I can’t talk to him at the moment. I’ve been constantly on the verge of tears since Friday, and I’m not strong enough to not believe his excuses. After I caught Steve and realised that he’d clocked how isolated I was and used it to his own benefit, I vowed I’d never let a man see my vulnerability again, that I’d never give anyone a chance to use my weakness against me, and mere weeks later, Noel caught me crying in the car and it started all over again.

‘Leah! What are you talking about?’ he calls after me. ‘I don’t understand!’

‘Of course you don’t,’ I mutter to myself. The only thing he doesn’t understand is that I’m onto him.

I know he’s still there without turning around. I open the gate of the Norway spruce field, pushing it against the huge blockade of snow it dredges up as it opens, and go in, ducking behind the hedge and crouching down so I’m out of sight. After a few minutes, the crunch of his boots echoes through the empty farm as he walks away.

I let out a sob and the tears fall as I sink to my knees in the snow. How did it ever come to this?

I want to run after him and brush the snow out of his hair. I want to go back with him, snuggle up in front of his fire with Gizmo and put everything back the way it was before Friday afternoon. He made everything about this place better, and without him, it feels as empty and desolate as the fields look lost under the snow.

Chapter 16

It’s Wednesday when it starts to rain, but it’s not just regular rain. These are huge pounding drops that beat against the roof and hammer on the boards blocking the windows, making me feel that the house is going to cave in under its force.

The main road is running like a river as the snow turns to water, and the drifts around the house that had reached an impressive size have melted and are surrounding me like a moat. If it wasn’t for the steps, I’d have to swim out.

It’s a weird day, everything feels bleak and miserable. There’s so much to do before the farm opens to the public on Saturday, but it’s too wet and too cold to get out and do anything. I told Iain and the two seasonal workers not to come in again today. It’s not safe. The Met Office has issued a red ‘risk to life’ warning and advised people to stay inside, and the wind is making the rain slam against the house in sheets, sounding like rounds of gunfire when it hits.