Hope Blooms in Tuppenny Bridge (Tuppenny Bridge #5)

Chapter 4

FOUR

Daisy thanked the driver as she stepped off the bus, butterflies swooshing around in her stomach as she set foot in Camacker for the first time since leaving Upper Skimmerdale—what, five, six years ago?

She gazed around the pretty village nestled on the banks of the River Skimmer, at the familiar church of St Mary’s with the old vicarage standing close by, The Shepherd’s Crook pub, the village hall, the black-faced, horned Swaledale sheep wandering along the road past the general store and the teashop.

She knew this village almost as well as she knew Beckthwaite, the village closest to Crowscar Farm where she’d grown up, and where she’d worked at The King’s Head for years as a way of escaping the oppressive atmosphere at home with her father, especially after Tom had left for Leeds.

Why had it taken her so long to return? Partly, she thought, as she hitched up her backpack and began to walk, because she’d been afraid of bumping into Eliot or, perhaps even worse, Eden, his girlfriend. Possibly, by now, his second wife.

The humiliation would have been too much to bear. And what if they had the kids with them? She swallowed down a lump in her throat at the thought of Liberty, Ophelia, and little George. She’d taken care of those children for years after their mother died, and had loved them like her own. She didn’t know how she’d react if she saw them again.

But now, she thought determinedly, as she strode along the pavement towards the village post box, it was time to face up to the past. She had a new life. A home she loved in a little town she adored. She had her own business. Things were good and she could look Eliot in the eye if she saw him again and tell him so. Besides, it wasn’t likely that he’d be around. After all, he didn’t come into Camacker that often, unless things had changed since she’d been at Wildflower Farm.

It was July. There’d be a lot to do on the farm. On all the farms. She wondered if the haymaking had started and hoped not. It would be good to see the wildflowers, but they were usually cut down before mid-July, and it was the seventh today so…

Despite promising Tess and Rowan that she wouldn’t, she took out her phone and called the café, knowing that a signal would be patchy once she left the village, and that the internet would be non-existent.

It took a few rings before Tess answered.

‘Hello, The Crafty Cook Café, Tess speaking. How can I help?’

Very well done, Daisy thought, impressed. ‘Hiya, Tess. It’s me, Daisy.’

Tess laughed. ‘What did we tell you? Didn’t you promise you’d put us out of your mind and just enjoy yourself?’

‘I know…’ Daisy watched a couple of sheep grazing on the verge across the road and thought she should be more like them. They were so chilled with no thought for the future, just enjoying the moment. Although, being sheep, that was probably for the best. ‘Is everything okay, though?’

‘We haven’t burned the place down if that’s what you’re worrying about.’

‘Is it really busy? Do you think I’ve left you enough food?’

‘Daisy! Look, it’s half past ten. We’ve only been open for half an hour. You know what Sundays are like and you’ve left plenty of food, so stop worrying and go and enjoy yourself. Otherwise, what’s the point?’

Tess was quite right.

‘If you’re sure…’

‘I’m positive. Now hang up and have a great day off. Don’t ring again. If we need help, we’ll let you know.’

‘But the signal?—’

‘Daisy!’

Daisy laughed. ‘Okay, point taken. Thanks, Tess. Bye.’

She shoved her mobile phone into her jacket pocket and sighed. Tess and Rowan were perfectly capable of running the café for one day. She had to learn to switch off and relax.

She was deep in thought as she passed the small cottage that was now the tourist information centre. So deep in thought, in fact, that at first, she didn’t register properly when a voice said, in obvious surprise, ‘Miss Jackson?’

For a split second she froze. Eliot? But then she relaxed as she realised Eliot would never call her Miss Jackson. In fact, she could only think of one person who would and did, and she smiled as her gaze fell upon a slender, slightly freckle-faced man with tawny hair and blue eyes.

‘Noah? What on earth are you doing here?’

He returned her smile. ‘It is you! I couldn’t believe it. I’m out for a hike.’ He gave her a sheepish look. ‘Hoping to see the wildflowers. I’ve just got a map of the Meadows Walking Trail from in there.’ He jerked his thumb in the direction of the tourist information centre. ‘What about you?’

She nodded. ‘Same. Although I don’t need a map. I know the trail like the back of my hand.’

‘Lucky you. I didn’t know you were into hiking.’

‘Oh yes.’ She nodded enthusiastically. ‘It’s the best cure I know for the blues. I used to walk this particular route a lot when I lived round here but it’s the first time I’ve been back in ages.’

‘Well…’ He gave her an awkward look. ‘I suppose…’

She hesitated. ‘No Isobel?’

He shrugged. ‘N-no. She’s out shopping in Leeds with her gran.’

‘Right.’ Reluctantly she said, ‘Look, we could always walk it together if you like?’

He beamed at her. ‘Really? That would be great. I guess I can put this away then.’

He folded up the map and stuffed it, with some difficulty, into his jacket pocket. She realised she’d never seen him in jeans and walking boots before. He was usually so smartly dressed in a suit, shirt and tie, with being a headmaster. It made him look younger somehow.

‘Where are you parked?’ she enquired politely as they began to walk.

He glanced back at the bridge over the Skimmer.

‘Car park just over the water,’ he told her, much as she’d expected. ‘Did you drive here? I wasn’t sure if you had a car.’

‘No,’ she told him. ‘I don’t. I got the bus. Well, two buses actually.’

‘I could give you a lift back later if you like?’ he offered.

‘That would be great,’ she said. ‘If you’re sure.’

‘Of course. No problem.’

Daisy couldn’t help wishing that she hadn’t bumped into him today. Noah had always been nice to her, but the thought of Isobel’s broken fingers kept nagging away at her. Besides, he was very polite and a bit, well, quiet and shy. She wondered how on earth he’d ever become a headmaster and tried to imagine him in charge of an entire school. He just didn’t seem the type.

It meant, of course, that she’d have to be quiet and polite, too. Not that she’d have been talking to herself as she walked—well, not much—but she often sang to herself, and besides, she liked to think. There was no better place to think than while out walking, especially somewhere so beautiful. Not much chance of thinking time now.

Having reached the post box, Daisy turned right and followed the flagged footpath, Noah just behind her.

‘What’s the terrain like?’ he enquired after a few moments.

‘Oh, it’s quite a gentle walk really,’ she assured him. ‘There are a few uphill bits that might tax you a little, but mostly it’s fairly level ground. It’s not like some of the walks round here. Honestly, for those you need oxygen!’

He laughed. ‘Not sure I’m ready for that, but I do like being out and about walking. It’s good for the soul.’

She glanced at him, curious. Although he was clearly trying to sound light-hearted, she thought she detected something in his voice that she’d heard before. A note of sadness that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. In fact, there was something about Noah that always made her feel protective, which was stupid really. He was a professional man with a lot more going for him than she had. He might just be a very good actor. How could she possibly tell?

‘Before we go any further,’ she said, as a thought struck her, ‘have you put sun lotion on? You definitely don’t want to be walking around in this heat without it.’

‘I have. I burn so easily that it’s one of the first things I thought of. Wish I was more like Ross. He tans, whereas I just go pink like a lobster. Must be his Italian heritage.’

Ross, black haired and dark eyed, was Noah’s half-brother, and it had to be said they looked nothing alike, though they seemed very close.

They came to a gate and Daisy unlatched it and walked through, holding it open for Noah. ‘I burn, too, but my brother Tom doesn’t,’ she told him as she checked the gate was closed properly before she led him down a mud track towards a footbridge. ‘So, I know how you feel. Not fair, is it?’

They crossed the water and began to walk along the riverside track. To their right the wildflower meadows were still in bloom, and she heaved a sigh of relief.

‘We’re not too late. I was a bit worried,’ she admitted. ‘They’ll be gone this time next week. The farmers will have cut them down for the animals’ winter feed.’

‘This is stunning,’ Noah breathed. They stood still for a few moments, gazing around them.

‘It would have been even better in June,’ she told him. ‘But at least we haven’t missed them entirely.’

‘What sort of flowers are they? Do you know? I can see lots of buttercups, daisies and dandelions.’

‘They’re not dandelions,’ Daisy told him. ‘They’re cat’s ears—false dandelions. They do look similar, I’ll grant you. See those gorgeous purple flowers? They’re wood cranesbill, or woodland geraniums. And those lime-yellow, frothy flowers? Lady’s mantle.’

Noah looked impressed. He pointed to some straight, yellow flowers. ‘What about those?’

Daisy nodded. ‘Yellow rattle. It’s not my favourite flower, and a lot of farmers consider it a pest, but it’s great for wildflower meadows, cos it suppresses dominant grasses and helps to recycle the nutrients in the soil. Those other, prettier, yellow ones are hawkbit.’

She continued pointing out the different flowers and telling him the little bits she knew about them, and he listened, seeming genuinely interested.

‘You’re a wildflower expert, Miss Jackson?’

Daisy laughed, embarrassed. ‘Hardly that. But I did grow up around here and the wildflower meadows are such a big deal in Upper Skimmerdale.’ She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘It’s good to be back.’

He didn’t speak, allowing her a moment to just be. She was surprised and grateful that he didn’t say anything and didn’t urge her to get moving again. For a moment she simply stood, breathing in the scent of the wildflowers and taking in lungfuls of fresh air. Eventually, though, she thought he’d been patient long enough.

‘Shall we continue?’

He gave her an understanding smile. ‘Only if you’re ready.’

‘I am. Thank you.’

She cast a sideways glance at him as they walked, the path veering uphill, thinking there was something rather sweet about him. No matter how hard she tried she simply couldn’t imagine him giving Isobel a hard time about her weight, or her calorie intake. As for breaking her fingers…

Then again, how many cruel men hid behind a facade of respectability? You just couldn’t tell, and she had to keep that in mind.

‘Why do you call me Miss Jackson?’ she asked him impulsively.

He looked startled by the question. ‘Isn’t that your name?’

‘My name’s Daisy,’ she replied. ‘You’re the only person I know who calls me Miss Jackson.’

He tilted his head, considering as he walked. ‘I suppose I get used to it at work, with addressing the female staff as Miss or Mrs in front of the children all the time. Besides, it seems the polite thing to do. My aunt always made sure we minded our manners. She was quite a stickler for it.’

Daisy could imagine. She wondered what it must have been like to have been brought up by Miss Lavender but didn’t like to ask.

‘We’re getting higher and higher,’ he said, puffing a little. ‘I thought this was an easy route?’

She smirked. ‘It is! You’re just out of condition.’

‘I suppose I am. Too much time sitting at a desk,’ he admitted.

‘Don’t worry. It’s not as high as some of the routes round here. You’re not struggling, are you?’

‘Not really. I think I’ll take my jacket off, though.’

‘Good idea. Me too.’

They dropped their backpacks on the ground and shrugged off their jackets, stuffing them into their bags.

Daisy took the opportunity to take out a bottle of water.

‘Have you got anything to drink?’ she asked him.

‘Yes, a bottle of water like you. And a flask of tea.’

She giggled. ‘You’re very well prepared. Bet you haven’t got cake, though!’

His eyes widened. ‘No, have you? Not that white chocolate and caramel cake?’

‘No. Sorry. Orange and lemon cake. But there’s a big wedge of it left over from yesterday. More than enough for two. We’ll share it when we stop for lunch. I take it you’ve brought lunch?’

Noah looked embarrassed. ‘Actually, no. I thought I’d grab something to eat at a pub or something.’

‘Oh. Well…’ Daisy shook her head. ‘That’s nowhere near as much fun. And I think we’ll be starving by the time we get back to Camacker, don’t you? Don’t worry. I’ve got loads of sandwiches and some quiche so you’re welcome to share that, too.’

‘Then I insist on sharing my flask of tea,’ he told her.

‘You don’t have to insist, I’m not going to argue. Mind, I’ll warn you now—once I start on the tea I won’t stop. You’ll have to snatch the flask from my greedy grasp.’ She took a long swig of water then screwed the cap back on her bottle.

‘I’ll save the tea for lunch then,’ Noah said, reaching for his own water bottle. ‘It will help wash that cake down.’

‘You’re a bit of a cake fiend, aren’t you?’ she said.

‘I am a bit partial,’ he admitted. ‘W-we don’t have it at home so…’

Daisy wrestled with her conscience. Should she ask the question? It was none of her business, after all. But the truth was, she wanted to know. Was he really the control freak Isobel was making him out to be?

‘Why don’t you have it at home?’ she burst out, then watched him closely, waiting for his reaction.

He looked a bit awkward. ‘Well, it’s a health thing really. If we had cake in the house we’d eat it. Best not to have it in. No temptation. Bad enough when I’m at work.’

She couldn’t be certain what he meant by that. Was Isobel right? Was that why they didn’t have cake at Peony Cottage? But that made him one heck of a hypocrite if that was the case, because most working days he visited The Crafty Cook Café and ate cake there. Was the house rule simply to control Isobel? And if so, how else was he controlling her?

It was a depressing thought.

‘Come on,’ she said, tucking the bottle inside her backpack. ‘Best get walking.’

They continued in silence for some distance, the climb taking up a lot of energy. The Skimmer was just a stream far below them and they could see sheep, like toy farmyard animals, in the distance. Eventually the path began to snake its way down the hillside, and they dipped down into shady woodland, glad of the respite from the increasingly hot sun.

Noah gasped suddenly. ‘Can you hear that?’

His blue eyes were bright with excitement and despite her earlier worries Daisy couldn’t help but grin at him.

‘The waterfall? Yes, it’s coming up any moment.’

They hurried through the trees along a track, the sound of rushing water growing louder in their ears as they walked, until…

‘Skimmergill Foss,’ Daisy announced, waving an arm ahead of her.

They stepped onto a wooden footbridge over the river and rested their elbows on the rails, staring ahead of them at the waterfall.

‘Wow,’ Noah breathed. At least, she thought that was what he said. It was hard to hear him with the thundering sound of the water gushing onto the rocks in the river below.

‘I can’t believe you’ve never visited here before,’ Daisy said, frowning. As he gave her an enquiring look, she raised her voice above the roar of the water. ‘You’re a Skimmerdale man, aren’t you? You grew up here. How come you’ve never seen Skimmergill Foss before?’

Noah was silent for a few moments, then he shrugged and turned to look at her.

‘It just wasn’t on our radar really. Aunt Eugenie’s life is in and around Tuppenny Bridge. I was either at Lavender House or at St Egbert’s, and at home life revolved around homework or the museum. Then I went to university and country hikes in the Dales were the last thing on my mind. And th-there was Isobel…’ He hesitated a moment. ‘Hiking was never her thing. And I don’t think she’d ever see the attraction of a waterfall to be honest.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Each to their own. She has a lot of interests that I don’t share. We can’t all like the same things, can we?’

‘I suppose not.’ Although Daisy couldn’t help wondering what interests, if any, Noah and Isobel did share. Still, it was nothing to do with her, and the light had gone from his eyes, and he had that sad look about him again, so it was time to change the subject.

‘Feeling cooler?’

‘Much,’ he agreed. ‘It’s amazing how little sunlight filters through into these woods, isn’t it? I’m feeling miles better now.’

‘Good,’ she said, ‘because I reckon it must be about time for something to eat. What do you think?’

‘Here?’ He looked around, clearly not convinced.

‘Follow me,’ she told him, and led him over the footbridge and along another path out of the woods.

They turned left and the path began to climb the hillside on the opposite side of the river from before. The sound of the rushing waterfall faded, and instead the occasional sound of bleating sheep was their only soundtrack as they walked.

Noah groaned as they reached a particularly steep section of the trail. ‘Not again! I hadn’t realised I was so unfit!’

‘This is just the beginning,’ Daisy told him. ‘In a few minutes we’ll reach the part of the hike that makes this look like a nursery slope.’

His eyes widened in horror. ‘You’re joking!’

Daisy giggled. ‘Yes, of course I am! You’re going to be so easy to wind up. Don’t worry, we’re nearly there.’

‘Thank goodness for that,’ Noah puffed. ‘I hope this is going to be worth it.’

But the path led them to the ruins of an old farmhouse, much photographed by hikers, and a wooden bench nearby, and even Noah had to agree that the climb had been worth it for the stunning views.

‘Here we go. Time for food.’

They settled themselves on the bench and shrugged off their backpacks. Daisy dug out the plastic lunchboxes she’d packed, and Noah found his flask of tea.

‘Cheese or ham?’ she asked.

‘Whatever you like least is fine by me,’ he told her, polite as ever.

There were four sandwiches, so they had one cheese and one ham each, plus a slice of tomato, basil, and parmesan quiche, and a wedge of orange and lemon cake, both of which Daisy carefully broke in half since she had no knife with her.

‘If I’d known I was feeding you I’d have brought more,’ she said with a sigh as she brushed cake crumbs from her T-shirt.

‘Sorry,’ Noah said immediately. ‘You should have said. Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded you not sharing.’

‘Don’t be daft!’ Daisy burst out laughing. ‘I think there was more than enough, don’t you? Besides, what sort of person do you think I am? Any road, don’t forget that tea, Mr Lavender . I’m just about ready for it now.’

‘Please, call me Noah,’ he said, a slight pleading tone in his voice.

And there it was again. Something about him—the expression in his eyes, the tiny downturn of his mouth, that wistful note in his words—something that made her heart lurch. Something that made her want to wrap her arms around him and reassure him that everything was okay.

But why?

She was being ridiculous.

‘I’ll call you Noah if you drop the Miss Jackson bit and start calling me Daisy,’ she told him.

‘If that’s what you want,’ he said, smiling.

‘It is. Deal?’

‘Deal.’ He handed her the flask of tea. ‘There you go, Daisy.’

She realised she liked the way he said her name. It made her feel funny inside. She wondered if she was getting sunstroke.

‘Thank you.’

They sat in amiable silence, drinking tea and gazing at the incredible views of the Upper Skimmerdale landscape.

‘I’d like to come here again,’ Noah said thoughtfully. ‘I know the wildflowers will be gone soon, but even without them the area is so incredibly beautiful.’

Daisy took another sip of tea, half wanting to suggest they come back another time, but she said nothing. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe because it seemed presumptuous. After all, he hadn’t said anything about returning with her.

But anyway, he was Noah. And he was Isobel’s husband. It wouldn’t be right. She knew all too well how people could talk. Look how they’d talked about her and Eliot. Assumptions could be made, and she didn’t fancy going through all that again.

If she’d thought Beckthwaite was bad, she knew that the gossip in Tuppenny Bridge would be far, far worse. She’d heard enough about the Lavender Ladies—Miss Lavender and the Pennyfeather sisters—and their little sideline of running bets on the Bridgers’ private lives to be certain of that.

‘You should,’ she said finally, when he didn’t say anything else, and she had an uncomfortable feeling he was waiting for her reply. ‘It will do you good, and besides, you need to build up your fitness.’

She smiled at him, and he smiled back. She noticed flecks of gold in his blue eyes, the glints of red in his hair where the sunlight was shining on him, and the dusting of freckles across his nose and sharp cheekbones.

‘Have you finished with that?’ he asked, nodding at the flask.

She swallowed, realising she’d been staring at him.

‘Oh heck, have I drunk it all?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ve had enough,’ he reassured her. ‘And I’ve still got some water left.’

‘Sun lotion!’

‘Sorry?’

‘We need to top up,’ she said, taking the bottle from her backpack. ‘Have you brought some with you?’

‘No,’ he admitted. ‘I put loads on before I left the car though.’

‘Not good enough,’ she said sternly, smoothing lotion into her arms. ‘And you a headmaster! You can borrow some of mine.’

‘I’m not very well prepared, am I?’ he asked ruefully, watching as she dabbed lotion over her nose and chin.

‘No, but you’ll know better next time,’ she said, handing him the bottle.

He quickly applied another layer of lotion to his arms, face, and neck and gave her the bottle back. ‘Thanks, Daisy.’

‘We’d better make our way back to the car park,’ she said, getting to her feet and stuffing the empty plastic boxes into her backpack.

‘I suppose we better had,’ he agreed.

They shrugged on their backpacks and set off downhill, over another footbridge and along the floor of the valley, passing ruined old barns and rusting agricultural machinery.

Daisy told him about the bothies that were scattered across the dales—little stone buildings with no electricity or running water. Originally built as shelters for the shepherds or accommodation for farm labourers, these days they were left unlocked to provide overnight shelter for anyone who needed it, though sometimes winter feed was stored in them. Some, though, had been repaired and done up as holiday accommodation, which Daisy thought was hilarious.

‘You should see the prices some of them are rented out for. More money than sense, some folk.’

They squeezed through a narrow gate and followed the path through the fields, passing grazing sheep, then along a lane towards Camacker, with the wildflower meadows once again to the side of them, providing them with one last glorious burst of colour before they reached the village and turned, with some regret, towards the car park.

‘I have to admit,’ Daisy said as Noah, ever the gentleman, opened the car door for her, ‘I’m really glad I don’t have to face two bus journeys now.’

‘Lucky we bumped into each other then,’ Noah said, fastening his seat belt and starting the engine. He turned to her and gave her a bright smile, and Daisy thought suddenly that she was very glad he’d chosen today, of all days, to take a hike in the Dales. It occurred to her that she’d not worried about the café once since he’d joined her. Funnily enough, she wasn’t even worrying about it now.

‘Do you mind if we have the radio on?’ he asked, as they pulled out of the car park.

‘Ooh, no! I love a bit of music. Mind you,’ she warned him, ‘I do love singing along, so you might change your mind.’

For a moment he stared at her, and her smile faded as she wondered what he was thinking.

‘I won’t change my mind,’ he said, and flicked the radio on.

They drove out of Camacker, accompanied by the strains of ELO’s ‘Mr Blue Sky’, their laughter at the bemused looks they’d earned from a group of wandering sheep almost drowning out the cheerful song.

A moment of perfection in an imperfect world.