Clover Cottage
CHRISTIE BARLOW
One More Chapter
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020
Copyright © Christie Barlow 2020
Cover design by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Christie Barlow asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008362706
Ebook Edition © March 2020 ISBN: 9780008362690
Version: 2020-02-25
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
About This Book
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
A Letter from Christie
Acknowledgements
Also by Christie Barlow
About the Author
About the Publisher
In loving memory of Margaret Jean Ridal,
04.01.31 – 2.11.19
Age 88
Forever in our hearts.
About This Book
This ebook meets all accessibility requirements and standards.
Chapter 1
It was just an ordinary Thursday when Allie Macdonald grabbed her bag and sunglasses, threw her camera around her neck and then waltzed down Love Heart Lane to meet her boyfriend Rory. With a spring in her step she was high in spirits; the sun was shining and with a rare night off from the pub she was going to make the most of her evening.
‘Hey,’ she shouted, waving at Rory, who was walking towards her.
She tilted her head to one side and looked him up and down, all dreamy-eyed. Rory’s bone structure was perfectly symmetrical and there was a softness to his eyes. The sun had caught his face, leaving Allie thinking he looked even more handsome than normal – if that was possible. Allie still got a flutter of butterflies swirling around her stomach every time she laid eyes on Rory. She just knew this man was her happy-ever-after and she loved the bones of him.
The second Rory spotted Allie he sported a huge smile. She stopped and pointed the lens of the camera at him … click … click …
Rory laughed. ‘You and that camera,’ he joked, striking a pose.
‘Not bad,’ she teased, shielding the sun from the viewfinder whilst taking a flick through the photographs. ‘You should really think about becoming a model.’
Rory rolled his eyes. ‘I think you may be a tiny bit biased.’
‘Maybe, just a little,’ said Allie, pinching her thumb and forefinger together before standing on tiptoe and pressing a kiss to his lips.
‘You’re in good spirits,’ said Rory, taking her hand in his as they began walking.
‘I am. Life is good and after all it’s a special day,’ said Allie, ruffling the golden bristles of Rory’s stubble and waiting for the penny to drop.
‘Huh, special day – what have I missed?’ he asked, pretending to rack his brains.
She halted. The sun caught his eyes as she glanced at him questioningly. ‘Stop teasing me!’
His eyebrows arched but much to Allie’s relief he recovered his expression with a chuckle.
‘Rory! It’s our anniversary,’ exclaimed Allie.
‘Eighteen months today,’ he replied.
‘Do you remember the first time you asked me out?’ probed Allie, remembering the stress of that morning. She had taken an early hike over the mountain pass with her trusted labradoodle Nell to take photographs of the heather-covered glens, when Nell had decided to lollop after a bird over the edge of the crag of the hill and had tumbled a long way to the ground. Allie had never run so fast in her life, stumbling across the uneven ground with her heart in her mouth, and when she’d reached Nell, she’d found her unconscious with a huge gash in her side.
‘Over the surgery table,’ Rory said, grinning.
Allie had arrived in the village of Heartcross at eight years of age, when finally her family had stopped moving around and had settled in the Grouse and Haggis pub, which they’d run ever since. Even though Allie had known Rory in primary school and they had become friends, it was only when he’d returned from university that she’d begun to take a real interest in him. He was the hot young vet, easy on the eye and just an all-round good guy. Allie had been immediately drawn to him and she was willing to bet she hadn’t been the only one attracted to him.
She’d watched him set to work on Nell, dynamic and professional, and had been reassured that her little dog was in the best hands. She’d been mesmerised by the change from the goofy lanky boy he’d once been in the school classroom to the handsome professional man he had transformed into.
‘Honestly, it looked like a murder scene! You dressed up in your scrubs, splattered with blood, but you saved Nell’s life … My hero!’
Despite the black mascara tears that had run down her cheeks, right there in his surgery, Rory had plucked up the courage and asked Allie out on a date.
‘But I do have a bone to pick with you about that day – I didn’t even get a discount on my bill,’ teased Allie, swiping his arm playfully.
‘I’ve got a living to make – but you did bag a date with the most eligible vet in Heartcross.’
‘You are the only vet in Heartcross, except your dad, of course … What do you think tonight is all about?’ asked Allie. It was unusual to be summoned to Rory’s parents’ house at such short notice.
Rory had received his call just after four o’clock, as soon as afternoon surgery had finished, whilst Allie’s call had been just before three. There was nothing to suggest there was anything wrong except the sudden urgency of the invitation, which had taken them both by surprise.
‘I’ve no idea,’ answered Rory, looking at his watch, ‘but there’s only one way to find out!’
***
It was an
uphill walk across the village green to Rory’s parents’ cosy three-bedroom cottage nestled at the end of the high street. Alana and Stuart had lived there all their married life and it offered spectacular views of the rolling hills and Heartcross Mountain. For a moment, Allie and Rory took a breather and rested against the wooden fence that adorned the idyllic duck pond, home to a few plump-looking mallards, in the utterly gorgeous village of Heartcross. Allie pointed her camera at the water … click … click …
They watched the children running along the well-worn gravel paths, their faces flushed with laughter, whilst their mothers sat chatting on picnic blankets under the magnificent green cascades of the willow trees. There was no breeze today; the weather was glorious and the early evening sun hung high in the sky, beaming rays down on them.
Allie shouted over to Hamish and Julia, who were weaving floral-coloured bunting through the railings at the far end of the green. It was a busy weekend for the villagers of Heartcross: it was their annual summer fair, which brought everyone out in droves.
‘You are good at all that malarkey,’ said Rory, nodding towards the camera before staring out across the park.
Allie had been interested in photography from as long back as she could remember. Even at school she’d been the brains behind the afterschool photography club, always having her camera close to hand. Recently, she’d begun to photograph local events and was amazed when the local newspaper had published her photographs alongside their articles. For Allie’s last birthday Rory had bought her a subscription to a national photography magazine which she’d thought was just the best and most thoughtful present anyone had ever got her. Each month she looked forward to the magazine landing on the doormat.
‘It’s easy. All you do is point and click,’ said Allie joyfully, snapping away.
Rory took a look at the photographs through the viewfinder. ‘They are amazing,’ he said glancing at her with respect. ‘Have you thought any more about opening up a photography club?’
Recently, the idea had been firmly on Allie’s mind, but she was exhausted with the early morning starts followed by the late nights working at the pub and barely got any time off.
‘We’ll see,’ she mused.
Rory watched the concentration on Allie’s face as she twisted the lens on her latest Nikon before she leaned slightly towards him and lowered her voice even though there was no one close by to hear. ‘You don’t think one of your parents is ill, do you?’ she said, with an uncomfortable feeling rising inside. It had been the first thing she had thought of when she’d received her call.
Rory’s eyebrows shot up and he gave Allie a sideward glance. ‘What makes you say that?’ he asked. ‘I’m not sure I’m prepared for a bombshell like that.’
Immediately, Allie felt a little guilty and summoned a smile. She hadn’t meant to worry Rory. ‘Or maybe your dad is finally going to announce his retirement. That’ll be a huge relief for you. I know you find his old-fashioned ways somewhat suffocating at times.’
‘Only at times?’ Rory rolled his eyes. He found his father difficult to work with on a daily basis.
Rory had been one of those unique children who had always known what he wanted to do as a profession, unlike Allie, who had fallen into the job of barmaid by accident – after helping out at her parents’ pub one evening due to staffing issues, she’d been there ever since. Lately, it seemed to Rory, she’d lost all motivation to find another job.
Conversely, Rory had been a dedicated student, his time at university taking him away from sleepy Heartcross to bustling London. He’d left university with a first-class degree and big plans. He’d wanted to travel, make a difference and stamp his mark on the world. After his placement at a zoo he’d become fascinated by endangered wild animals and had passionately campaigned to raise money for the sanctuaries that rescued vulnerable animals from appalling conditions where they were confined, exploited or abused. He had been determined to help in any way he could but had ultimately been enticed back to Heartcross by his father on the promise that, one day, he would make him a partner in the veterinary practice. Stuart had sold the opportunity to Rory that they would be equal but in Rory’s eyes their partnership was far from equal. Stuart still had the majority shareholding and his decision was final – always. But Rory had ideas and dreams of his own. He wanted to extend the practice, build a brand-new operating theatre with all the latest equipment and technology, alongside an animal hospital. He wanted the Scott and Son veterinary practice to become a household name, further afield than the little rural village of Heartcross. But Stuart had dismissed the suggestion; he couldn’t understand why anyone would ever want to expand and become a bigger corporation.
‘Look, son, this is a family business, customers know your name, who you are … It gives them the personal touch. When you start bringing in outsiders, all that is lost, and things get messy. Customers want to know they are seeing you or me, not someone else.’
Even though Rory was eternally grateful for having a secure career it was no secret that his father’s working methods frustrated him. Stuart was forever the traditionalist and every time Rory suggested even the most minuscule of changes to the veterinary practice it was always dismissed immediately without further discussion.
‘Can you believe we still don’t have a computer system to book appointments, in this day and age?’ said Rory, cocking an eyebrow whilst shaking his head slightly.
Allie chuckled, linking her arms through his, and rested her head on his shoulder. She knew this conversation off by heart; she’d lost count of the number of times Rory had vented his annoyance to her. His mum, Alana, could never get to grips with a computerised system and, as the receptionist in the family-run business, had kiboshed it within hours of one being set up. ‘All we need is an appointment book and a pen. The old ways are the best ways,’ she’d said with authority and there was no way she was budging.
Rory had disagreed. Every time he needed to pencil in an appointment or check who was next on his rounds, he had to ring his mother to check the system.
‘But …’ said Rory, hesitantly.
‘What is it?’
‘Lately, Mum … I thought maybe I’d got it wrong, but her filing is all over the place and sometimes not even in the cabinet. Emails deleted or not replied to, not to mention appointments missed in the diary. I nearly said something but … Then there’s Dad: in the last couple of months he’s seemed grumpier than usual,’ said Rory, attempting a half-hearted laugh, ‘but I suppose sometimes even I go up the stairs and forget what the hell I went up for.’ Allie got the impression Rory was glossing over his worries and glimpsed a concerned expression in his eyes.
‘Maybe we should live in a bungalow when we are older, then we won’t need to go up the stairs,’ Allie joked.
‘Sounds like a plan. Right, come on,’ said Rory, unable to put off the inevitable any longer. ‘Let’s go and find out what all this is about.’
***
Enjoying the sunshine, Allie took Rory’s hand and swung it gently as they ambled up the lane towards his parents’ cottage. On arrival Rory pushed open the gate into the garden.
‘Everywhere looks stunning!’ exclaimed Allie. Stuart was a keen gardener in his spare time and the front garden was wholly gorgeous, striking in fact, with not a single blade of grass out of place. There was so much colour, blooms bursting from every flowerbed. Allie inhaled the rich scent of the roses that straggled round the old oak-beamed porch. ‘Look at these roses, simply stunning … so pretty,’ she said, thinking one day she would love to live in a cottage as quaint as this.
Within seconds Alana appeared from the side of the house with a huge smile on her face. ‘I thought I heard the gate.’ She fussed round Rory, straightening the collar on his polo shirt before pulling Allie in for a suffocating hug.
‘Come,’ Alana said with a gesture after releasing Allie and placing a soft kiss on her cheek. ‘We are in the garden, the weather is too beautiful to miss.’
Following Alana around the side of the house, the gravel path crunching underneath their shoes, Rory and Allie were greeted with a splendid-looking afternoon tea.
‘This is all very civilised,’ exclaimed Rory, casting a glance over the table set out with his parents’ best china tea set. Delicately cut finger sandwiches, scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam, sweet pastries and cakes looking extremely scrumptious adorned the floral plates.
Stuart looked up from under his wide-brimmed hat, his glasses balancing on the bridge of his nose, newspaper in hand. ‘I’m working like a boss,’ he joked, folding up the newspaper and placing it on the table. ‘How is everyone?’ he asked, standing up and kissing Allie on her cheek and clapping Rory on his shoulder.
‘We are all good. It’s glorious out here. Summer has finally arrived in Heartcross,’ said Allie, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite Stuart.
‘Drink, anyone? There’s tea in the pot, homemade lemonade or there’s a bottle of wine open,’ offered Alana.
‘Wine would be great,’ answered Allie, looking towards Rory, who craftily pinched a sandwich from the platter. It didn’t go unnoticed by Alana.
‘Hey,’ she said, lightly slapping her son’s arm in jest before handing out the plates.
‘How was work this afternoon?’ asked Stuart, picking up a conversation with his son.
The afternoon had dragged for Rory. ‘The same old mundane routine, mostly domestic animals off their food due to the heatwave, and Mrs Green’s labrador needs to go on a diet. Goodness knows what she’s feeding him.’
Stuart gave his son the parent stare, the one that warned him not to be ungracious. ‘That same old mundane routine is a business that has been built up over time, from nothing. Those animal owners trust us, rely on us, which is an honour, as most animal lovers prefer animals to humans.’
Rory had heard the same spiel a thousand times before.
Clover Cottage: A feel good cosy read perfect for your summer holiday reading (Love Heart Lane Series, Book 3) Page 1