As the trio headed down the long drive, Pippa’s battered phone buzzed. Pulling it out, she saw a text from Alex.
Popped to the pub with Dave and Ollie. Will meet you after prizes?
Disappointed that her boyfriend wouldn’t be around to see her receive her medal, Pippa texted back.
What happened to the car?
It’ll survive another month maybe. Let’s get shopping soon! X
Sighing, Pippa shoved her phone back in the pocket of her shorts. At least she’d get to see Alex later, but it seemed to her that if he had time to hang about with Dave and Ollie, he had time to come to the fair.
Mae clocked Pippa’s face. “Alex not coming?”
“He’ll be along in a while,” Pippa replied stonily.
Mae thinned her lips. “It’s a shame he’s not here to see you claim victory,” she said. “We trained super hard for it.”
“Yeah, he knows, and he’s really proud,” Pippa lied smoothly. She wished Alex had at least asked about how the race went, given that Pippa wasn’t overly athletic at the best of times. It was a big achievement for her. But then the sounds of happy revelry became too loud to ignore and her irritation melted away. The friends made their way round to the back of the house, where lush acres of garden sloped gently towards the open moorland. There, in prime position on the lawn, was a little stage area, where a local band were playing a sweet, jazzy standard that fit perfectly with the happy mood of the crowd milling around the lawns with drinks in hand.
Frankie gripped Pippa’s arm. “Is that Wolfie Squires?”
Mae and Pippa almost threw their necks out in their haste to follow Frankie’s gaze. Beside the stage, with folded arms and a sulky expression, stood a tall, lean lad with a mass of wheat-blond hair, who clearly wanted to be anywhere but here. An equally tall girl with the same sharp features lingered by him, engrossed in her phone.
“Here, we have the lesser-spotted adolescent Squires Junior with his twin counterpart,” Mae whispered in a bad imitation of a nature documentary. “Although his normal habitat is titting about in posho private schools down south, he can occasionally be observed stinking up the atmosphere of Hurst Bridge.”
“He can be identified by his razor-sharp taste in tailoring and quintessentiallyloucheposture,” Frankie chimed in, with a far snootier sounding voice than Mae’s although he was less successful in fighting off his giggles. “Do not attempt to approach, however, as he will almost certainly look down his nose and freeze you with his ice-cold stare.”
“Why is he here?” Pippa wondered aloud. “He never comes home.” It was kind of like spotting a celebrity. The Squires twins had attended the local primary school for exactly one week before their father Carmichael had whipped them out and sent the pair of them to boarding schools down south, much to the dismay of Carmichael’s parents Vincent and Trudy. The whole town had been abuzz with the rumour that Carmichael felt the local school didn’t offer the right calibre of student for his children to socialise with. In other words, it wasn’t fancy enough. Which was stupid, because Hurst Bridge had one of the finest primary schools in the county. People bought houses in the town and surrounding areas in the hope of sending their kids to it. But then, Carmichael Squires didn’t seem as enamoured with Hurst Bridge to the extent his father was. Everyone knew it and by the looks of it, his kids felt the same.
“Wolfie doesn’t look very happy about being here,” Mae observed. Wolfie’s sister, Emilia, on the other hand, was now chattering happily to friends and enjoying a glass of punch.
“No,” Pippa agreed.
Although there was no way he could hear her voice above the din of the crowd, Wolfie lifted his head and met her gaze head-on. His eyes were like headlamps, enormous, cobalt-blue and bright. They bored right into hers with what seemed a cold arrogance, just as Frankie had joked. It instantly riled her. “Come on,” she sniffed. “Mrs. Squires is handing out apple cakes.”
After the medals were awarded, the stage was cleared away and the band played on for everyone’s entertainment. Older guests started waltzing sedately around the lawns together, against the backdrop of the luminescent evening sky over the moors. Pippa and her friends sat on the grass, gorging on homemade apple cake and lemonade, giggling and ribbing each other whilst the afternoon fast became evening.
“Pip, love?” Eileen Munro headed over, a little wobbly from a glut of cider and sunshine. “You coming home for your tea?”
“Nah, I’ll go to Mae’s,” Pippa told her mother. Alex still hadn’t shown himself and she needed her friends.
“Is Sandy okay with that, Mae?” Eileen asked.
“It’s fine with my mum, Mrs Munro,” Mae assured her.
“Right you are,” Eileen said. “Pip, text me when you’re on your way home.”
“Yes, Mum.” Pippa flapped an embarrassed handat her. Eileen blew her a kiss then scurried back to Pippa’s dad, who was loudly regaling some of their neighbours with stories about his fishing exploits.
“Just to be clear,” Mae said as soon as Eileen was out of earshot. “Tea is frozen pizza and some of Sandy’s premium vodka because she is working until midnight.” She nudged Frankie. “You’re invited too.”
“I should bloody hope so,” he said.
Pippa stood, her tummy already grumbling in anticipation of the pizza, despite the vast quantity of apple cakes she’d gorged on. “Right, going to nip to the loo.” As generous as Vincent Squires was with his land, he drew the line at allowing people inside his home. Pippa was desperate to see the interior of the house. Rumours of its lavish furnishings abounded, tales of diamond chandeliers and silken wallpapers. But alas, in her time of need, Pippa had to make do with using a Portaloo, one of several that Vincent had hired and set up at one side of the garden by the entrance to the maze.
After she was done with the facilities, Pippa made to head back to her friends, but stopped. There, from the maze, she heard classical music. Specifically, piano music. Had Vincent Squires laid on some entertainment obscurely tucked away in the centre of the maze? Surely, if he had, he’d have said something when handing out the prizes. Could it be some special treasure hunt of sorts?
“Hello?” Pippa took a few steps in. The music was definitely coming from somewhere in the maze. Fortunately, it wasn’t a large one, and it took her only a minute to reach the heart. “Oh.” In the centre of the maze was a small lawn with immaculately kept rosebushes that kicked out an intense fragrance and there, lounging on a lichen-coated bench, was Wolfie. In his hand was a portable stereo and it was from this that the music emanated. At the sight of her, he glowered and turned down the volume.
