Deborah Carr - The Poppy Field - A gripping and emotional historical romance

“It certainly is, but I can’t help thinking —” He hesitated.

“Is something wrong?” Had her erratic behaviour frightened him off? She hoped not; the last thing she needed was for him to change his mind about doing the work.

“Are you sure you want to live here while this work is being done?”

She didn’t like to admit that right now she would prefer to be staying in her sparsely furnished, but warm modern flat in Brighton. “I’m doing this project for my dad,” she said. It wasn’t the entire truth, but she didn’t know Tom well enough to confide in him just yet. “I’m happy being here by myself.”

She didn’t add that she needed time living alone to work through the grief brought about by her ex’s unexpected death and the discovery of his deceit. “I think we’ve finished up here now. Do you want to take a proper look outside, while I test out that retro kettle?”

“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.