proved not faulty. The water was fine, as hot or not as she would have wished.
Refreshed from her shower, Phinn quickly dressed in some clean clothes and, with her thoughts on introducing Ruby to the paddock, swiftly left her room—she could unpack later. She went to the kitchen.
‘Tea or coffee?’ Mrs Starkey asked as soon as she saw her. And only then did Phinn realise that she felt quite parched.
‘Actually, I’d better go and see to Ruby. But I’ll have a glass of water,’ she answered. No time to wait for tea or coffee.
‘Juice?’ Mrs Starkey offered, and as Phinn glanced at the motherly woman she suddenly felt as if she had come home.
‘Juice would be lovely,’ she replied gratefully. And while she drank her juice she saw Mrs Starkey fold her sandwich up in a paper napkin.
‘Our John never used to have a moment to breathe either,’ she remarked, handing over the sandwich with a smile.
‘Thank you, Mrs Starkey,’ Phinn said, and had her empty glass taken out of her hand when she would have taken it over to the sink and washed it, and the sandwich pressed in its place.
Life was suddenly good. Phinn all at once realised that she was feeling the best she had felt since her father had died. Now, who did she thank for that? Ty, Ash, Mrs Starkey—or just the passage of time?
Whatever—just enjoy.
Another plus was that Ruby appeared a little hungry. Some of her special feed had gone anyway. Phinn took her down to the fenced-off paddock, checked she had water, and sat on the fence eating her sandwich while Ruby found her way around.
After a while Phinn got down from the fence. Ruby was not her only concern, but this was her first day, and apart from having to clear out the stables and make everything ready, Phinn had not got into any sort of pattern as yet. But she was mindful that she should be looking out for Ash.
Leaving Ruby, Phinn went looking for him. He had gone for a walk, Mrs Starkey had said. But that had been hours ago.
Phinn had gone some way, and was near to the pool when through the trees she caught a glimpse of something blue. If memory served, Ash had been wearing a blue shirt that morning. Should she leave him or keep him company?
The matter was solved when she recalled that she was being employed to keep Ash company. She went forward, making sufficient noise so as not to suddenly startle him. She found him sitting on the bank, his expression bleak, and her heart went out to him. How long had he been sitting there, staring at the water without really seeing anything but her cousin?
‘Can you believe this glorious weather?’ she asked, for something to say.
‘Get Ruby over okay?’ Ash roused himself to ask.
‘The paddock’s a dream!’
‘Good,’ he replied politely, and made no objection when she decided to sit down beside him.
Sitting down beside him was one thing. Now she had to think of something to talk about! ‘Are you really the estate manager?’ she asked, playing the companion role by ear.
‘It doesn’t need much managing,’ he replied.
‘You reckon?’
‘You know differently?’ he countered, and she sensed an interest—slight, but a spark of interest nevertheless.
‘No. Not really,’ she answered hurriedly. ‘Only…’
‘Only?’
‘Well, I couldn’t help noticing the other day when I was walking through Pixie End Wood that there are one or two trees that need taking out and new ones planting in their place.’
‘Where’s Pixie End Wood?’
Phinn worked on that spark of interest. ‘If I’m not too busy with Ruby tomorrow I’ll take you there, if you like?’
He nodded, but she knew his interest was waning. ‘How’s Leanne?’ he asked, totally unexpectedly.
Oh, Ash. Phinn knew, just as she knew that there was nothing she could do to help, that Ash was bleeding a little inside. ‘We’re not in contact,’ she replied. ‘It’s like that with relatives sometimes. You rarely ever see each other except for weddings and—’ She broke off, spears of sad memory still able to dart in unexpectedly and stop her in her tracks.
‘I’m sorry.’ Ash, like the normally thoughtful person he was, sensed what she had not been able to say. The last time Leanne had surfaced had been to attend Phinn’s father’s funeral. ‘Come on,’ he said, shaking off his apathy in the face of Phinn having a weak moment. ‘Let’s go and see how Ruby likes her new digs.’
By early evening Phinn was in her room again, wondering at her stroke of luck at being at Broadlands. Because her watch had stopped working she was having to guess at the time, but she thought it had been around six that evening when she and Ash had returned to the house. She had come straight to her room and begun finding homes for her belongings.
She had been surprised, however, when opening a drawer in her bedside table, to find an envelope with her name on it. When she had opened it, it had been to extract a cheque written and signed in Ty’s firm hand, for what she presumed was her first month’s wages.
She felt a little hot about the ears when, never having been paid in advance before, she wondered if Ty had guessed at the parlous state of her finances. The fact that the cheque was for more than she would have thought too made her realise the importance he gave to his brother’s welfare. In his view Ash needed a companion when Ty could not be there himself—and he was prepared to pay up-front for that cover.
Knowing that she was going to do her best to fulfil that role, Phinn, surmising that ‘companions’ probably ate with the family, went to assess her wardrobe. She had several decent dresses, but she had no wish to be ‘over the top’. Jeans were out, she guessed, so she settled for a smart pair of white trousers and topped them with a loose-fitting short blue kaftan.
It seemed an age since she had last used anything but moisturiser on her face, but she thought a dab of powder and a smear of lipstick might not be a bad idea. Why, as she was studying her finished appearance, she should think of Ty Allardyce she had no idea.
She hadn’t seen him since yesterday. Nor had she heard him come home. Would he be there at dinner? Did she want him there at dinner? Oh, for goodness’ sake—what the blazes did it matter where he was? He—
Someone tapping on her door caused her to break off her thoughts.
And, on her answering the door, who should be standing there but none other than the subject of her thoughts? She felt suddenly shy.
‘Hungry?’ Ty enquired easily.
She at once discounted that she was in any way shy of him. ‘Mrs Starkey said dinner was around seven-thirty,’ Phinn responded. Shy or not, she glanced away from those steady grey eyes and raised her left hand to check the time on her wrist. No watch!
‘It’s seven forty-five,’ Ty informed her.
‘It
