‘Mum, I don’t care! I want to do it and as usual you’re the only one standing in my way.’
Pippa’s shoulders slumped. The only one, it felt sometimes, standing between Harriet and actual harm. Bad cop again. When had she stopped being the good cop, or had she never been one? ‘I just want to keep you safe, that’s all.’
‘Keep me stuck in this place with nothing to do and barely any Wi-Fi, you mean. I thought you’d want me to be outside and getting some exercise in the fresh air and away from my phone. Isn’t that what all parents want for their kids?’
There was no way Pippa could refute that and they both knew it. She’d lost the argument before she’d even known one was coming. Gil had seen to that by getting Harriet onside first. Bloody, bloody man, Pippa fumed. The sooner she got this place sold and them far away from it, the better.
‘Can we at least go and see the farm, Mum, please?’ Harriet had injected a sweeter note into her voice and Pippa sighed.
‘Fine. But if it’s dangerous in any way, then you’re not doing it, okay? And do not forget that it’s temporary.’
‘Okay.’ Harriet leapt up and Pippa melted the moment her daughter’s arms flew around her neck, submitting to the hug and squeezing Harriet back tightly. It wasn’t for long, and Harriet might hate the farm. Pippa could but hope.
‘Safeguarding?’ Dorothy had a way of snorting that expressed several emotions at once and all of them were scornful. She peered at Pippa over a pair of glasses perched halfway down her nose and held together with tape. ‘Is that one of those meaningless words you ruddy millennials have invented?’
Pippa attempted to unclench her teeth before Harriet – or worse, Gil – caught her grinding them again. They’d only arrived at Dorothy’s farm five minutes ago after he’d offered them a lift and they’d piled into his Land Rover, Lola sprawled across Harriet’s lap in the back. And now Harriet was already shootingSeriously?vibes at Pippa and clearly wishing her mother would just shut up and back off.
‘It’s a widely accepted and reasonable term for making sure young or vulnerable people are properly taken care of and kept safe, Dorothy,’ Pippa replied as evenly as she could. Gil was looking at sheep in a pen, but she was certain he was enjoying himself very much, if the shaking in his shoulders was anything to go by. She decided that Dorothy could give Lady Catherine de Bourgh a run for her money when it came to withering stares, and tried not to quail under the scrutiny.
‘If—’ and Pippa emphasised the word very firmly ’—Harriet is going to be helping you for a few hours each week, then I’m sure you understand that I need to know her safety is paramount and she won’t come to any harm.’
‘Can’t guarantee it,’ Dorothy said cheerfully, giving Harriet a wink and Harriet grinned. ‘Child’s clearly been safeguarded all her life. What she needs is a few risks and a good run around in the fresh air. Pale as a peony, that one. Get her off that phone whilst she’s at it and I could do with the help.’
‘Harriet is fourteen, Dorothy. And as you quite rightly pointed out, she is still a child.’
‘So? I was driving by the time I was her age and could lamb a sheep in my sleep.’ Dorothy fixed Pippa with another look and Pippa made herself hold it. This was one battle she wasn’t going to lose. ‘Are you going to keep her cooped up forever, staring at a screen and tracking her phone so you know where she is every minute of the day?’
Pippa quashed a flare of guilt. Didn’t everyone track their children on their own phones, counting the minutes until they walked back through the front door? But such a thing wasn’t quite so easy in Hartfell, where signal was patchy at best.
‘Anyway, it’s only the bull she needs to watch out for but he’s a sweetie really.’
‘Bull?’ Pippa’s eyes widened in alarm as she glanced around the yard. ‘As in, an actual bull?’
‘Yes, an actual bull.’ Dorothy slowly shook her head, giving Pippa the clear impression she didn’t like dealing with people she thought were dimwits. ‘The kind of bull that likes to impregnate cows and make calves. Mine fired blanks though, so he lives a quiet life now he’s been castrated. That’s the official term for having his—’
‘I get the picture, thank you very much.’ Pippa was checking out the yard, mostly so she didn’t have to keep facing Dorothy. ‘Could we at least have a look around?’
‘If you like. Come on, Harriet, I’ll introduce you to Rufus and Rupert. They’re the alpacas.’ Dorothy was already striding off and Harriet rushed to catch her up. Three dogs were at Dorothy’s heels; a small terrier that looked as though it might have your leg off if it took against you – much like Dorothy, Pippa thought warily – as well as a beautiful red setter, sleek and glossy, and a three-legged lurcher who was prancing through patches of dried mud alongside a gambolling Lola.
The farm sat at the end of a short track, a square house facing a front garden that had mostly been given over to orchard, grazed by three pale brown sheep, one of which was impressively horned. A nice height for stabbing someone in the thigh, Pippa mused uncomfortably. The plain white farmhouse was attached on either side by a stone barn and Dorothy disappeared around the side of the largest one, Harriet close by.
Inside the beautifully neat barn, almost all of it divided into pens, two alpacas were staring as their little group approached and Pippa heard a low humming as one of the pair, its woolly coat the exact shade of caramelised sugar, backed away. The second alpaca, chocolate brown, watched curiously.
‘This is Rufus,’ Dorothy said fondly, unfastening the gate to enter the pen. She rubbed a gentle hand on the first alpaca’s back.
‘May I?’ Harriet held out an arm, throwing Pippa an excited grin which made her gulp, and Dorothy nodded.
‘But quietly and slowly, please. The boys aren’t used to strangers and although they’re generally calm, they can be wary. Stroke his shoulder, just here. He likes that.’ Dorothy held open the gate and Harriet slipped inside as Pippa watched, Gil nearby. Harriet crept nearer, hand slowly reaching out. Rufus had a cautious eye on her, but he submitted to her touch as Dorothy murmured to him.
‘They’re so soft!’ The second alpaca was approaching, ears down. ‘Mum, you try.’ Harriet was stroking Rufus gently, and Dorothy stepped away.
‘Not in the pen,’ Dorothy warned. ‘One stranger is quite enough.’
‘I can see them from here, Harriet,’ Pippa said, silently agreeing with Dorothy. She’d be ordering wellies the minute she was next connected to Wi-Fi; she didn’t fancy getting any of that poo on her trainers, or Harriet’s either.
‘Have you had them a long time?’ Harriet asked, her attention on the alpacas. Pippa knew, with a sinking heart, that this was a done deal – her daughter was entranced.
‘About six years.’ Dorothy’s hand went to a pocket, and she held out some food. The chocolate brown alpaca nibbled at it greedily and Harriet laughed when Rufus tried to grab some too, pushing past her. ‘They came to me when their previous owner died and nobody else wanted them.’
