by Sharon Booth
At a sudden tapping at her door, she rubbed her eyes and called uncertainly, 'Who is it?'
The door was pushed open. Libby stood there, smiling shyly. 'Dad said to tell you your cup of tea's ready and your breakfast won't be a minute.'
'You're joking, right?'
Libby looked at her in confusion. 'No. Why would I be joking? Aren't you hungry?'
'It's six thirty!'
'I know. You've slept for ages. Come on, it's a full English. I'm starving!'
She ran downstairs, and Eden sat up in bed, pushing her hair out of her eyes and yawning. Was this what it would be like every day?
She reached for her slippers and pulled them on, then stood up and went over to the window. Pulling the curtains apart, she blinked as daylight flooded the room. So, it was true, it really was morning. It wasn't the brightest start to the day, though. Surely, it wouldn't rain again today? There must have been a full month's quota tipped on Yorkshire yesterday.
'Bacon and eggs coming right up,' said Eliot, as she shuffled into the kitchen. He paused, spatula in hand, as he took in the sight of her, standing there in her pyjamas. 'I'm guessing you're not a morning person?'
'This isn't morning,' she informed him. 'It's still the middle of the night.'
He laughed. 'Don't be daft. Here, sit down and get that cup of tea down you.'
'At least there's waiter service in this hotel,' she said, falling into a chair and cupping the mug with one hand while stifling a yawn with another.
'Hmm, you can get them ideas out of your head,' he told her, dishing sausages onto the plates. 'Now you're here, you can take over the breakfasts. Reckon it's my turn to be waited on, for a change.'
She thought he had a point. If he was up this early he deserved to have his breakfast cooked for him, at the very least. She doubted Honey would agree, though. 'Certainly. If you don't mind waiting until around ten o'clock, I'll be happy to help.'
'Ten o'clock! Day's almost over by then. You should be up at six. Set your alarm. You'll soon get used to it.'
'I sincerely doubt that. I'm sure it won't hurt you to do your own breakfast and let the rest of us sleep in. Throw a few Coco Pops in a bowl, or something.'
The look he gave her told her exactly what he thought of that idea, and Ophelia and Libby stared at her, obviously sharing his opinion.
She took a sip of tea to stop herself from laughing at their faces. Honey would be proud of her. 'Where's George?' she asked, seeing as he wasn't in the kitchen.
'Still asleep,' said Eliot. 'Doesn't usually wake up 'til gone seven.'
'So, let me get this straight,' she said. 'A two-year-old has more sense than the rest of you put together? Says it all, really.'
'There are things to be done around the farm,' said Eliot, obviously struggling to be patient. 'It's not a nine-to-five job. I can't put on a suit and head out to work at ten-to nine, you know. I have to get on with it.'
'And why do the girls have to be up so early? I mean, if you have to be out at this ungodly hour, fair enough, but why make them suffer? Can't they have a lie in, or do you want them to be as downtrodden as you?'
He poured some tomato gravy onto the plate and slammed it onto the table in front of her. 'They had to get up when I got up. There was no one else to see to them, so they had to have their breakfast when I did, and that gave them plenty of time to get themselves ready for school. Daisy used to come over, if she could, for around seven thirty. She'd see to George and take him home with her for a few hours before work, while I got the girls to school and got on with the jobs round the farm.'
Eden thought what a palaver it all sounded. He must have really struggled to keep things going without Jemima, and of course they'd developed a routine. They'd have had to. She thought he probably wouldn't have managed at all without Daisy. She'd obviously been a massive help to him. What was in it for her, though? As if she couldn't guess.
'So, now I'm here and school finishes in a couple of days, I suppose we can develop a new routine,' she said to the girls. 'As in, let's all stay in bed, except for Daddy. At least until George wakes up.'
Ophelia frowned. 'We always have our breakfast with Dad. And, besides, we collect the eggs and let the hens out, and feed them and water them.'
'And I've got Flora to see to,' said Libby. 'She's our pony. Got to give her fresh water, and sometimes she needs brushing, and in the winter, there's feed to sort and mucking out to do, and fresh hay and clean straw.'
'The child is joking, of course?' said Eden in her best Honey voice.
Eliot said nothing but put a plate of bread in the middle of the table.
'And the dogs and Mummy's cat need feeding,' continued Ophelia.
'And Ophelia's usually got homework to finish,' said Libby.
'No I don't!' said Ophelia, glaring at her.
Libby gave her a knowing look and reached for some bread.
'Dry bread?' said Eden. 'So, this is your idea of a full English breakfast? Sausages, fried eggs, mushrooms, bacon, all smothered in this tomato gravy stuff, and with dry bread to dip in. Well, you don't get this kind of thing at The Fat Duck.'
'What's a fat duck got to do with it?' asked Ophelia.
'Of course, I've eaten bacon ice cream. That was very good.'
Ophelia's and Libby's eyes widened. 'Bacon ice cream? You can't get bacon ice cream.'
'Yes, you can. If you go to the right places, of course. Heston Blumenthal is a creative genius.' She was mimicking Honey perfectly and rather impressing herself. 'I drew the line at the snail porridge, I admit, but it beats dry bread and tinned tomatoes.'
She lowered her head quickly to hide her face. Eliot was glowering again. Gosh, he looked devastatingly handsome when he glowered. Not that he didn't look handsome all the time, but the glower really added a certain something. She was sure she had lust in her eyes, and she mustn't let him see that. It was worth annoying him to see that smouldering expression. He was sex on a stick. How inconvenient.
Handing the girls their plates and telling them to close their mouths and stop looking so gormless, he finally sat down and began to eat. God, he even looked sexy when he ate. Sort of all manly and hunky.
She thought of Joshua, picking up everything and inspecting it before nibbling at it as if it would bite back, and Cain wolfing everything down as if he was under a four-minute warning. She'd often thought he didn't taste a single thing. Food didn't stay in his mouth long enough for his taste buds to start working.
Noticing her looking at him, Eliot paused, returning her gaze with a challenge. 'Aye? Summat up?'
He had a sausage on his fork, which he held in the air while he waited for her answer. Eden gulped. 'No, nothing. I like to see a man enjoying his food.'
He looked suspicious, as if trying to decide if she was insulting him or not. After a moment's hesitation, he carried on eating. 'Tuck in,' he told her. 'Not got all day.'
She did as she was told, surprised to find how tasty it all was. She wondered what bacon ice cream actually tasted like. Honey had raved about it, but she was just showing off because her friend had managed to bag a table after being on a waiting list since she was about four. Personally, three rashers of back bacon and a couple of Cumberland sausages was like manna from Heaven for Eden. She ate it much slower than she would have liked to and hoped Eliot wouldn't tell Cain how she'd finished the lot, even mopping up the last of the gravy with a slice of bread. Cain would be instantly on his guard if he knew, because Honey would have run a mile from that little lot.
'Right.' Eliot pushed back his chair and stood, collecting his plate. 'Time to get on. Oh, looks like it's raining again,' he added, glancing at the window, where the first drops hit the glass. 'You all right to do the pots?' he asked her.
She'd expected to be doing them, anyway, but she rolled her eyes, and tutted. 'I suppose so. If I must.'
'Aye, you must, at least for this morning. I've got enough on. Lorry's coming today.'
'What lorry?'
Lib
by looked sad. 'For the lambs.'
'What do you mean?'
Ophelia mimed slitting her own throat. 'End of the road for the fattest lambs today.'
'You're joking!' Eden wondered how an eight-year-old could be so blasé about the whole thing. 'But lambs are so sweet.'
Eliot looked at her in obvious despair. 'Well, yes, but they're also where I make my living. Enjoy the bacon, did you?'
'Yes, but —'
'So, you're not a vegetarian, then. Pigs have as much going for them as sheep, but you didn't say owt about tucking into your full English, did you?'
'But lambs are babies!'
'Aye, and their meat fetches a much better price than mutton, sad to say. Not that it's a fortune. Don't know how we keep going, half the time.'
'Can't you sell the wool and live off that?' she asked.
Eliot glanced at his daughters, and they all laughed.
Eden frowned. 'What's so funny?'
'You don't know the price of wool, then,' said Libby.
'Costs me more to shear the bloody sheep than I get back for the fleece,' said Eliot.
'But, I thought —' Eden shrugged. 'I know that in the Cotswolds, fortunes were made in wool. Half the place exists because of the fleeces.'
'That were a long time ago. Things have changed. My sheep are Swaledales — good, strong, hardy sheep. Their wool's only really used for carpets and rugs, and the like. There's no money in that side of things. Not anymore.' He sighed. 'Not much in the meat, either, truth to tell. Hard times. Hard times.' He shook his head and put Ophelia's empty plate in the sink with his own. 'I've put some breakfast in the microwave for George. Can you listen out for him? And can you make sure the girls are dressed and ready for school by eight? I'll pop back around then, to give you directions to the school. It's about nine miles away. I'll put George's car seat in your car, too.'
'Where are you going?' she asked, flummoxed to realise she would be alone with the children.
'Like I said, busy day. Lorry's coming for some of my lambs and some of me barren ewes, and I've got drenching to do, too.'
'Drenching?'
'Worming. My ewes, and the lambs I want to keep, need dosing.'
'Oh, lovely,' she said.
'Do you want to help me collect the eggs?' asked Ophelia. 'You can meet the hens.'
'Or you could help me with Flora,' suggested Libby.
Eden shuddered. Horses scared her to death. 'Er, no thanks. It's raining, in case you hadn't noticed. Again. I think I'll stay inside this morning, get my bearings. Maybe tomorrow?'
'Can you feed the cat?' asked Eliot. 'I'll sort the dogs out, no worries. They eat in the boot room, but they all sleep in the barn, apart from Tuppence. Bella, though, is definitely a house pet.' He motioned to a cupboard. 'You'll find her food in there. Very particular, she is, so follow Libby's instructions. I'll be back to see the girls off to school.'
'Hang on!' said Eden, starting to panic. 'What about George?'
'What about him? Like I said, his breakfast's in the microwave. Make him a cup of tea, he likes that. His cup's in the cupboard. Make sure his tea's cool enough. No sugar. He had a bath last night, so just clean his teeth, brush his hair, and stick a clean nappy and fresh clothes on him.'
'Nappy! I don't know how to change a nappy.' She really didn't, either, and wasn't looking forward to learning.
Eliot sighed. 'Libby will show you. She's a dab hand.'
'Is she?' Eden looked at the little girl with respect.
'Can I go now?' he asked her impatiently.
She nodded reluctantly. Talk about being thrown in at the deep end.
Chapter Ten
She managed to find the school. Eliot had hunted around and found an old letter from the headmaster and punched the postcode into her SatNav.
'Should be all right. Libby and Ophelia know the way, any road.' He'd planted a kiss on George's cheek. 'Don't you look smart with your hair all brushed to the side.' He'd grinned. 'You managed to change his nappy, then?'
'Hmm.' Eden glanced at Libby. 'She helped. A lot. God, what the hell have you been feeding him?'
'There's nothing wrong with him. He's a growing lad. I reckon we'll have to start potty training him in a couple of months. The lasses were out of nappies by the time they were two and a half.'
Eden screwed up her nose. 'What's with the we? I won't be here in a couple of months, so you can deal with that little task all on your lonesome, thank you very much.'
Eliot had rubbed his forehead. 'Aye, happen you're right.'
He'd looked so weary for a moment that Eden had longed to give him a comforting hug and tell him she'd happily stay and help out a bit longer, but Honey wouldn't have, so she couldn't. Besides, he'd think she'd gone mad. She was practically a stranger, and, quite honestly, she had the feeling that Eliot wasn't one to encourage random hugs.
Ravensbridge was almost ten miles from the farm — a large village on the banks of the Skimmer. Square, stone cottages with slate roofs gathered around a village green, where several old men in waterproof jackets and flat caps sat on wooden benches, watching their world go by and not seeming to notice the fine rain that still persisted. As far as Skimmerdale went, it appeared Ravensbridge was practically cosmopolitan, containing a small police station, the primary school, a tiny doctor's surgery, a museum of farming life, and a cluster of shops that sold crafts, home-baked goods, general provisions and newspapers, and outdoor clothing. There were three pubs, and even a post office, which seemed to be the only post office between Fleetsthorpe and Kirkby Skimmer. There was also a children's playground, which Libby and Ophelia assured Eden they had visited on several occasions with their friends after school. Eden wasn't sure if they were hinting that she could take them, like they'd been taken before, but she wasn't about to make any promises until she'd cleared it with their father first.
The primary school itself seemed to consist of three stone buildings, with large casement windows and big double wooden doors, that circled a concrete playground. It was about half the size of Eden's own primary school and seemed rather old-fashioned and quaint in comparison.
'You've got everything?' she asked, as the girls pulled up the hoods of their coats and climbed out of the car. Not that it mattered. She could hardly go all the way back to Fleetsthorpe, if they'd forgotten anything, could she?
'Yeah. We're fine.' Libby tugged on her skirt, which was a little too short in Eden's opinion, and glanced nervously at her sister.
Eden frowned. The little girl looked pensive. 'Are you okay, Libby?'
'Yes, 'course I am. I'll see you at three. You will be here?'
'Of course. Right where I am now.'
Libby nodded, and Ophelia hooked her arm through her sister's. 'Come on, Libby. Only two more days, and then we're free.'
They walked through the school gates, and Eden watched them thoughtfully. Libby's reluctance was apparent. Was there a problem, she wondered?
George let out a wail of boredom, and she blinked, turning round to face him. 'You can shut that up, for a start, young fella,' she told him. He grinned back at her, and she found herself smiling. He was a real cutie, even though he was capable of producing nappies that could be used as chemical weapons. 'Come on, then. Back to the fray,' she said.
Keeping George occupied while tackling the housework wasn't easy. He got bored very easily, and Eden soon found that sticking him in front of the television and hoping for the best wasn't an option. Instead, she sat him in his highchair and gave him a cup of milk and a banana, while she mopped the kitchen floor and washed the unit doors and worktops. There was all that ironing to do, too. Daisy had washed and dried it, but it was still sitting in the laundry basket in the boot room. She brought it into the kitchen and put it all on the table. George clapped his hands and reached out towards the piles of clothes.
'You want to help me sort it?' She smiled at him and began to pull out various socks, holding them up one at a time. 'Shall we count them? One, two, three ...
'
George laughed and made noises that could well have been him counting along with her, or, at least, trying to say the words.
After an hour of ironing, during which time she'd pulled faces, sang songs, and generally talked herself hoarse to George, Eden finally unplugged the iron and folded up the ironing board. 'Right. Now what?'
She looked up as a pitiful mewling came to her and Bella strolled into the kitchen looking annoyed.
'Crap! I forgot to feed you, didn't I?' She hunted in the cupboard, found the cat food and then realised she didn't know what she was supposed to feed her, and Libby wasn't around to ask. 'Oh, well, pot luck for you,' she said, squinting at the label and not understanding a word of the directions. She unbuckled George and carried him with her to the boot room, where Bella's bowl was. Eventually, after a lot of faffing about, putting George back in his chair, and trying to decide how much biscuit to add to the meat, she plonked Bella's bowl back on the kitchen floor and told her she could eat in there for once, as a special treat. 'Don't tell anyone,' she added, wondering if she was going a little bit crazy.
Hunting around, she found some polish and a duster and carried them, and George, into the living room. Plonking George on the sofa, she began to dust. George got bored after about ten minutes, though, and started to whine.
'Won't be a minute,' she told him.
After polishing, she picked him up to cuddle him and realised he felt damp. Drat, she would have to change his nappy again. After finding the baby wipes and nappies, she laid him carefully on the carpet and took off his nappy, praying she would be able to put a fresh one on him with no problems.
