Pink Wellies and Flat Caps (7 page)

‘I’m the new estate manager. I’ve travelled from London.’

‘Ah, London,’ she nods, ‘Estate manager huh?’ like that explains everything.

‘Trenowyth estate you say? The same estate as owned by Edward Fairfax?’

So, I am near. I feel my heart flutter with a mixture of nerves and excitement.

‘Edward Fairfax-Mason, yes that would be the one.’

She hands back the directions.

‘Well, Edward Fairfax is all I’ve ever known him to be, as has everyone in the village. You’ll find Trenowyth at the end of the lane just past the bend. You came round the bend I presume?’

I’m going round the bend it feels more like, and what does she mean she knows him as Edward Fairfax?

‘But that’s a dirt road isn’t it?’

She flaps her hand.

‘That’s the road to Trenowyth dirt or no.’

She yanks Rocky’s lead and his paw scrapes my leg, snagging my tights. Bloody brilliant. His eyes have a menacing glare to them and his paw gently taps at my other leg as if to say I haven’t finished yet.
Oh yes you have. I give him a little kick and smile at the owner.

‘You’re from the city then,’ she inclines her head to my car
. ‘Driven all the way in that have you?’

What does she mean
in that
? My little Beetle may be a bit old, but not as old as her. She lifts the hood of her jacket to stop the rain from getting to her greying hair.

‘You don’t see cars that shiny in these parts,’ she says shaking her head
. ‘At least not for long.’

Heavens
, it sounds like a threat. Is she planning on sending a local angry mob of villagers with pitchforks in hand to bash it up a bit? Maybe they have initiation ceremonies here. For goodness sake, anyone would think I am a character out of a Stephen King novel. It’s only the country, people are different here, weird different if she is anything to go by.

‘We’ll be seeing you in church then?’ she enquires.

Oh crikey.

‘Well, I’m
…’ I begin, looking down at the hole in my tights and the accompanying ladder that runs down below it.

‘We’re a God
-fearing community,’ she says firmly.

Rocky yaps as though confirming this. Christ, are they Amish or something? I’ll be wearing special clothes before I know where I am and calling for Cas to be publicly stoned. I know you probably think
I’m getting carried away now but you should see this woman.

‘Yes, well I’m sure once I’m settled
…’

‘Nice to meet you
...’ she tails off.

‘Alice,’ I say warmly and hold out my hand which she ignores.

‘Lady Fisher. We’ll see you in church.’

Lady Fisher? Blimey they really do have blue blood here. She gives a wave and marches off with Rocky’s lead in one hand and her stick in the other. I’m getting a bad feeling about this. I climb back into the Beetle and check my phone. There is a text from Georgie. A small tremor of happiness runs through my body. Just seeing her name on my phone makes me feel a little more secure and takes me back to lovely hectic London. It’s much too quiet here, eerily quiet in fact. Surely there should be some noise. In fact another car would be
nice, then again maybe not. Knowing my luck it will be the car out of
Jeepers Creepers
. I shiver and open Georgie’s text.

So how goes it? You must be there by now. What’s his lordship like, and the domestic staff
? We miss you loads already. X

‘Oh and I so miss you,’ I whisper.

Right, this is no good I tell myself. You’ve got to take the bull by the horns and get on with it. Or, in this particular case, take the cow by the horns. Not that I know anything about cows and bulls you understand. I turn the car around and again head back. After passing Buttercup Farm and Bluebell Lane the dirt road comes into sight and this time I turn into it. After about fifty yards I reach a gate. I strain to see a sign, but there is nothing. Oh honestly, where on earth is this place? It will be dark soon and I will st
ill be driving. I feel like I’m on a Bear Grylls expedition. I get out of the car to open the gate and several birds squawk and flap past my eyes making me jump and shit, and I mean real shit, I have stepped into some sheep crap.

‘Bugger it
.’

I attempt to s
crape it off onto the car tyre. Do I really need all this in my life? Mad countrywomen and sheep dung. Surely there are better jobs than this? Yes Alice, but how many of them offer you a home and better still, get you a long way from Charlie. The thought of Charlie brings tears to my eyes or maybe it’s the smell of the sheep dung that does it. Yes, that’s most likely what it is. Come on Alice, onwards and upwards.

The gate creaks. It practically hangs off the hinges. I’m beginning to feel like I’m in an Alfred Hitchcock movie ... I’ll finally reach the house only to be met by Norman Bates who will, do doubt, murder me in the shower. Jesus Alice, stop thinking such things. My heart is hammering and I need to take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down. It’s the country that’s all. Things creak more here. I wince as a splinter digs itself into my finger. I suck at it gently and look down at my tights. Some impression I am going to make. What I wouldn’t do for a cup of tea. Stepping carefully around the muddy puddles I get back into the car and drive slowly on. Ahead of me are fields and oh yes, thank goodness, they are full of cows. That must mean a farm is near. From the smell coming through the half open window I feel sure a farm must be near. I certainly hope it is a farm and not sewage works. Oh no, it’s neither of those things, it’s the bloody sheep shit on my shoe which I now see is all over the car mat. The car will stink for weeks. I look around for any sign of a farmhouse and see some buildings on the left and sigh with relief. My heart beats faster knowing I am getting near to the estate. Feeling tired I do so hope the other staff members are nice and they won’t mind me taking a hot bath when I arrive. Passing more fields I turn a corner and the house comes into view. I gasp and brake so sharply that I am thrown forward. I stare wide-eyed and I am sure, wide-mouthed. It is such an astonishing sight that I find myself stepping out of the car in a dream. I don’t know what I was expecting. In my wildest imaginings I could never have visualised anything like this. I take a few tentative steps closer and gawp like a mad woman. I close my eyes and open them again and yes the vision is still there. I barely feel the light rain shower or the wind as it whips delicately at my ankles. I can barely think. Well no, that isn’t strictly true because I am most certainly thinking of ways I can murder Lady Fairfax-sodding-Mason and let me tell you, they are gruesome thoughts indeed. Norman Bates is a pussycat compared to these thoughts. Grimly and with gritted teeth I venture forward towards the run-down farmhouse where I feel quite certain no dinner awaits me. There are tiles missing on the roof and an upstairs window is broken, the gutter is leaking and water runs down the side of the house and the window frames and door are flaking paint. The house looks as if it has been pebble-dashed with mud. Surely this isn’t the house. I’m jumping to conclusions. This is most likely one of the cottages belonging to a farmhand or something. Yes, that would explain it. I breathe a sigh of relief. Most likely the person living here will be able to give me directions to the main house. In fact, they can let the staff know I am on my way. How awful of me to think such terrible things about Lady Fairfax-Mason. I then see the sign on the rickety gate. It clearly says
Trenowyth
. Okay the paint is peeling off the sign, and it is covered in grime, but it definitely says
Trenowyth
. I’m going to kill that bloody bitch, but not until I have tortured her first. What the hell was she playing at? Right, I’m not staying here. I might look silly but I’m not stupid. Well, you know what I mean. God, I’m so angry that I can barely think. I turn to march back to my car and fall over a sheep that bleats like crazy and then starts to eat my skirt. Where did that come from?

‘Away, come on away now, you can’t eat that
,’ I say, turning and stepping on it. It lets out a small whimpering sound.

I pull away to the ripping sound of my skirt and the barking of a dog, as a collie comes bounding towards me. Christ almighty, I am going to be eaten alive by a wild dog and a sheep. This could only happen to me.

There
I was thinking I would be the victim of a psychopath when instead I will be ravaged by wild animals. The collie skids to a halt, looks quizzically at me, lets out a howl and then excitedly sniffs my crotch. I mean, for heaven’s sake. The sheep meanwhile has run away, but not without ripping a hole in my skirt first. I’ve never had so much attention in my life. Oh my goodness, the dog is trying to push my skirt up. I swear if this wasn’t a dog I’d be pressing charges.

‘
I’m so sorry,’ I shout to the sheep,

What am I doing, talking to sheep? I’ll be three weeks in the country and then they will have to section me if I go on like this. With the dog pawing my thigh and his nose permanently stuck to my crotch I run into the farmhouse and slam the door behind me. The smell of shit is everywhere and I pull my shoe off and throw it outside to a mad scrambling from the dog. I only need birds to start pecking at the windows to feel I am most certainly in an Alfred Hitchcock movie. What have I done? I’m standing in a dark hallway and to the right is the kitchen. There is not a single member of staff to be seen, in fact there is not even a bloody kitchen table to be seen unless you count the four legs. I can’t see any more of it because it is covered in engine parts. The kitchen sink is full of dishes, and if anything was cooking for dinner then I’m buggered if I can smell it. With shaking hands I pull the contract from my bag and am about to rip it into pieces when the farmhouse door opens and the dog is at my crotch again.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, just bugger off you sex-starved animal,’ I snap.

‘I hope you’re not
talking to me?’

I spin round at the sound of the voice. The dog determined not to let go seems to spin with me and I wonder if the thing has become surgically attached to my crotch. I come face to face with a
remarkably good-looking, if not stiff-necked and very angry, man. His brow is furrowed and he stares at me through grey steel-glinted eyes. I swear if looks could kill I would have dropped dead on the spot. He pulls off the cap he is wearing and runs a hand carelessly through his tousled hair. If this is Edward Fairfax-Mason he is much younger than I had imagined him to be.

‘
Down Molly,’ he says quietly but with a firmness that almost has me obeying. I realise my skirt has risen up over my knees and quickly push it back down. I must look ridiculous with only one shoe on, and wearing a crumpled half-eaten skirt.

‘I don’t know who you are or what you want. However, what I do know is that you left the gate open and I have sheep running riot down the lane
…’ he begins sternly.

How dare he have a go at me? I’ve been led here under false pretences. I haven’t driven I don’t know how many miles for him to shout at me.

‘Excuse me,’ I interrupt, ‘I have not driven all the way from London to be told off by you. I don’t actually know who you are anyway …’

‘Edward Fairfax, I own this farm, and the sheep you’ve just let out, and I don’t care if you’ve driven all the way from Moscow, I don’t appreciate you walking into my house uninvited.’

He speaks clearly and effortlessly with a well-educated voice that hints of just a tinge of a West Country accent to it. I’m speechless. I’ve never in my life met someone so rude. Before I can respond another man walks in.

‘I’ve rounded up most but
…’

He stops on seeing me and smiles.

‘Oh hello, I’m sorry Ted, I didn’t realise you had a visitor.’

‘Nor did I until I walked in,’ replies Edward while giving me a curious look.

The other man looks uncomfortable.

‘I’d better fetch the rest of the sheep. They’ve gone into Lower End, unfortunately. I’ll see you later.’

He nods at me and slaps Edward on the back as he passes. I have never felt so miserable in my life. Everything that could go wrong in my life is going wrong. I hand the contract to Edward as I walk past.

‘The door was open actually. Perhaps you should consider locking it if you don’t wish people to venture in. Your mother hired me to be
the new farm manager, so I was invited. She told me there were other staff here and that …’

I stop abruptly as I feel my throat constrict. Oh sod it, don’t go crying Alice. The thought of the long drive back is unbearable.

‘Anyway, it’s obviously all a misunderstanding. If you could just direct me to a bed and breakfast, I will get out of your way and return home tomorrow.’

Oh really Alice, and just where is home? The flat will be occupied by the new tenants and unless you intend sleeping at your parents or on Georgie’s very uncomfortable sofa bed, there is no home to return to. Could things get any worse? He reads the contract with a serious look on his face before folding it and handing it back.

‘My mother, the ever so helpful Lady Blanche Fairfax-Mason no doubt gave you a very far-fetched story. The only staff working here are me and Jed, who you just met. To cut a long story short, and only because I feel someone owes you an explanation of sorts, my mother feels I need a housekeeper. My father died six months ago and I took the farm over. It was a mess and as you can see it’s not much better now, but we’re getting there. I can’t worry about the house while I run the farm. My mother, oh, she remarried a Sir after my parents divorced ten years ago if you’re wondering where the title comes from. My mother feels a housekeeper is needed, hence, she goes and hires one …’