The House at Hope Corner: The perfect feel good holiday romance novel

by Emma Davies

  ‘Well, thank heavens for that,’ she said. ‘Lovely girl, but honestly, sometimes I think she spends more time at our house than she does her own… Now, how about another nice cup of tea before we make a start, what do you think?’

  ‘Lovely…’ muttered Flora weakly, wishing it wasn’t so early so she could have something stronger.

  The frying pan looked like it had already done a lifetime of service, and Flora scrubbed at it one more time before passing it to Hannah to dry. It was the last of the things to be washed up and Flora pulled the plug from the sink in relief. She had never seen so much congealed fat, and the smell of it would take some getting used to.

  During the last ten minutes she had learned that breakfast was at ten. Well, the proper big breakfast, that was; Ned would have porridge and toast when he got up at about five in the morning. Lunch was at one o’clock (soup and sandwiches) and then tea was at six (a hearty meal obviously) with supper following at nine. Nothing fancy, said Hannah, usually just cake or crumpets, although at the times of year when the men were very busy, they wouldn’t get back until around eleven, so supper was often foregone.

  Flora found her head bobbing up and down like a nodding dog’s as Hannah imparted information to her in a never-ending rapid-fire monologue, and it left her feeling like the new girl on her first day at work; woefully inept and massively out of her depth. She tried to listen, but her head kept saying other things to her; rebellious thoughts that had no place in the new life that Hannah had envisaged for her. It certainly wasn’t Flora’s idea of how life as a model farmer’s wife should be.

  Apart from the very obvious question of where all the food came from, and who would be buying it, was the equally pressing one of who would be cooking it. Flora was an okay cook, she was even pretty good at some things, but she certainly wasn’t used to cooking around the clock like this, or in such quantity. How did people eat so much food? She was used to eating when she was hungry, nibbling here and there between serving customers in her shop. Here mealtimes were clearly an integral part of a regimen that she would be expected to follow. She couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she didn’t…

  Picking up the dishcloth once more, Flora gave the sink a final wipe and then went to dry her hands on the towel which hung over the Aga’s rail. She was aware of Hannah checking her watch and she hastily finished what she was doing, turning around and mustering a bright smile.

  ‘Right, what’s next?’ she said.

  Hannah led her over to the door beside the Aga.

  ‘In here is the pantry, where I keep all the tinned and dry goods, together with my stock of jams and relishes, jellies and chutneys. We’re fortunate that the farm has a good stock of fruit trees and our hedgerows provide a plentiful bounty too, so I use whatever is available seasonally.’

  Flora gazed at the rows and rows of jars that lined the shelves, all neatly labelled.

  ‘It’s just how I imagined Brambly Hedge to be,’ said Flora. ‘I didn’t realise people still did this…’

  Hannah frowned. ‘Brambly Hedge?’

  ‘Yes, the books… you know the children’s stories…?’

  Hannah shook her head.

  ‘They’re mice… who live in the hollows of trees and…’ Flora trailed off when she saw Hannah’s expression. ‘Sorry… they’re just lovely stories, beautiful illustrations…’ She cleared her throat. ‘This is lovely,’ she finished lamely.

  ‘Yes, well, we don’t have money to buy inferior-quality shop-bought goods. We use as much of our own produce as we can…’

  Flora nodded. ‘It makes much more sense…’

  Hannah’s lips were still pursed. ‘Anyway, I have already made the bread for today as I wasn’t sure we would have the time this morning. You do make bread, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ lied Flora. ‘All the time.’

  ‘Good. Well, I start it off first thing, once Fraser and Ned have gone out, and then I leave it to prove as I’m preparing breakfast. That way, I can pop it into the oven to cook as I’m washing up and it’s ready in time for lunch. The soup doesn’t take long either. Although, we might have to rethink certain things, as you’re vegetarian.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that. I hope it doesn’t make things awkward.’

  Hannah regarded her over the top of her glasses. ‘So you don’t eat meat at all…? Not even chicken?’ She didn’t wait for a reply, which was fortunate, because Flora really wasn’t sure what she would have said.

  ‘Right, well, we have a bit of time now before we need to prepare the soup, so why don’t I take you upstairs and I can show you where I’ve put all your clothes…’

  ‘Honestly, Ned, it was awful…’

  Flora was lying flat on her back, spread-eagled across the bed. ‘And my feet are killing me!’ She sighed dramatically.

  Around her, on the floor, on the bed, hanging over the back of a chair – but mostly on the floor – were all her clothes. Flora had flung them there in a fury about an hour ago but now hadn’t the energy or the inclination to pick them up.

  It was ten o’clock at night and she hadn’t long been ‘released’ from Hannah’s day-long course on how to run the house. It was well meant, she knew that, but that hadn’t stopped her jaw beginning to ache furiously from faking a smile with each new chore added to her list.

  She took a deep breath. It wasn’t that bad, was it? She was tired and being melodramatic and, she admitted to herself, suffering from a huge amount of irritation that the day she had planned out for herself had fallen so spectacularly by the wayside, but she was already beginning to feel suffocated by Hannah’s ferocious domesticity. Breakfast was bad enough, but finding out that, while she had been having such a lovely time out in the fields, Hannah had not only unpacked her suitcases but put away all her clothes, had rather set the tone for the rest of the afternoon.

  Ned, who had just emerged from the shower, leaned over and kissed the end of her nose, his tousled red hair curling around the nape of his neck. Flora would have loved to twine the ends in her fingers and then let them take a walk south, but Ned’s parents were sleeping just down the hallway and, well, she was very ticklish and Ned knew just where to tickle her…

  He propped himself up on his arm. ‘So, come on then,’ he said. ‘What was so awful?’

  Flora gave him a wayward glance. ‘Well breakfast for starters, I mean, how embarrassing was that? It didn’t even occur to me that you wouldn’t know I was a vegetarian. It looked like we were on a blind date or something.’

  But Ned just grinned. ‘I thought it was hysterical, actually. Did you see Mum’s face? I thought she was going to faint.’

  ‘Ned, it’s not funny! She probably hates me even more now. You’re farmers for goodness’ sake, what kind of daughter-in-law am I going to be if I don’t eat meat?’

  ‘Do you want to eat meat?’

  Flora shuddered. ‘No… And I’m not going to, but that’s not the point.’

  Ned watched her for a minute, his pale grey eyes roaming her face. ‘It is, you know. It’s exactly the point. Because you’re absolutely perfect just as you are, and don’t let anyone say otherwise. More importantly, don’t you dare change… I’d go off you if you did… And besides, Mum doesn’t hate you…’

  He was trying to cheer her up, but the day had been too wearing to give in just like that.

  ‘She does… I stick out like a sore thumb here. She’s so organised and I only have to look at stuff and it makes a mess. She’s a domestic goddess who can cook nineteen different types of pastry without having to look up the recipe, and I had to lie about making bread, which I’ve never done in my life, but don’t you dare tell her… and… and…’ She lifted one leg off the bed. ‘The whole day was just a very long list of all the things that Hannah does, at which I am spectacularly useless, but which are all vital to the smooth and efficient running of the household. In fact, I think that might have been a direct quote.’

  ‘I don’t believe my mother c
alled you spectacularly useless…’

  Flora slapped his arm. ‘Not that! The smooth and efficient running bit…’

  Ned was smiling but he was also watching her closely. He tilted his head to one side. ‘There is another way of looking at it…’ he said.

  Flora raised her eyebrows.

  ‘I think my mum is finding it quite difficult too. She’s been looking after Dad and the farm for thirty-odd years, and then of course me once I came along. She’s never done anything else, and although this is quite a tight-knit community and she knows pretty much everyone, she doesn’t have many proper friends… I think she’s every bit as nervous as you are, and just as desperate to make a good impression.’

  Flora stared at him. She hadn’t really thought about what it must be like for Hannah to have a stranger land in her domain but Ned’s words made perfect sense. She was the proverbial cuckoo in the nest and, even though Flora had no intention of usurping Hannah’s role in the household, her future mother-in-law could well be feeling incredibly threatened.

  She bit her lip. ‘So, how am I going to fit in?’

  ‘By just being you, and very soon everyone will love you anyway, just the way I do. What’s not to love, Flora? You’re funny, kind, beautiful, talented… but more than anything, you have this spark inside of you that, even when you don’t realise it, comes tumbling out. You never take anything at face value, you challenge perceptions, are brave and adventurous, quirky, non-conformist, and…’

  Flora held the back of her hand up to her brow in a mock swoon. ‘Oh, don’t stop…’ she giggled.

  ‘Bloody fantastic in bed…’

  A loud snort echoed around the room, which Flora quickly stifled. ‘Shhh,’ she whispered, thumping Ned’s arm. ‘Don’t start me off, you know what I’m like!’

  ‘Oh I do,’ he replied, nuzzling the side of her neck. ‘That’s what I was banking on…’

  Chapter Three

  Flora was out of bed like a shot the following morning. Well, not quite at four thirty like Ned was, but it was a very long time since she’d last seen six o’clock in the morning! She didn’t know how Ned did it; they hadn’t got an awful lot of sleep…

  She hopped across the bedroom floor, wincing at the cold, and over to where her clothes still lay abandoned from yesterday. Grabbing a random selection, she got dressed as quickly as she could. No doubt she would be docked points for leaving their room in a mess but—

  Flora Dunbar, stop right there… She stared at herself in the mirror. You are never going to fit in if you carry on like that. This is Hannah and Fraser’s home and, for the moment, whether you like it or not, you’re the newcomer and you can’t expect everything to be like it was before. Which is exactly what you hoped for, remember? Your old life wasn’t so great and you’ve always wanted to live in the country, so quit moaning and just get on with it. And while you’re at it, remember that a little tact and diplomacy wouldn’t go amiss.

  She tucked her hair behind her ears and gave a stern nod at her reflection, hitched up her tights, straightened her skirt, and went downstairs.

  One thing she had learned yesterday was that the kettle was always warm in the farm kitchen and, as such, could be induced to boil in pretty short order. Rule number one, always keep it filled with water. Flora took it to the sink, her eyes automatically drawn to the view outside. It was so tempting to slip outside again and lose herself for an hour or so, but she knew that wouldn’t help the situation at all, although… She glanced at her watch. Maybe there was time enough to gather some flowers for the table. There were several clumps of early narcissus growing around the side of the house, and they were so lovely and cheerful.

  For the second time in as many days, the kettle was abandoned by the side of the sink as Flora was enticed into the garden. It only took a few moments to pick enough flowers to fill a vase and, spying a forsythia bush a little distance away, Flora cut some long stems of the bright yellow flowers to accompany the other blooms. She was just about to turn back towards the house when she heard her name being called, and was surprised to see Hannah coming across the garden to meet her. As she drew closer she could see that Hannah was holding a round wicker basket. To her relief she was also smiling.

  ‘Good morning!’ Hannah called. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  Flora, who had hardly slept at all, didn’t know quite what to say. She scrutinised Hannah’s face. Was that what she was implying, or had her greeting been a simple enquiry? She decided that it was and replied accordingly, suddenly spotting what was in the basket Hannah was carrying.

  ‘Oh, eggs! Does that mean you have chickens?’

  Hannah’s smile was warm. ‘We do, only seven now, but they’re good layers. Would you like to see them?’

  Flora nodded. ‘I’ve always wanted chickens, ever since I was a little girl.’

  ‘But you don’t eat eggs?’

  ‘No… but not because I’m a vegetarian. I don’t actually like them. It’s the texture of them, I think.’ She gave an involuntary shudder.

  ‘So you would eat them if you liked them?’

  Flora nodded.

  ‘But yet you don’t eat the chicken itself?’

  ‘No, but I like cats and dogs and I don’t eat them either!’

  For a moment Flora thought that Hannah’s face was going to be pulled into a frown but then, to her relief, she burst out laughing.

  ‘It’s a bit like that old joke,’ she said. ‘I like children… But I couldn’t eat a whole one.’

  Flora smiled, shielding her eyes from the low slanting sun. It wasn’t really like that at all, but she wasn’t about to contradict her. Hannah was trying to be friendly and, in view of her conversation with Ned last night, voicing her opinions on eating meat now would very probably lead to her packing her bags and returning to the remnants of her old life with her tail between her legs.

  ‘It must seem a bit odd to you, me being a vegetarian?’

  Hannah regarded her for a moment. ‘I don’t know any farmers’ wives who are,’ she replied. ‘Well, cattle farmers anyway, but…’ And she shrugged.

  The words ‘there’s a first time for everything’ dangled unspoken. Flora already knew from her conversations with Hannah yesterday how little she liked things to change. Instead, Flora turned the subject onto safer ground.

  ‘So do you feed the chickens every morning?’

  ‘I do,’ said Hannah. ‘Pellets and fresh water in the morning, and then grain of an afternoon. The eggs need collecting every day too. The village shop takes what I can’t use, but it varies.’ She held out the basket for inspection. ‘Today’s a full house.’ There were indeed seven pale brown eggs nestled inside.

  Flora took one, holding it gently in her palm. ‘Oh, it’s still warm!’

  There was another smile. ‘I still marvel at it,’ said Hannah. ‘One of nature’s little miracles.’

  ‘I know I don’t like them, but even I can see that if you do, having them fresh like this must be the nicest thing,’ said Flora, hesitating for a moment. ‘I was wondering whether it would help you if I took over feeding them? I’m not sure how difficult it is, but if you showed me where everything was, and how to do it… It would be one less thing for you to think about?’

  Hannah nodded. ‘I was actually thinking that too,’ she replied. ‘I can show you now if you like, but would you like to go and put the flowers in some water first? No point picking them if they’re going to be half dead by the time we get back. I’ll wait here.’

  Dismissed, Flora hurried back inside and hastily filled the scullery sink, leaving the flowers to soak before retracing her steps back outside. Hannah led the way, walking around the side of the house and through a gate into a yard that stood at its front. From there the yard opened out onto a service road which connected with the lane and the outside world to her left, and the rest of the farm to the right. It was here that Flora could see a long straggle of traditional buildings, including the milking parlour, and she followed Hann
ah to the first of them.

  It was a dark, almost black, timber-framed shed which stood beside a small path that led into another area of garden divided from the first by a long low hedge. The grass was rougher here, and right in the centre was the chicken coop, three tawny hens pecking in the exposed soil.

  ‘Lucy, Mabel and Polly if I’m not much mistaken,’ said Hannah.

  Flora gave her a sideways glance. ‘Blimey, how do you tell them apart?’ she asked. ‘They all look the same to me.’

  ‘That they do,’ Hannah replied, tapping the side of her nose and smiling. ‘But there are subtle differences once you get to know them and what you don’t yet know is that Lucy, Mabel and Polly are the greediest three of the lot. So you can bet that when they’ve just been fed, those are the ladies still eating twenty minutes later.’

  Hannah unclipped the catch on the side of the coop and ducked inside, motioning for Flora to follow her. ‘You can leave the door open now if you like, so they can stretch their legs.’ She pointed to a low trough on the ground. ‘A good layer of pellets in there is all you need first thing, and then each of the drinking containers need swilling out and fresh water added. There’s a tap over there.’ She pointed to a pipe which poked from the ground by the hedgerow. ‘Then that’s it until later in the afternoon, when I usually put out the grain. A few handfuls scattered out in the grass and they’ll all come running.’

  Flora nodded. ‘That all seems pretty straightforward.’

  ‘The pellets and grain are in the shed. It’s never locked. Then just collect the eggs from the nest box and you’re done.’

  Another nod as Hannah checked her watch, again. It was something of a habit Flora had noticed and usually preceded another task.

  ‘Okay, I’ve got that,’ she said with as much confidence as she could muster. ‘And what about at night? Do you need to do anything then?’

  Hannah gave her an amused look. ‘Just one thing,’ she replied, as she strode back out through the coop door. ‘Make sure the hens have all gone to bed and that you close this at dusk, otherwise come morning you’ll have a pile of dead chickens and a very fat fox…’