Sunshine and Sweet Peas in Nightingale Square

by Heidi Swain

  ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ I swallowed, following her back through the house to the front door.

  ‘I can tell you’re going to fit right in here, Kate,’ she said, turning her lovely smile on me again. ‘You’re really going to love living in Nightingale Square!’

  I hoped she was right.

  Chapter 3

  I was very grateful for the Hallowe’en-themed moving-in gift Lisa had dropped off. The trick or treaters arrived at teatime, just as she had predicted, and were still hanging around late into the evening. Thankfully no one had knocked on my door, but I had heard plenty of activity as I settled down for an early night and when I went out to retrieve the pumpkin the next morning the bowl of sweets was completely empty.

  ‘Morning, Kate!’ called a man’s voice to my left, making me jump.

  ‘Good morning,’ I called back while surreptitiously looking around to see if anyone else was going to pop up unannounced and scare me half to death.

  ‘Sorry, love,’ he chuckled, leaving his van and wandering over. ‘I didn’t mean to make you jump. I’m John. I’m Lisa’s other half.’

  Looking at him, he couldn’t possibly have been anyone else. He had the same easy-going manner as his wife and the lines around his eyes suggested he spent just as much time smiling as she did.

  ‘You didn’t get any trouble last night, did you?’ he asked with a nod towards the pumpkin and empty sweet bowl.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘No one even knocked, but the treats have all gone.’

  I was pleased to see the rest of the Square and the little green weren’t littered with wrappers and eggshells. Clearly the local trick or treaters were a considerate bunch.

  ‘Lisa warned them all to leave you alone,’ John said with a wink. ‘No one would dare defy my Mrs.’

  ‘Well, her warnings certainly worked and actually,’ I said, feeling surprised, ‘I had the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a while.’

  I had fully expected to toss and turn for a few nights under my new roof. I had got used to being home alone in the London house since David had moved out of course, but being somewhere new was always unsettling, what with the unfamiliar creaking floorboards and water pipe rumblings, but I had gone out like a light.

  ‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘You’ll no doubt need your energy for unpacking today.’

  ‘That’s true,’ I said.

  I was looking forward to arranging my things just as I wanted them, even if I was going to have to pack them all away again when I made a start on the decorating and refurbishing.

  ‘Fortunately, there’s not too much to do.’

  ‘What about your cooker and stuff?’ John asked. ‘Have you got your white goods sorted?’

  ‘They’re all new and coming later this morning,’ I told him. ‘The fridge-freezer I can turn on myself and I’ve paid for the retailer to sort the cooker installation, but I think I’ll need to call someone to plumb in the washing machine. That’s way beyond my DIY capabilities.’

  ‘I can do that for you,’ John laughed. ‘You don’t want to be paying someone.’

  ‘No, really,’ I said, embarrassed that he might have thought I was angling for a favour.

  ‘It’s no bother,’ he shrugged, walking back to his van. ‘I can do washing machines standing on my head. Our brood have got through enough of them in their time. Just give Lisa a knock when it arrives and I’ll pop round after work. Unless your other half would rather have a crack at it himself?’

  The thought of David knowing how to change a simple tap washer, let alone plumb in a washing machine was laughable, but rather than take the opportunity to set John straight on either my husband’s domestic shortcomings or my marital status, I simply thanked him and rushed back inside.

  I spent a contented couple of hours arranging books on shelves, hanging curtains and cleaning windows and, in spite of the outdated décor and the lawn that was badly in need of a cut, the little place felt very homely indeed. As foolish as it might sound I couldn’t shake off the feeling that it was enjoying being lived in again. I might not have got away with shutting out the world so far, but I was certain that purchasing number four Nightingale Square had been the right thing to do.

  The post brought various notices and bills along with a couple of ‘welcome to your new home’ cards from my parents and Jemma and Tom. I knew it wouldn’t be long before they would be expecting to pay a call; in fact I was surprised Mum hadn’t beaten the removals van, but so far, she was respecting my request for privacy, encouraged in no small part by my dad and Tom, I was sure.

  I arranged the cards on the mantelpiece in the sitting room and made a mental note to call a chimney sweep sooner rather than later. The evenings were getting cool already and the room would be even more cosy and snug with a fire burning in the grate.

  The house was a far cry from my upmarket home in London and I wondered what David would make of it, not that he was ever going to set foot in it. I had to accept that my life with him was over and there was no point in wondering what he would think of my choices and decisions, but it wasn’t going to be easy to move on from that shared mindset. A van pulling up on the pavement stopped me brooding further and I rushed out to welcome in my shiny new kitchen appliances.

  ‘I just wanted to bring this back,’ I said to Lisa late that morning, when I had plucked up the courage to pop round and return her lighter.

  I don’t know why I felt so shy. When I was growing up Mum and our neighbours used to be in and out of each other’s houses all the time, as did us kids. I guess it was a friendly habit I had become unaccustomed to.

  ‘And I wanted to say thank you for coming over yesterday,’ I added. ‘It was a lovely welcome to the Square and much appreciated.’

  ‘Well, you’re more than welcome,’ she said, ushering me inside. ‘Come and have some lunch. I’ve got pumpkin soup coming out of my ears. The kids weren’t overly impressed with it for some reason.’

  ‘No, no,’ I said, taking a step back, ‘I didn’t mean to intrude. You must be busy.’

  ‘I am,’ she said, ‘busy having lunch. Come on. Then I’ll ring John and tell him your washing machine has arrived. That was the delivery for you, wasn’t it?’

  Lisa and John’s house was much larger than mine, not that you’d know it with all the kids’ stuff strewn about. It was teetering on the right side of chaotic however and felt comfortable and very lived-in. The fridge was covered in a muddle of messy artwork, as was a large pinboard which filled the wall above the table.

  ‘Excuse the mess,’ said Lisa with a dismissive wave of her hand. ‘Although,’ she added, looking around her, ‘by our standards this isn’t too bad. I’ve always said there’s more to life than hoovering. As long as the right bits are bleached that’s all I’m bothered about. Here, Kate,’ she said, indicating the stove, ‘give that a stir, would you?’

  I did as I was told while she strapped Archie into his high chair and he dazzled me with yet another of his cheeky smiles.

  ‘Doesn’t he look like his dad?’ I laughed, now able to see the likeness for myself.

  ‘Funnily enough,’ chuckled Lisa, ‘you aren’t the first person to say that. I reckon it’s the belly.’

  ‘No,’ I said, not realising she was joking, ‘it’s his eyes. They’re definitely John’s eyes.’

  I looked up from the pan again and we both burst out laughing.

  ‘What’s all this about then?’ called a voice from the hall. ‘I’m not sure we allow laughing on an empty stomach.’

  ‘Come on through, Harold!’ Lisa called back. ‘Come and meet your new neighbour.’

  Harold, it turned out, was the octogenarian who owned the house between me and Lisa and John. Like Doris, the lady who had owned my house, he was a long-term resident and he came and had his lunch with Lisa most days. He was also a little hard of hearing.

  ‘What did you say your name was again, love?’ he asked as I was helping Lisa serve up her fragrant soup and homemade rolls.


  ‘Kate!’ I shouted in his ear as loud as I dared.

  I glanced nervously at Archie who I was sure would dissolve into tears at any moment.

  ‘Don’t worry about him,’ said Lisa. ‘He’s used to plenty of volume.’

  ‘Kate,’ said Harold, finally grasping it. ‘That’s a very pretty name. Are you married, my dear?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, not untruthfully. ‘Would you like one of these rolls?’ I offered, holding up the plate.

  ‘Oh, no thank you,’ Harold smiled. ‘Not with my teeth.’

  ‘I’ll have you know this batch is much better than the last one!’ Lisa shouted at him good-naturedly.

  When we had finished eating I loaded the dishwasher while Lisa put Archie down for his nap and then I walked with Harold back to his front gate.

  ‘I hope you, or that husband of yours, are keen gardeners,’ he commented with a nod towards my overgrown plot. ‘Doris had some lovely plants in there, but they’re getting choked out by all those weeds.’

  I knew enough about gardening to be able to separate the good from the bad and ugly and promised that I’d cut it back and tame it properly before the winter took hold.

  ‘I can see you’re going to fit into our little Square a treat,’ said Harold, squeezing my hand. ‘I only hope whoever buys Prosperous Place is as lovely as you.’

  We both turned to look at the large house and the for sale board that one of the more prestigious local agents had hammered up just behind the metal gates.

  ‘All overgrown like that,’ said Harold with a little shudder, ‘it reminds me of Satis House.’

  ‘The house in Great Expectations, you mean?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  Looking at its abandoned state, he had a point.

  ‘There are rumours about developers buying it and turning it into apartments, you know.’

  He sounded outraged and I have to say I felt rather perturbed myself by the thought of Mr Wentworth’s once beautiful home being carved up.

  ‘You should have seen it in its heyday,’ said Harold wistfully.

  ‘I’ve seen photographs on my computer,’ I told him. ‘I researched the history of the place when I was making up my mind about—’

  I quickly stopped before I really put my foot in it.

  ‘Lots of my family worked in the factory, you know,’ he went on, thankfully, rather than pushing for an explanation. ‘I’ve got dozens of snaps if you’d like to see them one day.’

  ‘Yes, please,’ I said enthusiastically. ‘That would be lovely.’

  ‘I’m chuffed you know about the area,’ he said, turning back to his house. ‘It’s good that folk know how this place started out. It’d be a real shame if it all disappeared and no one remembered anything about it at all.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ I told him, thinking it would actually be more of a tragedy than a shame.

  ‘And believe me,’ he added mysteriously, ‘there’s more to know about that place than the number of bedrooms and acreage of the garden.’

  I felt a little shiver as I looked back at the boarded-up windows. Clearly Harold’s knowledge of Prosperous Place extended way beyond the ‘happy times’ I had been reading about.

  Chapter 4

  When I opened my bedroom curtains on 5 November, a sold banner had been plastered across the for sale board at Prosperous Place and, from what I heard during my first trip into the wider neighbourhood, it sounded as though Harold’s worst fears for the house were going to come true.

  Realising I was becoming a little too comfortable with pottering about at home and brooding over thoughts of David, I took myself off for an exploratory ramble to the lovely row of shops which were just a couple of minutes’ walk from my door. There was a grocery store, an artisan bakery and café, a gift shop selling local arts and crafts, as well as a florist, butcher, post office, second-hand book store and a couple of well-stocked charity shops.

  As far as I could tell the community spirit, in this part of the city at least, extended far beyond the reaches of Nightingale Square and everyone was very friendly. I might have kept my front door closed for a few days, but beyond it there was no sign of the urban anonymity I had been expecting.

  Distractedly I rifled through my purse counting change as I steered myself towards the grocery store, which had old-fashioned crates of seasonal veg artistically arranged along its frontage. More intent on checking I had enough money to buy the apples I had promised to provide than watching where I was going, I didn’t see a man also heading for the shop door and he, distracted by his phone screen, didn’t see me either.

  ‘Sorry,’ he automatically blurted out as we collided with a heavy bump. ‘Sorry.’

  My handful of coins were knocked from my grasp and drunkenly rolled across the pavement in all directions.

  ‘I wasn’t looking where I was going.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry,’ I insisted. ‘I wasn’t watching either.’

  It wasn’t until the coins had been retrieved that we straightened up and faced one another.

  ‘There you go,’ said the man, carefully tipping the money from his palm into my open purse. ‘I don’t think any escaped.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I faltered as our eyes momentarily met.

  His were a deep, intense chocolate brown, heavily lidded and his thick, dark lashes would have been the envy of any girl who was a martyr to Maybelline.

  ‘No problem,’ he smiled, pulling off his woolly hat to reveal a head full of curls as dark as his stubble. ‘Are you going in?’ he asked with a nod to the door when I didn’t move or say anything.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘yes, sorry.’

  I made a grab for the handle, but he reached it before me and stood back to let me go in first.

  ‘Thanks,’ I smiled.

  I felt my cheeks flush as I squeezed past, quickly forgiving him his preoccupation with his phone.

  We worked in embarrassing synchronicity around the shop floor, each reaching for exactly what the other wanted on more than one occasion, but I managed to make it to the counter ahead of him.

  ‘Do you have any avocados?’ I asked the young woman who was operating the till.

  ‘Just those two there,’ she said, vaguely pointing, her eyes not surprisingly focused on the next customer in the queue.

  I added the slightly over-ripe fruit to my basket and she turned her attention back to me as I dropped one of the shop’s reusable jute bags on to the counter.

  ‘Aha,’ said a loud voice behind me, ‘we meet at last. You’re the lovely young lady who’s moved into number four Nightingale Square, aren’t you?’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, taken aback, as I turned to see a tall man daubed in flour step around the queue and stand right next to me. ‘Yes, I am, but how did you know that?’

  ‘Oh, he knows everything,’ grinned the girl as she bagged up my bananas. ‘You really have to watch this one.’

  ‘Thank you, Poppy,’ the customer in question smiled warmly, before offering me his hand. ‘I’m Mark. I live at number seven with my husband, Neil.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Mark,’ I said, shaking his floury hand. ‘Have you been spying on me, by any chance?’

  ‘Of course,’ he laughed. ‘We all have.’

  I thought again of the avid curtain-twitcher and realised he probably wasn’t joking. Fortunately, I didn’t think I’d been doing anything too embarrassing to make the scrutiny something I should be worrying about, but I was fairly certain the absence of a man about the house would have been noted by now.

  ‘Are you coming to the party tonight?’ he asked. ‘I’m guessing Lisa has told you all about it.’

  ‘She has,’ I confirmed, ‘and I am. I’m supplying the apples,’ I added with a nod to the bag Poppy, the shop assistant, was now packing. ‘Are you and Neil going to be there?’

  ‘Well, I am,’ he said, sounding suddenly less cheery, ‘but I’m not sure if Neil will make it. He’s work-obsessed these days, so he might
not get back in time.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah,’ he shrugged. ‘Don’t even get me started. That man of mine needs to have a good look at his work-life balance and reassess his priorities.’

  Clearly the mention of the party had hit a nerve.

  ‘Anyway,’ he said, shaking off his annoyance, ‘I didn’t come in here to have a moan about the state of my marriage.’

  ‘What did you come in for then?’ asked Poppy with another wide grin.

  ‘Cranberries, if you have some. This chilly turn in the weather has got everyone asking for something with a slightly festive flavour.’

  ‘I might have some dried ones,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘Bear with me and I’ll have a rummage when I’ve finished serving.’

  With my shopping paid for, Mark waited in line close to the man I had collided with on the street. Given the way he surreptitiously looked him up and down I guessed he had taken on board how handsome he was too.

  ‘Did I hear you say there were no more avocados?’ asked the liberator of my loose change.

  ‘Afraid not,’ Poppy sighed, looking for all the world as if she’d like to give him something far more exciting than an avocado. ‘That lady had the last two.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I shrugged.

  ‘That’s twice you’ve beaten me to the punch then,’ he said, pushing his thick curls away from his face.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Didn’t I hear your friend here say that you’ve just moved into Nightingale Square?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Mark quickly jumped in, keen to claim his spot in the conversation. ‘I did.’

  ‘I thought so,’ he nodded, as he finished paying. ‘I can’t believe the house had been on the market all that time and I hadn’t known about it. Apparently, your offer was accepted the day I enquired.’

  I thought back to Toby Fransham, the estate agent, telling me there had been another interested party. Evidently, he hadn’t been bluffing to get me to up my offer after all.

  ‘Well, I’m sorry about that,’ I said, reaching into my bag and pulling out one of the avocados. ‘Let me give you this by way of compensation.’