The Girl from Honeysuckle Farm / One Dance with the Cowboy: The Girl from Honeysuckle Farm / One Dance with the Cowboy

She hadn’t seen him since yesterday. Nor had she heard him come home. Would he be there at dinner? Did she want him there at dinner? Oh, for goodness’ sake—what the blazes did it matter where he was? He—

Someone tapping on her door caused her to break off her thoughts.

And, on her answering the door, who should be standing there but none other than the subject of her thoughts? She felt suddenly shy.

‘Hungry?’ Ty enquired easily.

She at once discounted that she was in any way shy of him. ‘Mrs Starkey said dinner was around seven-thirty,’ Phinn responded. Shy or not, she glanced away from those steady grey eyes and raised her left hand to check the time on her wrist. No watch!

‘It’s seven forty-five,’ Ty informed her.

‘It isn’t!’ she exclaimed. Where had the day gone?

‘You look ready to me,’ he observed. And, stepping back, he clearly expected her to join him.

A smile lit the inside of her. Ty must have come up the stairs purposely to collect her. ‘Busy day?’ she enquired, leaving her room and going along the landing with him.

‘Not as physically busy as you, from what I hear. Ash tells me you put him to shame.’

She shook her head. ‘Once Ash got into his stride it was he who did the lion’s share of lumping and bumping,’ she stated, and saw that Ty looked pleased.

‘And your friend Mickie Yates came and took everything away?’

‘You don’t mind?’

‘Good Lord, why would I?’ Ty replied, and startled her completely when, totally away from what they had been talking about, he shot a question at her. ‘Where’s your watch?’

Taken by surprise, she answered, ‘It got wet,’ quite without thinking. And was halfway down the stairs when Ty stepped in front of her, turned and halted—causing her to have to halt too.

‘You mean you forgot to take it off when you did your Olympian dive yesterday?’

‘I can’t think of everything!’ she exclaimed. ‘It will be all right when it dries out,’ she added off-handedly, knowing that it would never work again, but not wanting to make an issue of it. It hadn’t been an expensive watch, after all.

‘As you remarked—you’re no good at telling lies.’ He neatly tripped her up.

What could she do? Say? She gave him a cheeky grin. ‘The paddock is lovely,’ she informed him.

He shook his head slightly, the way she noticed he did when he was a little unsure of what to make of her.

Dinner was a pleasant meal, though Phinn observed that Ash ate very little. For all that the ham salad with buttered potatoes and a rather fine onion tart was very palatable, he seemed to be eating it for form’s sake rather than because he was enjoying it.

‘Did you find time to get into the estate office today?’ Ty, having included her in all the conversation so far, put a question to his brother.

‘Who wants to be indoors on a day like today?’ Ash replied. ‘I’ll see what I can do tomorrow,’ he added. Ty did not press him, or look in any way put out. And then Ash was confessing, ‘Actually, I think Phinn would make a better estate manager than me.’

Phinn opened her mouth, ready with a disclaimer, and then noticed Ty’s glance had switched to her. He was plainly interested in his brother’s comment.

‘I’m beginning to think that nothing Phinn does will surprise me,’ he said. ‘But—’ he glanced back to Ash ‘—why, particularly?’

‘Apparently I’m being taken on a tour of Pixie End Wood tomorrow. Phinn tells me there are a couple of trees there that need felling, and new ones planting.’

Ty’s glance was back on her, and she was sure she looked guilty. She knew that he was now aware that her trespassing had not been limited to the few places where he had witnessed it.

When, after dinner, a move was made to the drawing room, Phinn would by far have preferred to have gone to the stable. But, even though she felt that Ty would not expect her to be on ‘companion duty’ when he was home to keep his brother company, she was aware that there were certain courtesies to be observed when living in someone else’s home.

And so, thinking that to spend another ten minutes with the Allardyce brothers wouldn’t hurt, she went along to the drawing room with them. But she was hardly through the door when she stopped dead in her tracks.

‘Grandmother Hawkins’ table!’ she exclaimed, all the other plush furnishings and antique furniture fading from her sight as she recognised the much-loved, much-polished, small round table that had been theirs up until ‘needs must’, as her father had called their impecunious moments, and the table had been sold.

‘Grandmother Hawkins?’ Ash enquired. ‘You mean you once owned that table?’

Grandmother Hawkins had handed it down to Phinn’s parents early in their marriage, when they’d had little furniture of their own. They had later inherited the rest of her antiques. ‘It’s—er—lovely, isn’t it?’ she replied, feeling awkward and wishing that she hadn’t said anything.

‘You’re sure it’s yours? Ty bought it in London.’

‘I’m sure. We sold it—it wasn’t stolen. We—er…’ She had been about to say how it had been about the last one of their antiques to go, but there was no need for anyone to know of their hard-up moments. ‘It was probably sold to a dealer who sold it on.’

‘And you recognise it?’

‘I should do—it was my Saturday morning job to polish it. I’ve been polishing it since I was about three years old.’ A gentle smile of happy remembering lifted her mouth. ‘My father’s initials are lightly carved underneath. We both got into trouble when he showed me how to carve mine in too. My mother could never erase them—no matter how much she tried.’

‘The table obviously holds very happy memories for you,’ Ty put in quietly.

‘I had the happiest of childhoods,’ she replied, and suddenly felt embarrassed at talking of things they could not possibly be interested in.

‘You were upset when your father sold it?’ Ty enquired, his eyes watching her.

She looked at him in surprise, the blue top she wore reflecting the deepening blue of her eyes. How had he known it was her father who had sold the table and not her mother? ‘He was my father!’ she protested.

‘And as such could do no wrong?’ Ty suggested quietly.

She looked away from him. It was true. In her eyes her father had never been able to do anything wrong. ‘Would you mind very much if I went and took a look at Ruby?’

She flicked a quick glance back to Ty, but his expression was inscrutable. She took that to mean that he would not mind, and was on her way.

Ruby had had the best of days, and seemed truly happy and content in her new abode. Phinn stayed with her, talking softly to her as she did every evening. And as she chatted to her Phinn started once more to come near to being content herself.

She was still with Ruby when the mare’s ears pricked up and Phinn knew that they were about to have company.

‘How’s she settled in?’ Ty asked, coming into the large stable and joining them.

‘I think we can safely say that she loves her new home.’

Ty nodded. Then asked, ‘How about you?’

‘Who could fail to love it here? My room’s a dream!’

He looked pleased. ‘Any problems I should know about?’ he asked. ‘Don’t be afraid to say—no matter how small,’ he added.

‘It’s only my first day. Nothing untoward, but—’ She broke off, caught out by the memory of Ash giving her that knowing look that morning.

‘What?’ Ty asked.

My heavens, was he sharp! ‘Nothing,’ she answered. But then she thought that perhaps she should mention it. ‘Well, the thing is, I think Ash seems to have got hold of the idea that—um—you and I—are—er—starting some sort of…’ Grief, she knew she was going red again.

‘Some sort of…?’ Ty questioned, not sparing her blushes.

And that annoyed her. ‘Well, if you must know, I think he thinks we’re starting some sort of romantic attachment.’ There—it was out. She waited for him to look totally astounded at the idea. But to her astonishment he actually started to grin. She stared at him, her heart going all fluttery for no good reason.

Then Ty was sobering, and to her amazement he was confessing, ‘My fault entirely, I’m afraid.’

‘Your fault?’

‘Forgive me, Phinn?’ he requested, not for a moment looking sorry about anything. ‘I could tell the way his mind was working when I told him I’d asked you to stay with us for a while.’

Phinn stared at him. ‘But you didn’t tell him—?’ she gasped.

‘I thought it better not to disabuse him of the notion,’ Ty cut in.

‘Why on earth not?’ she bridled.

‘Now, don’t get cross,’ Ty admonished. ‘You know quite well the real reason why you’re here.’

‘To be Ash’s companion.’

‘Right,’ Ty agreed. ‘You’re here to keep him company—but he’s not to know about it. From where I’m viewing it, Ash has got enough to handle without having the added weight of feeling under too much of an obligation for what you did for him yesterday. He’s indebted to you—of course he is. We both are,’ Ty went on. ‘The alternative—what could have happened had you not been around and had the guts to do what you did—just doesn’t bear thinking about. But he’s under enough emotional pressure. I just thought it might take some of the pressure from him if he could more cheerfully think that, while things might be going wrong for him in his personal life, I—his big brother—was having a better time of it and had invited you here more because I was smitten than because of what we both owe you.’

Despite herself, Phinn could see the logic of what Ty had just said. She remembered how down Ash had seemed when she had come across him on the bank today. She recalled that bleak expression on his face and had to agree. Ty’s brother did not need any extra burden just now.

‘As long as you don’t expect me to give you a cuddle every now and then,’ she retorted sniffily at last.

She saw his lips twitch and turned away, and, feeling funny inside, showed an interest in Ruby.

‘As pleasant as one of your cuddles would surely be, I’ll try to hold down my expectations,’ Ty replied smoothly, and for a minute she did not like him again, because again he was making her feel a fool. All too plainly the sky would fall in before he would want to be anywhere near cuddling distance with her.

‘Are you home tomorrow?’ she turned to enquire, thinking that as it was Saturday he might well be.

‘Want to take me to Pixie End Wood too?’

She gave him a hostile look, bit down on a reply of Yes, and leave you there, and settled for, ‘You intimated you’d neglected your work in London. I merely wondered if you’d be going back to catch up.’

‘You don’t like me, do you?’

At this moment, no. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I can take you or leave you,’ she replied, to let him know that she was not bothered about him one way or the other. But flicking a glance to him, she saw she had amused him. Not in the least offended, he looked more likely to laugh than to be heartbroken.

‘How’s the…Ruby?’ He made one of his lightning switches of conversation.

Ah, that was different. Taking the talk away from herself and on to Ruby was far preferable. ‘She’s happy—really settled in well. She’s eaten more today than she has in a while. And this stable, the paddock—they’re a dream for her.’

‘Good,’ Ty commented, and then, dipping his hand into his trouser pocket, he pulled out a wrist-watch and handed it to her. ‘You’ll need one of these until your own dries out,’ he remarked.

Having taken it from him, Phinn stared at the handsome gentleman’s watch in her hand. ‘I can’t…’ she began, trying to give it back to him.

‘It’s a spare.’ He refused to take it. ‘And only a loan.’

She looked at him, feeling stumped. The phrase ‘hoist with her own petard’ came to mind. She had told him her watch would be all right again once it had dried out—but he knew that, no matter how dry it was, it would never be serviceable again.

‘I’ll let you have it back in due time.’ She accepted it with what dignity she could muster, and was glad when, with a kind pat to Ruby’s flank, Ty Allardyce bade her, ‘Adieu,’ and went.

Phinn stayed with Ruby, wondering what it was about the man that disturbed her so. In truth, she had never met any man who could make her so annoyed with him one second and yet on the point of laughter the next.

Eventually she said goodnight to Ruby and returned to the house, musing that it had been thoughtful of Ty to loan her a watch. How many times that day had she automatically checked her left wrist in vain?

The evidence of just how thoughtful he was was again there when, having gone up the stairs and into her room, Phinn discovered that someone had been in there.

She stood stock still and just stared. The small round table that had been by the antique gold chaise longue had been removed. In its place, and looking every bit as if it belonged there, was the small round table that had been in the drawing room when last she had seen it.

‘Grandmother Hawkins’ table,’ she said softly, and felt a warm glow wash over her. Welcome home, it seemed to be saying. She did not have to guess who had so thoughtfully made the exchange. She knew that it had been Ty Allardyce.

Phinn went to bed liking him again.

CHAPTER FIVE

PHINN sat on the paddock rail around six weeks later, keeping an eye on Ruby, who’d had a bout of being unwell, and reflecting on how Broadlands Hall now seemed to be quite like home. She knew more of the layout now. Knew where Ty’s study was—the place where he always spent some time when he was there.

Most of the rooms had been smartened up, some replastered and redecorated. The room next for redecoration was the music room—the room in which she had often sat listening with Mr Caldicott while her father played on his grand piano. The music room door was occasionally left open, when either Wendy or Valerie, who came up from the village to clean, were in there, giving the room a dusting and an airing. Apparently the piano had been left behind when all Mr Caldicott’s other furniture had been removed. Presumably Ty had come to some arrangement with him about it.

Phinn patted Ruby’s neck and talked nothings to her while at the same time she reminded herself that she must not allow herself to become too comfortable here. In another four or so months, probably sooner if she were to get anything established for Ruby, she would have to begin looking for a new home for the two of them.

But meantime how good it was to not have that worry hanging over her head as being immediate. What was immediate, however, was the vet’s bill that was mounting up. Last month’s pay cheque had already gone, and the cheque Ty had left on Grandmother Hawkins’ table for her to find a couple of weeks ago was mostly owed to Kit Peverill.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Kit had told her when she had settled his last veterinary bill. ‘There’s no rush. Pay me as you can.’

He was kind, was Kit, and, having assumed she had come to the Hall to work in the estate office, he had called to see Ruby as soon as he could when Phinn had phoned. She could not bear to think of Ruby in pain, but Kit had assured her that, though Ruby suffered some discomfort, she was not in actual pain, and that hopefully her sudden loss of appetite would pick up again.

Kit had been kind enough to organise some special food for Ruby, and to Phinn’s surprise Geraldine Walton had arrived one day with a load of straw. Ash had been off on one of his ‘walk-abouts’ that day. But soon after that Geraldine had—again to Phinn’s surprise—telephoned to say she had a surfeit of hay, and that if Ash was available perhaps he would drive over in the pick-up and collect it.

Having discovered that Ash was at his best when occupied, Phinn had asked him if he would mind. ‘Can’t you manage without it?’ he had enquired, clearly reluctant.

‘Yes, of course I can,’ she’d replied with a smile. ‘I shouldn’t have asked you.’

He had been immediately contrite. ‘Yes, you should. Sorry, Phinn, I’m not fit company these days. Of course I’ll go.’ Muttering, ‘With luck I shall miss seeing the wretched woman,’ he went on his way.

From that Phinn gleaned that it was not so much the errand he was objecting to, but the fact that he did not want any contact with the owner of the riding school and stables. Which gave her cause to wonder if it was just that he had taken an aversion to Geraldine. Or was he, despite himself, attracted to her and a little afraid of her because of what another woman with her colouring had done to him?

Phinn had kept him company as much as she could, though very often she knew that he wanted to be on his own. At other times she had walked miles with him all over the estate lands.

She had talked with him, stayed silent when need be, and when he had mentioned that he quite liked drawing she had several times taken him sketching down by the trout stream. Which had been a little painful to her, because it was there that her father had taught her to sketch.

She had overcome her sadness of spirit when it had seemed to her that Ash appeared to be less stressful and a shade more content when he lost himself as he concentrated on the sketch he was creating.

But Ash was very often quite down, so that sometimes she would wonder if her being there made any difference to him at all. A point she had put to Ty only a week ago. Cutting her nose off it might have been, had he agreed with her and suggested that he would not hold her to their six-month agreement. But it was nothing of the sort!

‘Of course you’ve made a difference,’ Ty assured her. ‘Apart from the fact I feel I can get back to my work without being too concerned over him, there is a definite improvement from the way he was.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m sure,’ he replied, and had meant it. ‘Surely you’ve noticed that he’s taking more of an interest in the estate these days? He was telling me on the phone only the other day how you had both met with some forester—Sam…?’

‘Sam Turner,’ she filled in. ‘I was at school with his son Sammy. Sammy’s followed in his father’s footsteps.’ And then, getting carried away, ‘Ash and I walked the whole of Pixie End Wood with Sam and Sammy…’ She halted. ‘But you probably know that from Ash.’

Ty hadn’t answered that, but asked, ‘Is there anybody you don’t know?’

For the weirdest moment she felt like saying, I don’t know you. Weird or what? Anybody would think that she wanted to know him—better. ‘I was brung up around here,’ she replied impishly—and felt Ty’s steady grey glance on her.

‘And a more fully rounded “brung-up” female I’ve never met,’ he commented quietly.

‘If I could decide whether that was a compliment or not, I might thank you for it,’ she replied.

‘It’s a compliment,’ he informed her, and she had gone about her business wondering about the other women of his acquaintance.

By ‘fully rounded’ she knew he had not been talking about her figure—which if anything, save for a bosom to be proud of, she had always thought a little on the lean side. So were his London and ‘other capitals’ women not so generally ‘fully rounded’? And was being ‘fully rounded’ a good thing, or a bad thing? Phinn had given it up when she’d recalled that he had said that it was a compliment.

But now, sitting on the rail mulling over the events of these past weeks, she reflected that Ty, having employed her so that he could go about his business, seemed to come home to Broadlands far more frequently than she had thought he would. Though it was true that here it was Friday, and he had not been home at all this week.

Phinn felt the most peculiar sensation in her insides as she wondered, today being Friday, if Ty would come home tonight? Perhaps he might stay the whole weekend? He didn’t always. Some filly up in London, her father would have said.

But she did not want to think about Ty and his London fillies. Phinn titled her head a fraction and looked to Ruby, who was watching her. ‘Hello, my darling Rubes,’ she said softly, and asked, ‘What do you say to an apple if I ask Mrs Starkey for one?’

Mrs Starkey was continuing to mother her, and Phinn had to admit she did not object to it. Occasionally she would sit and share a pot of tea with the housekeeper, and Phinn would enquire after Mrs Starkey’s son, John, and hear of his latest doings, and then go on to talk of the various other people Phinn had grown up knowing.

Bearing in mind her own mother had taken up golf, and was more often out than in, Phinn had made contact with her to let her know of her move. After her mother’s third-degree questioning Phinn had ended the call with her mother’s blessing.

About to leave her perch and go in search of an apple for Ruby, Phinn just then heard the sound of a car coming up the drive and recognised Kit Peverill’s vehicle. She had asked him to come and look Ruby over.

Ruby wasn’t too sure about him, but was too timid by nature to raise any strong objections. Instead she sidled up to Phinn and stayed close when he had finished with her.

‘She’ll do,’ he pronounced.

‘She’s better!’ Phinn exclaimed in relief.

‘She’s never going to be better, Phinn,’ Kit replied gently. ‘You know that. But she’s over this last little upset.’

Phinn looked down at her feet to hide the pain in her eyes. ‘Thank you for being so attentive,’ she murmured, and, leaving Ruby, walked to his vehicle with him to collect some medication he had mentioned.

‘It’s always a pleasure to see you, Phinn,’ he commented, which took her out of her stride a little, because he had never said anything like it before. Indeed, she had always supposed him to be a tiny bit shy, more of an animal person than a people person. But she was to discover that, while shy, he was not so shy as she had imagined. And that he quite liked people too as well as animals, when he coughed, and followed up with, ‘Er—in fact, I’ve been meaning to ask you—er—how do you feel about coming out with me one night—say, tomorrow night?’

Phinn kept her eyes on the path in front while she considered what he had said. ‘Um…’ She just hadn’t thought of him in a ‘date’ situation, only a ‘vet’ situation. ‘We—I’m…’ Her thoughts were a bit muddled up, but she was thinking more about how long she would want to leave Ruby than of any enjoyment she might find if she dated this rather pleasant man.

‘Look, why not give me a ring? I know you won’t want to be away from Ruby for too long, but we could have a quick bite over at the Kings Arms in Little Thornby.’

Phinn was on the point of agreeing to go out with him, but something held her back. Perhaps she would go if Ty came home this weekend. Surely she was not expected to stay home being a companion to Ash if Ty was there to keep him company?

‘Can I give you a ring?’ she asked.

After Kit had gone, Phinn thought it time she attended to her duties, and went looking for Ash. The sound of someone busy with a hammer attracted her towards the pool, and she headed in that direction where, to her amazement, she found Ash on the far side, hammering a large signpost into the ground. In bold red the sign proclaimed ‘DANGER. KEEP OUT. TREACHEROUS WATER’. Close by was another post, from which hung a lifebelt.

Ash raised his head and saw her. ‘Thought I was useless, didn’t you?’ he called, but seemed the happiest she had seen him since her cousin had done a brilliant job of flattening him.

What Phinn thought was that he was an extremely bruised man, who loved well, but not too wisely, and was paying for it.

‘I think you’re gorgeous,’ she called back with a laugh, and felt a true affection for him. Had she had a brother, she would have liked one just like Ash.

Ash grinned, and for the first time Phinn saw that perhaps her being there was making a bit of a difference. Perhaps Ash was starting to heal. Phinn went to get Ruby an apple.

It started to rain after lunch, and although Ruby did not mind the rain, it was heavy enough for Phinn to not want to risk it for her. After stabling her she went indoors, and was coming down the stairs after changing out of damp clothes when the phone in the hall rang.