Snowdrops on Rosemary Lane
Page 30
‘I just want to show you something,’ he replied.
‘But …’ A small chill ran through her. There was nothing to see, and nowhere to visit on this road – just two hamlets, with no reason to go this way unless you lived here.
It was the road where Ivan had crashed. The one there was no reason for her husband to be on at all, unless …
James had slowed down now and switched on the radio, which did nothing to soothe Lucy’s growing anxiety. ‘James—’
‘Here we are,’ he said quickly. He indicated and turned into a gravelled area in front of a large, fairly modern detached house.
‘What are we doing here?’ Sam demanded as they all climbed out of the car.
‘Wait and see.’ James smiled, and now Lucy registered the sound of dogs barking. Lots of dogs.
‘What is this place?’ she asked.
James pointed at a sign next to the front door: Candy Bank Dogs Rescue Centre.
‘A dog rescue centre?’ She stared at him and grinned.
‘Are you getting a dog, James?’ Marnie exclaimed.
‘Not exactly, Marnie.’
‘James …’ Lucy started. ‘Please tell me what’s going on …’
He cleared his throat and indicated the neat side garden with its swing and rabbit hutch. ‘Marnie, Sam,’ he said, ‘could you guys play there, just for a couple of minutes while I talk to your mum?’
‘Okay,’ Marnie said, somehow managing to rein in her curiosity. ‘C’mon, Sam.’
As the two of them strolled over to investigate the hutch, James turned back to Lucy. ‘I’m sorry,’ he started. ‘Maybe I should have said. It’s just – Phyllida called me yesterday. She seems to know everything that goes on around here, and she told me about a new development that’s just been finished along the road here. It’s retirement flats. Well, sheltered housing, really – lovely apartments, with a resident warden and a garden. Just four of them, and one’s still vacant. I’m thinking about showing it to Dad.’
‘Oh … that’s fantastic,’ she said. ‘So, d’you think he might agree to sell up?’
‘We’ll need to figure it out,’ he said. ‘I hope he’ll be persuadable. He’d be a lot safer somewhere like this. Spike might be a bit disappointed that he won’t get to camp in his granddad’s garden, but—’
‘He could camp in ours,’ she said quickly. ‘He’s always welcome to do that, and my kids would love it.’
‘I’ll tell him that.’ He smiled.
‘I still don’t understand why we’re here,’ she added, feeling confused now.
James grinned and laughed. ‘This is going to sound crazy. I called the manager yesterday – I hope you don’t mind. It’s just, when I drove past on the way to those new flats, I saw this place and something just registered with me. About you, I mean. You and Ivan.’
She was about to ask why when the door opened and an older woman with long silvery hair, fringeless with a Seventies-style ponytail, stepped outside. ‘James?’ she said. ‘Come on in.’ She smiled broadly.
‘This is Lucy,’ he added.
‘Ah, Lucy Scott. I’m Melanie.’ A hint of something flickered in her eyes. Lucy was good at picking up signs like that, like when her guests wondered why she was running a B&B alone, but didn’t like to ask. She had become very perceptive.
‘How d’you know my surname?’ she asked as Melanie led them inside, through a neat waiting room and into a small office. The walls were adorned with posters of dogs; all the different breeds, and a map of the world to denote where they originated from. There were glass jars of dog treats on shelves, and a bunch of leads hanging from a hook on the door.
‘Lucy,’ Melanie said, indicating for them to sit down at the desk, ‘your husband came here, just over two years ago.’ She opened a red leather-bound diary on the desk and flipped through the pages. ‘Here we are. Ivan Scott, 8pm, 20th December.’
Lucy felt as if her heart had stopped. ‘What d’you mean? Why was he here?’
She looked around the room, then back at Melanie who was smiling now.
‘Well, he’d been here before he made this appointment,’ she said tapping the page, ‘and he’d chosen a dog he thought you’d all love. A little cocker spaniel called Bob. He was planning to come that evening to pick him up and take him to his new home.’
They went to get the children then, and Melanie led them all round to the back of the house where a low-rise building housed kennels, and dogs of all different breeds were lounging in baskets and on sofas or pottering around. ‘Are we getting a dog?’ Marnie exclaimed, tears springing instantly to her eyes. Lucy’s eyes were moist too as she looked at James.
‘I’m afraid Bob has been adopted,’ Melanie explained. ‘When Ivan didn’t turn up that night, I assumed he’d just changed his mind. People do that. They have second thoughts, a change of heart.’
‘Yes of course,’ Lucy said quickly. She gazed around. There were dogs of every imaginable colour and breed and she didn’t even know where to begin.
‘I’ll give you some time to get to know them,’ Melanie said. ‘All the dogs here are fine with children and very friendly. Ivan filled in all the questionnaires and forms, so unless your circumstances have changed—’
‘No, they haven’t changed at all,’ Lucy said quickly.
‘Then you’re already an approved adopter,’ Melanie said. Lucy grinned, lost for words. ‘I’ll be in the office if you need me, but do take your time.’
‘Thank you,’ Lucy said, turning to James when Melanie had disappeared through the back door. ‘And thank you. I can’t believe you thought of this, and made that connection!’
‘Hey, that’s okay.’ He smiled, looking around now as Marnie and Sam just stood and stared in wonderment, as if they couldn’t believe they were here. His hand brushed against Lucy’s, and she turned and looked at him.
James Halsall, the boy she had been in love with before she had known what love was, and who had lifted her heart again. She would never stop missing Ivan, but maybe she had found a different kind of love.
Maybe. Time would tell, and they had all the time in the world.
‘Mum?’ Marnie’s voice cut into her thoughts.
She turned and looked at her children. Even on Christmas morning, they hadn’t looked as happy as this.
‘Are we really getting a dog?’ Sam asked, staring up at her in delight.
Lucy smiled, catching James’s gaze again briefly as she answered, ‘Yes, darling, it looks as if we are.’
Chapter Forty-Four
It had been Hally first, before the Linton children. He was the one who had caught up with Lucy that first day and said hi. Her mother had just dropped her off at her Uncle George and Aunt Babs’s place. Lucy was ten years old and she didn’t really want to be there. She didn’t know anyone here, and she had no idea how she would fill three whole weeks when there was nothing to do. It felt like forever.
She was mooching through the village, fed up and alone, when she happened to turn down a narrow lane which, she soon discovered, led to a cottage. It was white with a thatched roof and a garden bursting with flowers. She stood and stared. It was the cottage she had imagined from hundreds of stories, and the one she had visited in her dreams. Lucy wanted to sneak into the garden, but what if someone saw her? She wished she had a friend here, someone at her side to bolster her courage, but she didn’t, so – stuff it – she was going in alone.
Walking in through the gate was too obvious, so she clambered up the rough stone wall, grazing her knees on the way. Once at the top she could see that there were redcurrant bushes round at the side of the house. She jumped down, ran to the bushes and started to help herself to the fruit.
A boy was watching her, although she hadn’t known that then. She hadn’t spotted Hally yet. Apparently, he saw her stuffing berries into her pockets and scrambling back over the wall, and he caught up with her in the lane.
‘Hello?’ he said.
She whirled around. A boy
had spoken – a tall, skinny boy with a shock of dark hair and deep brown eyes with tiny flecks in them. ‘Hi,’ she said, sensing herself flushing a little.
‘I’m Hally,’ he said.
‘I’m Lucy.’
‘You’re brave,’ he remarked with a grin. ‘D’you know who lives there?’
‘No?’ Lucy shrugged.
‘Kitty Cartwright.’
She shrugged again in a ‘so?’ kind of way.
‘Did you steal her redcurrants?’ She could tell he was impressed.
‘Only a few,’ she said, smiling now. ‘Want some?’
‘Yes please.’ Hally told her later that he’d never heard of anyone daring to sneak into that garden before. That woman in there was crazy.
‘C’mon then,’ she said. ‘We can go to my auntie and uncle’s garden and eat them there.’
They started chatting easily as they walked together, filling each other in on their ages and lives, all the important stuff.
Lucy stopped suddenly. ‘Hey, Hally!’ She nudged him.
He looked at her quizzically. ‘What is it?’
She nodded back towards the cottage. ‘See that house?’
‘Yeah?’
She smiled and started walking again, her face warmed by the afternoon sun, her heart soaring as he caught up with her, already knowing they would be friends.
‘I’m going to live there one day,’ she said.
Acknowledgements
Huge thanks to Rachel Faulkner-Willcocks, Sabah Khan and the brilliant Avon team. Hugs and mince pies to my fabulous agent, Caroline Sheldon, and to everyone who sponsored me in the Virgin Money London Marathon 2019 (special thanks to Caitlin at Home-Start Glasgow South and Iain and Dexter at Virgin Money Lounge, Glasgow). Thanks to Wendy for excellent hospitality at Hotel du Rigg, and to Jimmy, Jen, Kath and Susan for cheering at the finish. Festive love to the staff at McClymont House, Lanark, who looked after my mum, Margery, so wonderfully, to Keith and Beatrice for their support, and for Tania’s kind visit during Mum’s last days. Finally, thank you to Elise Honeyman’s coaching group: Annie, Anne, Christobel and Mif. You’re an inspiration x
Keep Reading …
Loved Snowdrops on Rosemary Lane? Go back to where it all began in the first of the Rosemary Lane series.
Take a trip to Burley Bridge, where a special little cookbook shop is about to open its doors …
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And don’t miss the second book in the series …
Fall in love with Burley Bridge all over again in this gorgeous, heart-warming read.
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About the Author
Ellen Berry grew up in rural West Yorkshire, dreaming up stories and desperate to be a writer when she grew up. She edited Just Seventeen and more! magazines and now lives in Glasgow with her husband and their collie cross. When she’s not writing, Ellen loves to cook, draw, paint and run.
Also by Ellen Berry:
The Bookshop on Rosemary Lane
The Little Bakery on Rosemary Lane
By the same author, writing as Fiona Gibson:
Mum on the Run
The Great Escape
Pedigree Mum
Take Mum Out
How the In-Laws Wrecked Christmas: a short story
As Good As It Gets?
The Woman Who Upped and Left
The Woman Who Met Her Match
The Mum Who’d Had Enough
The Mum Who Got Her Life Back
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