Finding Home in Hartfell (Hartfell Village #1)

Chapter One

Pippa Douglas turned off the car’s engine and the brief view she’d had of golden stone walls and mullioned windows framing a farmhouse vanished in the darkness. She glanced at her daughter in the passenger seat, letting a long, weary breath escape. Finally, they were here; she couldn’t remember when she’d last driven so far. London to the Yorkshire Dales was a journey she’d not made in many years, and she didn’t want to think of the last time, not now.

Harriet’s eyes were closed, her pale, oval face shadowed by darkness. Pippa reached across, tucking a long strand of sun-kissed brown hair behind Harriet’s ear, a maternal gesture often denied her now that her daughter was a teenager. How had that happened so fast? It seemed only moments since she’d been tiny, toddling from nursery into primary school and beyond.

‘Harriet? We’re here, sweetheart.’ Pippa was gentle, not wanting to jolt her from sleep too suddenly. ‘Time to wake up.’

‘Huh?’ Harriet grimaced as she rearranged herself on the seat and rubbed her neck. Her eyes automatically fell to the phone in her hand, the light from the screen brightening her confused expression. ‘Already?’

‘You’ve been out for the past two hours, since we set off after the services. You obviously needed the rest.’ Pippa held back a sigh as Harriet’s fingers darted over the screen, brightening it some more. ‘Come on, we may as well get on with it.’

‘Aren’t you even a little bit curious about the house?’

‘Are you?’

‘Stop trying to deflect.’

Pippa’s hand was on the door, and she pushed it open, deciding to ignore the suggestion of sharpness in Harriet’s reply. ‘You know me too well.’

‘So that’s a no, then. Come on, Mum, it’ll be an adventure.’

‘I’m not looking for an adventure, and the last thing I needed was your grandad dumping another of his problems in my lap right at the beginning of the summer holidays.’

Pippa had long been the unofficial head of her dad’s blended family, a role he was perfectly happy to let her occupy. Everyone automatically gravitated to her when a decision needed making or a problem solved. As the eldest of his five children, she was the one who remembered birthdays, arranged meet-ups, sent flowers, checked in. Somehow, she held them all together.

She didn’t resent the role she’d taken upon herself twenty-five years ago after her mum had died, but there were occasions when she wished the family didn’t ping everything they wanted sorting out straight to her inbox. It wasn’t that their dad didn’t love them, but he led a relatively unconventional life, and family was something he fitted in alongside his career.

Jonny Jones was almost as famous for his northern roots as he was for being the lead singer of legendary rock band Blue at Midnight. For Pippa, it was a given that he wouldn’t slide quietly into old age and stop attracting headlines for his love life as well as the band’s long-awaited, supposedly final album. Currently on the Australian leg of a seemingly never-ending world retirement tour – the dates of which only Pippa in the family had marked on her calendar – Jonny had flown to Bali for a break away from the mayhem of his own life.

But then last week, just when Harriet’s summer term had ended – which immediately made Pippa suspicious because generally her dad knew nothing about such things – he’d got in touch by email to say that a property he owned needed sorting out and she was the only one he trusted to take care of it. And seeing as she’d need to visit and have a proper look at the house, why didn’t she take Harriet along as well? Pippa, at the beginning of her own summer break from her job as a Fine Arts lecturer at a London college, had tried to put Jonny off and suggest his business manager or the family solicitor step in, but he’d been absolutely insistent on Pippa being the one to deal with the house.

She said no very firmly at first, firing off a couple of frustrated emails and pointing out she was busy with her own plans in reply to his increasingly pleading ones. But then he’d deployed his secret weapon and swerved right around her to Harriet, who, to Pippa’s utter astonishment, had been all for Jonny’s scheme, and so here they were: parked in the dark outside a house she had never seen and couldn’t remember her dad ever visiting or mentioning.

‘So far as I’m concerned, the sooner we’re in and out of here, the better. We still have plans for the summer and none of them include spending time in this backwater, wherever it actually is. I’ve forgotten.’

Pippa shoved the car door open, and Harriet followed her onto the drive with a degree of enthusiasm she’d almost forgotten her daughter possessed. Usually it was only the threat of her phone running out of charge that would send Harriet moving rapidly in search of the nearest source of power. Or playing wing attack in netball, at which she excelled.

‘Hartfell, Mum. The jewel in this unspoiled Yorkshire dale, to be precise.’ Harriet slammed her door, the noise reverberating through the night, and Pippa shuddered when an owl screeched somewhere in the trees leaning towards the house. Where was all the traffic and the ever-present background noise she was used to? The artificial lights blotting out the stars? Gravel was crisp under their feet, the late evening air warm and still.

‘Who told you it was a jewel?’

‘Google.’

‘Ah. Right. Not your grandad, then?’ Pippa was surprised that Harriet had bothered to look up the location of their base for the next week or so. She knew her dad had grown up somewhere around here, but he rarely talked about those days, and she hadn’t thought to question the location of this property.

‘No, haven’t spoken to him since he went to Bali with whatshername.’

‘Dana, Harriet. Your grandad’s partner is called Dana.’

‘She is this month.’

Pippa was rooting through her bag, feeling for the unfamiliar set of keys her dad’s solicitor had couriered round yesterday. ‘That’s not entirely fair, they’ve only broken up and got back together twice as far as I know.’

‘Three times, Mum. Freddie told me. He doesn’t like her, he thinks they’ll be over by Christmas, for good this time.’

‘And what else has your uncle said to you about…?’ Pippa hesitated. She didn’t generally discuss her dad’s love life with her daughter, but these things did tend to crop up when you were the eldest child of a rock legend, and online gossip was sometimes hard to ignore. Harriet was way savvier and more clued up about life than Pippa had been at that age, and she still thought it a very good thing that the internet had barely been invented when Jonny’s band had been in its heyday back in the Eighties.

As his much adored and only grandchild, despite the three daughters and two sons he had fathered, Harriet had access to Jonny that even Pippa couldn’t attain. He always picked up Harriet’s calls and he checked in with her online every week, no matter where in the world he was.

‘About Grandad?’ Harriet hitched her tote bag over a shoulder. ‘Not much, Freddie was more interested in hearing about what we think of this place. Asked me to send him some photos.’

Freddie, the youngest of Jonny’s children and at eighteen, only four years older than Harriet; the two of them had always got on well and were more like cousins than uncle and niece.

‘He did?’ Pippa halted on the drive, squinting at Harriet beneath the flicker of a security light which couldn’t seem to make up its mind if it should be on or off. ‘Why?’

‘Dunno. Didn’t say.’ Harriet’s eyes were glued to her phone and Pippa didn’t expect to get much more from her. ‘Why?’

‘No reason,’ Pippa replied casually. She’d have to find out what her brother might be up to later. Property was something her dad had accumulated over the years and his offspring had been promised one each eventually. Maybe that was where Freddie’s interest in Hartfell lay.

They crunched along the drive and reached the studded, heavy wooden door of the farmhouse, set between more mullioned stone windows, Home Farm lettering pale against a dark slate sign on the right. Pippa stuck the largest key from the set into the lock and turned it. The wooden door creaked alarmingly, and she gave it a hefty shove, sending it flying open into the dark recesses of what she assumed was a hall. The air was cool after the summer evening outdoors and her hand, still grasping the key in the lock, seemed to have vanished.

‘Harriet, can you put your phone torch on please?’

‘Why are you whispering?’

‘Was I?’ Pippa tried to laugh away her nerves, imagining unseen eyes staring. The solicitor had mentioned getting someone to meet them on arrival and she’d refused the offer, unwilling to face a welcome committee. She fumbled for Harriet nearby, thrusting a protective arm in front of her.

‘What are you doing? Get off!’

‘Just keeping you close.’

‘What, are there like, ghosts or something?’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Pippa aimed for brisk this time as Harriet shoved her arm away. ‘Torch?’

‘Can’t you? I’m nearly out of battery. There’d better be electricity in this place.’

‘Of course there is.’ Pippa hadn’t dared tell Harriet yet that there wasn’t actually Wi-Fi in the house; she’d never have got within fifty miles if her daughter had known that before they’d set out on their reluctant road trip. The solicitor had dropped that into the email as well, and she hadn’t found the right moment to mention it to Harriet.

Harriet’s exaggerated sigh was followed by a narrow beam of light, and they both let out a scream. Sitting beneath a dark panelled staircase was a dulled suit of armour staring straight at them, one arm clutching a lance with a sharpened point. Pippa’s heart rate settled a smidge as she realised it wasn’t actually clunking towards them.

‘Looks lovely, Mum, the house. Very welcoming.’

‘There’s no need to be quite so sarcastic. The state of it is nothing to do with me, and anyway, it doesn’t matter how rough it is, we’re not staying long.’

‘Is there any furniture?’ Harriet pointed her phone at the suit of armour and there was a flash as she took a photo.

‘I’d certainly like to think so. Someone apparently looks after the house, and they are expecting us.’

‘Yeah, right. Looks like it. It’s warmer outside than in.’ Harriet stomped off and thrust open a door to her left, leaving Pippa in a pool of darkness and trying to remember from her brief glance if there were any trip hazards between the stairs and where she stood. ‘There’s a sofa in here, Mum. It’s orange, like someone threw up on it and left it to dry.’

Ugh, that sounded revolting, and Pippa resisted another shudder. ‘At least there’s somewhere to sit. It doesn’t matter about the colour,’ she replied brightly.

‘Wait until you see it.’ Harriet emerged, light from her torch flashing off the walls as she raised her phone to look around. ‘There’s probably still bits of carrot stuck to the cushions.’ She stuck her head through another door. ‘Dining room. Grim.’

The front door was still open, and Pippa turned in the direction of warmer air and other thoughts. ‘Let’s just get our luggage and go to bed. We can sort everything out tomorrow, right now we need sleep.’

Harriet’s torchlight disappeared and she seemed to vanish in the gloom as well. ‘My phone’s dead. Thanks for that.’

‘It’s hardly my fault, the amount of time you spend on it. Charge it in your room.’ Pippa was on her way back to the car and she returned moments later, lugging a case in each hand. ‘I’ll go up first. Take my phone and use the torch so I can see where I’m putting my feet.’

‘Or we could just use the lights, like normal people.’

Harriet hit a switch and Pippa let out a relieved breath as the rest of the hall was revealed. The woodwork was yellowed; the only other door Harriet hadn’t yet opened stood straight in front of them, past the stairs. Pippa couldn’t decide if the orange-and-brown pattern of the carpet was even more repulsive than the oversized green flowers on the wallpaper. The stairs turned up and out of sight, that same pattern on the walls inviting them up to the first floor. Her heart sank as she thought longingly of their lovely London home with all its familiar comforts.

‘Bed,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m absolutely beat. That journey was brutal.’

‘Okay.’ Even Harriet’s usual confidence seemed dented by the view, and she trailed after Pippa, giving the suit of armour a wary glance. Upstairs the landing was square too, similar to the hall, with the same wallpaper and a bulb without a shade hanging in the centre of the ceiling. A large, square blue rug in place of carpet felt thin and didn’t quite reach any of the five plain doors, exposing ancient and uneven wooden floorboards.

Pippa noticed a couple of average farming landscapes on the walls opposite a small, ugly grandfather clock and some black-and-white photographs. She had no idea which room was which, and the first two doors she tried revealed double beds neatly made in each.

‘They’ll do,’ she said tiredly. Really this whole escapade was bonkers, and she’d be having a serious word with her dad. He always did this, set her some ridiculous task he wanted her to sort and then took himself off-grid where she couldn’t reach him to give him a piece of her mind. Well, she would track him down this time for sure, he’d gone too far, and she wasn’t going to be…

‘Mum? Are you even listening?’

‘What?’ Pippa whirled around, still mentally giving her dad the sharp end of her tongue, and enjoying it.

‘I said , will you check on me in the morning when you get up?’

‘Of course I will.’ Pippa’s irritation with her dad dissipated as she looked at Harriet standing in the doorway of the first room. She didn’t often seek comfort from her mum these days and seemed to be aiming for nonchalance as she fidgeted with the phone in her hand, but Pippa had caught the flash of uncertainty in her gaze.

‘And if I’m still asleep, don’t wake me up, okay?’

‘That’s fine.’ She didn’t mind in the least how long Harriet slept in tomorrow; it might delay the row about the Wi-Fi that was on the way. ‘And I won’t go out until you’re up. We’ll have to go shopping, though heaven knows where. It’s probably miles to the nearest town but those few bits we brought won’t last long.’

‘Didn’t you even google Hartfell before we came, find out what’s here?’

‘No. What did you discover?’

‘Well, there’s a shop and a pub so we won’t starve.’

‘Okay, I’ll take a look tomorrow. And the house will be up for sale just as soon as I find a local estate agent.’ Pippa knew her lack of online curiosity would be astonishing to Harriet, who barely made a move without checking it on her phone first. But she wasn’t about to confess to her clever and intuitive daughter that she’d half hoped if she ignored the plan her dad had set in motion, then it might have simply gone away. But now here she was, knowing barely anything about the house and even less about its surroundings. Harriet dragged her case into the room and Pippa followed, watching her dump it on the floor.

‘Night sweetheart, sleep well.’

‘Night.’ Harriet came over to give Pippa a quick squeeze and she held her daughter for those few, brief seconds until Harriet wriggled away. ‘You too. Close the door on your way out.’

Pippa obliged, pressing her lips together. Once they would have snuggled on Harriet’s bed to read a story before she tucked her daughter beneath the covers, but those days were long gone. She trailed into her own room and shut the door. This one was slightly larger, with floral green wallpaper and similarly coloured curtains that reminded her of wet moss. Cushions on an armchair in one corner were edged in lace, matching those on the bed, and she tossed them to the chair. A wooden dressing table and wardrobe were looming and dark, and the only thing she liked about the room was the size and the bed framed in brass.

She heard Harriet trying doors on the landing until she found one that was presumably the bathroom, and when she’d finished, Pippa followed to freshen up. Blue tiles didn’t suit a turquoise suite and the only mirror was the door of a small, wall-mounted cupboard. It had been a long drive up from London, with all the traffic problems that holiday getaways usually brought, and she found all this clashing colour adding to her exhaustion. It probably wouldn’t help get the house sold in a hurry, but if the price was right, it would surely sell soon enough, and then she and Harriet would be back in their little corner of Maida Vale in no time.

Her short silk pyjamas were perfectly adequate at home, but Pippa was shivering as she got into the brass bed, plain cotton sheets cool against her skin. She’d stayed in plenty of hotels when she and her siblings had travelled with their dad, and was used to falling asleep in strange places, but this one seemed different. There was a stillness to the silence that felt empty, eerie even, and not even the owl hooting outside could drive away the sense of isolation creeping over her.

She knew the village was nearby, but they’d barely passed any lights along those last twenty miles since leaving the motorway, and she had no idea how far away proper civilisation might lie. She tossed and turned uneasily for a good hour, trying to stay warm and ignore the clock on the landing chiming every fifteen minutes.

Several hours later, the green curtains were no match for the glare of the morning sun and Pippa jerked awake from an unsettling dream in which she was being followed by a clanking suit of armour. She breathed deeply, waiting for the vision to fade from her mind, and reluctantly emerged from the duvet and bright patchwork quilt thrown across it. An old-fashioned triple mirror on the dressing table helpfully revealed three tired versions of her own self, dark circles beneath her eyes. She found a socket and plugged in her phone, which she’d forgotten to do last night, half expecting crackling, and was relieved when none came.

The house seemed to be holding its breath too and she opened her door quietly so as not to disturb Harriet, even though a marching band might not manage it when her daughter was asleep. She stepped onto the landing and her feet nearly left the floor when the grandfather clock cheerfully chimed six a.m. She shot it a filthy look as she released her grip of the banister, mentally adding ‘get rid’ to the list of jobs in her mind.

Now would be a good time to check on Harriet as promised, making sure she was warm and comfortable. For all that Pippa did everything she could to create a normal life for her daughter, their family wasn’t exactly the most ordinary one, and Harriet had declared an unwelcome degree of independence when she’d set her heart on attending a secondary school outside of London. Pippa had been vehement in her opposition to parting with her during the week and, as usual, Jonny had stepped in to support his granddaughter until Pippa had eventually relented. The compromise had been found in the school’s exceptional reputation for sport as well as other subjects, and she still had to cling onto unshed tears every time she drove Harriet back to Kent.

Harriet had settled well and soon flourished as a flexible boarder, one of her friends from primary joining her at the co-educational school. But since she’d returned after the Easter break, Pippa had known that all wasn’t quite right. Harriet was spending more time in her room and Pippa definitely felt at times that her daughter was avoiding conversations and their usual closeness seemed to be disintegrating.

Though she’d obviously not wanted another of her dad’s problems to sort out, the main reason she’d agreed to represent Jonny in Hartfell was because it would be a rare chance to spend time with Harriet and somehow try to reconnect. Life in London didn’t stand still for anyone, and if she didn’t act soon then Harriet would be gone, on to A levels before university and studying for a career in physiotherapy. In quiet moments at home when it was just the two of them, Harriet would still allow the occasional sofa snuggle and Pippa felt acutely the threads holding her daughter to her stretching, becoming thinner with every month that passed.

She was more than ready for her first coffee of the day and just as soon as she’d checked on Harriet, then she’d go in search of the kitchen and supplies. Whoever had prepared their rooms was supposed to have left some shopping essentials to get them started, and she hoped there might be fresh fruit or even yoghurt in the fridge. Her stomach rumbled at the thought; dinner had been twelve hours ago in a service station on the way up.

‘Harriet?’ Pippa whispered as she tapped gently on the bedroom door. She was certain Harriet was still asleep, otherwise the lack of Wi-Fi would definitely have got her out of bed in search of a network and a password. She’d have a quick look and then leave her to rest.

She knocked a second time and carefully opened the door to peep around it. On the opposite side of the house to her own room, the sun wouldn’t filter into this one until much later and dark curtains were helping to hold back the morning light. It took her vision a moment to adjust, and she blinked as her gaze landed on the bed. A large dog was flat out on the duvet and someone beneath it, presumably Harriet, was snoring in a manner she’d never heard emanate from her daughter before. Pippa’s jaw dropped as she loosened her grip on the door, and it swung back to clatter against the wall.

‘Harriet,’ she yelled, forgetting how slowly Harriet liked to come to in the mornings. ‘Where did that dog come from and why is it sleeping on your bed?’

The results of her shout were twofold, and Pippa wasn’t expecting either of them. The dog leapt to the floor and set up a cacophony of barking that she thought might actually wake the dead and certainly bring to life whoever had inhabited that suit of armour downstairs. The top half of the figure beneath the duvet sprang up, revealing messy blond hair and a bare chest that quite possibly would have taken her breath away if she hadn’t been so busy trying to fend off the dog, which had decided it didn’t mind the look of her now and was trying to lick her to death instead.

‘What the…’ The man ran a bewildered hand through his hair, squinting at the sight greeting him in the doorway. A scowl spread across his face, shadowed by rough, golden stubble. ‘Ah. You’re here.’