Tuppence (The Tipton Hollow 3)

CHAPTER ONE

Tuppence Smethurst shuddered and tugged her cloak tighter around her narrow shoulders as a wicked northerly wind persistently slid icy fingers of malice down her back. It immediately snatched all traces of warmth lingering beneath her clothing and left her sniffing miserably. Her hands were frozen, her toes numb. Her cheeks stung from the endless scratching of the menacing winds. Dropping the half bale of hay she was carrying into a stable, Tuppence did her best to ignore her discomfort and shook the hay out into puffy clouds before dropping it at the feet of the waiting flock of sheep. She then trudged back to the hay barn across the yard to fetch more. All the while the relentless wind howled wolf-like through the open barn door, snatching the faint warmth emanating from the sconces lining the walls with as much ferocity as a bear would gnaw at prized flesh. Tuppence wrung her hands and blew on her fingers to get some feeling back into them before slicing another bale of hay open, which she then delivered to the horses in the rest of the stables. Despite being chilled to the core, her movements were quick and efficient. She wanted to get out of the icy wind but also knew that feeding the animals was just one of the many jobs she had to finish before she could crawl into bed. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to be able to spend a few hours sitting beside the fire, resting her weary bones. She was beyond tired, and needed to physically sleep as well as rest, but there was plenty of work to do and it couldn’t be ignored.

“There is always work to do on a bloody farm. I don’t know why I do this,” she hissed. “I am going to be lucky if I finish all my chores before midnight. Then, tomorrow, there will be more chores, and the day after that, and the day after that.” Not for the first time since her brother had died several months ago, Tuppence wondered why she bothered to even try to live on a farm by herself. At times like this, it was difficult to see the purpose of it all. “I mean, I could sell it and go and find something else to do,” she murmured calculatingly, even though she knew she would never really go through with it. She wasn’t that bold.

I have no idea what I would do with myself.

“Because farming is what I do,” she muttered in disgust, more annoyed with herself for her inability to change her life than she was with the weather for making her so chilled and bringing her so much misery. “It is all I have ever done, and probably all I will ever do.”

Arching her back, she snatched a few moments to herself and stared absently out of the barn doors, gazing across the miles of open countryside most of which belonged to the farm she was now the sole owner of. While she couldn’t see much of the lush emerald landscape beyond shadows and a thick dark blanket darkening the horizon, Tuppence knew her farmland was there. Miles upon miles of open countryside, interspersed by rows of stone walls and hedges, all belonged to Hilltop Farm, her home. She knew it like the back of her hand but, of late, it had become more of a burden than she had ever expected.

“And in the middle of everything, here I am.” Not for the first time, Tuppence was struck by a sense of isolation that was sobering. It sat heavily upon her shoulders. She felt lonely; alone; isolated; and was miserably unhappy because of it.

“Need a hand?”

Tuppence screamed when she heard the deep drawl from the doorway behind her. Whirling to face her surprise guest, Tuppence pressed a shaking hand to her thundering heart and stared at Mark Bosville.

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Mark! What are you doing here? Is everything all right?” Because it was so unusual to see the local Detective Inspector, her best friend’s husband, on the farm, Tuppence immediately thought that something was wrong. Taking a step toward him, she urgently demanded: “Is it Harriett? The children? What’s happened?”

Mark grinned sheepishly at her. “Nothing is wrong.” He tugged on his ear and squinted at her before his gaze almost guiltily slid into the darkness behind her.

Tuppence was struck by how uncomfortable he looked and felt an instant sinking feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. She suspected she wasn’t going to like what he had to say because Harriett was likely to have sent him on a ‘special errand’. Even so, she demanded: “What?”

“Do you need that hay moving?” Mark asked with a nod toward several large bales of hay stacked neatly beside the barn door.

“I was just going to get the rest of the sheep in. They can’t stay out in this weather,” Tuppence murmured, a heavy frown now marring her brow. Aware that Mark would prevaricate for the rest of her evening if she let him, Tuppence asked bluntly: “What did she send you for?” When Mark still hesitated, and indeed kicked at a bale of hay as if trying to think of a way to tell her what he was after without upsetting her, Tuppence sighed and impatiently prompted: “Come on, Mark. I have work to do.”

“I can help,” he offered with an almost boyish shrug.

“It’s cold, and wet, and going to snow soon,” Tuppence snorted, pointing one long finger at him. “You are hardly dressed for work on a farm anyway. Thank you for your kind offer, though.”

Mark, who was worried by how cold Tuppence looked, frowned when Tuppence snatched a shepherd’s hook off the huge barn door behind her. Tuppence then whistled for Baxter, the farm’s sheepdog.

“It’s just that-” Mark cursed when he found himself talking to an empty doorway. Scurrying after her, he had to jog through the darkness after her and caught her disappearing through a gate beside a long stable block located next to the farmhouse. “Damn it, she escaped,” he hissed. Determined not to lose her, Mark lengthened his stride to catch up with her.

Tuppence swung the gate open and issued an order to an excited Baxter, who was eager to get to work. Dancing about her ankles, Baxter barked repeatedly until Tuppence issued another order which sent the dog racing into the darkness.

“How can you see what he is doing?” Mark demanded, tugging his woefully inadequate coat tighter about him. He was struggling to talk with a voice that didn’t shake alarmingly and stomped on the ground to try to get some warmth back into toes that ached from the cold. It was more alarming that Tuppence seemed oblivious to the biting wind, and the ice beneath her boots while he wished he were somewhere, anywhere else.

“Baxter has been working on this farm for years

. He knows what he is doing. I moved the flock closer to the barn yesterday before the weather started to turn cool. Baxter knows the sheep are here.” Tuppence tapped on the large trough with her staff and broke the ice on it before nudging Mark out of the way. “Stand back.”

Mark hurriedly stepped out of the way just as the first of the sheep appeared out of the darkness. He was pinned awkwardly against the fence when a large flock of sheep ambled past him and straight through the open barn doors across the yard. Inside the cavernous building, lanterns lit the pen the sheep were to call home for the next day or so. Beyond them was another barn within which was a herd of cattle. Mark wondered just how much work Tuppence had to do before she could get inside where it was warm but couldn’t find any clues within the darkness of the surrounding countryside and she was too far away to ask. As he stood listening to the wind and the noise of the cattle, Mark was struck by a worrying sense of solitude that was isolating. Hilltop Farm was nothing short of bleak, isolated, and a burden. Mark knew that Harriett was right to be worried about her good friend, and how much Tuppence had determinedly taken on when she had announced that she was going to keep the farm and run it herself.

“I can help you,” Mark offered lamely over the heads of the passing sheep.

“Have you ever worked on a farm?” Tuppence closed the gate and went to fetch more hay before he could answer. When she reappeared, she was carrying a large armful of hay, which she delivered to the sheep.

Mark eyed the flock in the barn and the huge hay bale Tuppence had tugged her meagre armful out of. Taking up another, larger load, he hurried after her.

“Thank you but you are going to get straw and hay all over your coat,” Tuppence warned, but wasn’t as sharp with him as she felt she should be given he was saving her at least three trips to the hay store.