It was a strange homecoming. Pippa had left the farm yesterday, yet it seemed a lifetime ago. She turned onto Kilpa Road feeling utterly changed. Could it really only be Sunday?
She drove up Fairview’s potholed drive, bursting with conflicted emotions. This was the house where she’d known so much misery, yet it was also where she’d lived for four years. It held her clothes, her personal belongings, the beautiful crockery and cutlery sets that were wedding presents from her parents and aunt. It was a place where she’d first known some autonomy. She knew where everything was. She’d organised the kitchen her way – pretty casserole dishes on show, instead of hidden away in cupboards the way Mum did. Metal hanging racks for shining pots and pans to free up space. Her lovely assortment of pot p
