“Me too.” Todd’s face turned sombre. “I would hate for my animals to endure construction work. Pigs are so sensitive.”
His concern made Pippa’s heart twist. “You never know,” she said, “we might yet put all the developers off and he’ll sell to someone nice who just wants to live here and take care of the place.”
“I wish you’d stay here,” Todd blurted. “I think we’d have a cracking time being neighbours for life.”
Pippa was warmed by his compliment. “If only,” she said. “Do you have a cool million you could lend me?”
“And the rest,” Todd said. “Pat was speaking to a friend of his who heads up acquisitions for a property group. They looked at Squires briefly. Anyway, she told Pat the whole plot was up for over two million five.”
“Forget that then.” That was more money than she’d ever earn, even if she lived five times over. Conscious of the all-pervasive smell, she gave Todd a hasty goodbye and hurried back inside to carry on working. This afternoon she had to wipe down the oil paintings. Well, the few that were left. There were some rather harrowing looking family portraits that populated the living room, and they needed a gentle wipe once a month. The binder dictated warm water with olive-based soap and a cotton cloth. In the utility cupboard Pippa found a Tupperware box marked ‘painting care’ in what must have been Grantham’s spidery writing.
Pippa made her way to the living room. In there she could hear Wolfie discussing the house with theTop Stayteam from where he was in the library. Trying not to worry about the fate of the house, she lifted the first painting down. It was of a woman, with flowing red hair and a luminous quality to her skin. It was her eyes that made Pippa stop; they were identical to Wolfie’s. Large and deep blue, all at once wondrous and haughty. Pippa deduced this person must be an ancestor and, sure enough, the brass plate on the frame identified her as Caroline Emilia Squires.
“It’s bath time, Caroline,” Pippa advised the painting and she got to work. The cloth lifted a noticeable amount of grime and Pippa was delighted to see a marked improvement after just a couple of minutes. As she worked, she became aware of a damp smell. Although the house was plagued by damp spots, this seemed new. Pippa paused in her task and looked around the room for tell-tale dark patches, but she couldn’t see anything. It was entirely possible that there was a leak somewhere behind the walls, and Pippa made a note to call her plumber friend, Linda. It seemed as if the smell was strongest in the right-hand side of the room. There wasn’t much there apart from a corner table with a decorative glass carafe sitting on top. As she investigated, she noticed some damage to the wooden panelled wall; an indent about head height that could only be seen when viewing from a certain angle.
Pippa moved to view the curious mark, but her hip bumped the table, sending the carafe flying to the ground! Horrified, she could only watch as the slender neck of the vessel snapped in two.
“Nooooo!” Pippa dropped to her knees. This was the exact opposite of what she was meant to do. She was meant to care for this place, keep it safe, and yet here she was, damaging a no doubt priceless piece of crystal. Mortified and very aware that the heir of the property was yards away, Pippa reached for the broken pieces, clinging to the faint hope that she could perhaps glue them together so skilfully that no one would notice her error. “Ouch!” Pippa yelped, whipping her fingers to her mouth. The swan-like neck of the carafe was more jagged than she had thought, and the cut had lanced deep. Crimson blood beaded and swelled, and a thick tendril of it snaked down her finger. She clamped her other hand around it, feeling a little woozy.
“What happened?” Wolfie skidded through the large archway in alarm. Clocking Pippa on the floor, he hurried to her, eyes wide.
“I’m sorry!” Pippa pleaded. “I didn’t mean to break it, I’ll pay for it, I—”
“You’re bleeding.” Wolfie knelt by her side. “Let me see.”
“It was an accident,” Pippa babbled. “My stupid hips. I was looking at that mark on the wall, it looks like the wood is damaged, and I was—”
“It’s okay. Calm down.” Wolfie took her hand with surprising gentleness. “Show me.”
Wincing, Pippa released her grip on the wound, only for the blood to flow afresh. She felt distinctly nauseated. “I’ll pay for it.”
“Nasty cut,” Wolfie murmured. “Hold it again.” Then he frowned. “Pay for what?”
“The carafe,” Pippa explained, nodding at the broken glass.
Wolfie gave her an odd stare, then jumped to his feet and left the room, returning moments later with a first aid kit.
“I mean it,” Pippa insisted, wondering if perhaps Wolfie didn’t understand what she was saying. “It’s probably very valuable.”
“It’s a bit of fucking glass,” he snarled as he unrolled a length of bandage. “There are loads of that sort of thing lying around this place. You only have one finger.”
“Actually, I have ten,” Pippa giggled, feeling a little light-headed.
Wolfie gave her an exasperated glare. “You know what I mean.” He pulled away her hand from the wound and wiped the area with an antiseptic cloth. He then quickly bound and affixed the bandage. “I don’tthinkyou’ll need stitches,” he said. “But keep that clean and see a doctor as soon as you can.”
Pippa watched him tidy away the kit, his capable efficiency oddly soothing. “Thanks,” she said. “It already feels better.”
“I’ve seen much worse injuries than that,” he muttered.
It was then that Pippa remembered what Grantham had told her. “When you were in the army.”
“Yes,” Wolfie said tightly. If he wondered how she knew, he didn’t show it.
“Did you serve for long?”
Wolfie hesitated, as if debating with himself. Then he spoke. “Long enough. I joined at eighteen. You sure that bandage feels okay?”
Pippa ignored his question. “You were achild!”
