Finding Home in Hartfell (Hartfell Village #1)

Chapter Ten

‘You can’t cancel the village show! Have you lost your bloody mind?’

The back door flew open and Pippa flinched as Gil burst into the kitchen, the plate in her hand wobbling. Harriet, sitting at the table, silently picked up her phone and slid out of the room, and Pippa was very tempted to follow. So, their temporary truce was at an end, and she wished she was clutching something more substantial than a tea towel.

Harriet had washed the dishes after dinner and Pippa had been drying them, lost in thoughts of the history of the house and Hartfell, and her own connection to this place and its people. Without her bed in its usual spot near the table, Lola didn’t seem to know quite what to do with herself and wandered up for a pat.

‘I think you’ll find that I can,’ she replied, ignoring Lola, and trying to even out the uncertain note in her voice as the Labrador’s tail continued to wag hopefully. ‘It was apparently being held on my land.’ She paused, that didn’t sound right, and it wasn’t exactly true. ‘My dad’s land, and no one thought to check with me if it’s okay to hold the show here. I haven’t got time to oversee the arrangements and I have other things to worry about right now.’

Like finding an estate agent, which she still hadn’t had time to do in the past two days in between dealing with the practice’s clients, handling calls and queries, and clearing up accidents from the floor. Harriet had been a very welcome help; she’d caught on to the management system in a flash and accepted payments, saving Pippa a job, while messaging friends and updating her social media.

After each patient, Gil accompanied the client to the desk, leading Pippa to wonder if he didn’t trust her, as he dispensed medication and arranged follow-up appointments. Elaine had kindly taken the time to send good wishes, and Pippa had thanked her, glad to hear in return that Elaine’s dad was stable as they awaited news of scan results.

After consultations had ended this morning, Pippa had been taken aback to see people tramping around the field behind the garden, setting up gazebos, a flapping marquee and marking out rings with rope. The sheep had disappeared, and she’d found out from a helpful chap in a high-vis jacket, when she’d gone over to enquire what was going on, that it was all in preparation for the village show being held on Saturday.

‘Besides, I haven’t actually cancelled it.’ She put the tea towel down and finally gave Lola a pat, wondering why bestowing attention on Gil’s dog felt akin to being nice to him too. But ignoring Lola wasn’t fair, and Pippa felt some of her tension ease as she stroked the friendly dog.

‘I simply said I was very sorry, but they’d have to find somewhere else to hold it.’ Hopefully by Saturday she’d have an estate agent round and she didn’t want them thinking the village had free rein to trample across the farm as they pleased.

‘Is that right?’ Gil’s bark of laughter was scornful. ‘So you’re quite certain, then, that the committee don’t have rolling permission from your father to hold the show on this weekend every summer? And that should either party wish to cancel, the notice period is actually twelve months, not three days. The village is alive with panic and indignation, not that you care.’

Rolling permission? Twelve months? Pippa’s hair was doing a fair job of hiding her face as she stroked Lola, and she took a moment to compose herself before her own panic took hold. She’d assumed that her dad knew nothing about the show, and she didn’t want the field all dug up before the farm went on the market. After she’d informed the chap they’d have to leave, the workers had gathered in a huddle and finally disappeared, abandoning everything they’d brought.

‘And the only reason you’ve told them to shove it, as far as I can see, is because you can’t be bothered with the minor inconvenience of a few locals enjoying themselves for a day on your dad’s land.’ Gil folded his arms. ‘I don’t even know why I’m surprised. It’s exactly what I’d have expected from a townie like you.’

‘Clearly it’s not just the one day, is it?’ Pippa hoped countering his sarcasm with politeness was a more effective weapon than resorting to a slanging match. A townie, indeed. She supposed that was true. ‘People would’ve been turning up all week and then been here half of the next one as well, clearing up.’

‘This show goes back generations, Pippa.’ He was forcing the words out slowly and she choked back a wild giggle as she wondered if he ground his teeth too. This was definitely not the right moment to laugh, though – he’d think she’d totally lost the plot. But her dread was still mounting as he carried on. ‘To the old days when people travelled to the village in search of work, and you think to cancel all that tradition and the effort it takes at a moment’s notice?’

‘Isn’t it just a few stalls and a burger van?’ This time she did laugh, and it bordered on the slightly hysterical. From the look of the activity in the field earlier, she thought it might be a bit more, but surely all village shows were just that. A few stalls in the garden of the nearest vicarage served up with tea and cake, not the rows of metal seating she’d seen lined up on a lorry in the lane. That, thankfully, had been turned away before they’d started unloading.

‘I guess you would think that.’

Gil ran a hand through his hair but Pippa wasn’t going to be drawn in by the tiredness on his face. All his own fault, working the hours he did and trying to cling on to a crazy dream of taking over the practice instead of letting go and moving on.

‘But seeing as you are apparently serious about ruining one of the best local days of the year, I’ve made a quick list of the people you need to contact.’ He slapped a piece of paper onto the flimsy table, making it wobble. ‘Why don’t you start with the school, have a chat with the headteacher? See what she makes of telling the kids all the artwork they’ve made to sell at the fete to raise funds for their new trim trail is a waste of time. Then pop into the WI and tell them not to bother arranging flowers or baking, and while you’re at it maybe you could make a donation to cover all the ones they’ll lose from the cakes they won’t sell on the day. Drop a line to the Young Farmers’ group and let them know the sponsored fell run and tug of war is off too; I’m sure they’d appreciate a few quid slung their way to make up for it. Then there’s the Morris Dancers, they were booked months ago so I don’t suppose they’d mind a Saturday off, given how much practice they do.’

The table bounced again as Gil’s hand thudded down a second time. ‘Make sure you let the car parking people know, so they can contact the students after extra cash and tell them the show’s off, seeing as the committee won’t find another suitable venue that’s large enough with two days’ notice. And the food stalls. Off the top of my head I thought of the cocktail bar in a bus, the vintage caravan serving afternoon tea and the local caterer who makes a month’s turnover in one day at the show. Then there’s the expenses already incurred, like printing the catalogues and arranging prizes for competitions.’

Anxiety had knotted so tightly in her stomach she could feel cramps clutching at it and panic was rising, along with an acid feeling in her chest as Gil stared at her.

‘You haven’t thought this through, have you? It’s all over social media and you’re public enemy number one in Hartfell right now.’ His anger had abated to a weary disbelief and somehow that felt even worse as he huffed out a long, harassed breath. ‘You just don’t give a toss.’

‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea,’ she whispered, wondering how – if – she could even put her colossal mistake to rights.

Gil straightened up and at the door he turned, Lola at his heels. ‘And that’s just it, isn’t it? Because you can’t wait to swan off back to your London life and leave all this behind. People live here, Pippa. They love living here. And you’re a part of this place, even if you don’t realise quite how much.’

After he’d left, she pulled out a chair and flopped onto it, head in her hands. She had been guilty of assuming the show didn’t much matter, and that the few locals who bothered with it would find another venue easily enough – there was a whole village green, after all. She went outside and walked through the garden to the field, staring at the chaos left behind when she’d halted proceedings. There was only one thing she could do, so she used the key Elaine had given her and let herself into the vets.

Logging into the Wi-Fi, she brought up Facebook, the colour draining from her face when she found the show’s page. Alongside the previously jolly posts about all there was to look forward to on Saturday, a new one had gone up this afternoon, suggesting the day was in doubt due to an issue with the landowner, and some of the comments made Pippa cringe. She took a deep breath and messaged Cassie, hoping her friend would put her considerable PR skills to use and post Pippa’s apology for her.

Cassie came straight back with a promise to help, and after fifteen long minutes of mindful breathing, Pippa picked up her phone again and returned to the show’s page. Comments were pouring in on the new post and amongst the relief, there were still a few angry for the confusion, which she supposed was only to be expected. She really needed something to make up for her mistake, an apology and offering to help in some way wasn’t going to be enough. She called a familiar name in her phone, holding in tears when her brother finally picked up.

Afterwards, she placed a call to the haulage company, promising compensation if they could return first thing and deliver the seating they were meant to drop off earlier. They agreed, bemused by the about-turn, and in the morning, she was there to greet them. The team who’d been setting up yesterday had also returned, and she nipped down to the village shop to bring everyone freshly made bacon butties. It seemed she would be playing goodwill catch-up for some time yet, and they were decent enough to accept her apology and get on with their work.

‘I see you didn’t bring one back for me.’

Pippa looked up to see Gil returning from a walk with Lola, who was snuffling in a patch of long grass beneath a hedge. He glanced at the huddle enjoying their impromptu breakfast and she checked her phone for the latest from Raf. Signal sometimes popped into range out here and she was hoping to hear from him.

‘I didn’t bring one for me either,’ she told him as he halted nearby, Lola’s unattached lead in one hand now that the sheep had been temporarily removed.

‘That’s different. You’re a vegetarian. Or a vegan. We never did establish which.’

‘Does it matter?’ She read the new message from Raf, and it produced a dazzling smile she inadvertently turned on Gil. He blinked, and she wondered if the sun was in his eyes. Sunglasses were pushed into his blond hair, and he pulled them down. ‘It’s not as though you and I are ever likely to share a meal.’

‘I guess not.’ Lola ambled over and he bent to make a fuss of her. She wagged her tail and transferred her attention to Pippa, who enjoyed the quiet pleasure she found in making Lola happy.

‘Look, Pippa, I was pretty angry about the show yesterday and I’m sorry I came down so hard on you.’ He lifted a hand to their surroundings, the resumed activity and people working to get the show back on track. ‘What you’re doing, this, it’s very decent of you.’

‘Not really, you made that clear last night. But I hope everyone will still have a good day and I haven’t ruined things completely.’ She bit her lip. Maybe this would be the very last Hartfell village show held here. Next year, Home Farm would be in the hands of new owners, and she wondered if Gil was thinking of that too, as his eyes narrowed on hers.

‘Are you coming to the show?’

‘Why? Are you planning to ban me?’ She’d prefer to be miles away given the chaos she’d caused, but she couldn’t avoid it, not now with Raf on board as well.

‘Don’t think there’s any point, I reckon you’d turn up anyway.’

She stared at him, unable to read his expression behind the polarised glasses, and she’d had enough of fighting. It was exhausting and she wasn’t used to it, much preferring diplomacy and treading carefully to keep the peace in her world. Instead, she laughed, and Gil’s lips twitched before widening into a grin.

‘I was going to ask if you’d be helping on our stall, seeing as Elaine can’t make it.’

‘Your stall?’ Pippa squinted at him, wondering if the sun had gone to his head. ‘Doing what?’

‘Greeting clients, maybe charming a few new ones as I’ll likely be busy with the farmers. Somehow I think you’d be much better at that than me.’

‘You’d trust me to do that?’ She was searching his face for signs of sarcasm or an imminent put-down. ‘Aren’t you worried I’d try and sabotage your reputation or your business?’ She hadn’t yet called either of the two land agents she’d found yesterday; she was planning to do that later on.

‘I think my reputation as a vet is secure and the business is doing okay. So is that a yes or no?’

‘It’s an “I’ll think about it.”’ She wasn’t about to commit to anything else involving Gil. It was quite enough, seeing him at the practice or around the yard every day, with both of them trying to avoid catching one another’s eye. ‘I have other things to do.’

‘Yeah? Like what?’

Like getting Raf settled and sorted for one, but Pippa wasn’t going to reveal that. She wasn’t used to Gil smiling in her direction, never mind prepared to share her plans with him. Someone was beckoning her over his shoulder. ‘You’ll have to excuse me, I think I’m needed elsewhere.’

‘Mum? MUM?’

‘What?’ Pippa was in her bedroom, debating whether to unpack her clothes and hang them in the ancient and musty wardrobe or carry on living out of her case until they went home again. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Can you come downstairs?’ A tap on her door was followed by it bursting open and Harriet charging in. ‘Gil wants a word with you.’

Oh, no. What had gone wrong now? Pippa carefully laid the one dress she’d brought on the bed and forced a casual note into her voice. ‘What about?’

‘Posy. He needs some help and when I offered, he said I had to ask you first.’

‘What kind of help?’ Pippa wasn’t sure she liked the sound of this, but she did love the new excitement and colour in Harriet’s face and didn’t want to be the cause of it dissolving in a second if she refused. ‘Is it dangerous?’

‘Like, duh! Course not.’ Harriet rattled the door, pointing to the stairs with her other hand. ‘Can you come now, he’s waiting.’

‘Okay.’ Pippa didn’t have any choice if she didn’t want to upset Harriet, and she followed her downstairs and into the kitchen.

Gil was staring through the window towards the yard, and he turned slowly, that impassive blue gaze landing on her. She hadn’t seen him since yesterday morning in the field and was coming to expect the tremor on her skin whenever he was near.

‘Harriet mentioned you need some help with Posy?’ She sensed the shutters had come down once again and her voice was level lest he thought she was a pushover after a couple of grins and a glimpse of warmth.

‘Please.’ He glanced at Harriet, and she beamed, irrationally making Pippa want to kick him. Why didn’t Harriet smile like that at her anymore? ‘Posy needs an injection, and I wondered if Harriet would hold her for me. She did offer, but I thought it best to run it past you first. Posy and I aren’t the best of friends and I quite like my teeth attached to my gums.’

‘So you’re suggesting that my daughter, who has very little experience of animals, should hold on to a dangerous pony whilst you stick a needle in it?’ Pippa laughed. The idea was ridiculous, even if said daughter was currently making a fuss of Lola, and the big, friendly dog was lapping up the attention. ‘That pony is barely taller than this table. Can’t you tie her up?’

‘Tried that last time. Haven’t got round to fastening the metal ring back to the wall yet. And it’s only me she doesn’t like, she’s fine with everyone else.’ He fixed Pippa with that stare again and she had to remind herself not to fidget as she folded her arms.

‘Perhaps she’s a very good judge of character.’ If she needed another reason to get rid of Gil and his part-time practice in her yard, then Harriet was it. No one was getting attached to anything or anyone around here, she told herself firmly. Least of all her impressionable teenage daughter.

‘Oh, Mum, come on! How bad can Posy be? She’s been fine while I’ve been taking her in and out of the paddock.’ Harriet was already inching towards the door with Lola. ‘Like you said, she’s tiny.’

‘But Harriet…’

‘Mum, seriously! I’m doing it.’

‘Fine,’ Pippa muttered. Maybe it would be best to let Harriet find out for herself that this wouldn’t be the jolly jape she was expecting if someone built like Gil couldn’t even manage the pony without help. ‘But I’m coming too, just in case.’

She was expecting Harriet to object to that but instead she was disarmed by the grin Harriet flashed her before she and Lola took off. Pippa and Gil got caught performing an awkward sort of a dance when they both tried to insist that the other went first and she won, closing the kitchen door behind them to follow him across the yard.

Posy looked very sweet in her stable, having her fluffy neck scratched by Harriet, making a hairy top lip curl in pleasure. Pippa nearly laughed; clearly, he was talking nonsense, and the pony was perfectly safe. She looked as though butter wouldn’t dream of melting in her mouth, one neat little hind hoof tilted in relaxation.

Posy submitted to the headcollar, minus the muzzle, that Harriet slipped over her head, one eye half closed. Pippa was already thinking ahead to a lovely dinner with Harriet in the pub so she could use the Wi-Fi to reply to the email from the land agent she’d received. She’d popped into the pub on her way to the shop earlier and Kenny had promised to save a nice quiet table for them.

Gil followed Harriet into the stable and Pippa spotted the needle in his right hand. Posy’s ears twitched as he slowly approached, her eyes fully open now, and Pippa sensed a sudden change in atmosphere. With a swift jerk of her head, startling Harriet, Posy shot through the open door and tore off across the yard, lead rope trailing like pink string behind her. Pippa and Harriet were left staring open mouthed at Posy’s plump and retreating bottom, tail swishing in the sun. The whole episode had lasted about three seconds and Posy freewheeled out of sight towards the front garden.

‘Why didn’t you shut the bloody door?’ He rounded on Pippa, and she clenched her fists, filled with an unfamiliar longing to let them do the talking for her.

‘It’s not my fault.’ Pippa jumped sideways to let Harriet scoot past when she and Lola set off after Posy, Lola leaping excitedly. ‘You never said to close the door.’

‘Well, it’s not exactly rocket science, is it?’ He treated Pippa to a scowl over his shoulder as he marched after Harriet and his dog, and presumably the pony. ‘Anyone with even a degree of common sense would have known she’d try to escape.’

‘And anyone with a degree of decency would have explained what was required to two people who are unused to dealing with stroppy—’ Pippa’s lips tightened, the toes on her right foot were throbbing after Posy had stood on them on her way to freedom. ‘—ponies.’ She wished she’d said vets instead.

‘What’s the matter?’ Gil paused, watching as she took a hobbling step.

‘Nothing,’ Pippa muttered. Posy really was heavy, that tiny hoof had hurt but she was damned if she’d let him see how much. ‘Now what are you going to do?’

‘Spend the next thirty minutes chasing Posy around the garden probably,’ he said sourly. ‘She’s a little demon. One of these days I might be tempted to give her an injection she won’t wake up from.’

‘You can’t do that!’ Pippa stared at him, aghast. ‘Don’t you have to take some sort of oath to swear you’ll always save lives, not end them?’

‘I think you’re confusing me with a doctor. And I’m excusing myself from all promises made when I qualified where Posy’s concerned. Get some ice on that foot or you’ll still be limping tomorrow. Anyway, it’s just me she has a problem with. If I really thought she was dangerous I would have asked you to help instead.’

‘Thanks for that,’ Pippa retorted, stung by the realisation of just how much Gil actually disliked her. She disliked him too but that wasn’t the point; she wasn’t trying to kill him. ‘Death by demon pony.’

She was expecting him to agree but instead he laughed, and quite without meaning to let it, her breath caught. The grin softened his blue eyes into something she absolutely refused to admit might be close to irresistible and revealed a whole other side to him, one she was horrified to notice was devastatingly attractive.

‘Coming?’ The grin was still lingering, and he glanced at her foot. ‘Can you walk on it?’

‘Of course I can.’ Pippa took a faltering step, then another, still thinking about that smile.

‘Right. Round two.’ Gil grabbed a bucket, and waited for Pippa to cross the yard. Maybe espadrilles weren’t the best thing for her feet out here. She probably ought to buy her and Harriet some wellies, steel-toe capped ones preferably.