Heart in the Right Home

by Lisa Hill

  ‘I’m not calling you horrible, I’m saying your actions are horrible.’ She tilted her head on one side. ‘People can change, you know.’

  ‘I think some of my actions might have gone beyond forgiveness now,’ he said, quietly.

  ‘Look,’ Lottie said, crossing her legs. ‘I’m not going to admit that it isn’t bad, but it’s not beyond repair. When you moved here as a child—’

  ‘I was sent here. By my parents. Is that what you’re getting at? That I was abandoned and because I suffered misfortune, I want everyone else to suffer too?’

  ‘Okay,’ Lottie held up her hands. ‘Wrong question, sorry.’

  Edward sighed and launched himself back against the sofa. ‘My father worked for the civil service. He was posted to GCHQ in Cheltenham, in the fifties. He worked away a lot and by the time they had four children, my mother was finding it hard to cope. I was bright, independent and forever getting into trouble at school. It was decided to send me Harrogate to live with my father’s parents, hoping my grandfather would hopefully knock some sense into me. Literally.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Lottie said, quietly.

  ‘Don’t be, I’m not. It was the making of me in many ways. I had my first estate agents by the time I was twenty-two. But my parents and my sisters didn’t feature much in my life after that.’

  ‘Don’t tell me they’re still alive too?’ Lottie said, incredulously. ‘My God, what is wrong with your generation? First Pamela, now you.’

  Edward shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I’d imagine not. I guess my sisters are, but who am I to them?’

  ‘Their brother.’

  Edward shrugged. ‘My parents sent me away, they extricated me from their family; I’m not interested in them or my sisters.’

  Lottie leant forward and cupped her head in her hands. ‘But I do think you’ve held onto a lot of those feelings, haven’t you?’

  ‘Ugh, Lottie, it would have to be you, wouldn’t it?’

  She frowned. ‘What would?’

  ‘To try and put things right. Shall we try to analyse why you always feel the need to poke your nose into everyone else’s business?’

  ‘Let’s leave that for another day. One personality trait at a time; let’s sort this mess out first.’

  Edward suddenly felt weary. ‘And how do you suppose we do that?’

  ‘Dad and Pamela are going to move back in here—’

  ‘I knew this was what it was really about!’

  ‘No!’ Lottie shook her head. ‘They don’t know I’m here. Hear me out.’ She swallowed hard. ‘They move in here and so does Audrey. She’s intending to buy herself a nice little bungalow when the new development’s built.’

  ‘I’m not building any bungalows.’ He watched Lottie raise her eyebrows. ‘Well, I guess I am now.’

  Lottie smiled. ‘Jolly good. That will leave Church End free for you to move into.’

  ‘Ha! Can’t see Jack going along with that one.’

  ‘I think I can persuade him.’

  Edward looked at his daughter-in-law. She had every reason to slip him up and see him thrown in the gutter, and yet she seemed to genuinely want to help.

  ‘What about my cancer?’

  ‘Overtime, you can tell everyone how well you’ve responded to treatment and your prognosis has actually changed to a more positive one.’

  ‘You’d do that? Lie for me?’

  ‘It’s not lying, Edward, it’s being creative with the truth.’

  ‘But why, Lottie? Why would you do that?’

  ‘Because you are the father of the husband I love, grandfather of my children, and I truly believe everyone deserves a second chance.’

  For the first time since he was a child Edward felt his eyes going watery. ‘Thank you,’ Lottie,’ he croaked.

  ‘You’re welcome, but don’t think you’re getting an easy ride.’ She winked. ‘We’ve got some buried emotions to uncover and I think they might involve a trip to the Cotwolds.’

  ‘Oh Lottie,’ Edward sighed. ‘You and your bloody natural curiosity.’

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Three months later…

  ‘Oh, I love it, Mum!’ Megan said, looking around the kitchen of Louise’s little cottage. ‘I can’t believe you’ve managed to get approval in such a small space.’

  Louise looked at the one end of the kitchen where Rebecca had her kitchen table, which was now decked out with a long, stainless steel surface, two sinks, a separate fridge, and wall-mounted oven with cupboards above. Betty, who owned the cottage, had given Louise free-rein to do what she wanted and Tom, of all people, had offered to pay for it all. He had admitted he felt guilty, having witnessed the rather public end to hers and Johnnie’s marriage. Louise had told him not to be so silly, however, if he was willing to install a separate kitchen area, especially for her cake business, she wasn’t going to stop him.

  ‘I know, dinky, isn’t it? I’m allowed to use the breakfast table to cool the cakes and ice them, as long as I use a protective surface first.’ It was a bit of a squeeze in the cottage’s kitchen now, as all of Betty’s original kitchen was still in place for Louise to use on a day-to-day basis, but it was a start. If she got the business safely off the ground, she might even think about renting a unit on the new development, when it was complete.

  Megan shook her head. ‘So much has changed in the time I’ve been away!’

  Megan had gone to university in York two weeks after Louise had left Johnnie. Rebecca had loaned Louise the cottage for the duration of their honeymoon but, while they were away, her tenants in Harrogate announced they needed to move before the end of their tenancy agreement. Rebecca and James decided to move back into Rebecca’s flat, making the commute easier for work, while they tried to sell the flat and buy a house. Rebecca had been kind enough to leave Louise some of her furniture too.

  ‘I know,’ Louise smiled. ‘How’s your dad?’ They might only be living a few doors apart, but Johnnie was still refusing to speak to her civilly. He’d taken on more staff to run the tearooms. She’d been to see a solicitor to start divorce proceedings and was taking a dividend out of the business every month to pay her rent.

  ‘Stubborn, as usual.’

  Louise nodded. ‘He blames me,’ she said, guilt washing over her again. She had kept Duncan at arms-length these past few months too. He’d offered her the use of the pub kitchen for her cakes, but she’d refused. She needed to do this on her own. Even if her body craved another kiss like the one they’d shared at the wedding.

  ‘Oh, for goodness sakes!’ Megan said huffily, flicking her hair away from her face. ‘He’s jealous, more like. Now you’re not there to help out I think he’s beginning to realise what’s really involved in running that business; sheer hard work.’

  Louise threw her head back and laughed. ‘Oh, dear! No half-an-hour conversation with the mums after the school run anymore then?’

  Megan laughed. ‘No! Talking of the shop though, I left Cerys doing the clearing up, so I’d better go back and help.’

  ‘Oh love, I feel bad,’ Louise said, wincing at the thought of her daughters having to help out, when it should be her helping.

  ‘No Mum, don’t. Dad had plenty of opportunities to keep you and he spoiled them. Too busy chaining himself to diggers and the like. Are we still okay to come to yours for dinner on Tuesday?’

  Tuesday was Christmas day. It was Saturday now. She knew the girls would be busy helping Johnnie and all the Christmas cakes, she’d made for customers, were delivered. She’d be all alone for the next few days. She should make the most of it; when she worked in the tearooms she craved peace and quiet, but at this time of the year, it felt like a lonely prospect. At least she had another wedding cake booked in for the New Year to focus on.

  ‘Yes, of course. What will your dad do?’

  ‘He’s going to make bread and take it down to the soup kitchen in Harrogate. He’s helping out there for the day.’

  Louise nodded. ‘Ve
ry kind of him.’ She felt even more guilty now.

  Megan smiled at Louise. ‘Probably doing it to make us all feel guilty, I suspect. Anyway, must dash; just wanted to see you and have a hug.’ She reached in and towered over Louise in her heeled pixie boots, as she squeezed Louise hard. Louise enjoyed every second of oxytocin spreading around her body. Cerys had never been very cuddly, and Louise had missed having hugs.

  ‘Okay, darling,’ Louise said, walking Megan to the front door. ‘Let me know if you two want to stay over on Christmas Eve.’

  ‘We’ll probably go to midnight mass with Dad.’

  ‘Okay.’ She tried to hide her disappointment.

  ‘Don’t be like that,’ Megan said, kissing Louise on her cheek. ‘At least you don’t have to go with him. We’ll come and see you after work tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, okay. Bye, darling!’ Louise said, brightening as she closed the front door to Megan and the icy December wind. She turned back around to the narrow, dimly lit cottage hallway. It had been an inviting cottage from the first moment she’d stepped foot in it, but this evening it seemed rather isolating. She could go down the pub for company, but she didn’t want to give out the wrong message to Duncan. Foolishly, even though he’d said he’d wait, she still wanted him to chase her.

  The front door knocked, and Louise made her way back up the hall smiling. ‘Forget your gloves?’ Her mouth dropped open when she realised it wasn’t Megan.

  ‘I’ve got champagne and mistletoe,’ Duncan said, those dark eyes twinkling bewitchingly at her. ‘Pretty sure I haven’t forgotten anything, but I do feel I’ve waited long enough.’

  Louise’s breath caught in her chest. Was she dreaming?

  ‘Louise, my love,’ Duncan said, in that rich, smooth, Scottish accent. ‘I’m freezing my bollocks off out here.’

  She opened the door wider. ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘as long as you’re going to use that mistletoe.’

  ‘Try and stop me.’ He launched at her, down the step, into the cottage, his mouth interlocking with hers.

  She turned and kicked the front door shut behind her. He pressed her up against it, kissing her firmly, like his life depended on it.

  ‘I love you, Louise Edwards,’ Duncan said, breaking their kiss and looking intensely into her eyes. ‘And I want us to be together. Merry Christmas,’ he said, reaching in for another kiss.

  Her arms snaked around his neck. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ she said between kisses, never wanting to let him go of him again.

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  It is ten years ago exactly since I enrolled at my local college – an unhappy housewife, in an equally, unhappy marriage, much like our Louise – on a course of creative writing lessons. Little did I know then than not only would those lessons lead to me writing a manuscript which evolved into Heart in the Right Place, but that I would be given the chance to write this sequel and return to all my friends in Clunderton for more adventures. And, for that opportunity, I would like to thank the wonderful Lisa Hall, owner and founder of Manatee Books, who is not only a talented author and brilliant publishing boss, but has become a firm friend too (something I feel Lottie would most wholeheartedly endorse).

  I must also expand on my dedication at the beginning of this book, to my mother, Marcia. Once upon a time, in the 1980s, in the Cotswold village of Bussage, there was a lot of building development going on (something the villagers of Clunderton I am sure would have disapproved of). And what else do you take your child to do on a rainy, summer holiday afternoon? Drag her around the show homes, of course! I have often wondered if my passion for property was borne out of running up and down the stairs of newbuilds with my friend, Claire, no doubt infuriating the sales person as we went, whilst our mothers pored over the latest interior designs. A lot of my childhood comprised viewing houses or moving to a new house, but I am glad to report my mother did finally settle in her home, which she has lived in for nearly three decades, and wherever we were living, she definitely was the heart of our home.

  I must also thank my husband, Matt, for his continued support of all my pursuits, especially my writing and more recently my study of psychology. Sometimes I wonder how he puts up with all my over-analysis, if not of family and friends but of my characters too; something which does tend to dominate our daily dog walks!

  And, finally, dear readers, I must thank all of you for your continued support and love of Lottie and the gang, which brought about this sequel. Especially those of you who have taken time to review your thoughts on Amazon. It is both interesting and most comforting to know that you have formed such strong attachments to my imaginary friends as I have. Without this valuable feedback, I wouldn’t be able to grow and develop as a writer and, for that, I am eternally grateful. In fact, it was one particular comment about Edward which, combined with my recent studies, made me really sit and analyse why he is such a pain in the backside, and I hope that I have begun to satisfy your curiosity as much as my own. I think it’s made me realise that there is good in all of us; you just have to keep looking for it.

  Lx