Finding Home in Hartfell (Hartfell Village #1)

Chapter Fourteen

Sunday morning was a lazy one, with Raf sleeping in and Pippa cooking breakfast before a car arrived to collect him for the return trip back to London. Harriet had already said her goodbyes after introducing him to Posy, and it seemed the pony was as keen on Raf as he was on her. Posy had flattened her ears and backed away, and Harriet hadn’t been able to contain her laughter as she assured her uncle that Posy probably thought he was another vet and about to inject her.

He held Pippa close as they hugged goodbye, promising to look after himself and come and stay just as soon as the tour was over in November. Harriet and Alfie were meeting some of his friends on a farm to practise calf-handling skills, and she rolled her eyes at Pippa’s instruction to be very careful and wash her hands afterwards.

Pippa couldn’t settle to sketching in the garden, not with Gil power washing his Land Rover in the yard. The noise and the sight of him without a T-shirt was too distracting, so she shut herself indoors with a book instead. The house felt heavy with the weight of history all around, but she wouldn’t go searching, not after last time, when he’d discovered her with the photograph album and had taken it away.

The afternoon sidled into evening and she ate alone, leaving a pasta dish ready for Harriet to heat up when she returned. She’d read Rose’s newsletter, learning that her brother James bred highly prized pedigree Shorthorn cattle and ran a large flock of Rough Fell sheep. He and Rose were third-generation farmers and from what she’d seen of Alfie so far, it looked highly likely he would be the fourth. He had the look of a farmer about him, a sense that the landscape was bred into him every bit as much as the city was a part of Harriet.

Pippa was finding new pleasure in being up early to run most mornings and then she’d settle in the garden with a coffee and her sketchpad before she went to the vets, hand flying over the page as she captured the views around her. A dahlia just coming into flower, a robin perched on a branch and a sheep staring and wary, poised for signs of danger.

Out there, she didn’t have to think about decisions concerning the house and she was loving working so freely, with no pressure or expectation on the results. She didn’t do it often enough at home, where there always seemed some task she must accomplish, either for work or Harriet. Even her career and teaching students didn’t provide quite the thrill it once had. When she’d spotted a job in a gallery a couple of months ago, she’d talked herself out of having a go in favour of sticking with what she knew.

Tilly was still pressing her for contact with the social media influencer and Pippa had given in, sending a cheery DM, and putting the two women in touch. She’d also agreed to Phoebe using the house for a shoot and had booked the caterer as requested.

On Tuesday evening she decided on impulse to accept Rose’s invitation for an early walk. She was enjoying getting to know her and it would make a change from measuring the miles on her Fitbit. The next morning Pippa headed into the village in her running gear; she hadn’t got anything better for walking the fells. Dorothy shot past on the quad bike, a couple of sheep in the trailer and the terrier on her lap. She raised a hand, which Pippa took to be an improvement in their relationship as Dorothy had actually acknowledged her presence. Despite the gathering clouds threatening rain, she felt her mind easing, a sense of problems unravelling and slowing her feet.

‘Pippa, hi, so glad you could make it.’ Outside the pub Rose stepped forward to greet her. ‘Everyone, this is Pippa, who’s staying at Home Farm. Pippa, this is my neighbour Audrey, who was a GP in town until she retired and is now a volunteer ranger with the National Park Authority. Maryam farms down the road from us and in her spare time creates the most gorgeous handmade chocolates. Hazel here has a cottage in the village and works up at the Hall for the family. Occasionally we have one or two more, but this is the core, we’re usually the ones out in all weathers. And don’t worry about remembering names, you must meet loads of people.’

‘Not as many as you might think. Thank you for welcoming me to your group, it’s very kind.’ Pippa was smiling at each woman in turn, trying to lock in those details and attribute them to the right person. Audrey looked to be the oldest, with Hazel and Maryam somewhere in the middle.

‘Mostly I’m the mum of a teenage daughter, and an art teacher.’ Pippa pushed away thoughts of the sketches she’d done and the pleasure they’d brought since she’d arrived; they were only for her, and no one would ever see them. ‘It’s my dad who loves to travel and meet people. My life is pretty quiet compared to his.’

‘Harriet’s delightful, she’s been spending time with Alfie. Haven’t they made plans for tonight, Pippa? I think they’re going bowling with Young Farmers’. There’s a minibus taking them into town.’

‘I think so.’ Pippa smiled brightly, hoping it wasn’t obvious that Harriet hadn’t mentioned it yet, or asked if it was okay for her to go out with a group of people Pippa had never met. She would have to catch her before Harriet disappeared to Dorothy’s, probably for the rest of the day.

‘So this morning we’re going to a waterfall, it’s about a mile and a half each way and a decent climb. We usually gather there for a swim or a chat, or even just to sit in silence.’ Rain was beginning to drizzle, and Rose zipped up her coat. ‘Feel free to take part or sit as quietly as you like. No expectation.’

‘Thank you.’ Pippa hadn’t even thought of buying a waterproof before arriving in Hartfell and hoped her lightweight running jacket would be enough to protect her from the worst of the weather.

The riverside path from the village was one she hadn’t explored yet and it was lovely, treelined and rocky as it rose above the houses. Even low clouds skimming the fell couldn’t dent the glorious view of misty meadows dotted with cows further down. It was a more expansive scene than she’d usually draw but the desire to capture something of it came again, freeing her mind from her real mission here. Maryam and Audrey were at the front, chatting with Hazel as they set off at a good pace. Despite her running, the gradient had Pippa puffing before too long and Rose was keeping her company.

‘Okay?’

‘Yes, thanks,’ Pippa said wryly as she unzipped her coat, hands briefly on her knees. ‘I thought I was fitter than this but it’s level at home. That’s my excuse, anyway.’

‘I was going to say you’ll get used to it, but of course you might not if you’re going home soon.’ Rose flashed her a glance. ‘Sorry, that wasn’t me prying, by the way. Just an observation.’

‘So how long have you been doing this?’ Pippa took the opportunity of a pause for a quick drink as well.

‘About a year. At first I went out on my own, once Alfie had got on the school bus. But he’s always up early now because he has his own animals to feed so he doesn’t need me to check on him. I mentioned it to Maryam when we were having coffee, she told Audrey and then we were a group. We all love it, and we always go out, rain or shine. There’s just something about being outdoors that I find necessary.’ Rose threw Pippa a smile as they resumed walking. ‘Sorry, blathering on as usual. James says I’m like a dog with a bone once I get going, but I’m so lucky to live and work here.’

‘I can totally see the appeal. I run at home but it’s nothing like this. Mostly I’m dodging vehicles, other people and litter, half the time I don’t even notice what’s around me. But these views are incredible.’

‘So it’s all about the run?’

‘I suppose it is.’ Pippa had given up wearing her Fitbit for now as she couldn’t access the app as often as she usually would. She ran for exercise and some time alone, a need to pound problems into the pavement, not for connection or a sense of space widening her mind. She imagined running back in London again, the return to cool drizzly autumn mornings; the lunchtime dash at work when it was too dark to run first thing.

‘Harriet mentioned you’re an artist. She said that you’re brilliant but don’t show your work.’

‘She did?’ Pippa hadn’t imagined Harriet discussing her in anything other than dismissive terms. A rush of gratitude for the compliment was swiftly followed by the familiar squeeze of anxiety at the thought of anyone seeing the sketches and watercolours she produced. ‘I teach art but drawing and painting is something I do just for me, a hobby.’ That was usually enough to dissuade any further interest.

‘Harriet told us that you painted a mural in her bedroom, and she’s never redecorated because she loves it so much.’

‘Oh.’ Pippa gulped, tilting her head to flip her own hood up, hoping Rose hadn’t noticed her face.

As a little girl Harriet had adored fairies and Pippa had created an enchanted woodland on the wall behind her bed; tall trees topped with blushing blossom and butterflies, fairies prancing over a carpet of colourful flowers. Pinks, purples and mauves swaying through the grass, a secret fairy house hidden in a corner. It had been a labour of love and a joy to create, and Harriet used to say it was like falling asleep in a secret glade watched over by a fairy kingdom. It made Pippa’s heart happy to hear that Harriet still loved it, even though she was way too old for fairies. But then, she mused, maybe you should never be too old for enchantment.

Hazel fell into step with her, chatting about the village and London. They soon discovered a mutual love of musical theatre and Hazel was enthusiastic about an upcoming visit to family in the south and seeing three shows. She had to make the best of her time away, she explained, with her husband having Parkinson’s disease and her youngest daughter coming up to take care of him.

Pippa learned that Hazel had lived in the village for fifty years and she enquired about Ivy. She was thrilled to learn that Edmund, the local historian Daphne had mentioned, was Hazel’s next-door neighbour. She suggested that Pippa call round so she could introduce them, and in the meantime would look through her own family photos to see if anything popped up. Pippa thanked her, delighted to be making progress with her tentative search into the past.

They reached the spot where the river tumbled down rocks from the high fell and widened into a pool, clear and inviting. She’d never swum in the wild before, except in the sea on holiday, and watched Audrey and Hazel shrugging off layers until they were left in their swimming costumes before wading in. Maryam was taking photos of a plant with her phone and Rose settled on the bank with Pippa, who was wishing she’d brought a swimsuit and joined in; the two women were floating in the water, and it looked blissful.

It was enlightening to walk without expectation or set a pace to measure on an app, to feel the rain on her face, make conversation or stay silent, the village specks of stone beneath them. She could see Home Farm from here too, and somewhere down there Harriet would be waking up and rushing off to take care of the animals she was coming to love.

And Gil. He was there too, squashed into that caravan in the yard and maybe making plans for his own future, plans that would take him away from Hartfell and home when the practice closed. The feeling of guilt, every time she thought of it, was becoming all too familiar.

The walk down was easier, and Kenny was ready with coffee and muffins, which they enjoyed on a table outside. Pippa thanked everyone, feeling lighter as she returned to the house, not yet ready to commence battle with Gil or Harriet – she was too relaxed and at ease for that.

She had a quick breakfast and an equally fast shower, and when she let herself into the vets, discovered that Harriet had texted to say Dorothy had invited her for lunch and not to expect her back until later. Oh, and did Pippa mind if she went bowling with Alfie tonight? It was all arranged, and she’d be back by ten. Pippa replied to say it was fine. If Rose was okay with it then Pippa was too, and there was no sense in spoiling Harriet’s fun just yet.

Pippa and Gil had eased into coffee-making terms when they were in the practice, polite with each other now. She’d made his one morning, simply unable to make herself coffee and exclude him. Since then, whoever was in first would switch on the machine and make coffee for the other. He still hadn’t appeared by the time she settled in reception and was looking over his list of consultations. Someone had already called wanting their vomiting dog to be seen as soon as possible, and she’d slotted them in the only appointment available.

When he arrived just before his first patient, he was shivering and with a hacking cough. He caught her look of alarm and shook his head, searching for a tissue to blow his nose. Pippa stood up and kept her distance as she proffered the box kept for clients.

‘Thanks. It’s not Covid, by the way. I’ve taken two tests over the past twenty-four hours and they’re all negative. I’m fine.’

‘Right.’ Clearly he wasn’t. ‘But even if it’s not Covid, you look dreadful, and I can’t imagine clients wanting you anywhere near them.’

‘What else am I supposed to do?’ Any further protest was lost in another bout of coughing and Pippa was on her feet.

‘Go back to bed,’ she told him firmly. ‘You can’t possibly see patients like that, and no one will thank you for passing it on, whatever it is. I’ll call Angie.’

Angie was the head receptionist at the practice in town and she’d helped Pippa out more than once with queries. She was capable and calm, and Pippa was certain she’d help if she could.

‘And say what?’ Gil sneezed and even Lola looked worried, barking in alarm.

‘To ask if they can spare anyone to take the consultations here. Wendy might be able to do it.’ Pippa was already dialling, holding up a hand when he opened his mouth. ‘Bed. I mean it.’

‘Not until I know you’ve got cover,’ he wheezed crossly, dropping onto one of the waiting room chairs. The first two clients had arrived and backed out hurriedly when they spotted Gil clutching his chest. Pippa went over, phone to her ear, and opened the door, letting in all the fresh air she could and hoping she hadn’t already caught whatever it was he had.

‘Right, we’re sorted,’ she said briskly, ending the call as she gave him a wide berth and resumed her place behind the counter. ‘Wendy’s on her way. Angie texted her whilst I was holding, and she can do it. She’ll be here in twenty minutes, so I’ll just apologise when clients arrive and hopefully they won’t mind waiting a bit longer.’

‘I could do it.’ He gave Pippa a look from red-rimmed and watery eyes, and blew his nose so loudly that Lola barked again.

‘Get out of here,’ she said firmly, pointing to the door. He obeyed, clambering to his feet, and grumbling under his breath. He called Lola, scowling when she refused to join him and settled in the bed beside Pippa instead. Thankfully, it was a pleasant morning, and she left the door open, trying to clear the room of any lingering bugs.

Wendy arrived soon after and dealt with the patients, including the vomiting dog, and Pippa was glad to finish when lunchtime arrived. She had a free afternoon without Harriet at home to clean the house and hopefully make it a little more welcoming. She locked up, Lola beside her as they crossed the yard to the caravan. She knocked tentatively in case Gil was asleep, not certain that she’d heard him call ‘Come in’ until she tried a second time, and he fairly bawled it. She pushed open the door and Lola leaped inside.

‘Just returning Lola,’ she called cheerfully. ‘Hope you’re feeling better.’

His reply was another bout of coughing followed by swearing and she hesitated. ‘Can I get you anything?’ Enemies they might be, but she couldn’t leave him without checking. ‘A drink, or some medication?’ She paused, trying to make him out between the coughs and stepped inside the dark and gloomy caravan. ‘Sorry, what?’

‘I said , don’t come in.’

‘Oh, right.’ She laughed awkwardly, horrified by the cold in here when the air outside was warm. Lola’s bed was on one narrow sofa, and through the gloom Pippa made out Gil hunched on the other, a fold-up table between the two. A duvet was pulled up to his ears and he had a cushion for a pillow.

‘Gil, I can see from here you’re shivering. You’ve obviously got a temperature,’ she said worriedly. ‘When did you last have some meds?’

‘Dunno. Ran out.’

She glanced at the sink full of dishes, the tiny two-ring hob, marvelling that it hadn’t blown up the caravan yet. ‘Right, get up,’ she said firmly. ‘You can’t stay in here, it’s foul and damp, and that’s being polite.’

‘Not getting up.’

‘You are, even if I have to drag you out myself.’ She’d never be able to do that in a million years, not with those shoulders, but she hoped the threat might make him move. ‘Get up.’

‘Not got anywhere else to go.’

The words sliced through Pippa’s heart, and she held back a gasp, startled by their truth and how much of it was her fault. He shouldn’t be living in this caravan, even if he’d chosen to. He had a tenancy agreement for the house, and he ought to be in it.

‘Yeah, you do. That’s your house right over there and you’re moving back in.’

‘Am not,’ he muttered in between coughs. ‘Not while you’re in it. Don’t need any more complications.’

Pippa had had enough, and she nearly flew the three steps it took to grab the duvet and yank it off him. ‘Get up, you stubborn and stupid man,’ she roared. ‘Or do I have to get half the village in here to help me?’

He shot her a furious glare as he hunched into a sitting position. His T-shirt was soaked in sweat and boxers were the only other thing he had on, apart from socks. She threw a pair of jeans and another T-shirt at him, and grabbed Lola’s bed. Two for the price of one, she thought wryly, as she escaped into the sunshine to let him change.

He trailed after her into the house, still shivering as she moved to the kettle. She hadn’t replaced it and kept forgetting to order a better one, telling herself there wasn’t any point as she wouldn’t be here much longer. She switched it on and found a mug. ‘When did you last have meds?’

‘Think about four a.m. Couldn’t sleep after that.’

‘Right, then it’s definitely time for more. Sit down.’ She pointed at the table, and he pulled out a chair, Lola already settled in her bed in the usual spot nearby. Pippa brought over a mug of ginger tea and a packet of paracetamol. He accepted both with quiet thanks, so unlike his usual self around her.

‘Give me ten minutes to change the bed, then come up.’

‘Hardly seems worth it when I’m feverish.’

‘Clean sheets feel so much nicer,’ she said, thankful she’d found extra bedding in an airing cupboard on the landing when Raf had stayed over. ‘And these aren’t damp, which is a major improvement on your previous arrangement.’

She’d just finished pulling the duvet in place and plumping the pillows, wondering why she was doing this for Gil of all people, when he appeared in the door, Lola behind him.

‘No, Lola,’ she said firmly, giving the Labrador a hard stare. ‘Gil doesn’t need to be getting up and letting you out.’

‘Not your job to look after her,’ he muttered, still clutching the mug as he walked to the bed.

‘It’s not my job to look after you either, but I seem to be doing it. I think I can cope with one dog for one day.’ She slid the duvet back and saw the relief and blissful anticipation racing into his face at the sight of a proper mattress and actual pillows.

‘I don’t need looking after,’ he said grumpily. ‘I can do it myself.’

‘Is that right? You didn’t look very capable thirty minutes ago.’

‘You planning to undress me as well?’ His hands were on the belt around his jeans, and she tore her gaze away, hoping her hair would hide her face. Although his eyes were so red, she doubted he could even see her properly.

‘If you don’t think you can manage?’ She swallowed, hoping that calling his bluff might do the trick.

‘Think I can.’ He undid the belt and Pippa fixed her eyes on his, flashing now with amusement. ‘But it’s good to know I can call on you for help if I need it.’

‘You do that,’ she told him briskly, heading for the door. ‘I’ll be back later to see if there’s anything you need.’

Lola followed her downstairs and seemed happy enough to return to the kitchen, even though she kept looking to the hall and whining softly.

‘I know,’ Pippa told her gently, bending down to give her a cuddle. ‘It’s just for a bit so he can sleep. Let’s leave him to it.’

She was quite certain that the minute he’d shrugged off the virus, Gil would get up and take himself straight back into the caravan. He would need another change of clothes so, refusing to think of his rage at what she was doing, she left Lola in the house to investigate the caravan. It was even more hideous than she’d imagined; dark, dull and damp, and she hated to think of him staying in there any longer. There wasn’t even enough headroom for him to stand up straight. She opened the single wardrobe and pulled out the remainder of his clothes.

There was one way she could make certain he wasn’t able to return, and she fetched the wheelbarrow from Posy’s stable. She tugged and heaved the long cushions from the sofas, hoping she wasn’t inhaling germs, realising they formed a double bed if the table was dropped to sit between them. She marched them one by one on the wheelbarrow to the muckheap, undaunted by thoughts of Dorothy’s ire and accusations of criminal damage, never mind what Gil might have to say.

Harriet had mucked out Posy earlier and there was plenty of fresh supplies piled up. Pippa found a pitchfork and liberally scattered manure over both mattresses and stomped it in, an occupation she thoroughly enjoyed. She’d have set fire to them if she didn’t think they might burn out of control and cause serious havoc. He definitely couldn’t have them back, only a madman would sleep on those now. She doubted even Lola would fancy it.