But she wasn’t laughing now, was she? And she would probably never forgive him either.
Chapter Six
Cuckoo Cottage was exquisitely pretty with its Suffolk pink colour and its thatched roof, but what set it apart from its neighbours was its enormous garden at the back. Over the years, Flo had bought pockets of land from the neighbouring farmer, slowly extending her garden to accommodate her ever-expanding family of animals which included three threadbare stray cats, a large flock of free-ranging chickens who frequently made it into the kitchen, half a dozen vociferous geese, a little flock of ducks, a pair of pigs and a couple of retired donkeys.
That the little house was called Cuckoo Cottage wasn’t lost on Flo who thought it a very apt name indeed. After all, she’d been called everything from eccentric to doolally on account of her animals. The recently arrived donkeys she’d acquired from an ancient major general, for example, had really caused a stir in the neighbourhood. The trouble was, once one got a name for rescuing things, people wouldn’t leave you alone. The phone would be forever ringing with people saying, ‘I’ve got this kitten that I simply can’t find a home for,’ or ‘I know you love animals. Well, there’s this snake…’
She’d had to say no to the snake. As much as she hated turning an animal away, she had to draw a line somewhere and legless reptiles was it. But she hadn’t been able to say no to the pair of donkeys with their long sad faces and their oh-so-tickleable ears, and the poor major general simply hadn’t been able to cope any longer. Not that Flo was a spring chicken. She was in her late sixties now and had all the usual aches and pains that accompany old age. It was funny, though, because she didn’t feel old. Sometimes, when she glanced at her reflection in a mirror or a window, she’d do a double take. Just who was that barmy-looking woman with the wild white hair? Ah, her beautiful hair which had once gleamed a rich chestnut. She’d sigh and shrug her shoulders. Life was about more than hair, and pining about things that had been lost long ago wouldn’t get the animals cleaned and fed now, would it?
It was Monday morning and, true to her word, Bryony had turned up bright and early wearing a pair of jeans and a pair of purple wellies.
‘Well, here I am,’ she said, a very cheering smile on her face. ‘Where do you want me?’
Flo had considered this very question the night before. The truth was, although she’d longed to have help for some time, she just wasn’t used to it. She did things her own way and in her own time. Not all of the jobs got done, of course. There was only so much Flo could accomplish on her own, but she always muddled through. It would be strange having Bryony coming into her little world. What if she challenged the way she did things? What if they didn’t get along together? Flo shook her head. Bryony seemed like a lovely young woman. Perhaps she wasn’t used to physical work like Flo was, but she seemed keen to get stuck in.
‘I thought the donkeys,’ Flo said.
‘You have donkeys?’
‘You didn’t know? I thought everybody within a mile radius could hear my two.’
Bryony shook her head.
‘Well, come and meet them.’
Flo led the way to the back garden, filled with raised beds, old sheds, a couple of greenhouses and endless animal enclosures.
‘The donkeys are my latest arrivals. Belle and Beau.’
‘What fabulous names.’
‘Yes, well, they’re dear things. I’d always fancied keeping donkeys, but never had the space until last year when I had a little windfall and bought another bit of land out the back. Come and see.’
They walked to the end of the garden towards the field where the donkeys lived and there they were, standing together by the gate, waiting for their morning carrot which Flo duly gave them.
‘They’ve caused me no end of bother since their arrival,’ she confessed. ‘Haven’t you, darlings?’ she said, giving them both a tickle behind their ears. ‘You see the neighbour over there?’ She nodded to her right. ‘He plays the trumpet. I never really noticed it until I got the donkeys. I was sort of aware of it. It was sometimes quite nice to do my chores to a musical accompaniment, and he’s very good, you know. But it sets the donkeys off.’
‘How do you mean?’ Bryony asked.
‘Braying,’ Flo explained. ‘They seem to want to answer it back whenever they hear it. At first, I thought it was rather funny, but the uppity neighbour there,’ she said, nodding to her left, ‘Dr Skegby, well he becomes incandescent with rage and swears all sorts of nasty words over my hedge. Honestly, I never thought to hear such language from a retired GP.’
Flo could see that Bryony was doing her best not to laugh.
‘Just wait until you hear it. Trumpet first, then donkeys then uppity Dr Skegby! It’s a wonder I haven’t been reported to the authorities.’
‘Oh, Flo!’
‘They’ve also proved excessively costly because I’ve had to have repairs done to the field they’re in, as well as to the stable, and I’d no idea that donkeys’ feet were so expensive. My savings aren’t what they were, but we muddle through somehow. They’re such wonderful creatures, you see. One can’t help but smile when one looks at a little donkey with its woeful expression and those great long ears.’
‘So you’d like me to clean their stable?’ Bryony asked.
‘Would you mind?’
‘Not at all.’
‘The equipment’s over there and the muck heaps by the hedge. I’m hoping it will make good compost in due course. Nothing goes to waste here.’
Bryony hesitated for a moment. ‘How do I get in?’
Flo opened the gate and gave Belle and Beau a little slap on their bottoms.
‘Just push them to one side. You don’t need to be afraid of them,’ Flo said, and then added, ‘you aren’t afraid of them, are you?’
Bryony shook her head, but Flo thought that the young lady looked decidedly nervous. Flo had never been able to understand people who didn’t automatically love and trust animals as much as she did, but realised that they did exist.
‘If you’d rather clean out the hen coop –’
‘No, no!’ Bryony insisted. ‘I’m good with the donkeys.’ And she walked into the field.
Flo left her to it, but sneaked back later and was pleased to see that Bryony had a big smile on her face and was actually giving Beau a little scratch behind his ears.
It was little wonder that housework was such a very low priority with so many lives to take care of, Flo thought as she walked into the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea. The animals always came first, but she couldn’t help wishing that things were a little tidier. Just the other week, she’d thought she’d lost the necklace that her mother had given her on her eighteenth birthday. It was a simple gold chain with a beautifully fashioned letter ‘F’ for Florence. It had turned up when she’d been hunting through one of her recipe folders. How it came to be there, goodness only knew.
The garden also seemed to run away with her. Some would call it wild, but Flo referred to it as voluptuous, which was a much nicer word and captured well the beauty and fecundity of everything from the fruit trees to the fat blooms in the flower beds. Everything was big and bountiful. Yes, Flo had a lot to be grateful for, she knew that, especially as summer was fast approaching and the evenings were getting longer. Summer was always so much easier and she loved nothing more than pottering around her garden with the animals as her companions.
Having made the tea, Flo took the two mugs outside. Bryony had finished in the donkey field and it looked as if she’d already cleaned out the hen coop and the ducks and goose enclosure too.
‘You found the outside tap, then?’ Flo said, handing her a mug.
‘Oh, yes. But I startled a cat when I turned the hose on, and I think I saw another one under the hen coop.’
‘That’s okay. They don’t worry the hens. Actually, the hens stand up to them.’
‘How many cats have you got, Flo?’
‘Just the three. Patches, Dusty
and Threddy.’
‘Freddy?’
‘No, Threddy. Short for Threadbare.’
Bryony laughed and then sipped her tea.
‘I say three,’ Flo continued, ‘but there are always others hanging around and I’m not sure if they’ve got proper homes or not. Now, I don’t want to turn into one of these mad old cat ladies, but it’s looking more and more likely, isn’t it?’
‘I’ve always thought of you more as a mad old hen lady,’ Bryony said.
‘Cats, hens, donkeys – doesn’t matter to me. I might be deemed mad, but I couldn’t be happier.’
‘But how do you take care of all these animals on your own?’
‘How? Because I want to,’ Flo told her. ‘They’re my family.’
Bryony seemed to be thinking about this for a moment.
‘What about real family, Flo?’
‘There’s just Mitch and Sonny these days.’
‘You never wanted children yourself?’ Bryony asked. ‘I mean – sorry – I didn’t mean to pry. I’m just, well, interested.’
‘It’s okay,’ Flo assured her. ‘I don’t mind talking about it.’ She took a deep breath, her mind flitting over the decades that had passed her by all too quickly. ‘It never happened for me. That whole marriage and children thing. It would have been nice if it had happened. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t have. Maybe I would have married a toerag.’ Flo chuckled and Bryony laughed too.
‘There’s no way of knowing, is there?’
‘Exactly. Maybe if I’d turned left instead of right one day, I’d be Lady Flo, living in a mansion somewhere with a butler and a Rolls Royce. Or maybe I’d be living in poverty after some toerag had duped me out of all my money. But what’s the point in speculating? You can’t live like that and I’ve had a good life and I don’t live with regrets, Bryony, that’s the main thing. I’m grateful for what I have.’
Bryony looked around the garden and Flo saw her taking it all in. The greenhouse was full of young plants waiting to be planted out, the geese were bathing and the hens were pecking happily at the corn she had sprinkled on the ground.
‘Well, I think this is heaven,’ Bryony said.
Flo smiled. ‘I’m glad you think so. Not everyone does, you know. They take one look at this place and deem it a tip. They don’t see the beauty or the joy. They just see the nettles and the chaos. But this is paradise to me.’
‘And I can clear the nettles for you,’ Bryony said, ‘but I’d like to leave a little bit of the chaos because that’s just you, I think.’
That made Flo laugh.
It was then that they heard a car horn sound.
‘Is that for you?’ Bryony asked.
‘I’d better go and see,’ Flo said, finishing her tea and heading towards the house.
There was only one person who sounded their car horn to get her attention. Mitch Lohman. Sure enough, as she walked around the cottage to the front garden, she saw Mitch’s beaten-up old car sitting out in the road. Only when he saw her did he switch the engine off and get out of the car.
‘You took your time,’ he said.
‘I was out the back with the animals.’
He gave a dismissive sort of laugh.
‘You got Sonny with you?’ Flo asked. ‘Shouldn’t he be at school?’
‘He’s not feeling so bright.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Flo said, going to the passenger door and opening it. ‘How are you, my cherub?’
The little boy shrugged his bony shoulders as he got out of the car.
‘Well, come inside and I’ll find you some cookies.’
They both followed Flo.
Mitch, who was beanpole tall and as skinny as a rake, had to bend almost double so as not to knock himself out on the low doorframe of the old cottage.
‘I can’t stop,’ he said. ‘Just came to drop him off.’ He slapped the boy in the middle of the back and nearly sent him flying. Flo instinctively held her arms out towards him and he walked into them. She stroked his chestnut hair. It was exactly the same colour as hers had once been, but it was a tad too long on him, the fringe dangling over his eyes. Perhaps she could give it a quick trim once Mitch had left. She’d done a pretty good job with Belle and Beau’s tails when they’d first arrived. How hard could a little boy’s hair be?
‘I’ll leave him with you, then,’ Mitch said with a sniff.
‘All day?’
‘Gotta work, ain’t I?’ he said although he’d never satisfactorily explained what it was he did. He then bent down to whisper something in Sonny’s ear. ‘Got that? Don’t you forget, now?’
Sonny stared at his father, but didn’t say anything.
‘I’ll just grab his bag,’ Mitch said, disappearing out to the car and coming back a moment later with a large sports bag. ‘He’s got all his school books and stuff in there in case he needs them.’
‘But you’ll be picking him up later?’ Flo asked.
Mitch didn’t answer, but turned around and headed towards the front door.
‘Mitch?’ Flo called after him but, by the time she’d reached the garden, he was driving away.
Flo closed the door on her nephew and returned to the kitchen, watching as Sonny ate his cookies. He didn’t look ill to her, but maybe he was hiding it well or maybe he’d told his father a lie to get out of going to school. Hadn’t kids always manufactured a quick tummy ache to get out of a lesson they hated? Or maybe he was being bullied, Flo thought in dismay. He was a delicate sort of child. She wouldn’t be surprised to find out he had an enemy or two.
She pulled up a chair and sat down next to him.
‘Okay?’
He nodded.
‘Everything all right at school?’
He nodded again.
‘No problems?’
He looked up at her. ‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know,’ Flo said, trying to sound casual. ‘Like other kids.’
He shook his head.
‘Good,’ she said, hoping he was telling the truth. ‘So, what do you want to do today? Because you don’t look ill enough for bed.’
‘I’m okay.’
‘You are?’
‘Yeah. Dad just said I should have the week off.’
‘The week? Don’t you mean the day?’
Sonny looked confused for a moment and Flo frowned. Why on earth would Mitch tell his son he should have a week off?
‘So, you’re feeling okay?’
He nodded.
‘That’s good. Well, maybe we shouldn’t take you to school just in case, okay? Maybe we should do something fun. After all, it isn’t every day I get to spend with my great-nephew, is it? Now, have yourself another cookie. I’ve just got to nip outside, okay?’
Flo left the house and soon found Bryony. She was wearing Flo’s strongest gardening gloves and had made a good start on the nettles behind the hen coop.
‘Everything okay?’ Bryony called over, wiping her hands on the front of her jeans and coming to meet Flo.
‘I’m not sure,’ Flo said honestly. ‘That was Mitch. He’s dropped Sonny off.’
‘Is he okay?’
‘Yes, I think so, but Mitch told me that Sonny wasn’t feeling well, but he seems alright to me.’ Flo shook her head. ‘I can’t help thinking Mitch is up to something. Isn’t that awful? To be so suspicious of your own family? But that’s just the way it is with him. I simply don’t trust him.’
‘Maybe Sonny was feeling unwell at home, but made a recovery as soon as he saw you?’
Flo smiled. ‘Maybe.’
‘I feel better for being here,’ Bryony told her.
Flo reached out and gave her arm a squeeze. ‘And I feel better for having you here.’
‘Would you rather I skip off now and leave you to it with Sonny here?’
‘Whatever you want to do, my dear. Although I might take him into town later and have a browse around.’
‘Well, I’ll just pull a few more of these nettles up and then I’ll get
going.’
‘Thank you, my dear. You’ve been a great help. Do take a couple of boxes of eggs and a nice fat cabbage with you. I’ve got some cookies wrapped up for you too.’
‘Oh, thanks, Flo! I’ll come again later in the week, okay?’
Flo left her to it and returned to her great-nephew who was finishing a cookie.
‘Right!’ she said, startling him as she clapped her hands. ‘Let’s have a day out!’
Flo couldn’t remember a more splendid day. She and Sonny had driven into Castle Clare, climbed to the very top of the castle and looked out over the town below. They’d had sandwiches and ice lollies from the supermarket, had poked around the antiques shops trying on silly old hats and had even made a good effort in the garden together, watering the greenhouse and collecting eggs. It had certainly put colour in the young boy’s cheeks, but he was still looking anxious which made Flo feel ill at ease.
‘Sonny, dear,’ she said after they’d eaten tea and had washed and dried all the dishes, ‘did your dad say anything about picking you up?’
Sonny shook his head.
‘Did he tell you if he was going anywhere or what he was doing?’
Again, Sonny shook his head.
‘No, of course he wouldn’t,’ Flo said, silently cursing her nephew. ‘Well, listen, let’s make some hot chocolate, eh? And, whilst you’re drinking it, I’ll make up the spare bed for you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You can stay the night.’
‘Can Threddy sleep in my room?’ Sonny asked.
Flo smiled. Sonny really adored that old cat of hers. ‘Of course he can. You’ll find he makes a pretty good hot water bottle, that cat. But we’ll have to find you something to wear.
‘I’ve got my pyjamas,’ Sonny said.
‘You have?’ Flo said in surprise. ‘Well, good.’ She smiled at him whilst silently wondering just what her nephew was up to.
When Tuesday morning dawned, Mitch still hadn’t shown up and there was no answer whenever Flo tried his mobile. She was seriously beginning to wonder if Sonny was there for the whole week like he’d suggested the day before.
Natural Born Readers (The Book Lovers 3) Page 7
