One Summer at Deer’s Leap. Elizabeth Elgin

from the water.’

      ‘We had a storm last weekend, but we’re keeping on top of the grass cutting between us, tell Danny.’

      ‘And you’re sure you’re all right, Cassie?’

      ‘Loving every minute of it!’

      ‘Oh dear. The card’s running out. Love to Jeannie when she comes, and take care of –’

      The call ended with a click and I smiled at the receiver by way of a goodbye, then plugged in my machine and screen. I would work until I felt hungry; no stopping for coffee breaks.

      I had just decided to write one more page and then I could stop for a sandwich, when Hector growled from the back door, all at once alert.

      ‘What is it?’ I frowned, but he was gone, barking angrily.

      I got up and went to the door. From the direction of the front gate came a furious clamour. A walker, was it, needing to ask directions?

      I made for the front gate calling, ‘Stop it, Hector!’ then gasped, ‘Oh, flaming Norah!’

      Beside the gate was a red BMW; a few feet back from it stood an angry-faced Piers. On the other side of it, Hector was at his magnificent best when confronting a strange male.

      I grabbed hold of his collar then said, ‘Piers! What are you doing here? How did you know …?’

      ‘Look – just lock that animal up, will you? The blasted thing went for me as I tried to open the gate!’

      ‘He doesn’t like strange men!’

      ‘Ha! You could’ve fooled me! It nearly had my hand off!’

      ‘Don’t be silly!’ Hector continued to snarl, despite my hold on him. Hector, when angry, took a bit of controlling and I decided to put him in the outhouse. ‘Wait there,’ I said snappily, still shocked and not a little dismayed Piers had found me.

      ‘Why have you come?’ I demanded as I filled the kettle. ‘I mean, I made it pretty clear I didn’t want anyone here. I came to work and anyway, this isn’t my house. I can’t go treating it like it’s a hotel. It wouldn’t be right.’

      ‘Your father and mother visited – why not me?’

      ‘Mum and Dad are different.’

      I could feel the tension round my mouth and it wasn’t entirely because I was angry. Piers had been determined to find me, probably annoyed because I wasn’t as biddable as I used to be, and wanting to know why.

      ‘And I’m not? I thought we had something going, Cassandra. It was good between us till you got this writing bug.’ He was doing it again: trying to belittle what I had achieved. ‘Coffee, please. Black, no sugar.’

      ‘I know!’ I said snappily, turning my back on him because I couldn’t bear to look at the did-you-think-I-wouldn’t-find-you smirk on his face. ‘Who gave you this address?’ I handed him a mug. ‘Did you wheedle it out of Mum?’

      ‘Not exactly …’

      ‘Then how?’ I glared, sitting down opposite.

      ‘I went to Greenleas. There was a postcard of Acton Carey on the mantelpiece.’

      ‘Oh, clever stuff, Piers! So who gave you directions?’

      ‘The postman. I asked him where I could find Deer’s Leap. And your mother didn’t tell me. She let it slip, accidentally. “Deer’s Leap is such a lovely house,” she said. “Very old and quaint. Cassie loves it there.” I don’t think she saw me pick up the postcard, by the way.’

      ‘You’re a sneaky sod!’

      I went over to the dresser to sweeten my drink and he was on his feet in a flash, arms round my waist, pulling me close.

      ‘Stop it, unless you want coffee all over you! This is neither the time nor the place, so don’t get any ideas! You just can’t come barging in, upsetting things,’ I flung when I had the distance of the tabletop between us again. ‘You can’t take no for an answer; always want your own way in everything!’

      ‘Answer, Cassandra? I don’t recall asking any relevant question.’

      ‘Not questions,’ I was forced to admit, ‘but you did take it for granted I’d go to London, didn’t you? And you’ve no right to come here, stopping me writing. You know I can’t write if I get upset!’

      ‘Ah, yes. You’re a creative type. I forgot you must have your own space!’

      I almost lost my temper, then; yelled at him to get out. But I took a deep breath and wondered if I should open the outhouse door, let Hector sort him out.

      Instead, I said, ‘You can’t stay the night, Piers. It’s not on – not in Beth’s house!’

      All at once I disliked him a lot, resented the way he could sit there unruffled and make me want to lose my temper. And I resented the underhand way he’d found me.

      ‘I mean it!’ I said as evenly as I could. ‘If I’d wanted you here, Piers, I’d have asked you. I came to look after the animals and the house for Jeannie’s sister, and to write.’

      ‘And I don’t merit just one day of your time, Cassandra?’

      His expression hadn’t changed, his hands lay unmoving on the tabletop. All at once I wished him in a bomber, hands tense, his eyes and ears straining, wanting desperately to live the night through. And he’d soon be told to get his hair cut! He never had a hair out of place; Jack Hunter’s fell over one eye and he pushed it aside with his left hand; didn’t know he was doing it.

      ‘Come and see the garden, or better still walk with me to the top of the paddock, Piers?’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘I want to talk to you.’

      ‘Can’t we talk here?’

      ‘I’d rather walk.’ I wanted him out of the house.

      ‘OK. If that’s what it takes.’

      He got carefully to his feet, shrugging his jacket straight, indicating the door with an exaggerated, after-you gesture and I thought yet again he should have been an actor. I locked the back door behind me and slipped the key into my pocket. ‘This way,’ I murmured, deliberately walking past the outhouse.

      Hector snarled as we passed, and threw himself at the door, and I knew Piers had got the message.

      ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ I waved an arm at the distant hills.

      ‘Very pretty, Cassandra.’ He was leaning, arms folded, against the dry-stone wall now, his boredom turning down the corners of his mouth. ‘So what have you to say to me?’

      He didn’t yawn. I expected him to, but he spared me that and I was glad, because I think I’d have hit him if he had.

      I drew in a breath, then said, ‘You and I have come to the end of the road, Piers. We aren’t right together. I don’t want to see you any more. It’s over.’

      ‘What’s over, Cassandra?’

      ‘Us. You and me. We couldn’t make a go of it.’

      ‘But I never thought we could! Your heart was never in it, even when we were in bed. To you it was just something else to put in a book – how it’s done, I mean.’

      ‘And you, Piers, made love to me simply because I was there and available. Another virginal scalp to hang on your belt, was I?’

      ‘I thought you’d enjoyed it …’

      ‘I did – at the time.’ I had to be fair. ‘It was afterwards, though, that I didn’t like.’

      ‘What do you mean – afterwards?’ He was actually scowling.

      ‘When it