Page 24 of A Forever Home at Honey Bee Croft

Hi Poppy, it’s time to book in the first mow of the season. How about a week on Tuesday?

Hearing from him was not how I wanted to start the day and I instantly felt twitchy. I began typing but quickly deleted what I’d written, put my phone down with a sigh and headed for the bathroom. I’d respond later when my head wasn’t so sleep-fuzzy and I could find the right words to tell him I didn’t need him to cut the grass anymore without inviting a debate on the matter.

This morning, I’d been invited to a networking event. I hated things like that and would happily avoid them like the plague, but Mum’s voice always came into my head with her favourite quoteand I’d search for the positives. In this case, the woman running the group was a potential new client and she’d told me there might be others interested in my services. Even though I had more than enough work at the moment from my existingclient base, things could suddenly change, so it made sense to keep my options open.

By the time I’d showered, applied my make-up and dressed in a smart trouser suit and blouse, another message had arrived.

From Damon

It showed you typing but nothing came through. Everything OK?

I sighed heavily. Damon was relentless and, if I didn’t respond, he’d pester me all morning. I was just going to have to rip off the plaster.

To Damon

I’m really sorry but I won’t be using your services this year. Wishing you all the best

Reading it back, I added a smiley face in the hope that it would soften the blow. Message sent, I turned my phone to silent, unable to face Damon messaging me back or, even worse, ringing me demanding to know why he couldn’t mow my lawn/be my boyfriend/run off into the sunset with me.

I had forty minutes before I needed to leave the house, so I made a mug of tea and took it into my office, sipping it while I dealt with a few emails. I was resting my elbow on my desk as I went in for the last gulp and somehow my elbow slipped, spilling my drink. I looked down at my tea-soaked blouse in despair and raced across the landing to my bedroom to change.

I’d just pulled my jacket back on when the usually cheerfulding-dongof the doorbell sent a shiver of dread through me. Holding my breath, I peeked through the blinds to see if my suspicions were confirmed about who was at the door. At that moment, Damon looked up at the bedroom window and I released a nervous gasp as I ducked down. The doorbell rangagain, and I remained frozen to the spot. How had it come to this? I was a thirty-two-year-old woman, for goodness’ sake, not a teenager trying to hide from the village bullies.

‘I know you’re in there, Poppy,’ Damon called through the letterbox. ‘I only want to talk.’

I stayed where I was, heart pounding. The doorbell rang for a third time followed by several loud knocks.

‘Please answer, Poppy. Don’t I deserve a proper explanation?’

I couldn’t be late to the networking event so, when the doorbell rang for a fourth time, I rose with a sigh and grabbed my bag from the office.

‘I’m coming,’ I shouted, stomping down the stairs. ‘Give me a minute.’

I slipped on a pair of heeled boots, wrapped a scarf round my neck and pulled on my smart frock coat before grabbing my car keys. I’d speak to Damon, but no way was he coming inside.

I reluctantly stepped outside, closing the door behind me.

Damon smiled at me. ‘You look beautiful.’

‘I’m going out.’

His dazzling smile immediately switched off. ‘On a date?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘It is, isn’t it? You’re seeing someone else already! That’s why you’ve done your hair and make-up. Who is he?’

‘There is no he but, if there was, it would have nothing to do with you. We had a friendly chat over a coffee which I appreciated at the time – thank you very much – but that never made us an item.’ It felt like I was trapped in time with the same conversation playing on a continuous loop.

‘Is it Phil? Are you back together?’

‘No! Where’s this…?’ I released an exasperated sigh. ‘I don’t have time for this. I’ve got a meeting.’

‘Before you go, what’s this all about?’

Damon thrust his phone at me, my response to his WhatsApp message showing on the screen and I winced. I probably should have explained why, but it was his fault I hadn’t. If he hadn’t chased me, I’d have had time to compose a proper response.

‘It’s nothing personal,’ I said, gently. ‘I just don’t need you to mow the lawn anymore.’

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