Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
The rain of the day before had cleared the air, leaving the farmhouse unusually still.
Rita had had a tearful phone conversation the night before, telling both Sennen and Thom about Henry.
Sennen was as distraught as she was, and Thom, as usual, very pragmatic.
Sloping down to the kitchen, she paused at Henry’s empty bowls and let out a noisy cry.
She had always poured a little of her tea into one of them, a small morning ritual she would have to let go of.
Now with tears streaming down her face, she stared at them, metal and empty, reluctant to move them from their usual spot, each one a quiet reminder that her beloved pet wasn’t coming back.
Up at the orchard, Stan scratched his sweating brow and squinted at the sky.
Beside him, the grave for Henry was already dug, the earth mounded high on either side.
The old dog had been carefully wheeled there in Stan’s old wheelbarrow, tucked in a soft blanket.
Rita put her hand on him gently and felt the tears already building.
‘Reckon we’d best be quick, eh, Mrs Jory? Him upstairs was teasing us with his April showers yesterday. Big blow coming this afternoon, it’ll be. Proper Cornish squall. Rain and wind fit to shake the barn, I’ll bet.’
‘Oh, Stan. Don’t say that,’ Rita worried. ‘We’ve got a Saturday afternoon yoga session in there at four.’
But Stan Bodkin was better than any weather forecaster Rita had ever met. She noticed the breeze already tugging at the branches overhead and was ready to heed his warning. ‘Now are you sure you don’t want to call Jago?’ he asked gently, shading his eyes against the light.
‘Not now.’ Rita’s face creased in pain.
Stan gave a little shrug, his eyes softening. ‘Every so often, a man deserves a chance, Mrs Jory. Mrs Bodkin is always telling me that us men, well, we just don’t think right sometimes, different from you women do.’
‘Wait for us!’ Two familiar voices cut through the morning quiet, aside from the clucking of the hens and the occasional maa from the goat pen.
Rita looked up to see Sennen and Thom appearing at the top of the orchard, hurried steps and worried faces making their way down. She felt a lump in her throat.
‘What the heck? You must have got up so early!’ Rita embraced them both at the same time. ‘You absolute darlings.’
‘Sen’s idea but I wanted to introduce you to Poppy anyway, so it kind of made sense to get up at the crack of sparrow.’
‘Oh God, I need to make up the beds,’ Rita fussed.
‘It’s fine. I can help.’ Sen squeezed her mum’s shoulder. ‘And he was our dog, too, Mum.’ Sennen’s voice wobbled as she went to the blanket that Henry was now tightly wrapped in, bent down, and kissed it. Thom leaned too and gave a gentle rub. Then went to his mother for an awkward hug.
‘He was the sweetest puppy, wasn’t he?’ Thom remembered.
‘Until he rolled in goat shit and wiped it up my new curtains,’ Rita laughed.
‘Aw. You have to get another one,’ Thom insisted. ‘You can’t be rattling around on your own in the farmhouse.’
Sennen became animated. ‘Remember when Buddy died, Dad wanted to replace him right away, but you said wait a few months.’
Thom laughed. ‘Next thing he’d been to the animal shelter and Henry was your birthday present.’
Rita shook her head. ‘Typical of your father, but let’s just sit tight for a moment, shall we? I’ve got enough on my plate, without having to train a puppy.’ Like, a new baby to care for, potentially alone, she wanted to shout out.
‘Ready to say goodbye, Mrs Jory?’ Stan interrupted. ‘It’s just Mrs Bodkin wants me to take her down to the harbour shopping, before the storm comes in, so I need to get on.’
Stan lowered Henry and began to gently cover him with earth as the family quietly spoke.
‘You were so loved,’ Rita wobbled, throwing in his favourite squirrel toy. ‘Every single day.’
‘We’ll never forget you.’ Sennen wiped her tears away with the flat of her hand.
Thom looked on, his jaw trembling slightly.
With Stan on his way in his Land Rover and the three of them walking back down to the farmhouse, Rita quizzed the twins, ‘So, you said Poppy was here; how did three of you fit in a two-seater, or did you not come in your Porsche?’
‘It takes her so long to get ready, she wouldn’t have been able to go to bed last night,’ Sennen bitched.
Thom ignored his sister. ‘She’s getting the train down. I’ll fetch her from the station a bit later. We can stay in a hotel if it makes things easier.’
‘God, no! I wouldn’t think of it. You are always welcome, anytime, you know that.’ Rita had a sudden flash of a thought about where she would put the baby. The study might have to go, but she could worry about that when he or she arrived.
‘Anyway, let’s get your rooms made up. Then I’ve got to finish off in the chicken coop. How about we have brunch at Betty’s? She’s doing some amazing Easter holiday treats.’
‘Nice one, yeah!’ Thom grinned. ‘I’ve got to pick Poppy up from the station at one, so that works perfectly, if you don’t mind driving to the harbour separately, that is, Mum?’
The hens chattered and fussed around Rita’s ankles, indignant and bossy as ever, pecking at her boots as if she were deliberately late with their breakfast. She smiled as she reached in and lifted out warm brown eggs, one by one, cradling them in the crook of her jumper before putting them into her basket.
She was just putting fresh hay into the chicken coop when she heard someone behind her.
Cass hovered at the entrance for a moment before stepping inside. With his broad shoulders and easy stance, he carried the kind of handsome that made people assume he had sailed through life without a care.
‘Want a hand?’ His deep voice caused Rita to jump slightly. ‘Sorry, I didn’t think you’d miss a unit like me walking down from the meadow.’
Rita laughed. ‘I’m all over the place this morning, and yes, some help would be lovely; I’m having brunch with my kids shortly. Not the goat variety.’
‘That’s nice. Boys, girls, age?’
‘One of each and twenty-four.’
‘Blimey, you must have been at school when you had them,’ Cass flirted.
‘Flattery will only get you a pitchfork here, I’m afraid.’ She smiled and handed him the very thing.
He grinned back. ‘I can’t believe we only have days left of the retreat, to be honest.’
‘I know.’ Rita raked at some dirty hay. ‘Time flies when you’re having a mini breakdown.’
They both laughed.
‘I’ll be honest.’ Cass sniffed. ‘I’m a bit hungover. Was planning to raid the snack machine, then crawl back to my yurt and sleep it off.’
‘Zenya refilled it this morning.’ Rita stopped for a second. ‘With all sorts of goodies. And there are cheese and onion pasties in the Cosy Café fridge if you want. Help yourself.’
He smiled. ‘That’s very kind.’ Then after clearing his throat, ‘I saw you earlier. Down by the orchard. Letting go of what I assume was one of your animals.’
Rita felt a surge of emotion go through her. ‘Yes. Henry. You know. My dog. The black Lab.’
‘Oh no! God. I’m so sorry.’
Rita bit her lip. ‘He was old; he’d had a good life.’
Cass stuck out his bottom lip. ‘I reckon we should all get to seventy-five easy, whether that be human, dog or cat years and only the proper good ’uns be allowed to hit a hundred without any bothers.’
Rita remained deadpan. ‘The buses would be packed.’
‘And would I ever get a seat at Old Trafford?’ Cass laughed.
‘Not a chance.’ Rita grinned.
Rita gathered both rakes and shut the coop behind her.
‘You’re such a strong woman, Rita.’ Cass looked at her, really looked at her, then with a smile walked towards her. ‘Can I hug you?’
‘Yeah,’ Rita replied softly. ‘Of course.’
He wrapped his arms around her. ‘Thank you, for everything.’ Cass’s voice was thick.
She patted his back once. ‘Any time.’
Just before eleven, Thomas Jory pushed open the door to Betty’s Tearoom.
The bell above jingled, the warmth of the café hitting him, mingling with the delectable rich smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries.
He was looking forward to having brunch with his mum and sister but the moment he stepped foot inside, disaster struck.
He collided straight into someone sending the bags of pastries in her hands tumbling to the floor.
He looked up and was so captivated by the woman’s beauty – with her dark hair pulled loosely back, a smudged French lip, and eyes that seemed to see right through him – that it took everything within him not to just stare back at her with his tongue out.
The faint French accent that danced in her soft laugh as she muttered, ‘Pas de problème,’ just about finished him off.
He scrambled to help pick up the croissants and baguettes. ‘I didn’t… I mean, I’m really so sorry…’ His cheeks reddened.
‘It’s all right’ – the woman bit her lip seductively – ‘but I think the least you can do is give me your name for the trouble?’
‘Thom. Or Thomas, when I’m being naughty,’ he said, the words tumbling out before he’d properly thought about them.
Her eyebrow lifted, just a fraction, at his sudden ease, and something like amusement flickered across her face.
Thom did what he always did when nerves kicked in. He reached into his jacket pocket for a business card, only to freeze. He patted his pockets again. Nothing, aside from a tiny biro, the ones you find in betting shops.
‘Oh. Right. Brilliant,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t seem to have a card on me.’
She smiled politely, already stepping away.
Thinking fast, Thom grabbed a napkin from the counter, scribbled his number on it, and darted after her as she headed up the street towards the car park.
‘Here!’ he called, slightly breathless, thrusting the napkin into her hand. ‘In case you… you know. Ever need anything. Err… like… I mean like financial advice. That’s what I do. I advise on finance.’
She glanced down at the hastily written digits, then back up at him, clearly amused by his Hugh Grant-style bumbling.
‘Thanks,’ Elodie said simply, before turning and continuing on her way.
Thom had only just reeled his tongue back in when Rita and Sennen pushed through the door, all smiles.
Once they were sitting with empty plates, Betty appeared at their table to clear it, eyes twinkling.
‘Ah, Thom, I saw you met the infamous Elodie Jenken, née Blunt.’
Rita’s mouth fell open in horror as Sennen screwed up her face and said, ‘Who?’
Betty leaned into them all, lowering her voice.
‘Jago’s ex? I guess you knew she was in the bay, Rita?
The Seahaven Bay Facebook Gossip Group are having a field day already.
Poor Jago. Rumour has it that scarlet woman nigh on destroyed him before he moved back to Seahaven.
But I guess you probably know that too.’
Thom looked like a rabbit in headlights. ‘Sorry? I mean, I hardly met her, she was rushing, crashed into me, and dropped all her pastries.’
‘And that actually could be a euphemism the way you were looking at her. Naughty boy, Thomas.’ Betty lowered her eyes at him.
Sennen looked perplexed. Rita felt her stomach drop. She checked her watch, her voice high pitched. ‘Isn’t Poppy’s train due soon, darling?’
Betty, completely oblivious to just how much Rita already knew about the ex being back in town, grinned. ‘Well, you heard it here first. And you’re very welcome.’