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“Sounds good to me,” he said as they went back downstairs. “I could do with warming up a bit. Coffee, little milk, no sugar.”
She watched him go and then unpacked her shopping. Tom seemed pleasant enough, but then again, she had thought that about her ex. Filling the kettle to the three-quarter mark, she plugged it into the old-fashioned socket.
By the time Tom returned to the farmhouse, Gemma had managed to get the fire going as well as having two steaming mugs of coffee waiting for them both. “There you go,” she said pointing to the freshly wiped table in the living room. She indicated for him to sit on the cleaner of the two chairs.
“Tell me what you think.”
He rubbed his unshaven chin. “The most important thing is that temporary repairs are done to the roof as soon as possible,” he said. “The forecast is dire for the next few days. I’ll come back later, if I have time. If not, I’ll make the temporary repairs first thing tomorrow.”
“That’s very kind,” she said grateful to him for this thoughtfulness. “And the rest?”
Tom looked concerned. “Couldn’t you stay at the B&B in the village for a few weeks? At least until the main bedroom is cleaned thoroughly and the bathroom sorted out?”
“No, I’ll be fine here,” she insisted, wishing he’d drop the matter. She had spent her life deciding what was best for herself. Even as a child with her absent mother focusing on her legal career while her father excelled in finance, Gemma had been left to her own devices. Bored nannies and housekeepers were happy to let the timid child in their care lock herself away with her books and daydreams. “I’ll clean the bedroom and bathroom today and I can always get a takeaway if the cooker doesn’t work.”
He looked as if he was trying not to argue with her. “It’s February, though, and freezing.”
“Seriously, I’ll be fine.” She forced a smile and took a sip of her coffee. The heat of the liquid warmed her throat. “I’m tougher than I look,” she insisted. “And certainly, more capable. Anyway, if I’m not staying here then I can’t get on with the renovations as well as I could if I was on site.”
He smiled. “Fair point.” He put his cup down on the table and pulling out a small notepad from his jacket pocket made a few extra notes. “This place has been empty for a long time,” he said. “It’s isn’t surprising that it has a damp issue. You’ll need to keep the fire going as much as you can to dry it out slightly.”
They stared at the fire in silence for a moment.
“How come you’ve taken over this place then?”
Gemma studied the musty room. “It belonged to my dad’s elderly cousin,” she explained. “He was ninety-eight when he had to go to a care home. Dad said he’d lived here his entire life, so it must have been heart breaking for him to go.”
Tom frowned thoughtfully. “Poor guy. I’ll have to ask my mum if she remembers him. She doesn’t live too far from here. Do you know his name?”
Gemma tried to recall if her father had ever mentioned it. “Sorry, I can’t remember. I’ll ask Dad the next time I speak to him.”
Tom drank the rest of his coffee. “Right. I’ve got to get going.”
“Thanks for stepping in like this,” she said, relieved to feel like she was getting somewhere. “I’m very grateful.”
Gemma watched him leave, and the place seemed very empty without someone else in the room. To keep from feeling sorry for herself, she decided the best thing to do would be to get on with the cleaning.
She was half aware of the wind picking up. Stopping half way through wiping down the furniture in the main bedroom, Gemma listened at a loud creaking. She walked over to the window to try and find out what was causing the noise and saw a large branch swing back and forth in the gale. It looked as if it was about to come away from the trunk. Telling herself she was worrying unnecessarily, she continued cleaning a large chest of drawers.
A few moments later, a larger gust of wind howled through the house followed by a loud crack. Gemma rushed over to the window in time to see the branch coming towards her. Crouching instinctively, she covered her head with her hands waiting for the smash of the window pane. The house shuddered on impact and she squeezed her eyes closed. Tiles shattered under the weight of the branch as it fell from the tree, smashing on the ground outside, as the glass from the window pane exploded inwards.
Holding her breath, Gemma waited for everything to become still. Her breath came in short bursts as she opened her eyes. Several sharp-edged twigs were suspended inches from her face. Even in her shock, she could tell she’d been extremely lucky not to have been caught by any debris. She needed to get out of the room though. Gathering her composure, she grabbed hold of one of the larger twigs attached to the branch and climbed carefully over it, pushing her way through the pine needles to the other side.
“Damn,” she groaned, breathing in the scent of pine and sap filling the room. She had thought the room was in a bad way before, but it really needed some work now. The gale didn’t appear to be quietening, so she decided that the safest place to be was downstairs. She reached the bottom step, just as Tom shouted from the front door, banging loudly to be let in.
Shocked to hear him, but relieved that he was at the farm, she ran over to let him in. “What are you doing here?”
“I was on my way here to check if you were okay,” he said, pushing the door closed behind him. “I’ve seen the damage to the side of the house.” He squinted and pulled several pine needles from her hair. “Have you been upstairs inspecting the damage?” he asked. “Because if you have,” he added without waiting for a reply. “It was a bloody dangerous thing to do.”
“I was already up there, if you must know,” she snapped, irritated by his outburst. Who did he think he was talking to?
Tom’s mouth dropped open for a second. “Hell, are you alright?” He narrowed his eyes and leant forward to check her face.
Gemma stepped back frowning. She wasn’t used to such close inspection from anyone.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, turning away from her. “You stay here, I’ll go and check upstairs.”
Relieved to have some time alone, Gemma walked over to the fireplace and added a couple of logs. She was used to being the one to check people for damage, not the other way around. It had taken her by surprise, that’s all, she reasoned, still disconcerted by what had happened. She could hear his footsteps upstairs and some banging. What is he doing up there, she wondered, relieved to have time to untangle her emotions. Maybe if she’d had siblings or demonstrative parents growing up, she might have learnt to be tactile and would not have reacted so embarrassingly.
She could hear him coming down the stairs again and pretended to be adding another log to the fire.
“I think you’ve probably already got too many on there,” he said entering the room.
They stood in awkward silence.
“Look,” Tom said. “I’m sorry. I’m used to being hands on.”
“It’s fine, forget it. Thanks for coming to see if I was alright. Is the damage going to put the renovation work back much?”
He shrugged. “Not really. It’s only the end of the branch. The window frame is fine, and the panes of glass can soon be replaced.”
“I really do appreciate your help,” she said, wishing to make amends for acting so oddly.
He smiled, his beautiful navy-blue eyes crinkling sexily, causing her stomach to contract. “It’s no problem. I’ve got to help a fellow Brit, haven’t I?”
She smiled, enjoying his casual friendliness. She could get used to having him around in no time. “I’m not from the mainland,” she explained. “I’m from Jersey, in the Channel Islands.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “I went there once. In the summer holidays with my mum. Nice place.” A large gust of wind rattled the window upstairs and they both looked up at the ceiling. “I remember being amazed when I spotted the coast of France from the guest house where we were staying,” he said.
Gemma suspected he was trying to distract her from the gale going on outside. “I can see the lights in France from my old bedroom at my parents’ place,” she said, recalling how comforted she had been to be back there for the past few months, even if her mother had tired of her presence quicker than she would have liked.
“Do you still live in Jersey, then?”
“No, I left five years ago,” she explained thinking back to how excited she had been to leave the small island for a fresh start on the English mainland. “I live in Brighton now, or at least I did.”
“Is this your first renovation project, or something you do for a living?”
Gemma laughed. “I’m a nurse,” she said, amused at the thought of how different the next few months were going to be compared to what she was used to. “I work in a trauma centre, near Brighton.”
All amusement vanished from his face. “Oh, I see,” he said.
Confused by his reaction, Gemma thought it best to change the subject. “How come you speak fluent French?” she asked, intrigued.
His shoulders relaxed a little. “My mum’s French,” he explained. “She’s from Amiens, about twenty miles from here.”
Gemma recognised the name from reading books about the First World War at school. “I suppose we’re near the Somme battlefields here, then.”
“We are,” he said. “There’s a lot of history around this place for you to discover.”
“Have you been here long?” she asked nervous not to say the wrong thing again.
“A couple of years full time. I spent most of my summer holidays growing up coming here to stay with my grandparents. My parents ran a small restaurant in Devon before they divorced. It was useful for them to send me here when they were at their busiest.”
They chatted for a while longer. Gemma rarely had company at her flat and usually preferred being alone, but it was a relief to have Tom here. She didn’t mind being in this strange house, but the gale and damage to her room had unsettled her.
It seems to be dying down now,” he said standing up. “I’d better get going, or my mum will be wondering where I am. I don’t want her worrying. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow to cover the exposed area on the roof and sort out that window.”
“Thanks for stepping in to help me, Tom,” Gemma said, extending her hand. He smiled and shook it. “I really appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
She showed him to the door and wished she had the same relaxed way about her as Tom did. There was something haunted about him though, she mused. He hid it well, but she couldn’t help wondering what was behind the sadness he tried to keep hidden.
Chapter 2
Gemma
February 2018
“That’s the window done,” Tom announced the following morning, as he descended the ladder and joined her on the front path. “The tarpaulin should keep the roof watertight, at least until I can replace the missing tiles.”
He withdrew a piece of paper from his jeans back pocket and handed it to her. “I jotted down a list of what needs doing and how much it’ll cost. I’ll get it typed up for you. I thought you might like to have a heads-up before you receive my quote.”
Gemma unfolded the paper and read his list and the total. “Yes, this amount looks similar to the one my dad was sent from the other chap,” she said, noticing it was marginally cheaper. “How soon can you start work?”
He lowered the ladder and carried it to his pick-up. “I’ve postponed another job for a few weeks,” he said as Gemma followed him. She watched him attach it to the roof. “They weren’t in any rush.”
“Are you sure your other client won’t mind?” she asked, wishing she didn’t feel the need to ask.
“It’s fine. It’s their second home,” he said, turning to her. “They won’t be back in the area until April, at the earliest.”
Gemma couldn’t believe her luck. It occurred to her that he might be putting himself out to help her. She wasn’t used to getting favours from anyone and didn’t know how to accept one now. “You’re not doing yourself out of any work, are you? Not on my account, anyway. I’m sure I can wait a few weeks,” she fibbed.
He laughed. “We both know that’s not true. You need the most urgent work doing straight away, especially if you’re determined to stay here. Anyway, I’m happy to do it. I’ll start tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Tom. I’m really grateful,” she said.
A week later, Gemma couldn’t help being excited that Tom had already replaced the roof tiles smashed during the storm, as well as the broken window. He had also replaced a cracked pane of glass in the small living room window near the front door. She had removed ivy from the front of the house that had covered the original window and the difference it made to the light in the room was staggering.
“Right,” he said, letting his metal tape measure retract. “I’ve fixed the loose floorboards over there and will go and buy more to cover the rotten ones I pulled up this morning. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Thanks, Tom,” she said to his retreating figure as he walked out into the hallway. Her stomach growled loudly.
Tom stepped back into the room. “Shall I buy something for you to eat, while I’m out?” he asked, grinning.
“Please,” she blushed, as he left for a second time. She was getting used to being around Tom. He was hardworking and thoughtful, as well as being extremely good looking. She wondered if he had a girlfriend. Of course, he did. A guy like Tom wouldn’t be single.
Determined to stop thinking about him, Gemma stepped over one of the gaps in the floor to leave the room, when something shiny caught her eye.
She crouched carefully over the hole. Reaching down into the space, her hand met an irregular shaped object. She couldn’t make out what it could be and lifting the dusty item out she discovered it was a brooch in the shape of a poppy. Intrigued, she rubbed it against her sleeve to remove the excess dust, blowing the remainder away. Its red enamelling was still bright, she noticed. Who could have owned such a beautiful object?
She turned it over and peered at the back, surprised to see it was gold. Saddened to think that someone had lost such a thing of beauty, she wondered again who could have owned it. Poppies had long been a representation of remembrance, she knew that much. Maybe someone had come here from one of the casualty clearing stations close by. Or even during the Second World War?
Tom returned and came up to her bedroom. “I’ve left you a cheese and tomato baguette on the living room table,” he said, entering the room carrying the new floorboards. “What’s that?”
Gemma showed him what she had found.
He put the floorboards onto the floor. “It doesn’t look very old,” he said, turning it over in his hands. “Not that I know anything about jewellery.”
“It was incredibly dusty,” she told him, returning the brooch to the bedside drawer, as soon as he had finished looking at it.
“Maybe the previous owner lost it, or his wife?”
“I don’t think he ever married,” Gemma said thoughtfully. “I suppose it could have been a friend, or relative who came to stay here at some point.”
Tom stared at her thoughtfully.
Gemma wasn’t sure if he wanted to say something, so waited for him to speak. “Right,” he said handing back the brooch. “I’d better get on.”
Feeling slightly awkward, Gemma remembered that he was going to help her remove the old mattress from the bedroom. “Shall we take this old thing outside?”
“Good idea. Then you can get on with your bits, and I’ll replace these bits of flooring.”
They dragged the old mattresses from both bedrooms up the muddy path to the meadow. Gemma brought him old magazines, and anything else she didn’t want from the farmhouse, while Tom set up the bonfire. They watched everything take light, standing with their hands outstretched towards the flames.
“Is it feeling a little more like home now?” he asked eventually. He picked up a small branch lying under a tree and prodding the magazines pushing them further into the fire.
“Slightly,” she pushed her hands into her pockets, glad he’d begun talking again. “It’s much nicer having someone else to chat to, in between jobs.”
“Good. I’m glad.” He turned and gazed at the farmhouse. “It’s an appealing building. Once all the work has been done, I think it’s going to be somewhere you’ll be very happy.”
“I’m not staying here,” she said. “Just doing it up, so my father can sell it on.”
She was taken aback by his surprise. “I didn’t realise you weren’t wanting to keep this for yourself. So, you’re returning to the UK then?”
Was that disappointment she saw in his face? Don’t be ridiculous, Gemma, she thought. Why would he care whether you lived here, or not? “Yes, I’ve taken a sabbatical from nursing,” she said, not adding that it hadn’t been a planned event.
“Good for you. Don’t you miss it?”
Gemma thought back to the last day at work and the meltdown she’d had. “I thought I might, but no, not yet.”
He stared at her briefly. “Did you always want to be a nurse then?”
She nodded. “Ever since I can remember. You?”
He pulled a face. “What be a nurse?”
Gemma nudged him and giggled. “No, silly, a builder.”
He gazed into the flames, not answering for a several seconds. “No.”
Unsure if she was being too nosy, Gemma asked, “What did you want to be when you were younger then?”
Tom smiled at her, and Gemma’s heart did a somersault as his perfect lips drew back revealing his straight, white teeth. He really did have movie star looks, she thought. She realised he was saying something.
“Sorry, I missed that.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, throwing the stick into the fire. “We should be getting back to work. This lot can take care of itself.”
Disappointed that she’d missed what he’d said, she was tempted to ask again. When she glanced out of the corner of her eyes at him, he was deep in thought striding along the muddy pathway back to the house.
“I’ve enjoyed cleaning this place more than I expected I would,” she admitted, catching up with him. “You’ve been a wonderful help, stepping in like you did.”
“I’m glad you’re happy.” Tom said, his smile not reaching his eyes. “I’d better get on.”
That afternoon, Gemma’s new mattress was delivered. Tom helped her carry it up to her bedroom.
“Now you’ve finished the floor in here, it’s almost habitable,” she said.
“It’ll be much better than sleeping in the living room,” he said looking out the window at the bonfire. “I’d better get back and check on the fire.”
She had already washed down the bed frame, walls, skirting boards and floor, so all she needed to do was make up her bed. Gemma tried to fathom what she’d said to alter Tom’s mood. But unable to work it out, she focused on rehanging the faded floral curtains she had washed. She stood at the doorway and surveyed the results of their efforts, there was still an enormous amount to do, but she could see a big difference in here at least.
She wondered if she and Tom would be able to keep in contact after he’d finished working for her. She hoped so, she thought, swallowing a lump in her throat. Maybe instead of trying to be braver and bolder, she should concentrate on just making some friends. She hadn’t realised before spending time with Tom how much more enjoyable her days could be with someone to have a laugh with. She had spent her entire life believing that she was too dull to befriend. Her first boyfriend had tried to persuade her to emigrate with him to Australia to start a new life, but she had been too timid to go with him and now, seeing how she was coping here doing something new, it occurred to her that she had an awful lot to learn about herself.
Her chest constricted with emotion. She was over-tired and being ridiculous. All she needed, Gemma mused, was a decent night’s sleep in her new bed. She could worry about how things were going in the morning.
Gemma woke after her first night sleeping on her new mattress and stretched. It had been like sleeping on a cloud. For the first time since arriving at the farmhouse, she hadn’t woken up with a backache. She must have been in a very deep sleep, she thought, feeling a little groggy. She rubbed her eyes to try and wake up properly.
Slipping her feet into her cold trainers, she winced. It was going to take some time before she got used to not having central heating, she thought shivering. She had always enjoyed watching programmes on television where people bought a rundown property and did them up but was quickly discovering that the reality was not nearly as comfortable as it looked. She rubbed her arms to keep them warm while she decided what to wear. It was too cold to care about appearances, so she grabbed her nearest sweater and pulled it on.
She opened the curtains and let sunshine flood in to the room. The warmth of the sunny spring day on her face cheered her up. For the first time she thought that maybe her father had a point suggesting she come here. Looking after the renovation work, instead of rushing back to her job at the trauma unit was definitely helping her come to terms with what had happened. Her mood dipped as the image of her ex, dying from his injuries in a car crash swooped into her mind. How could she hate someone who had died so tragically, she wondered? Then again, if she had discovered he was still married before he’d had his accident, she could have finished with him and not felt so guilty. She pushed all thoughts of him from her mind and went downstairs.
She was enjoying working with Tom. He seemed a little mysterious, but very nice. She smiled, thinking how she looked forward to the days he was here more and more. Sundays were the only day Tom didn’t come to the house and they seemed to stretch on forever.
Gemma went downstairs to the kitchen. She heard Tom singing to himself through the open window, as he crossed the courtyard to the three-sided barn. Watching him carrying tools into one of the smaller outhouses, she noticed his t-shirt was filthy from the grime of the disused rooms. For a second, she wondered what he looked like without it on.
Shocked by her reaction to him, she tore herself away from the window and went back to the living room, forcing her attention on the walls, now washed with sugar soap. Finally, they were clean and ready for her to paint. She looked at the wooden floor deciding if it needed a large colourful rug, but it was no good, she couldn’t focus, she had to go outside and see him.
“What are you doing?” she asked, finding him with a crowbar trying to force open a fitted cupboard at the back of the barn that she hadn’t noticed before.
“I found this door. There was sacking nailed over it, but it was rotten and practically disintegrated when I went to lift it.” Tom put down the crowbar. “I can’t imagine why anyone would cover it up.”
She was intrigued. “What do you think’s in there?” she asked, wondering why someone would hide a door.
“I’m concerned there might be old gas canisters, or something else that needs to be removed. It’s been painted over many times. Probably because the previous owner couldn’t be bothered to open it.”
“I can see why,” Gemma laughed. “If it’s too much bother, just leave it. I doubt something that’s been closed off for years will bother me, or any other potential owners. It’s a bit of a strange feature, but it gives the inside of the barn a little character, don’t you think?”
“Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced. He turned to look at her. “How was your new mattress? Get a better night’s sleep than on your ancient armchair?”
“It was bliss,” she said. “I slept soundly all night.”
“I’m not surprised after sleeping on that chair for so long.”
She smiled at him. “I certainly feel more refreshed today, than I have been doing.”
“That figures.” He turned his attention back to the cupboard.
Not wishing to hover over him while he worked, she decided to go and get out of his way. “I’ll go and make us a bite to eat,” she said. “I bought a fresh baguette last night. It should still be okay this morning. I’ve also got some perfectly ripe Camembert.”