Rita’s mind started to wander. With hard work, and vision, she had no doubt that the farm could easily become a seaside haven in which to rest, relax and recover.
The website, sprinkled with a few of Zenya’s suggestions, was nearly finished, and Rita had been diving into yurt research, slowly coming to terms with just how outrageously expensive they were. Who knew a canvas tent could cost more than a small car?
She took in her surroundings, once central to the farm’s success. The barn created a huge undercover space which would mean she could operate in all weathers. And this time, it couldserve a whole new purpose, one that didn’t involve her eyes streaming or her breathing like Darth Vader in the middle of a panic attack, thanks to her ridiculous allergy to Archie’s beloved herd.
Rita pushed open the expansive double doors, tugged off her gloves, reached in her pocket for her mobile and took a photograph of inside the barn and the view from it. She immediately sent it to Sennen.
RITA
Welcome to the Seahaven Bay Retreat
A reply pinged almost instantly.
SENNEN
Are those pitchforks or murder weapons?
RITA
Ha! Well, I did say I was basing it loosely on The White Lotus.
SENNEN
You know you’re meant to soothepeople, right? Not terrify them. Soz. Got to go, the mother of a bridezilla is trying to reach me.
Rita smiled, slipped the phone away, and rolled up her sleeves. The smile didn’t last long when she found a dead pigeon under an old tarpaulin.
By midday, she’d cleared out all the scattered junk, uncovering treasures as she went: a stack of forgotten apple crates (now earmarked for yoga mat storage), a couple of antique milk churns (potentially good for seating), and randomly a faded photograph of Sennen in her role of Ophelia during a brief stint of amateur dramatics. She gave it a fond smile, put it in her jacket pocket, then flinched on hearing a noise behind her.
‘Don’t mind me,’ came the familiar rasp. She turned to see Granny Jory standing in the doorway, in a leopard-print dressing gown.
‘What are you doing here?’ Rita brushed dirt and straw from her hair.
‘Thought I’d see what foolishness smells like.’ Hilda stepped over a coiled hose with surprising agility for someone of her years. Rita looked to the old girl’s bright pink Nike trainers and smiled. ‘I was expecting crystals and chanting. Instead, I find rust and potential litigation.’
Rita laughed. ‘Not quite at the chanting stage yet. I only started clearing today. Sennen, Alex, and Kelly are coming down at Easter to help, I hope.’
‘And Thomas?’
Rita’s face downturned. ‘He’s as elusive as his father could be at times, so who knows when we shall see that grandson of yours next.’ Her words cut hard as she remembered that Thom hadn’t answered her last two check-in messages. It really did feel like he was ignoring her. How long would it take, if ever, for him to forgive her for selling out?
Hilda surveyed the barn, looked out at the magnificent view that spread down to the clifftop, then fixed Rita with a shrewd gaze. ‘You’re actually serious about this, aren’t you?’
‘Yes. Very.’ Rita nodded.
The old woman gave her a wry smile. ‘Good. It’s about time you did something silly.’
Rita blinked. ‘That sounded almost supportive.’
‘Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.’ Hilda winked, pulling a fat brown envelope from her pocket and pressing it into her daughter-in-law’s hand. Rita opened it and peered in, amazed. There had to be at least ten thousand pounds in fifties, maybe more.
Rita cocked her head. ‘What’s this?’
‘Danger money.’
‘Oh my. This is too much! I’ll pay every penny back.’ Rita’s eyes brimmed with tears.
Hilda tutted. ‘I feel insulted at even the offer.’
