I couldn’t deny the breath-taking scenery, though. The haunting cliffs and stormy seas nearly made up for the fact that I’d had to leave my entire life behind to be here.
Nearly. The cold reality was, only the tiny pink suitcase in the back of the car kept me driving way into the afternoon. And then I got lost, obviously, because there seemed to be no GPS signal past Devon. By the time the hand-carved wooden sign for Whisper Farm appeared in front of me, I’d about given up.
The turning was another tight bend. I made it with a metallic crunching sound, but I’d given up on my car too. I only needed it to fetch and carry Ella from her mum’s new place in Bude. If it fell apart on me, I’d just have to keep her, and I was more than okay with that. I had to be, or I’d’ve stayed in London where I’d been happy.
Sort of. Maybe.
HadI been happy? At this point, it was hard to tell.
A bumpy lane led me past fields towards the main house where Harry had said I could park my car. I’d have a five-minute tramp to the accommodation he’d included with my employment package and another hike to my actual place of work, but after years on the Tube in London, I could manage that.
I pulled up outside an old stone house. The door was wide open and a goat wandered out to greet me. The sight of it settled me a little. I knew nothing about horses, and in truth, they unnerved me, but my grandad had kept goats. I was familiar with their propensity to stick their noses in my pocket, searching for something—anything, actually—to eat. They weren’t that different to Ella.
Nice. Now you’re comparing your daughter to a goat? Father of the year, man.
Whoever narrated my inner monologue was kind of a prick. And definitely a bloke. I blocked him out and gave the goat a petrol receipt to chomp on. Another goat joined it, and before I could blink, there seemed to be hundreds of them.
My pockets were empty. Alarmed, I contemplated the swarm of goats. Grandad John had kept, like, six. I was out of ideas on how to handle three times more than that.
A deep chuckle sounded behind me. “He’s got that city-boy look.”
I spun around. A tall man with warm skin and flinty eyes stood there. He was devastatingly handsome, in a wild kind of way. Instinct told me he was likely the husband of my old friend and new boss and the owner of Whisper Farm. Beside him was the man himself, and I relaxed a little. I hadn’t seen Harry Foster in more than a year, but he was a man who didn’t change. Since he’d left London to set up his clinic down south, he’d become an even nicer version of one of the nicest people I’d ever met. His smile was easy and kind. And his embrace was as familiar as it had seemed to be when I’d first met him a decade ago. “Ignore Joe.” He jerked his head at the wild man. “He has no manners.”
“Give a shit.” Joe extended his hand and cracked my fingers with a knuckle-breaking squeeze. “Just saying I know that look. Don’t want to get your shoes dirty, eh?”
I glanced down at my tatty old Converse. “You know what, mate? I’m not that bothered.”
Harry snorted. “It’s a wonder he’s even wearing shoes. This idiot walks barefoot around Hackney.”
“Only in the summer,” I retorted.
“You’re still an idiot.”
“I know. I’m here, aren’t I?”
That earned me a smirk from Joe, but he ambled away without further conversation, leaving me with Harry.
I breathed another sigh of relief. “That’s your husband?”
“It is. Don’t mind him. If he didn’t like you, you’d already know it.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“I know, but what can I say? Joe is Joe. How was the drive?”
“Long. The only good thing about it was I’m not planning on making a return journey anytime soon.”
“You don’t look happy about that.”
Great. I was sulking on the job already, but Harry had always had a way of drawing the truth from me, whether I wanted to confide in him or not. “Define happy. I’m glad to be here, but it wasn’t my choice. You know that.”
Harry knocked my shoulder with his fist. “I do. But hopefully, it’ll work out for the best. We’ve got a great practice down here. A varied client list and lots of scope to develop new skills. We even use horses from the farm for balance therapy.”
I knew that already from the literature Harry had sent me six months ago when I’d reached out to him for help, but frankly, despite the endearing images of rescue horses leading CBI patients around a sun-dappled field, I couldn’t see myself participating. In fact, I couldn’t see myself doing much at all outside of the full schedule of classes I’d signed up to teach. With Ella to care for, I wouldn’t have time. “Where’s the clinic from here?”
Harry pointed behind me. “Over there. I’ll show you round in the morning. I figured you’d want to settle into the cottage tonight. Get some dinner and crash.”
I couldn’t think of anything better. I nodded my assent and grabbed one of my bags from the car. The rest could wait until morning.