Birds Of A Feather Episode 08
The next morning Paloma was humming the words of a lively hymn as she got into her car after morning service.
The new vicar was certainly livening things up in the parish and the congregation was growing steadily. It was lovely to see so many young families there.
She drove through the village and down the winding lane that led to Moor View Farm.
Yesterday she’d moved her pitifully few belongings out of Jane Marsh’s holiday cottage and stored them in one of the empty units at Folly Farm until she found a permanent home.
Today, she promised herself, she was taking the next step. She was going to see Will Gregory about his vacant flat.
She hadn’t slept well in Maggie’s spare room last night, and sharing a house with Vanessa, Maggie’s mother, was trying her patience.
They didn’t exactly share the same taste in television programmes – or anything else.
The thought of another evening of non-stop reality TV shows had spurred Paloma into action.
She turned into the yard at Moor View Farm, parked her car next to a mud-encrusted Land-Rover and got out.
She hurried across to the farmhouse and gave a sharp rap on the door knocker, which looked as ancient as the old house itself.
From somewhere inside came the sound of frenzied barking.
A few seconds later, the door opened.
Paloma was shocked at the sight of the farmer. He’d looked bad enough the last time she’d seen him, just after his wife had died in childbirth.
Their son had lived with his maternal grandparents until recently, when his grandmother had fallen ill.
Today Will looked like a man on the edge.
His face was unshaven and there were a couple of buttons missing from his crumpled shirt.
“Yes?” His voice crackled with barely concealed impatience. His phone was clasped to his ear.
“I’m sorry, Mr Gregory. I should have phoned. I was in the area and thought –”
“What do you want?” he cut in. “This is a bad time.”
He spoke into his phone.
“Yes, I’m still here. Can you please stress this is urgent.” His attention switched back to Paloma. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.”
“Oh, no. I heard you have a flat. I’ll come back another time. I’m sorry to have troubled you.”
She turned away, disappointed with herself. So much for her carefully rehearsed speech.
Before she reached her car, Will called after her.
“Wait! Did you say you’ve come about the vacancy?”
She turned back.
“No. I mean, yes. I heard that you had . . . But I’ve obviously come at a bad time.”
“No, please. You couldn’t have come at a better time. I’ve a young heifer about to calve and could do with your help.”
Her eyes widened in horror.
“Finn’s in the sitting-room,” he rushed on. “He won’t be any trouble. I’ve got to go. We’ll talk details later, OK?”
“But I’m not here
about –” Paloma began.
But Will had already hurried back into the house and beckoned her to follow.
“Help yourself to anything you need,” he said as he grabbed his coat. “There’s a blue folder on the sideboard for you to look at.”
“Don’t you think you should introduce me to Finn before you rush off?” she asked.
He looked surprised.
“He’s used to different people turning up to look after him. You’re the fifth in as many weeks –” He stopped as his phone buzzed.
“It’s the vet,” he told her, then spoke into the phone. “She’s in the top field. I’m on my way.”
With that, he ran out of the door, leaving Paloma staring after him.
She hoped the young heifer would be all right. She knew how some first-time mums could get themselves in all sorts of trouble.
There would be plenty of time when he got back to explain it was accommodation she was after and not a job.
For now she was just thankful she’d been in the right place at the right time for him.
She walked into the farmhouse kitchen and was immediately taken back to her grandparents’ farm in Sussex which she’d loved visiting as a child.
Everything was the same, down to the black and white cat curled up in the shabby armchair next to the Aga.
The only difference was that her grandparents’ kitchen had always been spotless, even when her grandmother became frail. This was anything but.
Every surface was covered in a layer of dust, and the Aga, which in her grandmother’s kitchen shone, was dull and tacky with grease.
She went into the sitting-room to find Finn. He was a small, thin child with short blond hair and glasses.
He was stretched out on the sofa, so intent on the iPad in front of him that he didn’t look up as she came in.
“Hello, Finn,” Paloma said brightly. “My name’s Paloma and I’m going to look after you until your dad gets back.”
He stared at her for a moment.
“That’s a weird name,” he muttered and went back to his game.
“I’m going to make myself tea,” she said. “Would you like some juice?”
“I’m not thirsty.” He shrugged and went back to his game.
Paloma returned to the kitchen, where the kettle was beginning to whistle.
She made a pot of tea then cleared the remains of breakfast from the table and, if she was not mistaken, last night’s supper as well.
Then she sat down and opened the blue folder Will had mentioned, which was labelled Housekeeper duties.
Five housekeepers in as many weeks? Whoever they were hadn’t been doing a very good job when it came to basic cleaning.
The kitchen obviously hadn’t been cleaned properly in ages.
What on earth was going on?