Chapter 8
8
POPPY
I woke up on Monday morning to a message from Damon sent late the night before.
From Damon
Hi Poppy, it’s time to book in the first mow of the season. How about a week on Tuesday?
Hearing from him was not how I wanted to start the day and I instantly felt twitchy. I began typing but quickly deleted what I’d written, put my phone down with a sigh and headed for the bathroom. I’d respond later when my head wasn’t so sleep-fuzzy and I could find the right words to tell him I didn’t need him to cut the grass anymore without inviting a debate on the matter.
This morning, I’d been invited to a networking event. I hated things like that and would happily avoid them like the plague, but Mum’s voice always came into my head with her favourite quote and I’d search for the positives. In this case, the woman running the group was a potential new client and she’d told me there might be others interested in my services. Even though I had more than enough work at the moment from my existing client base, things could suddenly change, so it made sense to keep my options open.
By the time I’d showered, applied my make-up and dressed in a smart trouser suit and blouse, another message had arrived.
From Damon
It showed you typing but nothing came through. Everything OK?
I sighed heavily. Damon was relentless and, if I didn’t respond, he’d pester me all morning. I was just going to have to rip off the plaster.
To Damon
I’m really sorry but I won’t be using your services this year. Wishing you all the best
Reading it back, I added a smiley face in the hope that it would soften the blow. Message sent, I turned my phone to silent, unable to face Damon messaging me back or, even worse, ringing me demanding to know why he couldn’t mow my lawn/be my boyfriend/run off into the sunset with me.
I had forty minutes before I needed to leave the house, so I made a mug of tea and took it into my office, sipping it while I dealt with a few emails. I was resting my elbow on my desk as I went in for the last gulp and somehow my elbow slipped, spilling my drink. I looked down at my tea-soaked blouse in despair and raced across the landing to my bedroom to change.
I’d just pulled my jacket back on when the usually cheerful ding-dong of the doorbell sent a shiver of dread through me. Holding my breath, I peeked through the blinds to see if my suspicions were confirmed about who was at the door. At that moment, Damon looked up at the bedroom window and I released a nervous gasp as I ducked down. The doorbell rang again, and I remained frozen to the spot. How had it come to this? I was a thirty-two-year-old woman, for goodness’ sake, not a teenager trying to hide from the village bullies.
‘I know you’re in there, Poppy,’ Damon called through the letterbox. ‘I only want to talk.’
I stayed where I was, heart pounding. The doorbell rang for a third time followed by several loud knocks.
‘Please answer, Poppy. Don’t I deserve a proper explanation?’
I couldn’t be late to the networking event so, when the doorbell rang for a fourth time, I rose with a sigh and grabbed my bag from the office.
‘I’m coming,’ I shouted, stomping down the stairs. ‘Give me a minute.’
I slipped on a pair of heeled boots, wrapped a scarf round my neck and pulled on my smart frock coat before grabbing my car keys. I’d speak to Damon, but no way was he coming inside.
I reluctantly stepped outside, closing the door behind me.
Damon smiled at me. ‘You look beautiful.’
‘I’m going out.’
His dazzling smile immediately switched off. ‘On a date?’
‘That’s none of your business.’
‘It is, isn’t it? You’re seeing someone else already! That’s why you’ve done your hair and make-up. Who is he?’
‘There is no he but, if there was, it would have nothing to do with you. We had a friendly chat over a coffee which I appreciated at the time – thank you very much – but that never made us an item.’ It felt like I was trapped in time with the same conversation playing on a continuous loop.
‘Is it Phil? Are you back together?’
‘No! Where’s this…?’ I released an exasperated sigh. ‘I don’t have time for this. I’ve got a meeting.’
‘Before you go, what’s this all about?’
Damon thrust his phone at me, my response to his WhatsApp message showing on the screen and I winced. I probably should have explained why, but it was his fault I hadn’t. If he hadn’t chased me, I’d have had time to compose a proper response.
‘It’s nothing personal,’ I said, gently. ‘I just don’t need you to mow the lawn anymore.’
‘Nothing personal? I’ve mowed this lawn for the past ten years, long before you moved back home.’
‘And you’ve done a great job, but I don’t have time to look after the garden like Dad did, so I need someone to do that and it makes sense for that same person to mow the grass too.’
‘Is it about the money? Because I can charge you less as long as you don’t tell your neighbours.’
‘It’s not about the money, Damon. It’s about time and how little of it I have.’
‘I can look after your garden.’
‘No, you can’t. How many times have you told me you don’t know the difference between a flower and a weed? My parents worked so hard on this garden, and I want their legacy to remain. I don’t have the time or ability so I’ve taken on someone who does.’
‘You’ve already done it? Without giving me a chance to pitch for the work first?’
‘Damon! There was no work to pitch for. You and I both know you are not a gardener.’ This was exactly what I’d wanted to avoid. I’d made a decision that I no longer required his services and I shouldn’t have to debate it.
‘You’re saying I’m no good at my job.’
I couldn’t bear people who didn’t listen properly and who twisted words.
‘What did I just say?’ I demanded, a hard edge to my voice. ‘That you’ve done a great job. Seriously, Damon, it’s nothing to do with the quality of your work. It’s about what I need which is an experienced, knowledgeable gardener to look after the whole thing and you’re not that person. You know you’re not.’
He stared at me and my stomach churned. His eyes were dark, almost black, and the look he was giving me right now made my skin crawl. Until now, I’d thought of him as a nuisance, but suddenly I found him quite creepy.
‘It’s Troy Taylor, isn’t it?’
‘I need to go.’
‘Is it him you’re meeting?’
I ignored him and strode towards the car, but he ran after me and grabbed my arm.
‘Stop touching me!’ I cried, yanking my arm away.
‘What’s going on?’
My heart leapt at the sight of Wilf striding towards our boundary fence. Benji shot past him, barking, and ducked beneath the fence.
‘Damon was just leaving,’ I called to Wilf.
‘We haven’t finished talking,’ Damon said, his voice full of anger, his eyes flashing at me.
‘Yes, we have. I need to be somewhere and you need to leave.’
When Damon showed no signs of moving, despite Benji jumping up at him and barking in his best attempt to intimidate, Wilf stepped over the low fence.
‘Are you going to leave, son, or do I need to make a call?’
Although Damon had never cut Wilf’s lawn, he knew that my neighbour was ex-police.
‘I’m going,’ he muttered, taking a couple of steps down the drive. He stared at me, a look of disgust on his face. ‘I can’t believe you’d choose Troy Taylor over me. You’ll be sorry.’
‘I don’t see you leaving,’ Wilf said, taking his phone out of his pocket.
Damon held his hands up in a surrender sign and backed down the drive, lip curled up.
‘You’ll be sorry,’ he repeated.
‘I hope that’s not a threat,’ Wilf called, holding his phone aloft.
‘It’s a fact,’ Damon shouted, before turning and running down the last stretch of drive. His van wheels squealed as he shot away at speed.
‘Are you all right?’ Wilf asked.
‘I think so.’
I felt pretty shaken and quite perplexed by the whole thing, my heart pounding, my throat dry. The repeated references to us dating had irritated rather than concerned me, but this was something else. I didn’t like his recent behaviour at all. He was acting like a jealous boyfriend. Was I still seeing Phil? Was I meeting Troy Taylor? Where had that come from?
‘You’re sure?’ Wilf asked.
I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘Thanks for stepping in. He’s not good at hearing the word no. I’m sorry, Wilf, but I need to shoot to a meeting.’
Wilf scooped Benji up and moved to one side. ‘We won’t keep you but if you fancy a coffee when you get back, we’ll be here.’
I nodded, grateful for such a wonderful neighbour. I’d take him up on that offer of a drink when I got home so I could thank him properly and so I could steal some cuddles from Benji as I needed them more than ever right now.
As I pulled out of the village and drove towards Cheltenham for the networking meeting, the conversation with Damon played on a loop in my head. I’d never seen Damon get angry like that and it had been scary. What did he mean by saying I’d be sorry? Was that because he was bizarrely convinced that I was seeing Troy and a belief that he’d make a better boyfriend than Troy? I wished he’d stop obsessing about who I was dating. It really was none of his business. If he showed up again, I was going to have to take him to task on it and perhaps do what Wilf had done and threaten him with the police if he didn’t leave me alone.
By the time I hit the outskirts of Cheltenham, I’d made a decision about going away. Sharon and Marnie both thought I needed to and they were right. Some space away from Damon would be beneficial to us both too. If Sharon’s friend’s cottage was free, there couldn’t be a better time to go than this week while the bees didn’t need attention, while I had no meetings, before Troy started on the garden and before I burned out completely. I’d have to work, but I’d have some time to relax and I needed that right now. I called Sharon and asked her if she could check whether her friend’s cottage was still available this week or over the weekend.
A few minutes later, she rang back. ‘Mary says it’s free now and you can have it for up to eleven nights including tonight.’
‘Wow! I won’t be able to stay away quite that long, but that’s great to know.’
‘I’ll send you her number. Let me know what dates you decide and if you need us to do anything with the bees.’
After the call disconnected, I felt more relaxed than I’d done in a long time. Whether the time away would recharge my batteries – especially when I’d have work to do – was anyone’s guess but it was worth a try because, as Marnie had suggested, I was going to make myself ill if I continued like this. And if I was ill, what good was I to my dad, the bees or my clients?
The networking meeting was surprisingly enjoyable. I had positive conversations with a couple of attendees during the event and the host confirmed in our one-to-one afterwards that she wanted to join me as a client starting from the new tax year in April. It was all good, but it didn’t fill me with excitement like it might have done in the past. I put that down to the altercation with Damon putting a dampener on things.
When I arrived back at Dove Cottage, Wilf was cleaning the woodwork on his bay window.
‘Good meeting?’ he asked me as Benji dropped his toy pig and dived through the fence for attention.
‘Really good,’ I said, picking Benji up and scratching his ears. ‘Is that coffee still on offer?’
‘It certainly is.’
‘Let me change and make a few quick phone calls then I’ll be over.’
‘I’ll pop the kettle on. Let yourself in.’
I put Benji down, but he followed me towards the house rather than returning to Wilf.
‘He’s been on edge all morning, watching out for you coming back,’ Wilf called.
‘Aw, Benji, are you protecting me? Come in with me while I get changed.’
I’d decided that, if I put my holiday off until later in the week, there was every chance I’d talk myself out of it so I needed to act now. I’d pack a case after lunch and drive up to East Yorkshire this afternoon, staying until Sunday to allow myself long enough for a proper break. By the time I’d factored in the travel, taking just a few days off probably wouldn’t have much benefit.
Benji followed me upstairs and lay on my bed watching while I removed my suit and pulled on my jeans and a hoodie.
‘That’s better! I feel more like me now,’ I told him as I hung the suit up in my wardrobe. ‘I need to make a few calls and then we’ll go to your house.’
I sat on the bed with Benji cuddled up beside me and rang Sharon again to tell her the news. She said she’d definitely visit Dad while I was away and report back, which was reassuring. Next I rang Marnie at The Larks who was delighted that I was taking her advice and looking after myself.
‘Final call to Sharon’s friend Mary,’ I told Benji.
Before leaving Cheltenham, I’d seen a stack of messages and four missed calls from Damon, all of which I ignored. Just before I rang Mary, I noticed the missed calls tally had gone up to seven and shuddered as I pictured Damon’s angry face earlier.
Mary Dodds sounded lovely over the phone. She had one of those warm voices where you could tell the person was smiling when they spoke. She said she’d leave the porch door unlocked and a key hidden under a plant pot inside, and would stop by tomorrow evening to say hello and see if I needed anything.
When Benji and I went next door, Wilf had the drinks ready and had even made us each a sandwich for lunch which was typically thoughtful of him. He asked me about my business meeting and about Dad’s birthday as we ate but, when we’d finished, I figured it was time to address the elephant in the room.
‘About earlier…’ I began.
‘I hope I didn’t overstep. I heard raised voices and, when I saw who it was?—’
‘Your timing was perfect and I’m glad you stepped in. Damon’s a bit too intense for me and I’m struggling to shake him off.’
‘He’s an ex-boyfriend?’ Wilf was clearly trying to keep a poker face, but he didn’t manage to keep the surprise out of his voice.
‘No, but he does keep asking me out.’
I briefly outlined the moment with Dad last year which had led to me taking Damon out for a thank you coffee, his mistaken belief that it was a date, and his subsequent messages asking me out.
‘The messages stopped over the winter so I thought – hoped – he’d given up, but it’s like the first mow of the year has given him an excuse to kick it all off again. He even turned up at The Larks on Saturday, which wasn’t on.’
‘He followed you?’
‘No, but he knew where I was heading and he was waiting for me outside. He said he was worried about me because I seemed upset when I left the house but whether I was or wasn’t is none of his business. We’re not a couple, we’re not even friends, and it’s not his job to be concerned about me. What you saw earlier was me telling him I didn’t want him mowing the lawn anymore. Troy Taylor’s going to do the whole garden for me.’
‘Do you think Damon’s got the message now?’
‘I think so. But if he does turn up again, I won’t be here. I’m going away for a week. Would you mind putting the bin out and keeping an eye on the post for me? And if Damon does return, feel free to tell him I’ve gone away – just not where.’
I told Wilf where I was going and he assured me Damon wouldn’t find out from him if he did come sniffing around.
I said goodbye to Wilf and Benji shortly after and took my phone out of my pocket to make sure there’d been no calls from The Larks. Damon’s missed calls were up to eleven and there were several more WhatsApp notifications. I glanced down the messages.
From Damon
Can we talk?
From Damon
Please, Poppy. I’ve done nothing wrong!
From Damon
It’s only because I care about you and I know you feel the same way
From Damon
How about dinner tonight? I’ll pick you up at 7
From Damon
Would 6.30 be better?
And so it went on. So much for him getting the message! I needed to get ready for my holiday and the notifications were distracting me, so I blocked Damon’s number. I wasn’t his client anymore and we weren’t friends so there was no reason for him to be in touch.
I packed a case full of casual clothes, choosing my softest jumpers and loungewear for comfort, and placed all the paperwork I’d need in a crate with my laptop and stationery essentials. I’d work during the day but I’d need to ensure I took evenings off if I wanted to return refreshed. Sharon had told me that there were no streaming services on the television, but there was a DVD player. My parents had built up a large DVD collection so I scanned along the shelves and selected a few of my favourite films. As I reached the boxset for the TV series Darrington Detects , my breath caught and my chest tightened as a wave of grief crashed over me. Mum had always had a soft spot for Cole Crawford who played the eponymous Reverend Hugh Darrington, detective turned vicar in the 1960s-set Dorset-based series, and had watched everything he’d ever been in. She’d been ill when Darrington Detects started and only caught the first two seasons before she passed away, but she declared it his finest work to date and I had to agree. He’d played some amazing characters over the years, both heroes and villains, but there was something about this role that spoke to my soul. Each series had got better and better and it killed me that she wasn’t around to watch them with me.
Don’t cry! Think positive! I closed my eyes and focused on happy memories of settling down on the sofa with Mum to watch Cole Crawford, a large bowl of popcorn between us, laughing as we dipped our hands in at the same time. I missed that so much. I missed her so much.
Feeling calmer, I plucked the boxset from the shelf. Each episode was like a soothing hug and would be just what I needed while I was away. If I took another of Mum’s favourite throws with me and her perfume, I could make some popcorn, snuggle under the throw, start from season one, and imagine she was right by my side.