Chapter Nineteen
Pippa didn’t mind in the least that her birthday fell during Harriet’s week away. Harriet had given her a lovely card and the gift of a spa day before they’d set off for Warwick. A few months ago, Tilly had tried to persuade Pippa to arrange a party, but she’d put her sister off, finding some excuse to dodge it. She was perfectly happy to wake up on the day, make a cup of coffee and escape into the garden for an early wander with Maud. It was a beautiful morning, the sun already warm and climbing in the sky to glint between the trees.
Without Harriet here, looking after Posy had fallen to Pippa. After her coffee, she fed the pony and turned her out, her mind still caught on those few moments with Gil two days ago, and what they’d been about to do after he’d chased her into the garden. She was mucking out the stable when she heard the Land Rover leave, relieved not to have to face him now. Yesterday at the surgery had been tricky as they’d politely navigated around one another, and he seemed as keen as she was to pretend that nothing had happened. Because it hadn’t, not really.
She let herself into the surgery with Maud and logged into the Wi-Fi so she could catch up with messages, of which there were dozens. It took her a good hour to reply to everything, including Harriet’s video one apologising for being away and missing her birthday. Pippa was happy to offer reassurance and decided forty didn’t sound too bad if she said it quickly enough.
Her dad had also sent a video and Pippa was ecstatic when she opened it to find a message from Dave Grohl wishing her a happy birthday and saying he hoped he’d see her at a gig sometime soon. She was swooning and promptly decided it was worth every minute of being forty for a greeting like that. She forwarded it to Cassie with a row of hearts and received a wide-eyed and laughing reply as she googled Foo Fighters tour dates.
Presents in the family had fallen by the wayside over the years and she usually told them not to bother as there was nothing she needed. Raf wouldn’t remember a birthday unless it smacked him in the face and Tilly did her best from far away. Phoebe and Freddie always sent cards and a gift, no doubt prompted by Vanessa, who never forgot, and her dad was another story. He either forgot or sent some outlandish gift that Pippa would never have chosen for herself. He’d made her day this time with Dave Grohl and that, as far as she was concerned, was enough.
She strolled down to the village shop with Maud and had a lovely chat with Violet and Daphne, who were delighted to meet Maud and give her a biscuit. Pippa couldn’t resist a homemade chocolate fudge cake – it was her birthday after all, and she deserved a treat she could eat, seeing as Dave Grohl hadn’t been able to deliver his message in person. She thought that was probably a good thing, she might never have recovered.
She found it both strange and very soothing to have Maud at her side as they walked, waving at Edmund potting plants outside his cottage. Maud was too little to understand the lead yet, and wanted to prance and pull. Proper training would be in order, once they were back in London; there seemed little point in beginning now.
After Cassie dropped Harriet back and spent a night int Hartfell with Isla before heading north to her in-laws, Pippa would have little reason to remain here either. Miles had been in touch again and was pressing her to decide about putting the house on the market. She would put him off until Harriet returned, not ready to make such a thing formal just yet.
She’d read the local history book that Edmund had loaned her, taking pictures of anything to do with Ivy on her phone and googling in spare minutes at the vets. She hadn’t learned anything more; it seemed that Ivy’s life as an ordinary farming wife and mother had placed her in the background of history, and she was frustrated by the lack of progress on Ivy’s paintings. She’d tried art auction websites and contacted a couple of friends, who’d also come up blank. Ivy had captured Pippa’s interest – the relative who’d possessed a gift she hadn’t been able to fully explore and one that Pippa felt had been passed down the years to her.
Wandering back through the garden, she stopped dead at the sight of a hot tub on the terrace wrapped in a giant pink bow. Maud was alarmed by the huge beast that had appeared and barked stoutly before running back to Pippa’s side. There was only one person who could have had this delivered and then installed so quickly. She returned to the yard, picking up enough signal to call her dad, and left a bemused thank you message, aware it was nearly one a.m. in Australia.
She spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing in the garden as Maud dozed, feeling a real solid burst of contentment for the first time in weeks. Harriet was having a blast with her best friend, Maud was a delight – even if Pippa did have to keep wiping up the accidents – and then there was Gil…
She was in the kitchen when he returned, trying to decide what she might like for her birthday dinner. They shared a polite greeting, and he fed both dogs and refilled the water bowl as Pippa stared inside the fridge, all out of inspiration. It was looking very much like pasta and roasted vegetables again.
‘Happy birthday.’
‘Thank you. I didn’t realise you knew.’ She’d left all her cards in her bedroom, not wanting to advertise the fact, or that she was without family to celebrate it.
He smiled, holding out one hand. ‘Harriet told me. She asked me to give you this.’
Surprised, Pippa accepted the envelope he was offering, a small muddy paw print dark against the white. Inside was a card, beautifully drawn in what she recognised as her daughter’s style. ‘That’s so sweet! It’s a homemade voucher for dinner at the pub, from Maud.’ She gulped back the emotion, such a simple and yet wonderful gesture. ‘I think this might be my favourite present.’
‘Aren’t you forgetting the massive hot tub wrapped in a pink bow on the terrace?’
‘Oh yeah. I love the voucher, though.’ The pub was a much nicer idea and Pippa abandoned thoughts of pasta, deciding to change out of the vest and shirt she’d been wearing all day.
‘There is a catch, though.’ Gil’s eyes narrowed and she halted, about to pass him.
‘Oh?’
He nodded at the envelope in her hand. ‘Harriet asked me to take you, so I’ve booked a table for seven.’
‘Harriet did?’ Pippa’s pulse skipped as other thoughts danced into mind. ‘The pub? With you? Tonight? For my birthday?’
‘I think yes is the correct reply to all those questions,’ he said dryly. ‘She didn’t want you to have to spend the evening on your own. Is that okay? Do you reckon we can eat dinner together in public, seeing as we’re doing okay in private?’
‘I think we can certainly give it a try.’ It was too late to pretend she didn’t love the idea and she glanced at the ancient kitchen clock, somehow still ticking along.
‘I need to change.’ She had forty minutes before their table would be ready and she wanted to do more than replace her top now. ‘What about the dogs?’
‘I think they can sit this one out.’ Gil glanced at Lola and Maud, squashed up in one bed and perfectly content. ‘I’ll take them in the garden and see you down here.’
‘Thanks.’
It’s not a date , she told herself firmly as she ran upstairs. It was just a kind and thoughtful gesture from Harriet, and he was indulging both of them, which was nice. She decided on the only dress she had brought with her: a green off-the-shoulder one that would have been perfect for many of her social events in London but was still a little dressy for the Pilkington Arms. She added pumps and a denim jacket, keeping it casual, and plum lipstick, mascara and her favourite perfume.
Back in the kitchen she was surprised to see that Gil had also changed out of his usual work gear, and she simply wasn’t prepared for how stunning he was in jeans and an ivory shirt, floral details on the collar, cuffs, and top pocket. The colours highlighted his vibrant blue eyes and suntanned skin, and she swallowed as she became aware of his own gaze running over her.
‘Ready?’
She nodded and he opened the back door, gently telling Lola to stay put when she whined softly. He hadn’t voiced his approval of her appearance and she hadn’t needed it; it was in his eyes, enough to have butterflies skittering through her stomach, skin warmed by that heated look.
She felt wholly conspicuous at his side as they walked through the village. Dorothy roared by on her quad bike and did a double take, almost wiping out a planter outside the pub. They both laughed, but Pippa couldn’t help wondering what his aunt would make of this development in their relationship, having the uncomfortable sense she would not approve.
The sign gently swinging outside the pub was another reminder of Gil’s connection to the village, the family they’d once both had in this place. Kenny was delighted to see them, and they were soon settled at a quiet table in the restaurant, away from the bar, busy with summer visitors soaking up sunny evening vibes.
‘So tell me why you’re named after the pub.’ Pippa was busy with the menu, it was easier than catching Gil’s gaze on hers.
‘How do you know the pub isn’t named after me?’
‘Really?’ She raised a brow. ‘You’re infamous, then? Or should that be notorious?’
‘Nah.’ A young waitress had arrived at their table, and he waited for Pippa to choose a drink. She went for the local gin she’d had before, this time with a rhubarb and raspberry tonic and Gil settled on a glass of red wine. ‘It’s a family thing. My other grandmother was a Pilkington, her brother owned the estate.’
‘Wow.’ Yet more connection to Hartfell and another uncomfortable reminder of him giving up the practice he loved, unable to raise the money in time to save it. ‘So you still have family there?’
‘Kind of. It belongs to my cousin, but I haven’t seen him in years. He lives in Paris and the estate is just something he gets someone else to manage.’
‘Doesn’t that bother you?’
‘No.’ Gil glanced up from the menu. ‘I’ve never felt a connection to the place and it’s nothing to do with me. My parents met when my mum was up from Dorset and her parents pretty much disowned her when she got together with my dad. They’d expected better than a tenant farmer for her.’
‘I’m so sorry, about what happened to them,’ she said, leaning a little closer and lowering her voice. She’d never imagined talking about this over dinner but there might never be another moment to express her sympathy.
‘Thank you. It was a really long time ago.’
She nodded, she understood, but she’d caught the flash of sorrow before he blinked it away. ‘But it’s still there. These things never quite go away.’
She wasn’t expecting the brief touch of his fingers on hers, sending sparks dancing across her skin. ‘Harriet told me how tough it was for you, stepping in to look after your brother and sister the way you did.’
‘Harriet did?’ Pippa’s voice rose a fraction. ‘Just how much talking about me have you two done?’
‘Maybe similar to you and Elaine about me,’ he countered, and they both smiled.
The waitress was back with their drinks and to take their order and Pippa was aware of a few curious glances coming their way – the rock star’s daughter having dinner with the man she was at odds with over a house. She went for roast field mushroom with a truffle and spinach pancake, whilst Gil chose venison. The gin was delicious, and she looked up when Kenny appeared.
‘You’re becoming quite the regular, I love it.’ He bent to kiss her cheek and she laughed. ‘And now with Gil, how delightful. What do you think of the wine?’ Kenny glanced at Gil’s glass.
‘It’s outstanding. But you know me, I love the Barossa Valley vineyards best.’
‘Has he told you, Pippa darling, about the vineyard?’ Kenny raised a brow, and she was working hard to conceal her surprise. ‘Going by your face, I’d say not.’
‘There’s not much to tell.’ Gil leaned back. ‘It belongs to Clare’s parents and Joel’s out there now, helping to run it. We used to visit on holiday and Joel was always keen to live there. I love wine and found it interesting to learn more.’
‘Wow. Yours is quite the story.’ Pippa took another mouthful of her gin, already feeling the alcohol hitting her system. Kenny leaned over to top up their water glasses before leaving them alone again.
‘Clare went back too, once our house was sold. I needed to keep my share to—’ He raised a shoulder. ‘Never mind.’
‘To fund the practice?’ She leaned forward again, keeping their conversation close. ‘And the farm?’
‘Yeah,’ he replied quietly. ‘I’m not there yet.’
Dismay was gathering, the reason he’d asked her dad for an extension to his lease clear now. ‘Gil, I—’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ His hand swiftly covered hers. ‘I don’t want to talk about the future tonight. Not here, on your birthday. Let’s just have a nice evening.’
‘But…’
‘I’m serious. Please, just leave it.’ He slid a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face to stare at her. ‘It’s not your fault.’
‘Doesn’t feel that way.’ She wanted to let him cup her cheek and hold her again. She was still thinking about the night when she’d cried over the dog she’d lost and he’d held her tightly, easing the still-raw grief. ‘So given your knowledge and experience, please will you choose the wine?’
‘You trust me with that?’
‘With wine, I do.’
They shared a smile as he ordered a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and soon after, their food arrived. Conversation was much easier and more natural than she’d ever have imagined as the meal went on. Every day she came to know Gil better, and every day she wanted to leave Hartfell just a little less.
Kenny persuaded them to share a trio of desserts, including a huge sundae with a thick mound of whipped cream and strawberry sauce into which he’d stuck four candles. Pippa blew them out, to the cheers of some of the other guests who’d noticed it was a special occasion. Once the bill was settled and they’d thanked Kenny – who kindly gifted Pippa a bottle of very nice champagne for her birthday – they left the pub and emerged in the darkened village, lights glinting through windows as they walked slowly back to the house.
‘I hope Maud’s okay, this is the longest I’ve ever left her.’ Pippa had almost forgotten about the puppy in the fun of her evening.
‘She’ll be fine, having Lola there will help. It’s good to leave them so they get used to their own company.’
‘Lola loves coming to work with you.’ They’d reached the front door and she opened it, remembering how unfriendly and gloomy she’d thought the house when she’d first seen it.
‘She does, she’s very adaptable.’ Gil reached the kitchen first and he grinned as both dogs leaped up to greet them as though they’d been gone weeks, not just hours. Maud shot out into the garden when Pippa opened the door, and an idea fell into her mind.
‘I thought I might open the champagne, seeing as it’s still my birthday for a bit longer,’ she said casually, aware of him coming to stand next to her as the dogs raced around. She waited a beat. ‘Would you like to join me?’
The silence lengthened and she knew his reply before he voiced it. ‘Pippa, I—’
‘It’s fine.’ She jumped in, trying to make his refusal matter less. ‘It’s getting late, and you must be tired after last night.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be.’ She bent to cuddle Maud and stepped back to find a treat for both dogs, settling them in their beds.
‘Right, well, I think I’ll head up then,’ he said awkwardly, turning a shoulder to the hall. ‘Night.’
‘Night. Thanks for taking me tonight.’
Gil left but Pippa was not ready for bed. She grabbed the chilled champagne and Maud yelped in alarm when the cork flew off with a bang. Harriet had left a Bluetooth speaker on the windowsill and Pippa took everything outside and set it on the table. She poured a very generous glass of champagne and found a party playlist, the music exploding through the silence.
After the first glass, there didn’t seem much point in filling another and she necked the champagne straight from the bottle, kicking off her pumps to dance on the terrace, mangling the words to the tracks as she sang along. The back door was open but even the dogs had decided to leave her to it and were huddled in their beds.
She couldn’t care less when rain began to fall, laughing and swaying to the music still blaring, clinging onto the bottle between fingers feeling more disconnected from her hands with every moment. The fizz hit her bloodstream again as she belted out lyrics to Lady Gaga, dancing as though no one was watching. Except Gil. She squinted through the darkness and saw him standing in the door.
‘Go away,’ she bellowed, waving the bottle wildly. ‘This is a private party, and you didn’t want to come so you’re not invited now.’
He was walking slowly towards her, and she backed away, giggling.
‘How much of that have you drunk?’ He glanced at the bottle swaying in her hand.
‘Dunno. It’s very nice.’ Pippa closed an eye – seeing one of him was bad enough. She raised the bottle to peer at it, spilling champagne on the grass. ‘How much have I got left?’
Gil took the bottle from her and held it up. ‘Not a lot.’
‘Then I’ve drunk rather a lot. My new decade resolution is to drink more champagne and dance in the garden at parties.’
She attempted a twirl that in her mind wouldn’t have looked out of place on Strictly , but her legs didn’t feel quite right, and she bumped into him. His hands landed on her waist, steadying her, and desire burned through her body, crashing into her stomach like a punch.
‘Have you seen my birthday present?’ She pointed to where she thought the hot tub was. ‘Isn’t it lovely? But what the hell am I supposed to do with it?’
‘I think to get in is the general idea,’ he said dryly.
‘No shit, Sherlock.’ She hiccupped merrily. ‘Anyway, my real present was Dave Grohl. He sent me a message. Wished me a happy birthday. I love Dave, did I tell you? Always have. Always will. Sometimes you can’t fight these things.’
She wondered why she felt so uncoordinated and clumsy. Her feet didn’t seem to belong to her own legs anymore and the hot tub was a blur, the pink bow flashing like a neon sign past her eyes as she wriggled free.
‘Pippa, come on, let’s get you—’ Gil stepped forward again, hand outstretched.
‘Oh no, you don’t. I’m not finished partying yet. Oh look, it’s still raining!’ She squinted up into the night sky, laughing as the drops danced across her skin. ‘Never mind, I’m having a party and there’s no one here. I can dance naked if I want to.’ She tugged at her dress, yanking until it was off. She twirled it merrily and flung it onto the grass with a flourish.
‘You do know you’re probably giving Posy a headache with the din you’re making.’ His voice was impassive through the dark. ‘And you’re going to have a belter tomorrow after all that champagne.’
‘So? It’s my birthday,’ she told him indignantly. ‘I can do whatever I want. You only turn forty once. I’d never do this at home, Harriet would think I’d gone crazy. I have to keep the family together. Always in control, always sensible.’ Pippa wagged a finger at him. Rain was pouring off his face, drenching his shirt. ‘I didn’t come here to ruin your life, just to do what my dad asked and sort out his house. And I’m mad with him too, because he didn’t tell me about you.’
Words were tumbling from her lips, and she couldn’t measure any of them for sense before even more followed. ‘At least then I’d have been prepared. Because I can’t stop thinking about you and that’s really not why I’m here. So now you know, Gil Pilkington Howard, or whatever your name is.’
‘Come on, Pippa. Enough.’ He took the bottle from her hand as she twirled past him and turned it over, pouring the last of the champagne onto the grass. ‘Party’s over.’
Realisation was beginning to dawn, that she was barefoot in floral ivory underwear, soaked through, and she stumbled. Gil caught her before she hit the ground. She opened her mouth to tell him to let go and her gaze caught on his. She saw the flash of awareness again, felt the tingle that tore through her body as he stood her up. Her breath caught as he swiftly undid his shirt and pulled it off.
Goodness, he’s a quick mover, she thought hazily, she hadn’t seen that one coming. Were they literally about to go from enemies to lovers? Instead of the kiss she was longing for, he draped the shirt around her shoulders and scooped her into his arms. Being this close to the bare chest she’d been dreaming about for weeks was not conducive to sensible thought and it was all she could do to keep her head off his shoulder.
‘That’s not helping,’ she muttered as he marched into the kitchen. ‘You taking your shirt off.’
‘It’s helping me,’ he said flatly. ‘And you’re going to feel like hell tomorrow.’
‘I don’t care.’ Being held by him was making her body tingle even more than the champagne had. ‘You’re very warm.’ She giggled, her head falling onto his shoulder as he climbed the stairs.
Gil shoved her bedroom door open and deposited her gently on the bed. ‘I’ll bring you some water. You should get those wet things off.’
He closed the door, and it took her a couple of shaky attempts to get his shirt off beneath the ceiling that seemed to have started spinning. She threw it to the floor, her wet bra and knickers following. When the knock came, she let out a squeal and hauled the duvet to her chin.
‘Can I come in? I’ve brought you some stuff.’
‘Okay.’ She couldn’t look at him as he placed a glass beside her bed.
‘Water, paracetamol and chocolate,’ he said, already backing away and bending to pick up his shirt, discarded amongst her underwear. So now he knew she was naked beneath the duvet and her cheeks were scarlet.
‘Make sure you take all of it before you go to sleep, it’ll help keep the hypoglycaemia at bay.’
‘Thank you.’ Her voice was small and at the door he paused, staring at her with those impassive blue eyes.
‘You’re welcome,’ he said softly. ‘You want to know why I didn’t join you in the garden, Pippa? Because I have no idea what I’m going to do about being completely crazy for the woman who’s going to evict me. And the only reason I’m even saying this is because you won’t remember a word of it tomorrow. Get some sleep, you’re gonna need it.’