Chapter Four
Outside the village shop, cunningly disguised as another white-painted cottage that Pippa missed the first time she walked past it, her phone rang. She pulled it from her bag, half hoping it might be her dad and she could vent some of her frustration. Of course it wasn’t Jonny, and she swiped to answer the call anyway, anticipation replacing some of her anxiety.
‘Hey, Cass.’
‘Darling! You said off-grid, but I was about to send a search party. I’ve called three times and sent countless messages, I even tried Raf to see if he knew you were okay. What about Harriet, how is she? Are you both surviving? Is it hell? When are you coming home?’
Pippa laughed, her shoulders loosening some more at the sound of Cassie’s familiar voice. They’d grown up on the same leafy street in north London and had notorious dads in common, their friendship thriving and adapting down the intervening years. Pippa had Jonny to contend with and Cassie’s father was an ex-MP following a scandal some years ago. With her mother now firmly ensconced on the Amalfi Coast and living with a gorgeous Italian DJ half her age, Cassie understood perfectly what life was like for the offspring of infamous men.
‘We’re fine, really. I had planned to call you earlier but the signal’s not great. I’ve just seen the missed calls.’
‘Wi-Fi?’
‘As expected. Non-existent.’
‘And Harriet’s still there?’ Cassie’s quick laugh was astonished.
‘For now. And if your goddaughter asks or even begs you to rescue her, please don’t.’ Pippa moved aside to let an elderly man enter the shop, a bell jangling as the door opened. ‘We really need this time together while I sort out the house.’
‘I won’t, I promise. Guide’s honour.’
‘We were never in the Girl Guides.’ Pippa tried to imagine her bubbly and brilliant friend collecting badges and wearing the uniform, and couldn’t.
‘That’s because there were no boys, darling.’ Cassie’s voice faded from Pippa’s ear as she spoke to someone else. ‘Sorry, back now.’
‘Work?’ Pippa knew how much her career meant, especially now.
‘Of course.’ Cassie sighed. ‘Manic as ever. But I didn’t call you to whine about that, I wanted to make sure you’re not stranded in a bog or facing down some gloomy Mr Rochester type.’
Pippa laughed again and Gil flashed into her mind. For all his grumpiness, she wouldn’t refer to him as gloomy. His eyes were too bright, too blue, for that. She resolved to mention nothing of him to Cassie, at least not yet. Her friend might be head of public relations for a small group of luxury and intimate London hotels and busy with her two children, the eldest of which was also Harriet’s best friend, but even the whiff of a new and attractive man in Pippa’s vicinity might have Cassie hitting the pause button on her own life and hurrying north to intervene.
‘No, we’re good,’ Pippa said firmly. ‘No bogs or women in the attic, at least not yet. It’s actually very pretty. Not quite what I remembered Yorkshire looking like.’
‘So have you crossed your dad off the naughty list then? All is forgiven?’
‘Absolutely not.’ Pippa wondered if Jonny had even read her message yet. ‘He’s not getting away with it that easily. I’ll still be having words when I see him.’
‘And when will that be? Christmas?’
‘Probably.’ Pippa pressed a hand to her temple. Hosting Christmas was something she’d taken upon herself years ago, and no matter where in the world her family was, they always came home, laden with presents and tales of far-off places. By New Year, her dad would be itching to escape back to work, and Raf and Tilly would be chafing too. Pippa would watch them all leave and gather up their own lives whilst she retreated back into hers.
‘So, netball camp. Are you driving Harriet to Warwick on the Sunday?’
‘I am. She wanted to get the train but it’s not that far and heaven knows how many times she’d have to change.’ Pippa still found it hard to get used to Harriet’s newfound freedom since becoming a teenager and her ability to travel around London with her friends. London transport Pippa understood; the rest of the country not so much, and driving Harriet to netball camp had been a fight she’d refused to concede. ‘But as it’s three weeks away, we’ll be travelling from home, not here.’
‘Sure about being back in town by then?’
‘I certainly hope so.’ Pippa frowned. Three weeks in Hartfell sounded like an unimaginable eternity, and she wondered what people actually did here. ‘It’s ages off. Why?’
‘I just thought that, seeing as we’re heading to Galloway after camp, I could pick the girls up and we could have a night with you in Hartfell en route.’
‘That does sound lovely.’ Pippa was cheered by the thought of seeing Cassie. Their summers did sometimes overlap, usually when Harriet’s dad Nick had let them down when he was meant to be having his daughter. That was the problem with falling in love with unpredictable people, Pippa reminded herself, shuddering at the thought. They tended to like doing things that were totally unplanned, or took themselves off to places where planning should be of the utmost importance.
‘I really hope we’ll be long gone by then, but just supposing we aren’t, are you sure it wouldn’t interfere with your plans?’
‘Not in the least. Everyone comes and goes, my in-laws are the best. You know them, open house, they won’t mind if we’re a day or two late. Room for another if you fancy it when Harriet goes away with Nick.’
As a wildlife cameraman, Nick was constantly on the move and Pippa had attributed their break-up when Harriet was six to a case of opposites attracting and eventually failing to get along. She still loved him in a way, but she’d never been able to live life quite as casually as he did, and her inability to say no to her own family hadn’t helped their relationship.
He’d want to take off at a moment’s notice, while Pippa had planted her feet and stayed in London in case her family needed her. She still felt guilty every time she thought of it, for putting them and not her marriage first. They’d let each other down. And, as a father, Nick had never grasped why he couldn’t take Harriet out of school for weeks on end. In that, Jonny had supported him, and Pippa was sometimes at odds with both men, who lived as they chose whilst the women around them saw to it that life in all its ordinariness carried on.
Thankfully, Harriet loved London as much as Pippa did and Nick had eventually learned that his daughter no longer appreciated tents, paddling in streams, or being stranded in a hide on some windswept cliff. This summer, they were spending their time together on a Greek island and Harriet had already informed him she would book her own return ticket if he so much as looked at a pair of binoculars.
‘Thank you, that’s so kind but I’ll be glad to get back to London and have some time on my own after this place.’ Pippa realised that her casual dismissal of the village didn’t match her current view. Two people on horseback were chatting as they rode towards her, and she smiled back when they caught her eye. The horses, one grey, one bay, looked gorgeous ambling past in the morning sun, and she nearly laughed at the name of the road painted on a sign. There was nothing main about this street; it was delightful.
‘That bad, huh?’ Cassie’s voice brightened with her next words. ‘So no hot blacksmiths hammering over anvils or hunky farmers tossing bales around, then?’
‘It’s been twelve hours, Cassie.’ Pippa was picturing the mischievous expression on her friend’s face without needing to see it. She knew precisely what Cassie would say if she happened to mention a hot vet instead. ‘I’ve been asleep for most of them.’
‘You’re permanently asleep where men are concerned, Pippa. You’re so gorgeous, you could have anyone you wanted.’
‘Well if I can’t have Dave, is there even any point?’ Pippa and Cassie had adored the Foo Fighters since the earliest days of the band and Pippa had loved Dave Grohl forever. They’d met him once at a festival with her dad, and she’d been so overcome she’d burst into tears. Not remotely cool for a thirty-year-old and she preferred to nurture her love from afar these days. He’d scrawled a message on her Foo Fighters T-shirt that memorable day and she’d still never washed it in case his words wore out.
‘How was Raf?’ Pippa remembered Cassie saying she’d recently contacted her brother. ‘I haven’t seen him for a while, he cancelled our last lunch.’
‘Actually we didn’t speak, couldn’t find the right moment in between everything else. He replied though, to say he thought you were fine and not to worry. Why?’
‘Just wondered. I know he’s back from Sweden and Freddie mentioned they were supposed to be going to a gig in Islington, and then Raf pulled out at the last minute.’ Pippa bit her lip; her brother might be only a year younger than her, but she’d never stopped worrying about him. Raf had dealt with his grief over their mum differently and the occasions when he let Pippa in were rarer since he’d begun drumming with their dad’s band ten years ago.
‘Last time we spoke I got the impression that all is not well with Lina since he got back from Australia, and this is what he does when he’s unhappy. Takes himself out of reach somewhere. Just like Dad.’
There was a pause and Pippa heard Cassie drag in a breath before she huffed out something not quite a laugh.
‘I very nearly said I’d get Ewan to check in with him,’ Cassie said quietly. ‘It’s what we always did, when Raf took off. Ewan could usually track him down. They were always close.’
‘Cass, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think…’
‘Please don’t worry. It’s been eighteen months, Pippa. I’m getting used to it.’ Cassie hesitated. ‘It’s just sometimes there are still days when I wake up, Ewan’s not there and then I remember about the accident and it’s like starting again, with the grief. I’m fine, we’re fine. You’re not to worry.’
‘I can’t help it,’ Pippa said softly. Cassie’s husband Ewan had been Raf’s best friend; it was how he and Cassie had met back in the day, and they all kept an eye on Raf in their own way. ‘I wish I didn’t have to for your sake, that you’re not all going through this.’
‘I know. Thank you. It helps, having you there for us.’ Losing Ewan in a cycling accident on his way to work had left his family distraught, and Cassie and Raf bereft.
‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘Just keep doing what you do. Being there, supporting us. It means everything. I love you for that and many other things.’
‘Me too,’ Pippa said softly. It was easy to get caught up in her own life and that of her family’s, and Cassie deserved more of her time, especially after what she and her children had lost. ‘I’m hoping the house won’t take long to sort out, but if we are still here when the girls finish camp, then definitely come and stay. The girls would love it and we could have some time together before you go to Galloway.’
‘That sounds perfect,’ Cassie said wistfully. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go. Urgent meeting about that effing chef who wants to hold a book launch at The Bennington. You know the one, charm personified in public. Another catch-up soon?’
‘Definitely. I ought to head off anyway. I’m hungry and Harriet’s hangry, which is even worse. I’m outside the village shop in search of breakfast.’
‘I love a village shop,’ Cassie replied, and Pippa knew she was determined to focus on now and not before; it was how her friend coped with the new life that had been forced upon her. ‘All those freshly baked carbs and cakes. Can’t beat it, it’s how I always know I’m on holiday. Ambling down first thing and coming back with all the goodies I never eat at home. Lunch on me when I see you, then?’
‘Perfect, thank you. Loads of love and big hugs to Isla and Rory.’ They said goodbye and Pippa put her phone away, looking forward to hopefully seeing Cassie properly when the girls’ netball camp was over.
Inside the shop, Pippa only needed a few moments to realise it far exceeded the few expectations she’d had. Crammed into what must once have been the front room of the cottage, every single shelf was laden. One wall was completely given over to groceries, another to books, greeting cards and maps, a huge fridge between them. Old fashioned jars of sweets lined the shelves behind the till, a set of scales and a pile of paper bags beneath them. One corner held practicalities like batteries, bicycle pumps, bulbs and even some basic tools, from hammers to screwdrivers.
Her gaze caught on the noticeboard, and she read that a wine tasting evening was coming up at the pub. She scanned details of the village hall and saw classes for Pilates and yoga, an adult and toddler group, creative writing and a Women’s Institute meet-up. Hartfell’s country show was taking place soon and much was expected of the day, judging by the entertainments outlined on the poster. All this and the unmistakable aroma of baking too, and her mouth watered as she helped herself to a fresh sourdough loaf. She took a quick picture of it to share with Cassie when she could, smiling wryly at the reminder of carbs.
A woman behind the counter was chatting with the elderly man who’d entered earlier, and they offered cheery greetings. Pippa smiled back as she picked up a basket and began to fill it, trying not to listen to their continued conversation. The chap gathered up his shopping and with a final nod at Pippa, who took his place at the counter, disappeared, the bell tinkling merrily behind him.
‘Good morning, you must be Pippa. I’m Daphne. How do you do?’
‘I am, yes.’ Pippa dredged up a smile for Daphne, impressed by the speed at which news of her arrival had already spread, and began unloading her shopping; wholemeal pasta, granola, milk from a local dairy, actual butter, and homemade marmalade alongside the sourdough, two tubs of freshly made soup from the fridge and some vegetables. A trip to town for more provisions was still on the cards but this was a good start. ‘Lovely to meet you.’
Daphne was immaculate and attractive, with short grey hair tucked behind her ears, a pair of red-and-black glasses framing wise hazel eyes, an apron over a cream blouse navy and neat. ‘Welcome to Hartfell. How are you settling in?’
‘Oh, well, I’m not sure we have yet, but thank you.’ Thoughts of Gil darted through Pippa’s mind, and she pushed away the reminder of his antagonism. From what she’d seen so far, she fully expected that Hartfell was the sort of village where everyone knew everyone, what was going on and who had fallen out with whom. She hadn’t got off to the best start, at least where Gil and her own daughter were concerned, and didn’t want that getting around. ‘The house is a little basic but that’s all part of the fun, right?’
Daphne nodded doubtfully. ‘And how long are you planning to stay?’
‘I’m not sure. A week, maybe two.’ Pippa wasn’t here to make friends, simply to get the house on the market and be on her way. She was used to strangers attempting to draw her into conversation. It had often been like that, growing up. Children who’d wanted to be friends because she had a rock-star dad; single women who’d taken a shine to them and had a long-range eye on Jonny as well. She’d learned long ago to be careful with whom she shared her confidences.
‘You must be tired after that long drive, we heard you live in London.’ Daphne’s look was kind. ‘We were only saying how lovely it is having the house occupied again after standing empty.’
‘Empty?’ Pippa’s hand stilled over the basket, a carton of soup hovering. ‘But I thought Gil lived in it?’
‘Oh, he does now. He moved back in February but he hadn’t lived in the village for years. We’d see him sometimes, between the practice and visits to see his gran at the farm before she passed.’
Pippa smiled, hoping to learn more about Gil Haworth and precisely why he was now living in her dad’s house. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think to bring any bags. Could I have one, please.’
‘Of course.’ Daphne bent down and produced a cotton tote bag in green, emblazoned with a cream alpaca logo. ‘Could I persuade you to buy one of these? We sell them to raise funds for the local animal sanctuary.’
‘Absolutely. Better make it two, please.’ Pippa began loading her shopping. ‘You were saying? About the house and Gil being back in it?’
‘Oh yes. Well, sadly he’s on his own now his boys are grown up. It’s a big house for just the one but then it was only him and his gran all those years. It must seem so different without her, but of course he never lets it show.’
‘Mmm.’ Pippa removed a purse from her handbag, looking up to see a second woman approaching along a corridor behind Daphne. That they were related was obvious; both had the same hazel eyes and round faces, although this woman looked older and her voice when she spoke was tremulous.
‘Daphne, can you switch on the oven for me please?’ She looked at Pippa curiously, her own navy apron dusted with flour. ‘I can’t quite remember what the temperature should be for the scones. You know, don’t you?’
‘I do.’ Daphne nodded and Pippa saw the quick sadness in her face. ‘Pippa, this is my sister Violet, who does all the baking. I’m sorry, she’s not familiar with the card machine so she won’t be able to help you. Would you excuse me for a moment please, I won’t be long.’
‘Of course.’ Pippa closed her purse.
Daphne disappeared along the corridor and Pippa helped herself to a couple of postcards, surprised to see that Violet was watching intently, and she held them up.
‘They’re lovely, aren’t they, the village looks so pretty. Do you make the bread as well? It smells amazing, I can’t wait to try it.’
‘I do. I hope you like it. It’s an old recipe I’ve been using for years. I have to look it up now.’ Violet tilted her head and the seconds eased by, making Pippa fidget under the scrutiny. ‘I’ve got it now. I knew I’d seen you before.’
‘Oh, probably,’ Pippa replied casually, doubting it. Violet didn’t seem like the kind of person who’d listened to a rock band in her life, never mind read a tabloid or scrolled social media for gossip. ‘And I’m sure I’ll love the bread.’
‘You have a look of her.’
Pippa’s laugh was startled, and she wondered if she’d misheard. Violet couldn’t possibly be referring to Harriet, who was still presumably barricaded in her bedroom. ‘Do you mean my dad? Jonny?’
Violet shook her head, a frown creasing her brow. ‘Ivy. I remember she had hazel eyes, just like yours. Her hair was dark though and she always wore it up.’
‘Sorry about that, Pippa.’ Daphne emerged from the corridor and gently touched Violet’s arm. ‘All done, love. The scones are in the oven, and I’ve set the timer. Do you want to make us a cup of tea?’
‘I’ll do that. Thank you, Daphne.’ Violet gave Pippa a final look before she turned and disappeared from view.
‘I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.’ Daphne pushed a card machine across the counter. Pippa was fumbling for her purse again, her thoughts still with Violet and what she’d said. ‘Violet gets confused quite easily these days and I’ve learned it’s better to help with tasks there and then if I can. Saves her fretting.’
‘I understand. Have you been running the shop a long time?’ Pippa hoped a more ordinary conversation would be easier to deal with than the disease afflicting Daphne’s sister’s mind.
‘Violet’s lived here all her life, she never married.’ Daphne tore off the receipt from the card machine and handed it to Pippa. ‘The shop was our parents’ and she’s never really left the village, except for the occasional holiday and of course hospital appointments now. I lived in Harrogate until my husband left three years ago.’ Daphne’s lips pursed together and her hand on the counter trembled. ‘Afterwards I came to stay with Violet, and that’s when I realised she wasn’t quite as well as I thought. She’s eight years older than me and it seemed sensible to make the move back here. We both like the company and I can keep an eye on her.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Pippa said quietly, wanting to offer more, but Daphne waved her concern away.
‘That’s very kind. You get used to it, of course. Now, can I tempt you into a banana loaf as a welcome gift? Even though I say it myself, Violet’s really are the best. Perfect with a generous dollop of butter.’
‘How can I resist,’ Pippa murmured, tucking the proffered loaf wrapped in greaseproof paper into her bag along with everything else. Carbs and cakes, indeed. She picked up the bags, ready to eat and certain Harriet would be equally hungry.
‘Thank you. Daphne, when we were chatting before, Violet mentioned someone called Ivy. Do you know who that is? She said I had a look of her.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid I don’t.’ Daphne turned a shoulder to the corridor. ‘I can ask her, if you like. Her memories are like that, sometimes they all get muddled together and then she remembers other things as though they happened only yesterday.’
‘No, don’t disturb her, it was probably nothing.’
‘Do you think he might visit, your dad?’ Daphne’s voice lowered as she leaned over the counter. ‘It would be lovely to see him again, it’s been such a long time.’
‘I doubt it, I’m sorry. He’s on holiday and then he’s touring again in Australia. I don’t expect to see him for months.’ Or dust, Pippa thought grimly, given the situation he’d got her into. When she returned to London, she was going to practise saying no to the family every single day, and mean it. One of the messages she’d scanned earlier was from her sister Tilly, who ran a B of him as a boy and growing up in Hartfell. How strange it was, to be meeting those who’d known him back then, before he became a rock star and everyone had heard of him. People here had memories of Jonny, and maybe even her mum, that she didn’t. Their life together had begun in this place and suddenly Pippa felt ambushed by the past coming at her without warning, dragging long-buried thoughts of family to the surface.
‘Bryan Haworth, Gil’s dad. The boys were best friends all their lives, until Bryan died, anyway. Far too young, it was such a tragedy. I don’t think his gran ever got over it.’