ChapterSix
“You know you can still back out,” Frankie muttered as he gazed up at Squires. “Stay at mine for a bit longer, babe, seriously.” They were in his Micra, parked on the sweeping driveway of Squires. His little car was loaded down with all Pippa’s worldly possessions as well as a rather squashed Mae on the backseat. The pair of them had kindly helped to load up the car and accompanied her on the drive over to Squires to help her settle in. They’d both claimed they wanted only to be helpful, but Pippa suspected they didn’t want to miss the chance to nosy around the grand old house.
“Don’t be like that!” Pippa said. “It’sSquires! Don’t you think it’s exciting I get to live in a house like this?”
“I mean, maybe, once upon a time,” Mae chimed from the back seat. “It’s such a mess now.”
Frankie winced in agreement. “It looks so … unloved. Does it even have power? Water?”
“Yes?” Pippa hadn’t even thought to check what other facilities it had. She’d just assumed. “Well, it has to if I’m to live there, right?”
Frankie grimaced and hopped out of the car. “Here’s hoping.” He popped open the boot and heaved out Pippa’s suitcases. Pippa helped Mae extricate herself from the backseat before unloading the items she’d been sharing her space with: a blender, a bag of thick coats and the Monstera plant. As Pippa’s meagre belongings piled up on the driveway, she reflected on how little she had to show for a life she’d thought completely set only a few months ago. She truly had been fully immersed in Alex, to the point where she’d almost reached the age of thirty and now had nothing meaningful left. It struck her that she was something of a blank space, one that had once been so full of everything Alex. And as Mae grappled with the largest suitcase, Pippa realised even her wardrobe choices were Alex and Goodman Farm-centric: sensible, practical workwear and slightly smarter outfits for meetings with suppliers and the like. She’d never considered her style before because she’d never had to. Her work, her love, that was all that had mattered. Now it was all gone. Fresh tears sprang into her eyes.
Mae caught Pippa’s expression and paused her wrestle with the suitcase. “Hey.” She dropped the luggage and wrapped her arms around Pippa. “Everything will be okay. You’ll see.”
Pippa was mortified. She’d thought she’d done all the crying possible over the past couple of months. “How?” she croaked. “How has my life come to this?”
“No, no, no.” Frankie hurried over and enveloped them both in a hug. “Come on, love.”
“We’re really proud of you,” Mae murmured into Pippa’s hair. “This must be really hard but you’re doing so well.”
“Listen,” Frankie ordered, and Pippa looked at him. “I know you can make this work. You’ve had a bad break-up—”
“—an epically bad one at that!” Mae chimed in.
“You’re flailing,” Frankie went on. “You’re struggling. And sure, you’ve ended up doing some form of legalised squatting in this … pile of bricks.” He gestured vaguely at the house. “And yes, your bank account is in need of a serious cash injection.”
Pippa wiped her eyes. “I’m waiting for the moment this becomes motivational.”
Frankie was deadpan. “No, that’s the end of my speech, I just wanted you to be aware of how shite your life is.” When Pippa laughed, he broke into a smile. “Kidding. All I can say is you are, like, the strongest person I know. You’re going through a bad patch, that’s all. You’re heartbroken and that’s the kind of pain that takes a long time to work through. But you’ll get there. Take it from me, you know I know something about suffering pain in this place.”
Pippa was touched. “Frankie. What you went through … losing Uncle Jack? That doesn’t even compare to a break-up.”
“It’s different, sure.” Frankie levelled her with his pale eyes, so like hers. “But pain is pain.”
“I appreciate you saying that, but—”
“Look, my dad died, and it was shit. Yeah.” Frankie batted off the harrowing experience of his teen years with a stern shake of the head. “I had good people around me, who saw me through it and out the other side. I also learned something valuable about how precious life can be. All I’m saying is, sometimes the worst thing that happens to you, in a weird way, can also be the best.” He jutted his chin out defiantly then picked up Pippa’s Monstera, not even complaining when the enormous leaves completely blocked his face. “So, let’s get you moved into this mouldering pile of bricks and see where life takes you.”
As the friends struggled towards the house, loaded with all of Pippa’s stuff, the front door opened, and an elderly man peered out. Pippa couldn’t help but smile. Grantham hadn’t really changed much since her childhood. Still favouring braces and work boots with his tweed suit, he had the same sprinkling of fluffy white hair haloed around his bald head.
“Pippa?” he said, stretching his hand out when she nodded. “Grantham.”
“Oh, I know.” Pippa hurried to shake his hand and introduced her friends. “I remember you. Used to see you around a lot during the Summer Fairs.”
“Crikey, that’s going back some years. Here.” Grantham took the plant from Frankie, somehow managing to position it on his hip so that the leaves didn’t obscure his face. “Let me help.” The old caretaker led them into the house.
Frankie and Mae followed through to the hallway, where they promptly skidded to a halt, open-mouthed with awe. Pippa felt a curious sense of pride at their reaction. After all, she got to live in this grand, if crumbling, mansion. But then Mae’s nose crinkled.
“Oh,” she said. “That’s … a smell.”
“Are you sure there aren’t mice?” Frankie asked, casting a suspicious glance around him. “Because it smells awfully mousey around here.”
“It’s a building hundreds of years old,” Pippa whispered theatrically. “I’ll bet there are micedynasties.”
“Rats too,” Grantham added mischievously. “Although granted that’s more since the organic lot set up next door.”
“Organic lot?” Pippa repeated. She vaguely recalled that some kind of smallholding business had set up right next door to Squires and had acquired land from them, but it was all very recent, and the owners weren’t from Hurst Bridge. Her workload had been so intense in the past few months of her time at Goodman’s Farm that she hadn’t been able to introduce herself.
