

  Harriet focused on her coffee. Her sister seemed to adore her husband, and kept telling them all she was happy, so why was Harriet questioning it?

  ‘So, Granddad always opened the fête, who’s doing it this year?’ Fleur broke the silence.

  ‘Well, if you need me to, I’d be happy,’ Mark said. Harriet choked on her coffee.

  ‘No, thanks all the same, Mark. I mean no one in Parker’s Hollow knows who you are,’ Freddie said.

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ Pippa shot back.

  The fête flyers had billed a ‘surprise celebrity guest’ attending, but no one knew who it was, or even if there was one. Not even Pippa. Freddie had said he was sorting it and the only person he would tell was Bella, as the fête’s official PR. To say that this was a worry was an understatement. Parker’s Hollow were all speculating who the celebrity would be. The gardening club were hoping for Christopher Biggins or Charlie Dimmock, other speculation was the cook from Downtown Abbey, Mary Berry who would judge the Meadowbrook bake-off, or the judge no one could quite remember from Strictly. Harriet was more than a tiny bit worried they were going to be bitterly disappointed.

  ‘Well, despite the doubters, we have actually secured a very special guest,’ Freddie announced.

  ‘And he hasn’t even told me who it is. Frankly though as Bella’s involved I kind of trust her,’ Pippa added.

  ‘Thanks, Pip, you don’t trust me. Right, well I guess I can tell you now, the special guest opening the fête will be … drum roll please … Hector Barber,’ Freddie announced. There was a brief silence.

  ‘Who?’ Pippa asked.

  ‘No idea,’ Gus added.

  ‘I’ve never heard of him.’ Harriet felt concerned.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Fleur said, almost knocking her orange juice over. ‘You mean Hector from Single’s Holiday?’

  ‘What’s Single’s Holiday?’ Harriet asked.

  ‘Only the best TV show ever,’ Fleur said.

  ‘You watch it? You’re allowed to watch it?’ Gus blustered, like an outraged parent. ‘You don’t watch it with me and I can’t believe your mum would let you. You shouldn’t be watching that, not at your age.’

  Fleur coloured. ‘But Dad—’

  ‘I haven’t seen it, it’s got a terrible write up in the Radio Times,’ Gus continued to bluster.

  ‘I can’t believe you read the Radio Times, Gus. Actually on second thoughts I can,’ Freddie added unhelpfully.

  ‘What is it?’ Harriet repeated.

  ‘It’s an incredibly popular reality TV show where single people go on, couple up, shag and pretend to fall in love so they can come out and make money on Instagram,’ Freddie explained.

  ‘Mum doesn’t let me watch it,’ Fleur admitted. ‘But everyone at school does, so I watch it on the computer in my room.’

  ‘Fleur, I forbid you to watch that rubbish,’ Gus stormed.

  ‘Gus, remember peer pressure, let’s not forget how hard that was,’ Harriet said, reasonably. Gus understood more than most. Being a bit sensitive didn’t help him at boarding school and he had to change, to toughen up, to fit in.

  ‘Of course. But I don’t like the idea of my twelve-year-old daughter watching people having sex,’ he said.

  ‘I’m nearly thirteen, Dad,’ Fleur piped up.

  ‘It’s disgusting,’ Mark added, unhelpfully.

  ‘Oh, do you watch it then?’ Freddie asked. Pippa hit him on the arm.

  ‘OK, Fleur, we’ll talk about it late
r. But, Freddie, no offence, if only you and Fleur know who this Hector bloke is, no one from Parker’s Hollow will,’ Gus pointed out.

  ‘He’s right,’ Harriet added. ‘He’s no Christopher Biggins.’

  ‘But, you know he’s doing it for free and Bella and I thought if we tell everyone he’s a celebrity off the telly they’ll all be happy. That’s how it always worked in the clubs. We always had these reality TV stars doing personal appearances and people, for some reason, lapped it up.’

  ‘Because they were on drugs?’ Gus suggested, helpfully. ‘I’m pretty sure that most of the people at the village fête won’t have had anything stronger than cider, and even the strongest cider might not be enough.’

  ‘I can’t believe I’m going to meet actual Hector,’ Fleur said, starry-eyed. ‘Dad, I know you don’t approve and I promise I keep my eyes closed when they’re actually doing it, you know the sex stuff, but can I get a photo with him? The girls at school will be well jell if I put it on Insta.’

  ‘Not sure what “well jell” or “insta” means, but yes, you can have a photo with him, but only if I am there at all times and also if you promise not to date boys until you’re at least twenty-five,’ Gus said with a wry smile.

  ‘So, did he win this show then?’ Harriet asked. She didn’t watch TV since being back at Meadowbrook, but maybe she should give it a go. It sounded appalling but compelling.

  ‘Oh no, he was voted out by the other people in the show in week three for sleeping with three of the girls and none of them knew about the others at first. But his banter was really good, so he’s secretly quite popular,’ Fleur explained. ‘And he’s well fit.’