Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage

by Milly Johnson

  There was a beautiful portrait of Nicholas and Victoria, arms around each other, staring into each other’s blue eyes. Underneath were the words: ‘We knew from the very first meeting at Oxford University that we were meant to be together.’

  There was no mention of the estate Nicholas planned to build after demolishing an existing animal sanctuary and ruining the peace for the people who lived in Ironmist. Surely there was something that Heath hadn’t tried? The higher Nicholas rose, the further it would be for him to fall. There must be some leverage there?

  Viv slept well on the fat, comfy mattress, but her mind was spinning plans in her dreams.

  Chapter 31

  Viv woke up ages before her alarm was due to go off at seven, her brain rolling with activity. She had a shower and some poached eggs and sat at the dining table making notes for herself. She figured on dressing for physical work today and dragged on her tracksuit bottoms and woolly jumper – the most ‘farm-worthy’ clothes she had. Then, just before eight, she was striding across to Wildflower Cottage ready for whatever duties Heath Merlo had got lined up for her. The low mist hung on the air in fine curls and tendrils, delicate garlands for the wildflowers. Viv wondered if it would linger when the houses were built, and if the blue-violet love-in-a-mist would continue to flourish, pushing through manicured lawns much to the annoyance of the inhabitants, who would choke it with weed-killer.

  Heath was chewing toast with one hand, putting Pilot’s food bowl down on the floor with the other. He gave Viv a cursory look up and down and his greeting words were, ‘You’ll need wellies.’

  You’re onboard so I can go back to being my usual charming self. Not, Viv read into that.

  ‘I’m not stupid,’ she said, ‘I’ve put them on the doorstep. I didn’t want to wear them indoors.’ She did have some consideration for his home.

  ‘Go and get them on then,’ he commanded. ‘Unless you’d like me to cook you a full English breakfast first whilst you read the newspaper.’

  Viv bit her tongue as she went back outside. Bub purred and rubbed himself against her as she pulled on her wellies, anticipating more wiseguy comments from Heath when he saw them. Unlike his heavy-duty green Hunters, hers were bright yellow covered in bold sunflowers. They’d only had children’s wellies left in the shop when she’d bought them for the previous year’s rough winter.

  ‘Come on then,’ said Heath, appearing behind her. ‘Let’s get star—. Good God.’

  He’d seen them then.

  He marched forwards with long strides leaving Viv to follow in his wake. She tried to picture the sleek and refined Antonia Leighton sharing a life with him and found she couldn’t. He wouldn’t fit in at Ironmist Castle and Antonia definitely wouldn’t swap the family seat for a lowly cottage. But, as Armstrong’s mum had said, opposites do attract each other. Maybe it was a replay of the story of their ancestors: the delicate refined Cecilia and the rough, handsome, wild Alfred who was in love with her until the day he died. Except Cecilia sounded a lot sweeter than Antonia – and Alfred a lot more gentlemanly than Heath.

  With no warning, Heath stopped and whirled around to face Viv.

  ‘What was that you said yesterday about “whatever Geraldine might have you told you”? You were talking about not being very good with animals.’

  He obviously hadn’t taken it in at the time and it had just come back to him.

  ‘That . . . I’m not very good with animals,’ said Viv, looking up at him frowning down at her. ‘Geraldine didn’t ask if I was okay being around them in my phone interview. And as I presumed I’d be sitting behind a desk all day, I didn’t think it mattered that . . . that . . . I’m scared . . . of them.’ She attempted a smile but achieved a grimace.

  Heath rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘Great,’ he said. ‘Just great. It gets better and better. When Gerry’s fully recovered, I think I’ll kill her.’

  ‘Who knows. I might be a natural,’ said Viv, convincing neither of them. ‘But I’m here and I’m all you’ve got. And Armstrong. I’m sure he’ll help you.’

  ‘I can only trust him with certain duties,’ said Heath. ‘And when his health is on a level, which, sod’s law, it isn’t today. Armstrong has very dark days.’ He tapped his head. ‘I don’t know what he’ll do when the sanctuary closes. Working here gives him a sense of purpose that he has never found anywhere else.’

  Viv dropped a heavy sigh. She and Hugo had been at university with a girl who was bright and beautiful and had everything going for her but mentally had been in a black hole. She’d taken an overdose in the second year. Viv herself had had some depressing times. She’d always been aware that the surgery she’d had on her back could leave her paralysed. And she’d been thrown into her own dark tunnel when she thought her mother was going to die. But always, there had remained that pinprick of light in the distance to focus on that said, ‘Follow me, I’ll lead you back into the sunshine.’ And she had forced herself to concentrate on that, and head towards it.

  ‘Just treat me like a sort of animal idiot,’ said Viv. ‘Like a kid who’s lived on an alien planet and doesn’t know . . .’

  ‘Okay, I get the picture,’ said Heath, grumbling under his breath. ‘Let’s give you a crash course in animals then, shall we? We’ll start with some easy ones then: the goats. Not even you can be frightened by them.’

  The goats were so cute. He was right, no one could be freaked out by them. Ray stayed constantly close to his brother as if they were attached by an invisible thread and because Roy let Viv pet him, Ray did too.

  ‘We’ll sort out the horses next,’ said Heath, giving the goats a final pet. They butted against his legs when he stopped stroking them as if they wanted more.

  Viv started to feel her anxiety levels spike as they entered the paddock.

  Heath opened their stable door and turned the horses out into the field. Roger seemed in no rush to venture outside, but the lure of fresh grass worked instantly on Keith. Heath blocked Keith’s first steps out of the stable with his body. Even he, with his towering height, was dwarfed by the old horse.

  ‘I need to check his front hoof. He had a stone in it recently and he cut his foot. Never stand where a horse has a chance of kicking you. Even one as docile as Keith can kill you.’

  As Heath stood in front of Keith’s leg and tapped it, the old horse offered up his hoof for him to inspect. Heath bent down and tilted the foot up so that he could look at the underneath. Keith leaned on him a little, since he was now standing on three legs.

  Viv was horrified. ‘You don’t need me to do that, do you?’

  ‘Er no,’ Heath returned, with a note of alarm. ‘I can trust you with a bucket and a tap though, can’t I? The horse trough needs filling.’

  Viv grabbed the bucket and filled it with water from the tap on the wall. Roger came wandering over to her and Viv flinched.

  ‘Don’t make sudden movements, it makes him nervous. Give me your hand,’ Heath ordered. Viv lifted her arm gingerly and Heath took hold of it and extended it towards Roger’s long nose.

  ‘He won’t bite you,’ said Heath, reining in his impatience with her. ‘Just stroke him.’

  Viv placed her hand on Roger’s nose, smoothed her hand down the rough hair as the horse stood, head bent, allowing her to do it.

  ‘He’d let you do that all day. But you don’t have time,’ said Heath. ‘Grab those two pitchforks. They need fresh bedding. Move the dirty stuff to the side and I’ll load it onto the compost heap later.’

  As they forked out the old straw in the stable and replaced it with new, Viv thought she’d tell Heath what she’d read the previous evening.

  ‘I saw an article about Nicholas Leighton in an online magazine. One of those that makes Tatler look like Women by Women. Did you know that he’d been made a patron of an animal charity?’ she said, more than a little part of her hoping that he’d realise a fresh pair of eyes on the matter would help after all.

  ‘Rockin’ Horses,’
he replied, flattening her expectations. ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘Doesn’t that work in your favour?’ Viv stretched a niggle out of her back. ‘I mean, wouldn’t the newspapers be interested in a story about a man who is allied to . . .’

  ‘ . . . an animal charity,’ he finished the sentence off for her. ‘Do you know, Miss Blackbird, we never thought of that.’ He didn’t miss a beat as he heaped fresh straw onto the stable floor.

  ‘You’re being sarcastic aren’t you?’ Viv said tentatively.

  ‘Very,’ said Heath. ‘Trust me, we have tried everything. Every-little-thing. Do you know how much the man is worth? Don’t you think that buys editors and favours wherever he wants them? The government is pushing for new housing everywhere; Leighton is seen as a hero for providing it. He’s publicly offered to help pay the cost of shifting the animals from the rundown ancient place to shinier, better homes; he even offered to give me one of his new houses – give me – although I told him at the time that he could shove it up—’ He cut the sentence off, but it was obvious where Nicholas Leighton could put it. ‘He has a PR team working for him that can make the Angel Gabriel look sordid if placed next to him. Tell me, who do you think the newspapers would paint as the benefactor and who the stroppy, selfish ingrate who is digging his heels in?’

  ‘You could bypass the press and flood the truth online,’ Viv tried.

  ‘Leighton’s solicitors would come down on me like a ton of bricks. Now, I don’t have any money, so I’m not worried about being sued particularly, but he could make things very awkward for the people who live in Ironmist. He will crush anyone who threatens his name and good character. He has a lot to lose and sticking a few pins in him is like cutting the head off a hydra: four more grow back in its place. The only way to beat Nicholas Leighton is to kill his plans stone dead – and I can’t do it. And, as much faith as Geraldine has in spirits rising up from mists, I think even the supernatural would have difficulty with this one.’

  He stuck the pitchfork in a bale of hay as if he’d punctured Leighton’s heart. ‘Now, let’s go and see to Wonk and Bertie.’

  Chapter 32

  Stel hadn’t stopped smiling since Saturday evening. She felt like a seventeen year old again. But then, she had felt like a seventeen year old every time she hooked up with a man – and a seventy seven year old after they’d used her and spat her out at the other end. So this time, she told herself that she really should take things slowly and steadily. Still, something else countermanded that instruction, because Ian Robson could very well be the one. She felt there was something special about him, something different to all the others. He’d gone the extra mile for her, finding Basil and treating her like a princess on their first date.

  Stella Robson, Stella Robson. It sounded much better than silly Stella Blackbird. It would be wonderful and so respectable to have a married name at last. She had wanted to fizz with excitement when she had spoken to Viv the previous night.

  Stel had always enjoyed her job, but she had never been as glad to get into work as she was on Monday. On her morning break she saw Ian through the kitchen window standing talking to Graham, the other gardener, over by the water feature and a few hundred butterflies started flapping in her stomach. How could she have thought he wasn’t fanciable? He always smelled lovely and dressed nicely, was tall and slim and had such a wide smile. As if sensing her eyes on him, Ian turned in her direction and Stella raised her hand and smiled enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically – as if she were a fourteen year old waving at Justin Bieber. Her soaring spirits plummeted as Ian gave her the briefest of polite smiles then resumed talking to Graham. Stel felt winded. What had he done that for? Did he see her properly? Had he changed his mind about her? Was he just being polite when he’d said he was looking forward to seeing her at work?

  Then, just as Stel was about to slink to her post behind reception, she saw Meredith, the curvy new auxiliary nurse, walk from the kitchen into the garden holding two mugs which she passed to the gardeners and there was nothing polite or forced about the way Ian smiled at her. Stel couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Meredith was lingering long after she had handed over the coffee, and didn’t seem in a hurry to get back to her duties. Stel watched as Ian talked to her, laughed at something she said. She saw Meredith tuck a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear – a sure sign of flirting, if that psychologist woman on Big Brother was anything to go by. She thought she saw Ian glance towards the window at her again, but she must have been mistaken. Stel gulped as Meredith pushed him gently on the shoulder as if he’d said something cheeky to her.

  In the space of five minutes, the temperature of Stel’s day had dropped by seventy degrees. She felt like crying as she went behind reception and logged back on to her computer. She knew she was being pathetic and didn’t care.

  Chapter 33

  Bertie liked his belly rubbed. He rolled over when Heath walked into his pen, his hooves waving in the air. Viv couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  ‘He likes ice-cream too,’ said Heath, answering her open-mouthed expression. ‘This is quite normal for a pig, believe it or not. They’re clean and intelligent animals. That’s why he has a toy-box. There’s a yellow dispensing ball over in the corner. Fill it with these, will you?’ He pulled a bag of sliced apples out of his pocket. ‘Then open the gate so he can go in with the horses. He likes to sleep by himself but spend the day with them.’

  Viv did as she was told. She had a home waiting for the shire horses – a well-to-do place where Roger and Keith would live out a very luxurious life, but they wouldn’t accommodate Bertie. The woman on the phone had been quite snotty with her as well. ‘I doubt the horses would miss a pig,’ she said. ‘They don’t form attachments like that.’ As Viv watched Bertie nose his yellow ball into the neighbouring field so he could play with it in close proximity to his equine friends, she doubted the woman knew as much about horses as she claimed. When Roger abandoned the grass to gently nudge Bertie’s head, it was impossible not to see it as a sign of affection.

  ‘He’s never actually believed he’s a pig, that’s the problem,’ said Heath. ‘He imprinted too much on horses. He was in love with our white foal Sooty when he was a piglet.’

  ‘Sooty?’ asked Viv.

  ‘Armstrong named her. Sadly she died when she was three. Bertie was very depressed. But he bonded with the shires. He likes Wonk but she doesn’t like him. From her attitude, it’s clear she thinks he’s not good enough for her.’

  Wonk, it appeared, liked to watch the geese. When Viv opened up their wooden houses, they flooded down the ramp, wings a-flapping, hissing at her and forcing her to scream with terror. She noticed Heath stifling his laughter.

  ‘You really are the wrong person to be working in an animal shelter, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Viv, hopping out of the way of a goose that was taking an unhealthy interest in her legs.

  ‘You didn’t ask for a pay rise,’ said Heath, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest. She noticed he did that when he meant business. He raised his eyebrows as if waiting for an answer to a question.

  ‘Pardon?’ What did he want her to say to that?

  ‘I mean, any normal person who’d been asked to double their workload would have asked for a pay rise.’

  Viv snorted. ‘Would you have given me a pay rise if I’d asked?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  She held up her arms in a gesture that said ‘well then.’

  ‘You’re either a saint or a nutter,’ said Heath, reaching into the goose house to retrieve any eggs.

  ‘Only a nutter would work full-time for the ridiculous wage you were offering in the first place,’ Viv mumbled to herself as the persistent goose attempted to peck her welly and she made a hasty retreat to the other side of the gate. She’d had enough of the geese. She did, however, find the hens very sweet. As they scratched for bugs in the earth, they looked as if they were trying to moonwalk. She didn’t m
ind collecting the eggs from the hen house. It reminded her of the Easter egg hunts her mother used to set up for her and her friends when they were little.

  Then it was time for the big scary birds of prey. She waited near the flying arena for Heath to return with their food.

  ‘Every day we hose down the gravel in their aviaries,’ said Heath, grabbing a hosepipe and handing it to Viv. ‘You’ve met Beatrice and know how amenable she is, so let’s start with her.’

  Heath watched with amusement as Viv started to feed the pipe through the wires.

  ‘You have to actually go in,’ he said.

  ‘In?’ Viv let out a screech worthy of Frank the vulture.

  Heath opened the aviary door.

  Beatrice began to yarp. ‘Morning, Bea,’ said Heath. He held his hands flat out at either side. ‘That means, I have no food so there’s no point in trying to fly to me,’ he said. ‘You need to move any old food, bones, casts out of the way first, then we hose, then we feed, which, today, will be some more venison. The birds will see you and associate you with the reward of tasty meat. They’ll be putty in your hands in no time.’