Eleanor arrived at Willow Tree Hall the following day, armed with bottles and old pots and pans, ready to start moving her stuff in.
Almost immediately, she came across Tom in the entrance hall.
‘Do you need a hand carrying all that?’ he asked, picking up two boxes at once.
Eleanor tried and failed to stop herself glancing at his toned biceps as he picked up the heavy boxes with ease. When had he become all outdoorsy and muscly all of a sudden? The fresh air and carpentry was certainly helping him relax.
She followed him to the stable block and let him unlock the door, amazed by the difference she saw inside.
‘You painted it,’ she said, turning to him in surprise. ‘Thank you so much.’
He held his palms up. ‘Dylan told me to,’ he replied.
She couldn’t believe it. The room looked so much larger now that it was painted white. But it was nice to still see the pattern of the bricks underneath. He had placed two worktables in the room at a right angle and a stool had also appeared from somewhere.
‘Wow,’ she told him. ‘Dylan really worked you hard.’
‘He’s a slave driver,’ he told her, looking a little bit sheepish.
She decided to let him off the hook and began to look through her boxes whilst he put up a couple of shelves for her to use. Then the room was ready for her to unpack whilst Tom worked on the shutters outside.
‘We’ll have to ask the family what colour they think the shutters should be painted,’ said Tom.
‘Green would be nice,’ she told him.
‘I agree but we’d better get their opinion, just in case there’s some historical colour or something they’d prefer me to use.’
As they carried on, Eleanor found it was relaxing, working together. She was filling the shelves and tables with all her stuff. He was now working on the door to the next stable along. They felt like a team.
Looking along the bench, she realised she was going to need some kind of stove to warm the ingredients up and wondered if Arthur had an old one knocking about somewhere. Thankfully he came along later in the morning, so she had a chance to ask him.
‘I’m pretty certain we kept a few in the garage in case of power cuts,’ he told her. Nodding thoughtfully, he added, ‘I’ll have a look later for you.’
He went over to sit down on an old bench in the courtyard of the stables.
‘Wait!’ said Eleanor, rushing over. The bench looked extremely rickety.
Tom also hurtled over, but it was too late. Arthur had already sat down and was smiling up at them both.
‘Thank you both for your concern,’ he said. ‘The seat has no doubt weathered, but it’s still sturdy. Much like myself.’
Eleanor and Tom exchanged a soft laugh of relief.
‘Well, this is all looking quite splendid,’ said Arthur, nodding his approval.
‘What colour do you think the shutters should be painted?’ asked Tom. ‘They need something to keep them weatherproof.’
Arthur studied them for a moment before declaring, ‘I think some shade of green would be perfect, don’t you?’
Eleanor and Tom exchanged a smile as Arthur leant forward to give Dylan a stroke. Tom wandered away to carry on working whilst Eleanor chatted.
‘Isn’t it lovely to have a bit of sun,’ carried on Arthur, with a contented sigh. ‘I really do think sometimes we all need a little solar power to get our energy levels back up again.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Eleanor, rolling her shoulders. ‘I’ve spent more time outside since I came back to Cranley than I’ve ever done before.’
‘And are you reaping the benefits?’ asked Arthur.
She knew that her handmade creams were the main difference in the improvement of her skin but she had no doubt that the fresh air had helped as well.
‘Apart from my freckles,’ she whispered
He smiled. ‘They’re a sign of beauty, my dear. And you get that from your mother. How is she getting along without some of her animal friends?’
‘Better than I thought she would,’ Eleanor told him.
‘Glad to hear of it,’ said Arthur. ‘I would hate to see a lovely woman such as June hide herself away when there’s so much to be enjoyed in the world.’
With a nod of goodbye, Arthur got up from the bench and went back to the house.
Eleanor watched him for a while, thinking that Annie was blessed to have such a grandfather-type figure in her life. Her own dad was particularly lacking in any kind of parental guidance or even interest.
Enjoying the sun, Eleanor stood still and realised that her pulse no longer raced along in stress. Her whole life and attitude had slowed down. Nothing was a rush now. There was no race to the next story. To the next Tube. Running and running in the sweaty concrete heat of the city. Here in the country she could stop.
However, she did want and need to keep her brain busy so had begun to read up on skincare and how certain flowers could help against various ailments. Roses were wonderful for older skin, helping to soothe and hydrate sensitive skins. Lavender had also real flower power to relax both skin and mind.
She was just googling how to make flower oils when Tom arrived back from the main house with a picnic basket. ‘Annie thought you might be keeling over from starvation. Have you eaten lunch?’
Eleanor shook her head. ‘Not yet. You want to share?’
But as they peered inside the basket, she realised that there was plenty of food and drink for both of them.
‘Looks like a picnic for two,’ said Tom, grabbing a sandwich.
Not very subtle, Annie, thought Eleanor. But the cold drink was welcome, as was the food.
As they sat outside on Arthur’s bench in the warmth of the sun, she watched Tom lob an apple core at Dylan. He caught it and settled down to have his own lunch.
‘Shouldn’t you be writing songs instead of working out here?’ she asked.
He grinned and tapped his temple. ‘It’s all still working up here, you know. Let me think now.’ He paused before singing softly, ‘She fades in and out. Does she know? Does she care? She’s a sweet enigma. The girl with the wavy hair.’
She was impressed until she thought about the lyrics. ‘Wavy?’ Her hand automatically flew up to her head. She hadn’t bothered to straighten it properly for a few days.
‘I like it,’ he said, still watching her. ‘When I first knew you, you were more, what’s the word, rigid.’
Rigid? She was horrified.
‘Too London, I mean,’ he carried on, seeing her upset look. ‘Now you’re all countrified.’
She made a face at him. ‘You mean with the wellies and the bad smell?’
‘I mean with the relaxed look, genuine smile and freckles.’
‘Aren’t they awful?’ she said, covering her nose. ‘Every damn summer.’
He reached out and removed her hand.
She flinched for a second, worried about the eczema patches in between her fingers. Then she remembered that they had disappeared and relaxed a little.
‘I think your freckles are cute,’ he told her.
There was a moment when he held her hand and she couldn’t look away from his eyes no matter how hard she tried. The world stopped as she held her breath, remembering the moment when their lips had touched at Glastonbury.
Finally, he stood up. ‘Well, those doors aren’t going to make themselves,’ he said softly.
He left her sitting on the bench, realising that she could finally breathe out.
But she was smiling to herself as she sat there, feeling ridiculously pleased that he had called her cute.
Later on, as they walked slowly back to the house, Eleanor watched Dylan leap and bound his way through the long wild flower meadow that should really have been the back lawn. The red poppies and blue cornflowers were vivid amongst the long grasses and got her thinking as to which flowers she could use to add to her creams.
Nearly at the patio, she noticed that a flower bed full of roses was in full bloom. However, some petals had already dropped onto the ground. She picked them up and inhaled the sweet scent that they had retained.
‘Aren’t they lovely?’ she asked.
Deep in thought, it took her a few moments to realise that her mobile was ringing. Feeling relaxed, she drew it out of her pocket expecting it to be her mum. But when she read the name, she immediately felt as if someone had drenched her in cold water. It was Theresa, her ex-editor.
‘Excuse me,’ she murmured to Tom.
Once she was far enough away from the house, she picked up the call.
‘Eleanor?’ said Theresa, by way of greeting. ‘That Tommy King is all over the press still. What was that story you had for me?’
She stood rigid in shock. This was it. Here was her chance.
Eleanor glanced up at the patio where Tom was playing with Dylan. The rest of the family were nearby and were starting their pre-dinner drinks. Arthur was smiling at something Rose was telling them all. Probably yet another outrageous story. Sam had his arm around Annie as he tried not to listen. Annie was laughing and looking out to see where Eleanor had got to.
And then there was Tom. He had a tear in his T-shirt from where it had caught on a nail. But he looked so much happier and relaxed than when she had first met him. She thought of his kindness with Arthur and how much work he had done in the stable for her.
And she knew she couldn’t do this to any of them.
‘I was wrong,’ Eleanor said down the phone. ‘Sorry but it was a non-story, after all.’
‘Have you any idea who the girl was in the photo at Glastonbury?’
Eleanor gulped. ‘Not the slightest idea, sorry.’
‘Pity,’ said Theresa before hanging up.
But Eleanor found that she wasn’t upset at all as she re-joined the family on the patio. Her life at Hot Gossip! magazine was all behind her now.