‘What are they?’ asked Beth pointing at the photos, desperate to change the subject. Jack looked down too and jolted his head as if he was just noticing them for the first time.
‘It’s before and after pictures of this place.’ He stepped closer and leaning over Beth’s shoulder he placed the photographs on the table in pairs. Beth could smell his aftershave and the closeness of him made her pulse quicken. What on earth was going on? Perhaps being naked under the bathrobe was setting off some sort of primal alarm. She tried to concentrate on the pictures in front of her. She reached out a hand to pick up the after photo of the living room as Jack reached across and her hand connected with his forearm. Some sort of zing made them both spring apart. Beth looked up and then realised how close her face was to Jack’s. There was a moment where they both froze.
‘I like your wood…’ started Beth, realising her mouth had gone dry. She pointed to the driftwood style shelf in the picture. ‘It’s really lovely.’
‘I can give you one if you’d like?’
Beth’s eyebrows shot up and Jack’s face registered the overtone of the otherwise innocent conversation. Their eyes widened at the same time.
‘Anyway, I had better get back…’ Jack was looking awkward as he moved quickly towards the front door.
‘Oh, and us too.’ Beth stood up clutching the robe around her and beckoned Leo to his feet. He stood up, holding his towel with one hand and still spooning food into his mouth with the other as he inched round the table. ‘We need to get the tent dried out.’
Jack opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.
‘It’s a long story,’ said Beth, as she squeezed passed him. ‘Thanks for the use of the shower and for breakfast. We really appreciate it.’ She took the spoon from Leo and dropped it in the sink as they passed. ‘We’ll wash these and drop them back sometime,’ she said indicating the bathrobe and towel as she slipped out of the front door and let out a sigh of relief. It was still early so hopefully not too many people would see them make the dash back to the cottage but anything was better than being trapped in an innuendo nightmare with Jack.
A couple of hours later Denis called for Leo and the two disappeared to play in the pub garden as the green was fully occupied with lots of people rushing about with boxes, cakes, plants and large vegetables. Thankfully, Kyle the builder had heeded her plea and arrived early and imparted the glorious news that he thought the ceilings might be covered by her insurance. A few lengthy calls later and it was agreed that she could get quotes for the water damage and an assessor would visit the following week.
Beth felt surprisingly good walking Kyle through her priorities and from his previous visit he was able to confirm what he could and couldn’t do for the money she was prepared to pay. Kyle did some makeshift repairs to the roof so it was temporarily watertight, and promised to drop the quote round for the insurance work in the next couple of days.
Beth went out into the back garden to check on the progress of the tent, sleeping bags and bedrolls that were drying out nicely on the improvised washing line which was one of the bushes. She thought she heard a noise like someone knocking on a door and, suspecting that Leo was back, went back into the house and opened the front door.
‘Surprise!’ said an over-enthusiastic Carly as she threw her arms round Beth and squeezed her.
Beth stood rooted to the spot. Her mind went a complete blank for a moment, perhaps she was in shock. Eventually Beth hugged her back. ‘Wow, um, this is a surprise. Where’s Fergus?’ she asked, looking behind Carly.
‘Huge disaster. Tree-house was exactly that. It was a hut in a tree in a field and there was no proposal so… bloody hell, this is a shithole!’ she said suddenly noticing the hallway she’d walked into. She glanced into the living room. ‘What the hell happened?’ Carly swung round and it was as if she went into slow motion giving Beth time to observe every detail; she was immaculate from her sleek dark glossy hair, to her perfectly pedicured toes. She was wearing a petite summery dress and casual jacket and looked like an advert for summer. Beth on the other hand had dried-by-itself hair with roots that were well past the ‘need touching up stage’, was wearing a now rather tatty Ted Baker blouse, thanks to its encounter with the cottages overgrown shrubbery, and a pair of cheap flip flops. She wiggled her unpainted toes self-consciously.
Beth didn’t like the feeling that came over her. It was a mixture of embarrassment and jealousy and it wasn’t pleasant to admit to. The contrast between her and Carly was now a chasm whereas only a few weeks ago they had been like two perfectly fashioned peas in an organic designer pod. Beth found she was grinding her teeth again, so she stopped.
‘Let’s go to the pub and I’ll explain,’ said Beth, putting an arm around Carly and steering her out of the front door. Carly put on her sunglasses and didn’t argue. As they walked towards the pub, Beth sniffed the air. ‘Can you smell poo?’
Two large glasses of wine later, both women were feeling a whole lot better having offloaded all of their woes to the other. Beth was feeling more settled in Carly’s company and now felt bad for having had her earlier pang of jealousy. It was lovely to see Carly even if it was unexpected. And at least now Carly had seen Willow Cottage in all its awfulness she would appreciate its transformation when it was eventually renovated.
‘I’ve missed this so much, Beth. I’ve missed you,’ Carly looked teary as she reached out a hand.
‘I’ve missed you too.’ Beth gave Carly another hug. She’d missed having someone to talk to that knew her inside and out. ‘Right, you get yourself another glass of wine and I’ll take Leo and Denis to investigate this Summer Fete. That should buy us some more chatting time.’
The boys were like pinballs at the fingertips of the legendary pinball wizard as they charged around the village green from stall to stall. A lot more children seemed to have appeared, some of whom Denis knew, and before long there was a small gang of children dominating one stall at a time. All the old favourites were there; Hook A Duck, Coconut Shy, and Splat the Rat as well as newer ones like face painting, temporary tattoos and Football penalty shootout. The latter was a big hit with the boys and, while they were rejoining the lengthy queue for yet another go, Beth went to investigate the marquee. She walked across the spongy grass taking in the pale azure sky and the sound of people laughing and generally having a good time. Beth was enjoying the village green fete, you didn’t get anything quite like it London. The marquee was huge inside and had been sectioned off for different competition items; the results of the best cake were being announced as Beth made her way nearer the front and tried to ignore how uncomfortably warm in was.
A woman in a floaty top and leather trousers was tapping a microphone. ‘So, in third place… Mr. Pleasance with his giant pineapple cake. One to rival Mr Plumley’s marrow,’ snorted the woman at her own joke. Mr. Pleasance happily accepted his third place rosette and returned to the crowd amidst lots of backslapping. ‘Second place goes to the wonderful gooey chocolate cake by Mrs. Oldham.’ A lengthy round of applause followed as a miffed Mrs. Oldham, putting on her best valiant loser face, accepted her rosette and prize. ‘And the worthy winner of Dumbleford’s Summer Fete Best Cake Competition is…’ The women left too much of a pause and the crowd started heckling. ‘Mrs. Pritchard and her 1960’s cherry and almond cake!’ Beth was wondering what qualified it as 1960s when a violently coloured swirly patterned cake was lifted up high to whoops of applause.
To Beth’s surprise the person that collected the red rosette and glinting glass trophy was non-other than Shirley the bag lady. Beth joined in the enthusiastic clapping as Shirley took the microphone. ‘It’s also a proper 1960’s cake inside if you know what I mean! Pound a slice, come and get it!’ Before she could hand back the microphone there was a surge of people towards her.
Beth was laughing as she left the marquee and on checking her watch realised that the time had sped by and she had left Carly on her own for a lot longer than she’d intended.
She found the now penniless boys who were sitting under a vast gnarled oak tree swapping sweets they had won, and the three of them made their way back into the pub.
Leo and Denis disappeared out into the garden and Beth strode towards where she had left Carly. She could hear Carly’s raucous laughter before she saw her and it made her smile. The small table now had two empty wine bottles on it and someone else was sat there with Carly draped over them. For a moment Beth thought that Fergus had turned up until she took a proper look. Jack had his arm around Carly and she was going in for a kiss.
END OF PART ONE
As the sun begins to set on Sunset Cottage, an unlikely friendship begins to blossom…
A hilarious and sweet love story that will warm your heart.
Click here to buy now.
Acknowledgements
Huge THANK YOU to Charlotte Ledger and Caroline Kirkpatrick who came up with the original bones of the idea for this book and have done an amazing job as joint editors. Thanks to my agent, Kate Nash, who is always on hand to steer me in the right direction and special thanks to Kim Leo and Alex Allden for my stunningly beautiful cover.
Special thank yous to my terrific technical experts: Sarah Butt and Helen Cottingham and all at Rugby Deaf Club for sharing their experiences and making me feel welcome. Thanks to Charlotte Hancock for her Primary School Guidelines advice and Eamonn Finnerty from the Belgrade Theatre, Coventry for information on signed performances. Thank you to Helen Phifer for guiding me on police procedures and Ruth Hooton for checking my Irish.
Heartfelt thanks to those who shared their experiences of domestic violence – I admire your courage immensely.
Special thanks to my amazing grammar guru Chris Goodwin.
Without the support of my writing friends from the Romantic Novelists’ Association (RNA) and in particular the Birmingham Chapter, I would have gone crackers long ago – so thank you for maintaining what is left of my sanity. Thank you to my other fabulously supportive group of writers at Gill Vickery’s Writing Fiction class. More thank yous to everyone at Boozy Book Club for your support and, of course, the wine and nibbles.
A massive thank you to my writing fairy godmother, Katie Fforde, for being on hand when I needed her.
Thank yous and hugs all round to the amazingly supportive blogging community, the unsung heroes of the book world – you are all amazing!
Mammoth sized hugs of thanks to my wonderful family for always being there and for helping me enjoy the real world as well as my make believe one. Thank you to my husband and daughter who never complain and have managed to feed themselves when I was ‘in the zone’.
Lastly thank you to all the lovely readers for taking the time to read my book.
Bella Osborne
Bella has been jotting down stories as far back as she can remember but decided that 2013 would be the year that she finished a full length novel.
In 2016, her debut novel, It Started At Sunset Cottage, was shortlisted for the RNA’s Contemporary Romantic Novel of the Year and the Joan Hessayon New Writers’ Award.
Bella’s stories are about friendship, love and coping with what life throws at you. She likes to find the humour in the darker moments of life and weaves these into her stories. Bella believes that writing your own story really is the best fun ever, closely followed by talking, eating chocolate, drinking fizz and planning holidays.
She lives in The Midlands, UK, with her lovely husband and wonderful daughter, who thankfully both accept her as she is (with mad morning hair and a penchant for skipping).
For more about Bella, visit her website at www.bellaosborne.com or follow her on Twitter @osborne_bella.
www.bellaosborne.com
@osborne_bella
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