has absolutely faithfully promised me will be the end of October. Beginning of November at a push. Before Christmas, absolutely definitely.’
‘I wouldn’t hold him to that,’ Gabriel said darkly.
I sighed. Through the little window in the side of the van I could see over the hedge and into the swathe of Dorset that raked off towards the sea. From this height, the sea was just visible as a twinkle beyond the far fields, just a change in the light above the greenery. ‘I like it here,’ I said, quietly. It was gradually beginning to dawn on me that this was my new life. That Harvest Cottage wasn’t just a pause point while I got my breath back and recovered from Luc and London living, but that it might be a place to actually stay. Make a new life.
‘It has a few things going for it.’ Gabriel picked up his mug again. ‘I sometimes have to wrack my brains, but they’re there.’
‘Views,’ I said. ‘Light, space.’
‘Coastline. We do coastline very well, I’ve always thought. Bit slumpy, some of it, but that’s just a basic design flaw, not really Dorset’s fault.’
‘I just need to find a job.’ I kept my eyes on that distant, flickering horizon. ‘If I can find work, then I can put down proper roots, become self-sustaining. I can’t rely on film companies making television series on an annual basis.’
‘Did you say you used to be a teacher?’ He was casually sipping at his tea, lanky body relaxed in his chunky sweater and chinos. Gabriel looked as much part of Dorset as the little brown birds that were cheeping about in the hedge.
‘I was a French teacher at a girls’ school in London. Bit posh, the sort of place that turns out girls who become ski instructors and chalet girls, all with impeccable language skills, who marry men called Marcel and start their own kitchen-design business.’
We both looked at the cast-iron stove, pretty much the only kitchen that the caravan boasted. ‘Yeah, not much call for that round here,’ he said.
‘I might go into supply teaching. Where they send you into any school that needs you.’
‘That sounds stressful.’
‘I have to earn money, Gabriel. I’ve got hardly any savings after buying this place, a teenage daughter who thinks that money comes when you click your fingers and who’s used to living in places where there’s central heating and a reliable energy supply.’ I looked out of the door we’d left open to try to air the smell of frying out of the van, towards the cottage. ‘I bought this place on a bit of a whim. Nice long way from London. It’s been a bit of a culture shock.’
‘So you didn’t grow up in a little old cottage and wanted to get back to your roots?’ The question was light, as though he was just trying to keep the conversation going, but it made my skin clammy. Had Granny Mary said anything to him? How much did she really know about me?
‘No. I… we… no. I grew up with more than this.’ That was as far as I was going to go. I stood up and picked my mug up from the little table. ‘I need to check Patrick’s water and hay.’
The whole van moved, a gentle creaking sort of sway, as we both stood up. I put out a hand to steady myself and Gabriel caught at my elbow; we ended up in a kind of close huddle in the middle of the van.
‘Sorry.’ He let go of my arm. ‘Looked as though you were going to fall over.’
‘I’m just not used to houses that move. Although Harvest Cottage has its moments when it’s windy.’
We looked at one another, slightly embarrassed about the physical contact.
Gabriel and I went slowly down the red and yellow painted steps, where Patrick was standing, droopy lower lipped, in the sloping sunshine. A battalion of wasps bombed fallen apples in the corner of the field, and some blackbirds were arguing over something in the hedge. Through the kitchen window I could see Keenan, a cameraman and a man who must be the elusive Peter, walking round and round the table, on which lay a large machete. Out here it was all peacefully pastoral, in there it looked uncomfortably chaotic, although I was just about certain that Keenan knew what he was doing.
Gabriel followed my look. ‘They’re going to be at that until they lose the light,’ he said gently. ‘Kee is a bit of