Finding Home in Hartfell (Hartfell Village #1)

Chapter Eight

Back in the kitchen, Pippa set about cooking dinner. She went to the cupboard where she’d found the pans this morning, only to discover that they’d disappeared, and only one bowl, side plate and dinner plate remained. She hurriedly checked the others in case she’d put them back somewhere else after washing them. The draining board was also empty, and she yanked open the cutlery drawer to be greeted by the sight of a single knife, fork, spoon and teaspoon.

She slammed the drawer shut, stormed through the back door into the yard and across the cobbles. Lola jumped up to greet her and Pippa offered her a single cursory pat as she thumped on the caravan door, trying to ignore Lola’s wagging tail and urgent attentions. A few seconds slid by, and her right foot began to tap as she stared at mouldering green and orange curtains. Lola gave up and settled back in her bed as Pippa applied her fist to the door a second time.

‘I’m not deaf and Lola’s not the only one trying to sleep. What is it with you and waking people up?’ Gil appeared, rubbing a hand over rough stubble. ‘What do you want now?’

‘You know what!’ Pippa’s neck was uncomfortable from having to tip it back so far and she jabbed a hand to a mug and plate sitting on the draining board. ‘You’ve taken all the pans and the crockery from the house!’

‘No, I haven’t.’ That mocking smile was playing on his lips, and she wanted to swipe it from his face. ‘If you look properly, you’ll see that I only took one of everything. I brought Lola’s bowls as well, I wasn’t sure you’d find a use for them.’ At the mention of her name Lola looked up and thumped her tail.

‘But there’s two of us! Me and Harriet, and you knew we were coming. You’re being ridiculous! And selfish and mean and…’

‘And what?’ Gil leaned against the door frame and folded his arms. ‘That stuff is mine and I need it.’

‘So do I! How am I supposed to cook tonight, now you’ve done this?’

‘I’m afraid that’s really not my problem. The contents of the house do belong to me, and I would’ve brought more if I could fit them in here.’

There was no folding step to split the distance between the caravan and the cobbles, and she loathed the advantage this extra height afforded him. ‘But the shop is shut, and they don’t sell plates and pans anyway. I have no idea where the nearest town is and…’

Pippa was ready to weep, and her jaw felt like it had been set in concrete as she took a step back. Right now if she’d had a tow bar on her car, she would’ve hitched up the damn caravan and him in it, and dragged them both out into the middle of nowhere. She fumbled for her phone in a pocket, realising too late that there was no signal. And she certainly wasn’t going to ask him for the Wi-Fi network so she could google alternative plans for dinner.

He yawned, sliding a large hand over his mouth. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to bed.’

‘You’re insufferable!’

‘Well, we can talk about that some other time.’ His phone was ringing, and he glanced at it. ‘You’ll have to excuse me, I’m busy.’

She took another hasty step back as he grabbed the door and shut it. Shocked by her uncharacteristic outburst and Gil’s response, Pippa stared at the caravan. Without pans or enough plates, cooking dinner was off the menu, and she made a snap decision to try the pub instead. They would probably even have Wi-Fi. She returned to the house more slowly than she’d run out of it to find Harriet, and let her know she was going out in search of dinner and would be back soon. Though she suggested they go together, Harriet firmly shut that idea down. She left through the front door, dreading the idea of another glimpse of Gil or that caravan right now.

The Pilkington Arms seemed to be dozing peacefully in the late afternoon sun, looking as golden and gorgeous as the rest of the lane it sat upon. Pippa pushed open the front door and stepped into a stone-flagged reception, a staircase set at the back of the panelled hall. A glance at the rooms on either side revealed the bar on her left and a restaurant to the right. She chose the bar, aware of curious eyes watching as she pulled out one of only two free stools, every table occupied.

Comfortable and contemporary tables and chairs sat well with dark blue walls covered in what she saw was excellent artwork; some modern paintings, others more traditional, and she resolved to have a closer look when she was in a better mood. A fire was laid but unlit and felt welcoming all the same, and the chatter was a pleasant hum, a distraction from the miserable thoughts chasing through her mind.

‘You look parched, darling.’ A handsome middle-aged man with cropped grey hair stood behind the bar and she dredged up a smile. Pale blue eyes were as friendly as his greeting, a beard barely more than stubble framing his jaw. ‘And I’m guessing it’s not a tonic water you’re after, not unless it comes with a hefty shot of gin.’

‘That bad, huh?’ Pippa huffed out a laugh, aware she sounded like Harriet. Her shoulders began to relax at his warmth, the tension gripping the back of her neck easing.

‘You’re Pippa, right? Up from London?’

‘Right.’ Here we go, she thought wearily. ‘Does everyone in the village know who I am and hate me already?’

‘Pretty much, in answer to your first question, and definitely not, for the second.’ He offered an arm across the bar. ‘Hi, I’m delighted to meet you. I’m Kenny, my partner Vince and I bought this place two years ago, he’s the head chef. We moved up from Brighton and it took a while to find our feet away from the city, so I know how you’re feeling. Hartfell’s a wonderful place when you get to know it.’

‘I’m afraid I’ll have to take your word for that, I won’t be here long enough to find out. Hi Kenny.’ Pippa shook his hand, her smile wry. ‘Thank you for your welcome, it’s very kind.’

‘My pleasure. And please just let me get this out there, I’m a huge fan of your dad’s and the band.’ Kenny laughed as Pippa pulled a face. ‘Saw them play that headline set at Glastonbury back in the day and I’ve never forgotten it. I know, sorry. You probably get that from everyone you meet.’

‘Not always.’ It was why Pippa had kept her married name, helping her to live a life away from the limelight Jonny loved. ‘And it’s very sweet of you to say so, he has a lot of fans, and he loves them all.’

It was true. Jonny always said the band would be nowhere without their following and they’d managed to attract new fans down the years. Including, it seemed, Kenny, who must be a good fifteen years younger than her dad.

‘So what can I get you?’ Kenny turned a shoulder to the bar, a young woman to his right busy serving another customer. Pippa’s gaze landed on a bottle.

‘Actually, I think I’ll take your advice and have a gin and tonic, the dry one please.’ She’d had no intention of lingering in the pub, a stab of guilt for Harriet lurking in the house swiftly following. But Kenny had been so nice, and she needed a bit of that right now.

‘Excellent choice, it’s a local distillery and our customers love it. I’d recommend it with Indian tonic or the rhubarb and raspberry if you fancy a sweeter twist.’

‘The Indian please. I’ll try the sweet one another time.’

‘Coming up.’ Kenny set to work, and Pippa was trying to remember when she’d last drunk before six p.m., even on a Saturday. Although Harriet generally used public transport to get around the city with her friends, Pippa still liked to be available for run arounds if required. Kenny placed a glass on the bar, and she picked it up, savouring a long, slow mouthful.

‘Gorgeous, thank you. Just what I needed.’

‘That bad, huh?’ They both laughed as Kenny repeated her words from a few moments ago. ‘Let me guess. You’re sharing Home Farm with Gil Haworth and he’s not happy?’

‘Wow, you’re good at this game.’ Pippa took another slug of gin. ‘Better than that. We’re not sharing the house because he’s moved out, taken all the pans and plates with him, and he’s still not happy. Neither is my teenage daughter. As far as she’s concerned, I might as well have been trying to rehome a puppy.’

‘Well, he does have rather puppyish eyes.’ Kenny, busy serving another customer, threw her a mischievous glance and she pulled a face.

‘Not you as well?’

‘He could charm the birds out of the trees, that one.’

‘We are still talking about the same person?’ She inadvertently swallowed a chunk of ice and coughed. ‘Gil Haworth?’

‘The very one.’ Kenny thanked his customer and returned to stand opposite her. ‘Just don’t tell him I said so, he has quite enough fans around here as it is. So why does your daughter feel so sorry for him?’

‘Oh, you know.’ Pippa tried to quash the sadness that Harriet hadn’t wanted to come with her to the pub. ‘She’s at the age when everything wrong with her life is apparently my fault. Not her dad’s, you understand, because she doesn’t live with him. He’s the fun one who lets her do what she likes and doesn’t nag her about homework or staying up late on school nights.’

‘How old?’ Kenny’s gaze was sympathetic, and Pippa liked him all the more. She wondered if the pub had any rooms free; maybe she could move in here instead and give Gil the house back. She bet Kenny would look after them.

‘Fourteen.’

‘Bless you. You’ll get through it – both of you – I’m sure.’

Pippa smiled gratefully. ‘You have a beautiful pub here. So, what made you choose Hartfell?’

‘We were looking for a project and a change of pace. Vince worked in Paris, I was in marketing in Brighton, and this place came up. I have the best job, because I get to choose the wine. And drink it, of course. Alongside the marketing.’

‘Well, you’ve certainly done a brilliant job. I love it.’ She tended to avoid noisy city pubs, packed full of people. This one was comfortable, stylish and welcoming.

‘Thanks, Pippa, that’s kind of you. We wanted to keep the country house feel but make it contemporary, you know, a home from home. We worked with a fabulous designer who took care of everything, and the brand-new Pilkington Arms is the result.’

‘Pilkington?’ Something caught in Pippa’s mind, and she was trying to land on the memory. ‘I’ve heard that name before.’

‘Landed gentry back in the day around here.’ Kenny was busy serving another couple and a waiter was adding drinks to a tray. ‘Although I think most of them have scattered now. There’s still a family up at the Hall called Pilkington, though. Lovely place, if a bit rundown. Rolling acres and a tennis court, that sort of thing. We don’t see much of them, it’s empty half the year.’

‘Right.’ She couldn’t place the name and gave up trying. She took another mouthful of gin and suddenly remembered why she’d come here in the first place, reaching for a menu along the bar. ‘I have a favour to ask, Kenny. Seeing as that bloody Gil Haworth has made off with the contents of the kitchen, is there any chance of me ordering something and taking it back to the house please? My daughter’s still there, waiting for me to provide a solution for dinner.’

‘Bloody Gil Haworth, did you say?’ Kenny’s smile widened.

‘Yes.’ Pippa felt a happy warmth stealing through her. Somehow her glass was already empty, and she really shouldn’t stay for another. ‘Very bloody and very grumpy. Quite good looking though, if you like that kind of thing. All rough edges and no sense of humour. Not that I’ve noticed, you understand.’

‘Can’t say as I’ve noticed you either, Pippa Douglas.’ Gil slid onto the free stool to her left, Lola settling at his feet. ‘Can’t see past all the shrieking.’

Pippa shot him a glare before trying to concentrate on the menu. Ordinarily she’d have taken issue with Gil referring to her shrieking, but the pub was too busy and pleasant for another row, and maybe she had yelled a little. Once or twice. Space was at a premium and she felt a tremor on her skin as his arm brushed hers when Kenny offered him a menu as well.

‘Beer?’ Kenny held up a glass questioningly.

‘Please. The Copper, a half.’ Gil nodded at a pump and Kenny tilted the glass beneath it. ‘Been a rough day. I’m ready for it, even if it is non-alcoholic.’

Of course he drank nothing but beer, Pippa fumed irrationally. She bet he’d never been near a good glass of wine in his life.

‘Can I have the wild mushroom risotto for two, please, Kenny.’ She replaced the menu on the bar. ‘It sounds wonderful and I’m sure we’ll both love it.’

‘Mate, you do know she’s a vegetarian?’ Gil added what he apparently considered another of Pippa’s faults to his list of grievances. ‘So you won’t be needing any of your outstanding grass-fed Shorthorn steak or shrimps caught fresh in the bay for her. Cheers.’ He held up his glass in mock salute and she stared straight ahead.

‘Don’t be so naughty, Gil. You take no notice, darling.’ Kenny patted her hand, and she could’ve kissed him.

‘I thought you liked saving animals, not eating them,’ she told Gil coolly and he laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘I don’t generally eat my patients, at least not knowingly.’ He took another long drink and set the half empty glass on the bar.

‘Seeing as you’ve had a rough day too, Pippa, why don’t you take a bottle of wine to go with the risotto?’ Kenny had an iPad in his right hand. ‘Then you can drink it at your leisure.’

‘You’d better send the glasses as well,’ she said glumly. ‘I don’t suppose there are any of those left in the house.’ But necking the wine straight from the bottle did seem rather tempting. ‘Oh, go on, then, thank you. Whatever you’d recommend.’

‘Why don’t you suggest something, Gil?’ Kenny arched a brow. ‘You two should be playing nicely, not falling out.’

‘You’re the expert, Kenny,’ Pippa said quickly. ‘I’d rather have your suggestions.’

‘The New Zealand Pinot Noir?’ Gil glanced at her. ‘Or if you don’t like red, try a French Pinot Gris instead.’

‘Perfect, Gil.’ Kenny beamed. ‘Think dark plum, rose petal and violet for the red, Pippa, with a deliciously silky palate. But the white is gorgeous too, creamy and fresh, not too rich on the finish. Perfect with a risotto.’

She pursed her lips, not sure she was up to such complicated decision-making. ‘The red please. Thanks.’ Right now it was the wine that mattered, not the colour of the grape skins, or even that Gil had suggested it.

‘Here you go. Uncork it at home and give it a few minutes, won’t do it any harm.’ Kenny set down a bottle and a glass in front of her. ‘On the house.’

‘Kenny, please.’ Pippa was reaching for her bag, and he held up a hand.

‘I insist. Call it a welcome present. You can thank me by coming back for another meal and bringing your daughter next time.’

‘Done. That would be lovely. And thank you, that’s so generous. I think you and me might become great friends.’ She shot Gil another filthy look, which he ignored.

‘I certainly hope so.’ Kenny smiled as Gil put his menu down. ‘What would you like, Gil?’

‘Steak and chips please, with everything. Béarnaise sauce too.’

Pippa let out a silent breath, certain Gil was ordering the most carnivorous choice on the menu just to spite her. Well, he could eat whatever he liked, she wouldn’t be hanging around to watch him. The minute her risottos were ready, she’d be straight back to the house and Harriet.

‘So what’s this about you moving out of the farmhouse?’ Kenny was busy with Gil’s order on the iPad. ‘I thought you were joking, when you said you would.’

‘I was not.’

Pippa couldn’t care less. She’d hooked up to the pub’s Wi-Fi and was staring at the email and message notifications winking back at her. Sunday lunch here tomorrow might be nice, then Harriet could catch up too. She resolved to ask her over dinner.

‘You might see me a bit more often now, the new digs are a little primitive. No oven.’

‘You haven’t gone and borrowed that rickety old caravan off Dorothy, have you?’ Kenny unscrewed the top from a bottle of tonic water, ready to add to a glass for another customer. ‘I saw it when we went to the farm for eggs, it barely looked fit for scrap.’

‘Doesn’t matter. I prefer my own company to the alternative.’

For once Pippa agreed with Gil, wondering if she’d ever be able to go a day in this village without running into him.

‘It seems to me that there’s an obvious solution to both your problems.’ Kenny was in between customers, one hand on the bar as he regarded them in amusement.

‘And what’s that?’ Gil placed his empty glass down and shook his head when Kenny asked if he’d like another. ‘No thanks. On call all weekend. I’ll have a lime and soda please.’

Pippa was scanning messages, including the one from Cassie with more details on the girls’ netball camp. Her breath rushed out in relief as she saw Raf’s name pop up and she read his message. He had no plans to return to Sweden and was in London, holed up in Jonny’s apartment until he rejoined the band. She’d call him another time, find out how things were. The email from the solicitor wasn’t very enlightening, other than to confirm she had Jonny’s permission to act on the house and farm as she saw fit. There was also a scan copy of boundaries, showing a few acres surrounding the house after most of the land had been sold to another farmer.

‘Why don’t you two share the cooking at least, if living together is a bit of a stretch right now?’ Kenny raised a hand to wave at a couple making their exit. ‘Pippa’s got the stove, you’ve got the pans, Gil. Both of your problems solved.’

Pippa put her phone down and a splutter of laughter escaped. ‘I don’t think so, Kenny, thanks. I’d rather share the house with Lola.’

‘And I’d rather share it with one of my patients. No offence, mate, but that’s really not going to work.’

‘Well, the thought’s there.’ Kenny seemed highly amused and not in the least daunted that his suggestion had been so swiftly dismissed.

Pippa was staring at the bottle of wine. Dark plum, Kenny had said, with rose petals and hints of violet. Delicious. She was so tempted to open the bottle now and knock it back. But she really didn’t think it would enhance her reputation around the village if she were spotted staggering back drunk from her first visit to the pub. And Harriet, she was quite certain, would not approve. Gil was addressing her, and she turned her head, offering a contemptuous gaze.

‘You don’t even like dogs. Lola prefers to share with people who enjoy her company.’

‘I never said that,’ she replied carefully, hurt clutching her heart at the reminder. She couldn’t read that cool blue gaze, couldn’t decipher what might be running through his mind.

‘You didn’t have to, it’s perfectly clear. But it’s obvious Harriet’s crying out for something to love. A pet would be good for her.’

‘Don’t say another word about my daughter,’ she hissed, every motherly hackle rising. ‘I don’t care how many teenagers you’ve raised or whether your vet skills are heroic, in demand or not. I’m not interested in whatever you think of me, Harriet, or my parenting. And we’re not getting a pet. That’s final. We live in London and she’s far too busy to take care of something else and I certainly haven’t got the time.’ Pippa’s voice had risen with every word, and she caught sight of a couple gaping at a table behind Gil. She shut up abruptly; she really didn’t want that on someone’s social media.

‘Pippa, sorry.’ Kenny cleared his throat, a waitress hovering beside him. ‘Your risottos are ready.’

‘Thank you, Kenny.’ Pippa got down from the stool and collected her bag, if not quite her wits. ‘I really appreciate it and we’ll definitely be back for another meal.’ She glanced at Gil as she took the paper bag Kenny was offering. ‘When the company is more amenable.’

Halfway back up the lane, the enticing aroma of the risotto making her hurry, a thought struck her, and she stopped dead. The pub was called The Pilkington Arms. Gil’s middle name, so he had informed her this morning, was Pilkington.