with them as they’d wandered aimlessly through the fields and by the river. They would stop to share sandwiches and drink juice or pop they’d brought with them. They had been fun days, days of laughter and innocent, stolen kisses in the time before Brodie had unexpectedly, disastrously, gone off the rails.
Together, they finished off the feeding then she watched as Brodie deftly caught the quail and carefully set about trimming the tip of each claw. ‘These little birds get stressed easily,’ he said, ‘So it’s best to get them used to being handled.’ He placed him back down in the pen and the bird scampered off as fast as he could. ‘He’ll be all right now. I doubt he’ll need clipping again now that he has a solid floor to run on and plenty of scratching litter.’
‘Thanks for that.’ Finished with all the chores for now, Caitlin locked up the pen and together they walked over to his house. It was a lovely big old property with a large, white-painted Georgian extension built on to an original Tudor dwelling. The walls were covered with rambling roses and at the side of the house there was an overgrown tree badly in need of pruning. The front lawn was dotted about with daisies and unkempt shrubs sprawled over the borders.
‘I need to get the garden in order,’ Brodie said ruefully, ‘But I’ve had other priorities up to now, at work and back here.’ He led the way along the path to the back of the house. ‘In estate agent jargon, “in need of some renovation”; that can be interpreted in lots of ways,’ he said with a wry smile.
She nodded, sharing the joke. ‘I’ve always loved this house,’ she said, glancing around. ‘I expect it will need a lot of care and attention to restore it to its former glory, but it’ll be worth it in the end.’
He nodded. ‘I think so too. That’s why I was so pleased when it came on to the market. I took to this house from a very early age. When I was about ten my friends and I used to climb over the wall and steal the apples from the orchard, until one day old Mr Martin caught us. We thought we were in big trouble, but he surprised us. He invited us into the house, gave us cookies and milk, then sent us on our way with a basket full of fruit.’
‘He was a kind old man.’
‘Yes, he was.’ He showed her into the kitchen and she looked around in wonder.
‘You’ve obviously been busy in here,’ she said admiringly. ‘This is all new, isn’t it?’
‘It is. It’s the first room I worked on. I looked into different types of kitchen design and decided I wanted one where there was room for a table and chairs along with an island bar. This way, I can sit down for a meal and look out of the window at the garden; or if I’m feeling in a more casual mood, I can sit at the bar over there and have a cold drink or a coffee or whatever.’
She smiled. ‘I like it, especially the cream colour scheme. You have really good taste.’ She studied him afresh, surprised by the understated elegance of the room.
‘Good taste for a rebel whose idea of fun was to spray graffiti on any accessible wall?’ He laughed. ‘I’ll never forget that day you let rip at me for painting fire-breathing dragons on your mother’s old barn. You handed me a brush and a pot of fence paint and told me to clean it up.’
‘And you told me to forget it because the barn was old and rotting and ready to fall down—but later that night you came back and painted the lot.’
His brow lifted in mock incredulity. ‘You mean, you’ve known all along who did it?’
She laughed. ‘I never thought you were as bad as people said. I knew there was a good person struggling to get out from under all that bravado.’ She’d understood him, up to a point, knowing how much it hurt to lose a parent. She’d turned her feelings inwards but back then Brodie had become more confrontational and forcefully masculine.
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