“Thing is Ted, so did I!” Pippa snapped. “But wasAlexalso getting up at 2am to help you to the bathroom? When did he last fill your prescription or wait on hold with your consultant whilst filing tax returns?” Yes, Alex had left the grunt work all to her.
“Let’s all calm down,” Julie suggested.
But Julie’s platitudes fell flat. Shampoo forgotten, Pippa mumbled her goodbyes and staggered out onto the street. It had been hard enough seeing Ted again, but to learn that even Ted knew Alex maybe never intended to marry her was a knock she hadn’t seen coming. Fury coursed through her body as she marched back to Squires. She’d run that farm and created a profitable business all in the name of her future with Alex. And he’d let her! Like a fucking lord, and she his serf. He’d sat back as she did the lion’s share of the work, including the care of his father, which was clearly beneath him, only to reap the rewards by himself.
As she charged down the road, she had the alarming sensation of all eyes on her, of gossips whispering behind her back. Suddenly desperate for the peaceful solitude of Squires, Pippa lowered her head and hurried as fast as she could back to the lonely old house she now called home.
ChapterEight
“Iheard there were quite a to-do between you and Ted Goodman t’other day,” Grantham’s voice rasped down the phone at her.
“What of it?” Pippa muttered.
She was still sore from the revelations, her heart aching even though several days had passed since her encounter with Ted.Thiswas why she had been so nervous about coming back to Hurst Bridge. As much as she loved her hometown, the reality of small-town life had hit her square in the face, because everyone knew that Ted Goodman had delivered some home truths to his son’s ex-girlfriend. According to Mae, it had been the main topic of conversation at the pub every night that past week. However, the truth had almost certainly been distorted, as there had been some rumblings that Pippa had perhaps tried to kill Ted. Or Alex. It was unclear, but Mae had put them right on just who exactly was the true villain of the piece. Mrs Allen had clearly been hard at work spreading the gossip of the events she’d witnessed first-hand. Although Pippa had thrown herself into the routine of housesitting to distract herself, the anger still burned.
“I wondered if you were okay,” Grantham said. “I hear you took off in quite a mood.”
“A mood?” Pippa repeated harshly. “Well, if you found out the man you once wanted to marry had no real intention of ever doing so and only wanted you to help him make money, wouldn’t you be a tad annoyed?”
There was a ponderous silence. “Aye,” Grantham replied eventually.
Pippa knew she was probably being a bit dramatic, but she also believed she had every right to her feelings. Alex couldn’t have faked everything in their relationship in the name of ambition, she knew that. But their relationship had clearly suited him very well professionally and over the many years they’d been together, that aspect had taken precedence. No wonder things had felt stale. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to take this out on you.” Especially given what he was going through.
“Don’t you worry,” Grantham said mildly. “That lad always did strike me as a bit feckless. Besides, you can text or call me anytime you need anything. I’m not dead yet and it’s a nice distraction from other things. Now, how are you finding Squires?”
Touched by his concern given everything he had going on, Pippa reassured him. “I think I have an understanding of how to manage my responsibilities,” she said. “I also went and had a look at the old maze.”
“It’s in a sorry state, isn’t it?” Grantham said, dispirited. “I did my best, but the bindweed is just running riot. In the end, Wolfie said to focus on maintaining the house and just keeping the lawn bare and neat. Joan loved that maze but … well, you’ve seen it.”
“Why don’t I have a go at tidying it up?” Pippa wasn’t sure why she suggested such a thing, but she hated to hear the defeat in Grantham’s voice.
“Done much gardening, have you?” he said, clearly amused.
“Not much.” Pippa shrugged. Gardening had been something her mother had always encouraged, and whilst Pippa had been willing to help her with various tasks around their garden, it wasn’t something she knew much about. “How hard can it be?”
“You did hear me mention bindweed?” Grantham chuckled. “But if you want to have a go, be my guest. You noticed the tool shed?”
Pippa told him that she had, and Grantham explained the equipment they kept. “Did my best to maintain it all but ... well, it’s old. Have a look for yourself. It’s the small brass key on the ring.”
“I’ll check it out,” Pippa said. Surely a little bit of weeding wasn’t beyond her?
“Have at it,” Grantham replied. “There might even be some books on gardening left over in the library, if you want to do some research.”
A little later, once Pippa had completed the day’s vacuuming and silverware polish, she ventured out to the shed to examine the tools Grantham had described. The door was stiff, the handle leaving flakes of rust on her hands, but she finally managed to wrench it open. Looking around, she shuddered. The corners of the shed were thick with dense cobwebs and when she pulled the cord by the door to turn on the ancient bulb, Pippa was certain she heardthingsscuttling away. It was a small shed, with a tiny rectangular window, sagging workbench and several gardening implements hung on the walls. They at least looked well cared for, if ancient, and Pippa felt a twinge of emotion at the thought of Grantham toiling away to take care of tools that surely he was getting too elderly to lift. Also hung up was a wheelbarrow and Pippa wondered if it had ever participated in the races. It looked like it might be old enough.
On one of the pegs, Pippa saw a set of shears. They seemed to be still quite sharp and so she took them down, taken aback by their weight. She hefted them determinedly over her shoulder and headed over to the maze, intending to hack through some of the thick vines that crisscrossed the little hedges. But mere minutes into her task, Pippa came to understand Grantham’s amusement. The slim vines were sinewy and the shears not quite sharp enough to slice through easily. It took several hacks to cut through each bit. There were so many of them too; it would take days to clear them all. But she could have a go, couldn’t she? Bit by bit, she could hack away these awful vine things, kill them at the root and hopefully that would allow the maze hedges to return to full health. Pippa had also seen a ride-on mower stored under a tarp next to the shed, so perhaps once the vines were cleared, she could have a go at mowing the unkempt maze pathways. Some of the foxgloves would have to go, but there were some lovely clumps growing along the base of some of the hedges; they could stay and add some much-needed colour.
Pippa chopped through a gathering of vines, then dropped the shears and pulled at the ones she had cut. She pulled. And pulled. But instead of coming away from the hedge with a pleasing flourish, the vines dug in. They went on and on, tangling in other vines and then plunging into the soil below to what was sure to be a complex root system. It didn’t take Pippa long to realise she could cut all day; there was no way she could clear these weeds by herself, let alone work out how to untangle them all from each other.
“It’s like a fucking Rubik’s Cube of weeds!” Pippa cursed, throwing the shears down. She was hot, possibly a little sunburnt already, and her arms covered with sap. She needed a strong drink and a trashy box-set marathon, immediately.
“A Rubik’s Cube of weeds?” Wolfie’s unexpected voice from behind startled her. She stumbled, catching her ankle on the dropped shears, but then a strong hand gripped her upper arm and righted her. A smooth, expensive scent filled her head. “You do have a way with words, Pippa Munro.”
Blushing hotly, Pippa disengaged herself from Wolfie’s clasp. “Thanks for the save,” she muttered. Wolfie looked exceptionally smart in navy trousers and a fitted shirt, open at the neck. That luxurious blond hair fell artfully over his high forehead as his blue eyes sparkled with amusement. In her comfy, bobbled leggings and sap-spattered skin, she must have looked a complete fright.
“You know, you don’t need to tidy up the maze,” Wolfie said gently. “It’s not in the binder for a reason; it’s too big a job.”
“I thought it would please Grantham,” Pippa said defensively. “He said Joan used to love it.”
