Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage

by Milly Johnson

  ‘See you tomorrow then.’

  ‘Have a good evening. With your mum.’

  Stel put down the phone, a different woman to the one she had been five minutes previously. Yes, girl-power and all that, telling you not to let a man dictate your mood. It was all easier said than done. Cake, home-made cake at that, and a man who spent time with his mother. The idea of Ian Robson as a life partner just got better and better.

  *

  With Geraldine’s arrival came her beautiful floral scent flooding the kitchen. Viv still couldn’t put her finger on what that mystery aroma was that hid from her analysis. She’d work it out, it always came to her in the end, but without it, the replica she had created in her mini-lab was lacking.

  ‘Oh Heath, don’t fuss,’ said Geraldine, hobbling over to the armchair with a crutch under her arm. Her left leg was bandaged up to the knee and she was wearing a strapped medical sandal. Her right wrist was encased in plaster and suspended in a sling around her neck. ‘Hello, Viv. How lovely to see you.’ Geraldine’s smile was warm and genuine. Viv gave her a careful hug of greeting and helped Geraldine manoeuvre herself down onto the sofa.

  ‘Oh my, how wonderful it is to be back,’ said Geraldine, patting Pilot’s great head with her uninjured hand. ‘That’s a nice welcome, Pilot. Did you miss me, boy?’

  ‘Sounds like someone else did too,’ laughed Viv, watching Piccolo stride up and down the kitchen table with his ridiculous legs, chattering at three hundred decibels. Bub, however, was asleep in his basket and deigned to open his eyes briefly. That was all Geraldine was getting from him for the time being.

  ‘Cup of coffee?’ asked Viv, rushing over to the kettle, which had just started to whistle.

  ‘Oh yes please,’ said Geraldine with relish.

  ‘The lady at the Corner Caff came down half an hour ago with some buns for you,’ said Viv. ‘And she brought a card from Mr Mark and Mr Wayne. I think they’ve put a sign outside that you’re okay and were coming home today.’

  Geraldine chuckled. ‘I hope they didn’t put one up yesterday saying what a clumsy idiot I was.’ Her laughter dried up. ‘Of all times to go and do something as daft as this.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ replied Heath. ‘We’ll manage. You do too much anyway.’

  ‘I like things spick and span,’ said Geraldine. ‘This house has been good to me and I want to be good to it.’

  ‘I’d better go and carry on with my duties,’ said Heath, glancing at his watch.

  ‘Yes, yes, don’t let me hold you up,’ said Geraldine. When he had gone, though, she dropped her head onto her chest. ‘Oh, Viv, I could cry. Just when we need all hands on deck.’

  ‘You stop that right now,’ said Viv, who’d had more experience of geeing someone up than she should have had in her young life. ‘I’m learning. I’ve helped feed the animals and clean them out . . .’

  ‘But you’ve got all the office work to do as well,’ Geraldine butted in.

  ‘There wasn’t that much to do today. I’ve done some banking and written a few emails. Oh, and ordered some feed.’ She could have rung around trying to find an alternative home for the shire horses, one which could have taken Bertie also, but she’d leave that until tomorrow. She couldn’t bear that she might fail. ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ said Geraldine. ‘I don’t think I could stomach anything. I’ve been worried sick over this place. What was all that about you being up in the Leightons’ stables?’

  ‘That was all a storm in a teacup,’ said Viv, delivering a mug of coffee to Geraldine’s good hand. ‘I really did take shelter to get out of the rain. There’s no more to it than that.’

  Well . . .

  ‘I did say to Heath that it had to be something like that,’ said Geraldine and smiled. She has such a pretty face, thought Viv. Geraldine must have been a real beauty when she was younger. Her eyes were bright and shiny-grey and she had sharp, high cheekbones.

  ‘He asked me if I was a journalist,’ said Viv. ‘It’s because I ask too many questions. I’m just naturally nosy; but it’s made him suspicious of me.’

  With good reason, perhaps? that persistent voice in her head whispered.

  ‘Ironmist is a funny place,’ said Geraldine. ‘The people who live here are curious about others and at the same time fiercely protective of their own business.’

  We don’t owe strangers any answers.

  ‘So they want to have their cake and to eat it then.’ Viv proffered the plate of Corner Caff buns to Geraldine, but she refused them.

  ‘Ironmist is a safe harbour, Viv. It attracts people who . . .’ As if someone had leaned over Geraldine and whispered in her ear to keep quiet, she cut off what she was going to say. ‘Oh I don’t know. It’s just village mentality, that’s all.’

  Viv wanted to press her, but she knew she couldn’t. Not today. It didn’t feel right.

  ‘I’ll have to sit here with a book today, but tomorrow I’m going to find something – anything – I can do. I refuse to be idle.’

  ‘You should really rest, surely?’ said Viv.

  ‘I’ll rest in my grave,’ quipped Geraldine. ‘It’s all hands on deck here, even broken ones. Why couldn’t it have been my left one, eh?’ She lifted up the offending hand and gave it a hateful look.

  ‘Will you need any help getting in bed later?’ asked Viv.

  ‘Possibly, if it’s no trouble,’ replied Geraldine, with a heavy out breath. ‘No showers for a while. I’ll have to make do with a strip wash and I might need a hand with my bra. Shame you’re here really, I could have asked Heath if you weren’t.’ She laughed and Viv’s laugh joined with hers but then Viv had a flash brain picture of Heath Merlo unfastening her own bra and she gulped.

  ‘Well, if you’re comfortable, I’ll just go and check to see if there are any replies to my emails about the animals.’

  ‘You go, love,’ said Geraldine, reaching down for her handbag but her hand fell short of it. Viv retrieved it for her and saw the water swimming in Geraldine’s soft grey eyes.

  ‘I could kick myself,’ Geraldine said. ‘Such a stupid thing to go and do.’

  Viv interrupted her. ‘Accidents happen. We can’t turn the clock back, so we’ll have to forge forwards, won’t we? Besides,’ she smiled, ‘kicking yourself will only make it worse.’

  Geraldine reached for Viv’s hand and gave it a grateful squeeze.

  ‘I wish I’d been as sensible as you at your age, Viv. You wouldn’t believe how different my life would have been.’

  Viv leaned down and gave Geraldine a small impulsive kiss on her cheek. Then she went into the office in the hope that she could find some miracle online to help the sanctuary stay open. The least she could do for the animals was try her best.

  Chapter 38

  Heath wasn’t very talkative as Viv helped him to put the animals away for the night. The geese had already taken themselves off into their house, though the chickens needed some chasing. Viv wondered if it was because they were worried that once locked up, they might never be allowed into the sunshine again and that they’d wake up back in their old, miserable battery lives. It was a shame she couldn’t speak to them in hen language and assure them that wasn’t the case.

  Any attempt Viv made to initiate a friendly conversation with her boss came to nothing. It was as if he had closed off from her, in case anything he said she might use against him in her role of journalist or industrial spy. Or maybe he was still smarting from her comment about Antonia Leighton helping them. Which was, she considered, a reasonable thing to say in the circumstances. Why was it that the most unmatchable people were drawn together? And why was it that she found herself trying to second-guess what Heath Merlo thought about her, far more than she should?

  ‘I was going to go and get some fish and chips. Would you like some?’ Viv asked him, as he shut the stable door on the horses.

  ‘Thank you but no,’ he replied. Then, as if he realised he had been abrupt he added
in a much friendlier tone, ‘I said I’d call in on someone.’ He pulled his car keys out of his pocket. ‘Mrs Macy’s cat isn’t well.’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘Sadly I think she’s going to have to let him go.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ said Viv. ‘Is he very old?’

  ‘At least twenty. No teeth, one eye, arthritis and now a lump in his throat that’s stopping him from eating. And still she thinks I’ll bring a miracle with me.’ Viv thought that for all his bolshiness with her, he’d talk to Mrs Macy as gently as he’d try to treat her cat.

  ‘Have you ever thought about opening your own veterinary practice?’ asked Viv. ‘You must miss it, surely?’

  ‘I miss it very much, Viv,’ he said and she saw his throat rise and fall with a gulp of emotion. ‘My dream was to build a practice there.’ He pointed to the land at the side of the cottage. ‘I wanted it to be a specialist centre for birds. It’s where my major interest has always been.’

  ‘You’ll go back to being a bird vet then, I presume,’ said Viv. ‘When . . . if . . .’

  ‘Yes, I will,’ said Heath. ‘But it will be a lesser dream, doing it somewhere else.’ And then he said goodnight and headed off to Mrs Macy’s.

  ‘Here, let me give you the money for these,’ said Geraldine when Viv returned with the fish and chips.

  ‘Welcome Home treat,’ replied Viv, refusing to entertain Geraldine’s offer. ‘Thought they might spark up your appetite. Just accept and enjoy.’

  ‘You’re a very kind girl, Viv,’ said Geraldine. ‘I shall eat them out of the paper. They taste so much better that way.’

  ‘Someone in the queue asked me how you were,’ replied Viv, cutting the long fish in half. The batter yielded with a soft crunch under her fork. ‘The shop was full and I knew everyone else was listening so no doubt there will be an update outside the Stores from Mr Mark and Mr Wayne tomorrow.’

  Geraldine chuckled. ‘The people of Ironmist are good folk.’ Then she sighed. ‘I’m so lucky I found this place. Or rather it found me.’

  ‘How did you come to live here?’ asked Viv, shifting a piece of fish around in her mouth to cool it down.

  ‘I was on my way to lose myself in Manchester and I took the wrong road chasing a short cut. I ran into mist just at the top of the hill there’ – she pointed to it through the window – ‘so I stopped the car and walked down. I thought that there was bound to be a café or a pub where I could get something to eat and wait for it to pass. I saw the sign in Mr Wayne’s shop window for a job at the sanctuary, and the rest is history. Isme led me here. That’s why I’ve always believed she would save us. She does exist, and I don’t care who thinks I’m batty for thinking it.’

  Lose myself. What a strange way to put it.

  Bub’s front paws landed on Viv’s legs, scaring her half to death as he begged for some fish. Viv gave him a large flake in payment for not digging in his claws and he took it under the table to kill it. Geraldine threw the tail end over to Pilot, who carried it outside in his large jaws to eat in peace in the warm summer night.

  ‘Heath’s missing a treat not joining us,’ said Viv. ‘He’s gone to see Mrs Macy’s cat.’

  ‘People often ask him to call and check on their animals. He’s very kind,’ said Geraldine.

  ‘Wouldn’t his life be a lot easier if he didn’t have to live here?’ Viv said and instantly regretted it because it sounded harsh, clumsy.

  But Geraldine, to her surprise, agreed with her. At least in part. ‘Oh Viv, you have no idea how much easier his life would be. But it wouldn’t be a fraction as fulfilling or enjoyable for him. You need to see him in the arena, flying the hawks. Then you’ll realise how hard he will find life away from Wildflower Cottage. He was brought up here, the place is part of him. I hope you start to feel it, too. It’s a special privilege to connect with a place like this.’

  Geraldine reached for the teapot, but she couldn’t lift it and Viv took over.

  ‘Heath’s mother never settled here. She left them, came back, left them again – many times. It couldn’t have helped him form a healthy template for relationships. She left for good when Heath was about ten. He never heard from her again. I can’t imagine how anyone could desert their own child. Even the Leightons put their daughters on pedestals.’

  The Leightons. Every road led to the Leightons.

  ‘He was a lovely man, Heath’s dad,’ Geraldine went on. ‘Very gentle. A good man. He wanted Heath to go out into the world and enjoy its challenges. He told me how proud he was when his son qualified as a vet and married an animal-loving country girl. Then everything went downhill so quickly, with Heath’s father and Sarah passing within months of each other. It was a hard time.’ Her shoulders gave a sad lift and fall. ‘But have I ever heard Heath rail against his obligations? Have I ever seen any evidence of him not wanting to be here? Never.’

  ‘What was Sarah like?’ asked Viv. She pictured someone blonde, fragile and quiet.

  ‘She was . . . a very pretty girl,’ returned Geraldine, after a long thoughtful pause. It wasn’t much of a description, thought Viv.

  ‘Were they together long?’

  ‘Two years, I believe.’

  ‘And was she from Ironmist?’

  ‘Mawton. Her family have the feed store there. Bernal—’

  Geraldine cut the name off short, as if she’d said something she shouldn’t have. Viv pretended not to notice.

  ‘There’s a feed store there? Why do you go all the way to Fennybridge for supplies then?’ Fennybridge was at least fifteen miles past Mawton.

  ‘The feed store at Fennybridge is much better,’ said Geraldine. But she appeared to have thought of that answer too quickly for it to be a viable one. No, there’s more to it than that, thought Viv. Why didn’t Heath do business with his in-laws?

  But she didn’t ask. It wasn’t fair to interrogate Geraldine, especially when she had just come out of hospital. Viv made some small talk about fish and chip shops and what a huge range of things some of them sold. The Ironmist one sold fish, chips and that was it.

  ‘I’m glad Heath didn’t frighten you off, Viv,’ said Geraldine later when she had eaten her fill.

  ‘What’s the deal with Antonia Leighton, Geraldine?’ asked Viv. ‘I made the mistake of asking earlier why she couldn’t help him and I don’t think he took it so well.’

  Geraldine let out a long breath and raised her eyes up to the ceiling. Then she pointed to a bare lit bulb on the wall. Tiny moths and midges which had been attracted to the light were bumping against it.

  ‘See that, it just about sums it up. Antonia is attracted to Heath because he’s handsome and strong and totally illegal so far as her family are concerned. Heath would never encourage the affections of a Leighton: how could that mix of blood ever work? But the mind and the heart are very different. Some creatures are drawn to the things that are destined to harm them.’

  Geraldine seemed entranced by the moths, their wings flittering against the hot glass, drawn by the brightness which would burn them, yet they came back for more. ‘Look, they’re being hurt and can’t pull away. Pain becomes their oxygen.’

  Geraldine was now looking beyond the moths, as if the light had dragged her into a memory pool of her own. She wasn’t talking solely about Heath any more.

  ‘People can be very cruel.’ Geraldine snapped out of her mini-trance. ‘Promise me, Viv, that if you meet a man who seems too good to be true, you’ll keep your guard high until you know him, really know him. Some of them lure you in with the promise of love you so badly crave, and you trust them to lead you to their heart, one sure step at a time through the mists of their charm; but when it clears, you find nothing there but a dried husk.’

  She was talking about herself, it was obvious. Someone had hurt Geraldine very much. Is that who she had run from?

  ‘I can assure you, Geraldine, I will. I’ve learned that one from watching my mum.’

  ‘Watching your mum?’ asked Geraldine, with some conf
usion.

  ‘My mum is lovely,’ said Viv. ‘But where men are concerned, she has no sense at all. Luckily, she isn’t quite at the stage where she’s writing to serial killers in prison, though.’ She smiled and Geraldine chuckled softly. ‘She wants to be loved so much and so she believes everything men tell her, but she couldn’t spot a nice man if he had “nice man” tattooed on his face.’ And the daft thing is, she lives next door to the loveliest man ever, who is the male equivalent of her, added Viv to herself.

  ‘What a shame,’ said Geraldine with a sigh loaded with sympathy.

  ‘Although in saying that, she’s just met someone who sounds nice.’

  ‘Oh, I do hope he is,’ smiled Geraldine.

  Not as much as I do, thought Viv. Or at least if he isn’t, that Mum has the sense to get rid of him quick. Stel was too forgiving. She gave people far too many chances to redeem themselves. Darren had leached off her, stolen money from her and bonked behind her back, and she’d still forgiven him. Viv could still remember the state her mother had been in when she found him gone without a word. Her loathing for Darren had barely diminished in all the years in between. She thought of what Geraldine had said and added another promise, one of her own: she’d never give her heart to a man who could leave a dying woman.

  Geraldine’s jaw was forced open by a weary yawn. ‘I think I might have to go to bed,’ she said.

  ‘Come on then, I’ll help you,’ said Viv, offering her arm.

  In the flowery-scented room down the hallway, Viv turned back the bed cover and shook out Geraldine’s nightdress, whilst she went to the loo. Then Viv helped her undo her blouse and slip it off. She noticed immediately that Geraldine’s shoulders had crescent-shaped silvery scars on them. Who did that to you, Geraldine? she stopped herself from asking.

  ‘I’ll wear a vest tomorrow,’ said Geraldine with a small laugh. ‘I don’t really need a bra. I haven’t got anything to put in it. It’ll make life simpler for us all.’

  ‘Well, you just have to ask if you need any help,’ said Viv and with a goodnight, she retreated and left Geraldine to rest. She let Pilot out and when he had done what he had to, Viv locked up the house behind her and walked across to the folly. At her door, she turned to look back at Wildflower Cottage and thought that poor Cecilia Leighton would have loved it. She could imagine her excitedly planning her sanctuary, with young Alfred Merlo telling her what was possible and what was not. Could the kitchen catch all the sun in the morning and the flower garden be to the west? Could he make a large window in the gable end so she could view the expanse of the wildflowers? Every stone and brick would have been in place in her heart, even though she never took one real step inside the finished house.