Storms Over Blackpeak (2 page)

Chapter
TWO

Six weeks before, deep in the recesses of a Glencairn Station glory hole, Lizzie Harrington had arrived at two conclusions.

‘You really do need to get a housekeeper,’ she told Carr, when he came into the kitchen to find her washing the dust off her latest discoveries. She shook the mouse-droppings out of a venerable gravy boat into the fire. ‘And a cat.’

Lizzie leaned against Carr’s chest as his arms encircled her waist.

‘The cupboards in here are full of clean plates,’ he growled into her ear. ‘It’s only the Blackpeak crew tonight, not the Queen.’

‘What’s the point of having an antique Spode dinner set if you never use it?’

‘You think Charlie and Jen will notice the china?’

Okay, that didn’t seem likely. As owner of the neighbouring station, Blackpeak, Charlotte Black — Charlotte
Caterham
-Black, Lizzie reminded herself — probably had her own room full of unadmired Spode, and her shepherd, Jen, didn’t notice much that wasn’t connected to livestock. But Hannah, Jen’s partner, was a girl who might appreciate a good plate. And besides …
‘I’ll
notice,’ she pointed out. ‘This house is full of such beautiful things. They deserve to come out for an airing.’ Stopping suddenly, she twisted to look into his face. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Of course not.’ Carr’s mouth twitched. ‘Play all you want.’ His arms tightened. ‘It’s just …’

‘What?’

‘Lizzie, nobody expects you to tidy up. You do know that, don’t you? That isn’t what you’re here for.’

‘It’s not?’ she teased him.

‘No.’ He turned her to face him. ‘It’s not.’

Lizzie ran her hands up his chest as he kissed her.

Pinning her back against the sink with his hips, Carr looked at her rubber gloves. ‘Interesting,’ he said, peeling them from her hands. ‘But maybe not.’

There was a clink from the bench behind them.

‘Careful,’ warned Lizzie. ‘The Spode.’

‘I don’t give a shit about the Spode.’

Slipping out of his arms some hours later, Lizzie sat up, yawned, and checked her watch.

‘Don’t go yet.’ Carr trailed his fingers down her spine. ‘We’ve got another four hours before they get here.’

‘I still have to get the dining room ready.’

‘We could just eat in the kitchen.’

‘We could.’ Lizzie turned and kissed his collarbone. ‘But the Spode would look silly in there.’

Carr shook his head. ‘And by getting the dining room ready, you mean you’re going to clean it.’

‘It just needs a bit of a dust, that’s all.’

‘I told you,’ he frowned, ‘you don’t have to do that.’

‘Yes, but the thing is,
somebody
does.’ She smiled to soften the blow. ‘And clearly it isn’t going to be you. So unless Ash turns out to be a dab hand with a duster …’

‘Tempting plan. But somehow I don’t think that’s one of the jobs he’s got his eye on around here.’

‘No. So really, the only option—’

Catching her to his chest, Carr rolled her onto her back. ‘We could just keep the doors shut.’

‘How can you bear,’ she protested, ‘to have all these wonderful rooms and never use them? It’s a tragedy. This house is crying out to be lived in —
really
lived in. Properly.’

‘Funny. I can’t hear it.’

Lizzie tried not to laugh. ‘I can,’ she told him defiantly.

‘Can you?’ He watched her face. ‘You want to live in this house. Really and properly.’

‘Yes.’ She caught herself. ‘When I’m staying here, I mean.’

Carr kissed her. ‘Okay.’

Lizzie ran her hands over the hard muscles of his shoulders. Suddenly unsure what they had agreed to, she paused. ‘Okay what?’

‘Okay,’ he smiled, ‘I’ll look for a housekeeper.’ He kissed her again.

Dusting the dining room was definitely starting to lose its allure … Lizzie groaned. She really did have to get up.

‘Stay where you are.’ Carr tightened his grip. ‘I’ll clean the dining room.’

Well, that did give them another half an hour.

‘Wow.’ Hannah paused in the doorway of the dining room. ‘Oh, Lizzie.’ She nudged Jen’s elbow. ‘Look — it’s like dinner at Downton Abbey.’

Carr looked perplexed.

‘It’s a compliment,’ Lizzie told him.

She surveyed her handiwork happily. With the fire lit and the old cut-crystal sparkling in the candlelight, the dining room did look gorgeous. The Sèvres candelabra she had found in the back of the pantry were pretty over the top, but they did go rather wonderfully well with the Spode, and there had been just enough flowers left in the garden to make a centrepiece that matched the pattern on the china.

‘The table looks amazing.’ The spectacular Rob Caterham-Black, who, much to everyone’s — well, almost everyone’s — relief, Charlotte had married last year, gave Lizzie the benefit of his beautiful smile. He and Charlotte looked so happy. They really were made for each other; and not just because leggy Charlotte, with her ice-blue eyes and long black hair, was every bit as gorgeous as her husband. It was almost impossible to imagine either of them with anyone else. Least of all Charlotte with Luke, Lizzie’s former investment broker, who was now in a surprisingly serious relationship with Ella, Lizzie’s daughter. Luke and Ella — well, they cared about the same things. Some of them, at least. They would both, for instance, have appreciated the Spode. But how Luke and Charlotte had ever thought they could have a life together was utterly beyond Lizzie.

‘Thank you,’ Lizzie told Rob.

Charlotte looked at Carr. Lizzie saw her take in his new shirt. ‘Things around here don’t scrub up too badly,’ Charlotte grinned, pulling out a chair.

‘Speaking of which …’ Lizzie reminded Carr, as he brought over the first of the claret jugs she’d found.

‘You don’t know anyone who might be interested in a housekeeping job, do you?’ asked Carr. ‘It’s about time I got a new one.’

‘Live-in?’ Hannah asked.

He shrugged. ‘Be easier. It’s a hell of a drive.’

‘You’re looking for a new shepherd anyway — why don’t you advertise for a couple?’ Charlotte suggested. ‘He takes Owen’s old job, and she looks after the house.’

Jen shook her head. ‘You’re not much of a feminist, are you?’

‘Well, she won’t have time to do both,’ Charlotte said, ‘and who wants a bloke for a cleaner?’

‘I’d be a damn sight better at it than you would,’ said Rob.

Jen raised her eyebrows. ‘So a “couple” has to be straight?’

‘I had a wonderful cleaner in London,’ said Lizzie. ‘He was a bloke.’

‘Before we get into any or all of those arguments,’ Hannah put in, ‘I do know someone who might be interested in a housekeeping job, as a matter of fact.’

Jen looked at her. ‘Who?’

‘A cousin of mine. She hasn’t been able to find anything she really wants to do since she finished her Master’s degree last year, and—’

‘What? You mean Cally?’ Jen broke in.

‘Yes, Cally,’ Hannah glared, before addressing Carr again. ‘Anyway, whenever I see her, she always wants to know all about Blackpeak and what it’s like to live on a high country station—’

‘You should ask her down,’ said Jen.

Hannah sighed. ‘She’s a good girl,’ she went on. ‘Solid, dependable — straight-A student. Low-maintenance. You’d like her, I think.’

‘What did she do her Master’s in?’ Lizzie asked.

‘Mathematics.’

‘Right,’ Carr frowned. ‘And you think she wants to scrub my bathroom?’

Lizzie, conscious that Hannah herself did just that for the Blacks, laid a cautionary hand in the small of Carr’s back.

‘Well, at the moment she’s scrubbing the Pinehurst Motels,’ Hannah shrugged, ‘so I figure your bathroom would be an improvement.’

Carr looked at Lizzie.

‘It can’t hurt to ask,’ she suggested.

‘If you like,’ Hannah offered, ‘I can give her a call.’

‘Sure. Why not?’ Carr poured the wine.

Lizzie looked at him.

‘I mean,’ he added, ‘that’d be great. She sounds like just what we need around here.’

‘What about the senior shepherd’s job?’ asked Rob. ‘Have you had any takers yet?’

‘Sorry. You’re not allowed to apply.’ Charlotte slipped her arm through his. ‘I don’t care how much he’s paying.’

‘I do have a taker, actually,’ said Carr.

‘Yeah?’ Charlotte sat forward. ‘Anyone we know?’

‘Ash.’

‘Your Ash?’ Her eyebrows rose. ‘He’s coming home? What brought that on?’

Carr shrugged. ‘You can ask him yourself. He’ll be here in a couple of weeks.’

‘Wow.’ Charlotte shook her head. ‘I’m trying to remember the last time I saw him. It must be … what? Seven years?’

‘All of that,’ Carr agreed. ‘It would have been the summer before he took off for the States.’

Lizzie went off to fetch the entrées. ‘Wow …’ she heard Charlotte repeat.

‘Let me give you a hand.’ Hannah followed her out.

‘Don’t you dare,’ Lizzie said. ‘Go back and sit down — it’s your night off.’

‘Do you really not know what’s made Ash decide to come back from Argentina?’ Lizzie asked Carr, as he walked out of the bathroom that night. ‘What did he say when he called?’

‘I told him Owen was off. He said could he have the job.’

‘What did you say?’

‘Yes.’

‘That was it?’

Walking to the bedroom window, Carr pulled the curtain aside and checked the night sky. ‘That job’s always been his if he wanted it.’

‘But he didn’t want it,’ Lizzie pointed out. ‘Until now.’

‘Ash was keen to make his own way.’

Carr sat down on the edge of the bed and flexed his neck. Lizzie tried not to get distracted.

‘You don’t want to know why he’s suddenly changed his mind?’

‘If he wanted to tell me, he would.’

‘Maybe he’s waiting for you to ask.’

Carr looked mystified. ‘Why would he do that?’

Lizzie sighed to herself. But what did she know? She’d never even met Carr’s son. Maybe he liked to discuss things as much as his father did.

‘Anyway’ — sliding under the duvet, Carr pulled her into his arms — ‘this is Ash’s home. He doesn’t need a reason to come here.’

Lizzie settled her cheek against his shoulder.

‘Glencairn,’ he went on, with a yawn, ‘is his as much as it is mine. I’m just the caretaker.’

‘Planning your retirement?’ she teased, stroking her hand along the muscles of his back. She couldn’t imagine it herself.

‘In the fullness of time.’ She could hear the grin in his voice.

‘You can really see yourself walking away from this place?’

‘Who said anything about walking?’

Drifting towards sleep, Lizzie thought how odd it was going to be to have someone else living there. The whole time she had known Carr, they’d had this grand old house to themselves. But of course, she strove to remind herself, as far as Ash was concerned, it was she who would be intruding.

‘Lizzie.’ As she walked through Glencairn’s kitchen door three weekends later, Carr’s son hurried up out of the armchair in which he’d been sprawled. ‘Hello.’

There was a pause. She saw Ash think about shaking her hand. Looking up at him, Lizzie thought about kissing his cheek. He was bigger than she’d expected. She’d been expecting … what? A boy? A mini-Carr? Not, in any case, this smiling, fair-haired mass of muscle. She glanced back at Carr. Standing between the two men, she felt suddenly rather small.

‘It’s so lovely to meet you,’ she told Ash, settling for a gentle touch on his forearm.

‘You too.’

Carr’s hand moved over the back of her arm. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

He sounded almost nervous himself — if that were possible.

‘Here.’ Reaching into her oversized shoulder bag, she got out two bottles of her own-label pinot noir and set them on the table. ‘I brought these — Blackpeak Vines’s first release.
They’re the very last two. I’ve been waiting for an excuse to drink them.’

Ash picked up a bottle reverently. ‘You made this?’

‘Not at all. I didn’t even grow the grapes, I’m afraid. It was before my time. My first vintage’ — she smiled at Carr — ‘won’t be released until the end of this year. It’s not quite in the bottle yet.’

Lizzie took the chair Carr offered. Abandoning his comfortable spot by the range, Ash took a seat across from her on the other side of the table. There was a slight awkwardness, she noticed, to the way he moved, the tiniest hint of a shamble, as if he were favouring some old injury.

Holding the other bottle of pinot, Carr looked at her questioningly.

‘Don’t bother decanting it,’ she told him. ‘I’ve decided it’s better just poured.’

As Carr did so, Lizzie studied his son’s face, looking for evidence of Ash’s mother, Carr’s first and only wife, gone from Glencairn for over sixteen years — a year or two more than she’d been in it. Her name was Elyse, and she lived in Auckland. That was pretty much all Lizzie knew. As far as she could make out, the only traces of ex-wife left in the house were three remodelled bathrooms. And now Ash, a six-foot testament to Carr’s previous life. His colouring — that had to be Elyse’s. The bone structure, too, maybe, although that had clearly seen some remodelling of its own …