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

by Emma Davies

  Carrying the first of her boxes downstairs, she set it down onto the dining room table before returning to fetch the second. She’d been mulling over an idea she’d had for a composition lino cut using the beautiful hellebores she’d seen in the garden on her first morning at the farm. Coupled with some forsythia stems, the contrast of flowers could work well, but she needed to play with some designs first. She placed her phone on the table and sat down.

  The dining room seemed rarely used and it was freezing. By eight o’clock she could scarcely feel her fingers they were so cold, but she did, however, have three designs which she was happy with.

  ‘You’re not daft, are you, boy?’ she said, wandering through into the kitchen to put the kettle on and looking at Brodie, who was in his usual position by the Aga. ‘Budge over though, eh, I need to warm up too.’

  She rested her bum against one of the doors, holding her hands a little distance from the hot metal. She would need to go and feed the hens in a few minutes and then make the bread for lunch, but she had also decided to go and investigate the woodpile. Hannah wouldn’t be back until later that afternoon – a rare morning at the local WI apparently. Flora wasn’t sure what she had planned for them for the rest of the day, but if she could, she wanted to continue with her art and for that she needed warmth of some sort. Sitting hunched up with cold was making her shoulders ache.

  An hour and a half later she had the fireplace in the dining room ablaze, the warmth of the flame totally transforming the room, disguising the heaviness of the wooden furniture and dark soft furnishings and revealing their hidden colours. Flora looked around her. It was a peaceful room, she decided. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she picked up her lino cutter.

  She wasn’t even aware of the sound at first, or rather she wasn’t aware of its significance; it was several minutes before she tuned in and realised that what she could hear was Ned and Fraser talking in the kitchen. Moments later, Ned’s bulk filled the doorway beside her.

  ‘Flora?’ Ned’s eyes fell on the table where she worked, now covered in tiny strips of spent lino cut away from the block she was using. She’d made quite a mess…

  ‘I’ll clear it up, don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It’s what you might call work in progress.’

  He nodded and drew in a breath. ‘It was more… well, I was wondering about breakfast… Fraser, you know, well he likes…’

  Flora’s head shot up in shock as she suddenly realised the time. Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘Bugger! Ned, I’m so sorry, I got completely lost in what I was doing.’ She began to get to her feet. ‘I’m coming now, just give me ten minutes and I’ll have something sorted.’

  She was level with him now, but instead of the answering smile she expected to see, his face was anxious. He glanced at his watch. ‘We’re running a bit late,’ he said.

  The smile dropped from her face as she followed him down the hallway into the kitchen where Fraser was already sitting at the table.

  ‘What would you like?’ she asked him. ‘I’ll get the kettle going for starters and then, how about I make some more toast? Or there’s plenty of cereal, at least I think there is…’

  She busied herself at the tap, only turning back around when she realised that Fraser had not answered her.

  ‘I’m really sorry, I lost track of time.’ She gave an apologetic smile. ‘Got stuck into making one of my prints and…’ She trailed off as she caught the look on his face. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘You look a bit pale.’

  Fraser swallowed. ‘I came in for my breakfast,’ he said. ‘And I’m bloody starving… What I need is something to eat.’

  Flora flashed a helpless look at Ned, praying for him to come to her rescue.

  ‘Here, Dad, have one of these to tide you over,’ he said, pulling the biscuit tin from the side and handing it over. He turned back to Flora. ‘We’ve had a really busy morning,’ he added. ‘Worse than usual. A line of fencing got broken somehow in the night and we’ve had to replace it. Dad’s been hammering in the poles for the last hour.’

  It was as much of an apology as Ned could get away with. Fraser wasn’t normally this short, but it still didn’t make Flora feel any better.

  ‘I could make beans on toast,’ she said, thinking on her feet. ‘That wouldn’t take long.’ She bit her lip waiting for a response. ‘And it’s very good for you.’ She didn’t know what else to say. There was clearly no room for any alteration to the usual dining arrangements.

  There was a scant nod and she got to work, hacking off two thick slices of bread from yesterday’s loaf. She eyed the bowl that was resting on the shelf above the Aga. That was something else she had forgotten too. The dough she had managed to make earlier was still in the bowl where she had left it to rise. And it well and truly had. She looked away; she would have to fix it later.

  Eventually, both Ned and Fraser had plates of food in front of them as well as a big mug of tea each. It was the best she could do under the circumstances but the kitchen was filled with a definite air of dissatisfaction and it lay heavy on her shoulders. It was ironic that, given the choice, Flora would much prefer to serve a breakfast like this than their usual fare. Cooking meat did not come at all naturally to her and the sight of bacon, sausages and black pudding swimming in fat every morning still turned her stomach.

  Fraser ate fast and steadily as usual, quickly demolishing the lake of beans and helping himself to extra slices of toast. He made no further comment and it was left to Ned to cover the awkward gaps in conversation. She was sure he would have been genuinely interested in what she had been doing during the morning, but his embarrassment at his father’s grumpy mood made his comments sound stilted, like polite small talk. It didn’t take long for them both to fall silent.

  ‘Would you like more tea, Fraser?’ asked Flora, as he drained his mug. There was a pained expression on his face.

  He belched, holding a hand against his mouth, before nodding.

  ‘Aye, got something a bit stuck, I reckon.’

  Flora dutifully poured another mugful which quickly went the same way as the first. She flicked a glance at Ned but he was busy finishing his own food.

  He had hardly put his knife and fork together on the plate before Fraser got to his feet, motioning for Ned to do the same. ‘Come on, lad,’ he grumbled. ‘We haven’t the time to be sitting here.’

  Ned pulled a face. ‘I know, Dad, but at least let your food go down, eh?’

  Fraser was rubbing the centre of his chest.

  ‘Got bloody heartburn now,’ he said. ‘No offence, lass,’ he added, ‘but I don’t get heartburn from sausages and bacon. I can’t be doing with all this bread.’

  Flora dipped her head. ‘I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.’

  Fraser looked across at Ned. ‘Now don’t go thinking I’m being unkind by saying this, but I’m only doing so because I know that soft ’un over there won’t. We have a way of doing things that suits us, Flora. It’s lovely having you here, don’t get me wrong, and this ’un’s got a spring in his step I haven’t seen before. But don’t go changing things that have worked perfectly well in the past. It will save an awful lot of heartache if you don’t.’

  And with that he lifted a hand in the kind of wave that signified the conversation was at an end and went through to the scullery where Flora could hear him pulling his boots back on.

  There was an awkward pause while Flora waited for Ned to gather himself and decide what to say, but then she felt his arms go around her and his rough cheek rest against the top of her head.

  ‘Oh, Flora,’ he murmured. ‘What have I done to you? Bringing you here where you don’t know anyone and just expecting you to pick everything up and run with it.’ He pulled away slightly to look at her. ‘And believe it or not, in his own way my dad thinks he’s being kind, which means he likes you. What he said wasn’t meant with any ill feeling.’

  There were so many conflicting emotions swirling through Flora, she didn’t know which
one to settle on, so she said nothing, but nodded glumly instead. It wasn’t Ned’s fault.

  She managed a weak smile. ‘Have a good rest of the morning,’ she said. ‘And I’ll see you at lunch, okay?’

  Ned kissed her, releasing her arms and giving them both a brisk rub. ‘Listen, I’ve got to go, but I’ll talk to Dad so don’t you go worrying about things. And we can catch up later too, I promise.’ He tipped his finger against the end of her nose and kissed her again. ‘I love you,’ he said.

  ‘I love you too,’ replied Flora, holding the smile on her face. ‘See you later.’

  The ticking of the clock above the Aga was suddenly loud in the room as the door closed behind Ned. She stared at it for a moment, trying to slow down the rush of emotions that were churning her stomach, and then her eyes settled on the bowl on the shelf underneath it where the dough was waiting for her. She took it down and brought it to the table, lifting the cloth that covered it and peering at the contents. Then she cleared the plates and mugs from the table in one fell swoop and stacked them by the sink. The bread wouldn’t make itself and she might as well get on with it or she’d be in even more trouble. Then of course she could attend to the washing-up and begin the preparation of the soup for lunch.

  She pursed her lips. Fraser was absolutely right, of course. He’d already done a hard morning’s graft and expected to come in to the kind of breakfast he’d been provided with for umpteen years. There was no reason he could see why this should change and certainly not without any discussion or consultation. When she and Ned were married then things might be a little different, but for the moment she was effectively just a guest in their house and would do well to remember that.

  She began to punch the dough, knocking back the rise as she had been shown and it wasn’t until something dripped onto the back of her hand that she realised she was crying.

  Chapter Six

  And of course, it was at that moment that Hannah walked into the kitchen, tutting as she dropped her bag onto the table and pulled off her gloves and scarf before removing her coat. She sighed as she hung it over the back of one of the chairs.

  ‘Honestly, I don’t know why I bother going to these meetings…’

  She stopped and looked up as Flora gave a sniff.

  Flora had been on the verge of letting it all go. After all, she was on her own and was expecting to be for some time yet, so what would it have mattered? But now, Hannah’s sudden appearance had caught her out and somehow that made it so much worse. Now she was embarrassed as well as upset and she could feel the dam holding back her emotions beginning to break. She looked anxiously towards the door, wondering whether she had time to fly, but Hannah’s soft exhalation of breath let her know that her tears had been spotted.

  ‘Flora, dear. Whatever is the matter?’

  Hannah was around the table in seconds, quite rightly deducing that Flora was about to burst into noisy tears, but then she paused, looking awkward and unsure what to do next. Flora longed to have Hannah’s arms go around her and be told that everything was all right, but instead she patted her arm and made vague shushing noises.

  Flora gulped and held her breath, stifling her tears. Hannah’s reaction felt like a wet blanket and she was clearly so uncomfortable it had an immediate effect on Flora. She drew herself up, nodding.

  ‘I’m fine, honestly. Sorry, I’m not sure what came over me then… I just got a bit upset and… No, I’m fine now.’ She mustered a weak smile as proof.

  Hannah watched her warily as she slowly drew away a chair from the table and motioned for Flora to sit down.

  ‘Even so, I’ve been thinking that maybe you and I need to have a little chat, so perhaps that time has come…’ She laid a hand on Flora’s arm. ‘I’ll make us a drink, dear, and then you can tell me all about it.’ She got up and crossed to the chair where her coat was hanging, fumbling in the pocket before bringing something back to Flora. ‘Here,’ she said, passing her a tissue. ‘It’s clean. Give your nose a good blow.’

  Flora took it gratefully, wondering how much of a state she must look. She’d always been an ugly crier – eyes that puffed up immediately, a nose that turned bright red and cheeks that blotched at the slightest hint of wet.

  She shouldn’t even be that upset. What had happened this morning had been entirely her own fault. She had known what needed to be done but she had allowed herself to get sidetracked, and Fraser had every right to say what he had; he’d even tried to be kind about it in his own bluff way. She wasn’t normally so sensitive, but today the mix-up over breakfast had come at the end of a list of things that hadn’t seemed quite right. And now Hannah had said that she’d been wanting to have a chat with her too. What else had she done wrong? She sat, scrubbing at her nose as she waited for Hannah to return to the table.

  ‘You must feel dreadful, dear,’ said Hannah, sitting down. ‘And I know you’re in love with Ned, but really a lot of this is his fault. I mean, if he had done us the courtesy of telling us what he was planning then we could have made better arrangements for your arrival, talked about the practicalities of you coming to live here so you wouldn’t have been catapulted into the middle of all this. You would have known what was expected of you. I’m not surprised you hate it.’

  Flora sniffed. ‘I don’t hate it… You’ve all been lovely, really, and in Ned’s defence, I don’t think he really knew what he was planning… In fact, it wasn’t planned… it just happened. Him and me, I mean.’ She hung her head. ‘Oh, that sounds terrible, doesn’t it? Makes it sound like it’s not a proper relationship, and it is, honestly.’ She looked up into Hannah’s eyes. ‘I’m not doing a very good job of this, am I?’

  Hannah smiled, more gently. ‘Explaining? Or being Ned’s fiancée?’ she asked. ‘But you really don’t need to worry about either of those things. It’s simply a matter of adjustment and understanding how things are; you’ll get used to it. Now, why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what prompted all these tears.’ She pushed a mug of tea towards her.

  Flora cradled her hands around it, grateful to have something to focus on while she caught her breath and tried to think of a way to start the conversation. Even though most of her wanted to slink away into her room and not think about anything at all…

  ‘You and Ned haven’t had a disagreement, have you?’ suggested Hannah.

  ‘No, nothing like that,’ Flora replied, wondering what to say. ‘But I messed up this morning, and I don’t think Fraser’s very happy with me…’ She trailed off, not wanting to be critical. ‘He wasn’t unkind, it was my fault, after all – I got involved in something and forgot the time so breakfast wasn’t ready when they got in. They had to make do with beans on toast which didn’t go down terribly well and I can understand that… although I really didn’t think it would matter for just one day. Sometimes it’s good to do something a bit different, isn’t it? Not to mention a little healthier.’ She sighed. ‘I just feel so out of place. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a farmer’s wife.’

  ‘Perhaps you’re being rather hard on yourself, dear. You’re not even married yet, and there’s plenty of time to learn the ropes. After all, being a good wife isn’t something that comes straight away, although you young folk don’t always realise it. Being a farmer’s wife comes with its own set of challenges, admittedly, but essentially it’s much the same and you shouldn’t try to run before you can walk. It takes years of practice, and I should know, I’ve had rather a lot.’

  It wasn’t exactly what Flora wanted to hear. What she wanted was more along the lines of ‘she was doing fine and anyway who defined what the archetypal farmer’s wife should be’. But Flora knew she wasn’t going to get that response, because evidently there was such a thing, and it was she, Flora, who needed to change.

  ‘Which is why I think it’s rather unfair of Ned to simply expect you to slot right in here without even having the opportunity to talk about expectations… from both sides.’ Hannah paused to lick her lips. ‘Under t
he circumstances you’ve fitted in very well, and I’m very pleased to see your and Ned’s obvious affection for one another, but…’

  Here it comes, thought Flora.

  ‘But… Oh dear, this is going to sound very harsh, and I don’t mean it to at all, but this is still mine and Fraser’s home and we’ve rather got used to doing things a certain way. I’m not sure either of us want that to change.’

  Flora dropped her eyes. Because there it was, the crux of the matter. Whatever Flora wanted, whether she and Ned were married or not, this was never going to be her house, to do as she pleased…

  ‘That said,’ continued Hannah, ‘it really is lovely having you here, so please don’t think you’re not welcome…’ She broke off to pat Flora’s hand. ‘Ned is obviously very happy, and it’s been a long time since there was anyone here who was quite so… colourful, and the flowers too… I can’t remember the last time we had so many in the house. But although I know we’re old stick in the muds, I’m afraid that rather suits us.’

  Flora nodded, smiling. There wasn’t much else she could do.

  ‘And now I’m not being critical, because your artwork is lovely, but perhaps you need to think about whether it’s something that you can continue to pursue? In the longer term… It could well take up rather a large amount of your time; time that you might be better served devoting to something else.’

  Flora opened her mouth to speak, but Hannah held up a hand.

  ‘Now I can see you’d like to argue your case, but I was brought up to believe that a wife’s needs and desires were secondary to her husband’s, which again is not a very popular opinion these days, and more’s the pity.’ She paused to take a sip of tea. ‘The way I look at it is that I am living in my husband’s house, and he’s working hard to put food on the table and provide for me. The same will be true for you and Ned, and any little ones that come along. In my book that means that you do everything you can to support him.’ She looked over the top of her glasses. ‘For example, doing your bit to make sure that you don’t fritter things away and be wasteful around the house.’ She paused for a moment. ‘I couldn’t help noticing that you lit the fire in the dining room.’