Page 11 of The House at Hope Corner
‘Like I’m ever going to get the chance,’ Ned retorted, holding out his hand to Flora. ‘Come on. Let’s get going. The sooner we go, the sooner I can get my nose back on the grindstone.’ He was smiling, but Flora still felt distinctly uncomfortable.
It wasn’t a particularly long walk into the village, but the day was fresh and, along with the cold, the thoughts whistling around Flora’s head stirred her to walk faster and faster. Even so, Ned’s stride was long and lolloping and she had a job to keep up with him. He slowed when he reached the place where the track from the farm met the bend in the road.
‘Hope Corner,’ he said, grinning. ‘You’ll never find a finer place.’
Flora looked across at him, his cheeks florid from the wind, his eyes shining. ‘You really do mean that, don’t you?’
Ned held his arms up in an expansive gesture. ‘I know every inch of every field, lane, and hedgerow for miles around,’ he said. ‘Where the best place to see the first snowdrops is, the spot the sun never reaches and is always icy, and where the wild honeysuckle grows so vigorously you can smell it on the wind come the summer. And there’ – he pointed to the sweep of fields away to their right – ‘are our cows. Holstein Friesians, like ninety per cent of all the dairy cattle in the UK…’ He grinned at her. ‘The black and white ones?’ he added. ‘And I love every single one of them. They’re all I’ve ever known, Flora. I can’t even begin to think of a life without them in it, and now that you’re here too, everything is perfect.’
Flora couldn’t help pulling a face. ‘I’m not sure your mum and dad think that way.’
He took hold of her hand. ‘Don’t take any notice of what my dad says, it’s just bluff and bluster. He’s soft as muck really.’ He regarded her for a moment before dropping her hand and pulling her woolly hat down further over her ears, tucking her hair under it a little. ‘Are you warm enough?’ he asked.
She nodded and took hold of his hand again. ‘Come on.’
It was good to be outside, though, and Flora enjoyed the feeling of the wind snatching at her hair and burnishing her cheeks. It wasn’t just her head that was feeling cooped up, her muscles were too, and she picked up her pace even more, lengthening her stride as she rounded the bend of Hope Corner before turning and looking back towards the farmhouse. Despite Fraser’s harsh words of earlier, she couldn’t help but feel a flush of happiness. It was beautiful and she couldn’t wait to see the seasons changing the landscape as spring deepened and turned to summer.
They followed the long slow hill up into the village, which left her panting slightly, before crossing into the main road. They were heading for the one and only shop which lay at the far end and, despite still looking very much like the house it obviously had once been, it apparently sold anything and everything. Ned pushed open the door for her and ushered her inside, the basket of eggs held in front of her.
The first thing Flora heard was a bright peal of laughter in the room away to her left, which was followed by a sunny-sounding voice. ‘Oh, go on with you, Brian, you love being mollycoddled so don’t pretend that you don’t!’
She moved towards the sound, looking through the large square room towards the far end to see an elderly couple standing by a counter. It was laden with loaves of bread and enough bottles and jars to make their stash at home look paltry by comparison. Behind the counter stood a tall, willowy woman with softly curling grey hair that reached well past her shoulders. She wore pale jeans and a simple navy tee shirt that should have looked ordinary but instead added to the woman’s elegant bearing. Her face was split into a wide smile. She nodded a welcome as she saw Flora and Ned enter the shop before continuing her conversation.
Flora glanced at Ned and took the opportunity to have a look around. At a guess, she would have said that she was standing in what would originally have been the main living room to the house. The period bay window with its deep sill provided an enticing space for display, but rather than cramming it full with goods, someone with an eye for detail had simply stood a huge blue jug there and filled it with twigs of hazel, cotoneaster, and bright glossy springs of holly. It set the tone for the whole shop which, now that Flora looked, was hung with bunches of herbs, wreaths of dried flowers and a garland of what looked like eucalyptus leaves. She moved closer to get a better look, intrigued by what she saw.
Lost in contemplation, it took a moment for her to realise that Ned was gently nudging her arm. The woman from behind the counter had come to stand beside them.
‘You must be Flora,’ she said, her hand outstretched.
‘Oh…’ Flora replied, startled. ‘Sorry, I was miles away, but yes, I am…’
The woman grinned. ‘And despite the fact that you’re here with Ned, which is a bit of a giveaway, I feel as if I’d know you anywhere.’
Flora took the hand and shook it. ‘Really?’ she asked, looking down at her boots rather self-consciously.
‘Oh yes,’ came the reply. ‘And don’t worry, Hannah provided me with a perfect description of you.’ She laughed, noticing the expression on Flora’s face. ‘Oh dear, I can see that’s worried you even more. But fear not, Hannah had nothing but good words to say… although admittedly she was a little bemused by the range of coloured tights you wear, whereas I, on the other hand, think they’re fantastic.’
Flora blushed. ‘Thank you…’ she managed, realising that today’s choice, pink and orange stripes, were not exactly subtle.
Ned grinned. ‘Flora, this is Grace,’ he said. ‘Who I have known all my life…’
Grace rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, thank you, Ned, for reminding me just how old I am.’ She looked at Flora. ‘Welcome to the village and our humble little shop.’
‘Hardly humble,’ Flora replied. ‘You look as if you sell everything in here. And I was looking at the decorations––’
‘You approve?’
‘Oh yes…’ Flora didn’t mind the interruption at all; she had a feeling she knew exactly who was responsible for them. ‘Just lovely. Perfect in fact.’ She smiled. ‘I used to––’
‘Be a florist,’ said Grace, interrupting again. ‘Yes, I know. And now you’re an artist, I believe. Caroline told me that. Oh, and not horsey…’ She gave a surreptitious look over her shoulder and then turned back to grin at Ned. ‘Thank heavens for that,’ she whispered.
Flora laughed. ‘I can only imagine what Caroline said. I’m not sure she understood the whole artist thing, but then I can’t see the attraction of riding. It looks frankly terrifying and I’ve been invited out on a ride soon… I’m honestly not sure how I’m going to cope with that,’ she confided. ‘Somehow I don’t see Caroline and I ever becoming bosom buddies.’
‘No?’ Grace’s face was a picture. ‘Shame.’ She smothered her grin. ‘And you’re right, Caroline won’t understand you being an artist at all. She’ll think you’re weird, like me. But that’s okay.’
Flora felt the slight tension in her shoulders beginning to ease and she pointed to the wall-hanging. ‘So am I right in thinking that this is your handiwork?’
‘Indeed it is, and all plants from my garden, which is my absolute pride and joy. I can’t help it, I just find myself collecting stuff and then the next minute… well, that was one of the results. Fortunately for me, Bill doesn’t mind my projects overflowing into the shop. He’s the owner,’ she added.
