The Garden on Sparrow Street
A heart-warming, uplifting Christmas romance
Tilly Tennant
Books by Tilly Tennant
Hattie’s Home for Broken Hearts
The Mill on Magnolia Lane
The Christmas Wish
The Summer Getaway
The Summer of Secrets
An Unforgettable Christmas series:
A Very Vintage Christmas
A Cosy Candlelit Christmas
From Italy with Love series:
Rome is Where the Heart is
A Wedding in Italy
Honeybourne series:
The Little Village Bakery
Christmas at the Little Village Bakery
Hopelessly Devoted to Holden Finn
The Man Who Can’t Be Moved
Mishaps and Mistletoe
Mishaps in Millrise series:
Little Acts of Love
Just Like Rebecca
The Parent Trap
And Baby Makes Four
Once Upon a Winter series:
The Accidental Guest
I’m Not in Love
Ways to Say Goodbye
One Starry Night
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
A Very Vintage Christmas
Tilly’s Email Sign-Up
Books by Tilly Tennant
A Letter from Tilly
A Cosy Candlelit Christmas
The Christmas Wish
The Little Village Bakery
Christmas at the Little Village Bakery
Hattie's Home for Broken Hearts
The Mill on Magnolia Lane
The Summer Getaway
The Summer of Secrets
Rome is Where the Heart is
A Wedding in Italy
Acknowledgements
For Nana Riley, thank you for all the wonderful memories.
Chapter One
It was early November. Snow had been forecast, though it had yet to materialise. Instead, the low clouds were buffeted by a bitter wind that sent loose tin cans hurtling along the pavements of the little town of Wrenwick and tore carrier bags from the grasps of shoppers. It was hardly a magical sight.
Nina’s gaze was on the miserable weather beyond the windows as she folded a coat into a carrier bag and smiled at the old lady standing on the other side of the counter. It had buttons missing and a tear at the pocket, but the old lady didn’t seem to mind, even when Nina pointed it out to her, just to be certain.
‘It’ll mend,’ she said sagely. ‘That’s the trouble with young people today – they don’t have the make-do-and-mend mentality that my generation has.’
At thirty-five, Nina hardly considered herself a young person, but she smiled and said nothing.
‘The best bargains need a little work,’ the lady continued. ‘I mean, that coat will be lovely and warm when I’ve sewn new buttons on. I have a whole tin of buttons, you know.’
‘Really?’ Nina asked vaguely.
‘Oh yes. When something is really worn out and I can’t repair it any more I take all the buttons off and keep them. So when something needs buttons I have lots to choose from.’
‘Wow,’ Nina said. ‘I wouldn’t even think of that.’
‘Exactly,’ the lady replied with a triumphant nod.
Nina folded more items into the bag with the coat – a cotton blouse with a mad sixties floral pattern, a heavy skirt in green wool with patch pockets and a pair of fur-lined boots with heels worn more on the outside than in. ‘You’ve done well today,’ she said, handing the bag over.
‘Well, there’s so much on sale today. It’s even cheaper than usual. I suppose it’s because you’re closing down?’
‘Yes,’ Nina said.
‘What’s coming in its place?’
‘A restaurant chain wants to buy the building as far as I know.’
‘So it won’t be a charity shop any more?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Oh… where will I shop now?’
‘There are lots of others in Wrenwick.’
‘Not like this one,’ the lady said. ‘This one’s the best.’
‘Well, it’s a shame more people don’t think that and then maybe we wouldn’t be closing.’
‘Where will you be going when the shop closes?’ the lady asked, dropping the change Nina had just given her into a purse.
‘I have no idea.’ Nina forced a smile. She was as unhappy about the shop closing as her customer was, though she was trying to maintain a cheery welcome for everyone – even today when she felt like crying. ‘I expect there’ll be other volunteering opportunities in Wrenwick.’
‘I expect so,’ the lady agreed with another sage nod. ‘Then again,’ she continued, ‘perhaps you’ll be able to get a proper job, eh?’
Nina’s smile faltered, but she pushed it back across her face again. She was used to people thinking that the only reason she worked in the Sacred Heart Hospice Shop was that she couldn’t get anything else, so why let the latest in a long line of thoughtless comments bother her?
‘Good luck anyway!’ the old lady added cheerfully. She waddled out of the shop, letting the door slam behind her with a violent slap of the old bell.
‘Proper job?’
Robyn’s voice came from the back room behind the till. Nina turned to find her with two mugs of tea. She offered one.
‘Daft old trout,’ she said as Nina took the cup from her. ‘She’s the one who comes in here week in, week out, buying her old tat. What does she think we do in here all day if it doesn’t constitute a job? She wouldn’t have been happy having to serve herself, would she?’
‘I don’t suppose she means anything by it,’ Nina said. ‘I suppose she’s talking about paid work.’
‘I’d like to know when the last time she did paid work was,’ Robyn huffed. ‘About 1945, I expect.’
‘I must admit, I have thought about getting a paid job.’ Nina took a sip of her tea. It was strong and sweet – just the way she liked it. She’d miss Robyn’s tea when the shop closed. She’d miss a lot of things about her shifts with Robyn – they had so much in common and got on so well. Robyn, who understood like no one else what Nina was going through, had been a rock after Gray’s death. In fact, she’d been more than a rock – she’d been a real part of the healing process. At forty-five, she was ten years older than Nina, but Nina often thought she looked almost the same age, if not younger. She certainly didn’t look forty-five anyway. She had a young, carefree attitude too, and always knew how to inject a bit of devil-may-care humour into any situation. ‘I probably ought to have made more of an effort when all the seasonal work was being advertised.’
‘It’s not too late to get Christmas work – there are a few weeks to go yet.’
‘
I would imagine most shops who want extra help for Christmas will have taken it on by now. It’s my own fault for procrastinating, I suppose.’
‘I wouldn’t be too hard on yourself. It’s more difficult than people realise to get back into the job market when you’ve been missing from it for a long time,’ Robyn said, sipping her own tea. ‘And it’s not like it used to be – shops close down around here almost every week now. I’ve struggled to get a sniff of an interview too. Thank God I’ve got Eric’s death-in-service pension to fall back on. Sometimes I curse him but at least he always made sure to take care of things like that.’
‘I’ll probably be OK too – I have enough money from Gray’s will to last a good while, if I’m careful, and of course the mortgage was settled in full when he died. Every time I think about that I thank God we took that policy out when we first moved in. I suppose now I’m getting back on my feet emotionally it would be good to have a bit extra for a few little luxuries, though. It’d be nice to have a little job somewhere just for that.’
‘I’m sure Gray wouldn’t have wanted you going without,’ Robyn said, nodding agreement. ‘It’s all very well getting first dibs on the donations coming through here but a girl wants something more than second-hand underpants sometimes.’
Nina laughed. ‘I’m not saying we don’t get some good stuff. Though I’m glad I haven’t sunk to second-hand underpants just yet. More generally I was thinking about the odd holiday, a slap-up meal or a weekend away where I didn’t have to worry about how much it was going to set me back.’
Robyn shot her a sideways look. ‘You’re saying my caravan in Abergele isn’t your idea of a holiday?’
‘It’s lovely, but I was thinking of somewhere with guaranteed sun.’
Robyn looked unconvinced. The last time they’d been up to her caravan for a sneaky weekend away it had rained and the wind had howled and the roof had started to leak. That was the previous July when it was supposed to be warm and sunny, not the kind of temperature that an Inuit would complain about. They’d ended up huddled under a duvet on the sofa watching television together for most of the weekend. Still, Nina had enjoyed the time away, even if it had meant looking out of the window at the churning sea rather than dipping her toes in it.
‘Ah. In that case,’ Robyn said wryly, ‘I’ll take my offence back then. You certainly aren’t going to get any of that today.’
‘We didn’t get any of that last time we were there either.’
‘True. I don’t know why I keep the bloody thing if I’m honest – more trouble than it’s worth.’
‘I suppose, in the end, my predicament is all my fault for not ever having any ambition before I met Gray. All I’ve ever done is shop work and I’m not fit for anything else now.’
Nina’s gaze went to the windows. Someone had lost their hat in the wind and was chasing it down the street. But then her eyes ran over the interior of the Sacred Heart Hospice charity shop where she and Robyn were safe and warm. It had once been a swanky estate agent office, but the company had fallen on hard times and had long since gone. But the art deco windows and period detail remained, and although it was a faded grandeur now, half-obscured by racks of old dresses, shelves of vinyl records by artists that nobody remembered and boxes of toys, there was a sort of melancholy beauty to the building.
Perhaps that was why the restaurant chain due to take ownership had been so taken by it. Nina had no doubt it would look wonderful restored to its former glory, and be a real boon to the town, but she’d miss it. Sacred Heart had been her lifeline when she was nursing Gray in his final months. While he was still able to stay at home they’d sent her help that she wouldn’t have been able to get otherwise, and later, when his motor neurone disease became too much for either of them to cope with, they’d provided the best comfort and round-the-clock care in their bright and welcoming hospice.
When Gray had finally lost the battle and Nina found herself alone, having long since given up work to nurse him, she hadn’t known how to fill her days and the aching void of loss that Gray’s death had brought. Sacred Heart had been there for her again, offering her support and something to occupy her mind in the form of her voluntary job at the shop. Without that, she was quite sure she would never have set foot outside the house again, choosing to wither away quietly curled up on the sofa. Without Sacred Heart’s help and support, she’d have never met Robyn either, the kind of sweet, loyal friend she’d always longed for. Sacred Heart had been there for Robyn too after her husband had died, in just the same way it had been for Nina, and perhaps bringing Robyn into her life had been the single biggest blessing the organisation could have bestowed on her, even if it had been inadvertent.
But all that was about to change. The local authority had put up the shop rent and it just wasn’t viable any more. Many suspected dodgy dealings instigated by interest from the restaurant chain in the first place, but the town council had always denied it. Nobody but the people involved would know for sure, and Nina certainly wasn’t privy to that sort of information. Neither had she been invited to the board meeting that had been chaired and populated by people who’d never used the charity, who – unlike many of the staff – were paid a real salary, ran it like a business and had decided the fate of a band of people they’d never met without a single consultation. In their opinion, more efficient fundraising opportunities lay elsewhere, in more corporate settings, and there was no room or need for people like Nina and Robyn in the organisation. The only voluntary posts now were in the hospice itself, and the memories of Gray’s final months in there were simply too raw and painful for Nina to cope with such powerful reminders of his suffering everywhere she looked every day.
‘Still want to sign up for the Wrenwick 10K?’ Robyn asked absently. ‘The deadline for applications is this weekend.’
Nina raised her eyebrows. ‘It wasn’t me who said she wanted to sign up for that. I’ll happily cheer you from the sidelines but that’s my limit.’
‘Awww, come on. I thought you said you’d do it.’
‘I think you dreamt that.’
‘I’m pretty sure I didn’t.’
‘Seriously? Have you seen me run? And when I say “run”, I’m using the term very loosely here. I look like a wounded ostrich.’
Robyn laughed, but she had a look on her face that Nina knew only too well – she wasn’t taking no for an answer.
‘We can train after Christmas,’ she said. ‘The weather will be warming up then and it’ll get us out. You won’t be the only wounded ostrich; I’m a shit runner too. Anyway, Tracy says loads of people walk the course so we don’t need to be the world’s best runners.’ Robyn nudged her. ‘Come on… It’s for a good cause.’
‘What cause?’ Nina asked. ‘Sacred Heart?’
‘For anything you like. We could run it for Sacred Heart but we could run it for any charity. It’ll be a laugh.’
‘It would be for the spectators when I come steaming towards them looking like I need a poo.’
‘That’s the spirit!’ Robyn said, now deciding that she’d take Nina’s lack of an outright refusal as her agreement. ‘I’ll put us both down then. We have to pay twenty quid to enter but we could easily cover that from the sponsorship.’
Nina shook her head. ‘If I must do it then I’ll pay my entrance fee. I can’t ask someone else to fund my ultimate demise – think of the guilt they’d be saddled with for the rest of their lives.’
‘Goody two-shoes,’ Robyn said with a smirk. ‘Honestly, you make me sick.’
Nina grinned. But then it faded into a sad smile. ‘What am I going to do without you?’
‘Who says you’ll be without me? Just because we won’t be working together doesn’t mean we can’t still see each other from time to time. I mean, we’ll be training for the run for a start.’
‘I know…’ Nina put her cup down and leant on the counter, chin resting on her fists. ‘But it won’t be the same, will it? I mean, socialising sometimes will be lovely
but you’ll get busy doing other things, and eventually I expect I’ll get busy too, and before we know it we’ve hardly got any time to see each other at all.’
‘Then we’ll just have to make the time no matter what else happens. You might be a lazy cow when it comes to keeping your friends but I’m not.’
Nina smiled up at her now and, despite her misgivings, her smile was brighter.
‘Here…’ Robyn moved towards her with a look of great concentration. ‘You’ve got a big blob of fluff in your hair…’ She teased it from Nina’s dark curls.
‘I bet you’d find all sorts in there if you looked hard enough,’ Nina said, taking the fluff from Robyn’s stubby fingers. ‘Pens, crisps… the occasional sofa…’
‘It is thick,’ Robyn said.
‘Like my head.’ Nina raised her eyebrows and Robyn laughed.
‘Nothing’s that thick.’
‘Oi!’ Nina squeaked. ‘Cheeky!’
The bell on the shop door tinkled and a middle-aged man lugged a large plastic bag in.
‘Is that a donation?’ Robyn called over. ‘Only we’re not taking any, sorry.’
‘What?’ The man frowned, looking sorely put out. ‘But I’ve dragged this lot all the way from the car park on Price Street! Are you sure you can’t take it?’
‘Cancer Research will,’ Robyn said patiently, though Nina knew that her friend was dying to let loose some razor-sharp sarcasm. ‘It’s not that much further along.’
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