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

by Emma Davies

  ‘If you’re going to say, because I’m a friend, don’t you dare do yourself such a disservice.’

  Flora shut her mouth, which had hung open, but there was no evading Grace’s admonishing stare.

  ‘Okay, okay!’ She laughed. ‘Blimey, remind me never to get on your wrong side.’

  Grace held up the picture and beamed. ‘Then you’ve made me very happy,’ she said. ‘I’m also honoured that you consider me a friend,’ she added. ‘And getting down off my high horse for a minute, I really do think that you should start taking yourself a little more seriously as an artist. That’s not a criticism by the way, but modesty is far easier to adopt when you’re not very talented, and you, my dear, have it by the bucket load. Bugger modesty.’

  ‘Me?’ Flora protested. ‘What about you? I couldn’t help noticing the wall-hanging you have in the hallway. And the fact that it’s made with horse chestnut leaves. I bet you made it, didn’t you? Only I’ve never seen anything quite like it before. It’s absolutely stunning.’

  Grace beamed. ‘Do you know, it had been on the wall for nearly a week before my husband even noticed it,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t do creativity, and if he had his way, the house would just be painted beige! It’s one of my favourite pieces though and, as such, I can’t imagine how anyone could fail to even notice it, let alone marvel at how wonderful it is. God, I’m so brilliant!’ She laughed with abandon, throwing her head back so that her earrings swung wildly. It was the first time Flora had noticed them, a pair of crescent moons. ‘You can tell I don’t get out much, can’t you?’ she added, and then smiled a little shyly. ‘In all seriousness, I’m glad you like it, that means a lot.’

  The hanging was simply two layers of sheer fabric spun from the finest golden threads which had been sewn in sections so a series of pockets were formed, a bit like a sheet of ravioli. Each section was home to an individual leaf, in glorious autumnal shades of pale yellow, through to a deep blazing bronze.

  ‘I love it, Grace, but you’re going to have to tell me how you did it. They look like real leaves but I don’t understand how you got them to stay fresh and not shrivel and die.’

  Grace tapped the side of her nose. ‘It’s a neat trick, isn’t it?’ she replied. ‘And so simple. You just take a small branch with several leaves on it, stand it in a glycerine solution for a few days and, as the plant drinks, the glycerine preserves the leaves so that they stay soft and retain their colour. I use them in decorations all the time.’

  Flora’s creative imagination went into overdrive imagining all the wonderful things she could do with this new trick. Oh, how she had missed talking about these things with someone. Ned understood. It was one of the things that had first attracted him to her, how he could marvel and wonder at the smallest of things – the sublime colour of a petal, the texture of a leaf. But here at the farm, there was no time for any of that and, given the current situation, no likelihood of returning to it.

  ‘I should apologise now,’ said Flora. ‘Only I can see I’m going to be spending rather a lot of time here.’

  Even as she said it, she knew that Grace wouldn’t mind and that, moreover, the suggestion had been just inches from her own lips. Her smile curved around the rim of her cup as she drank the last of her tea.

  ‘Then I’m glad you’ve come round,’ said Grace, smiling warmly. ‘Perhaps when we’ve finished our tea I can take you out to meet the hive, and see the garden too? If you’re anything like me, all it takes is a bit of time outside and I find the inspiration just starts flowing.’

  Flora nodded vigorously. ‘Actually, one thing I’d really love is to paint your bees. Do you think they’d mind?’

  ‘I should think they’d be honoured,’ replied Grace, draining her cup. ‘Let’s go and ask them, shall we?’

  She rose and beckoned Flora to follow her through the house, stopping by the front door so that Flora could collect her boots. From there, she led her down another wide hallway until they arrived in the enormous kitchen.

  ‘How close to the bees do you want to get?’ asked Grace. ‘I have a spare hat if you want to get really personal, but sadly I can’t show you inside the hive just yet, it really isn’t warm enough, and they’ve only just started properly foraging again.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Although if you’re nervous we can just watch them from further up the garden.’

  Flora could feel her mouth drop open and made a conscious effort to close it. She hadn’t imagined she’d be doing this today. ‘I’m not frightened of them; wasps and hornets, yes, but not bees…’

  ‘Up close it is then.’

  Grace’s garden was just as beautiful as she’d described, and nestled in among a huddle of trees towards the far end were her hives, three of them, a few feet apart. The low winter sun would soon be gone but, for now, its golden rays were slanting across the tops of the hives, filtered by the branches of the trees. From there the garden sloped away allowing an uninterrupted view across the fields, fields which, Flora knew, lay just behind the farmhouse.

  ‘Come and stand on this side,’ said Grace. ‘That way you’ll get a better view of the bees on the wing and you won’t be directly in their flight path. They’re only just beginning to gather food again, but the last few days of warmer weather have really helped.’

  ‘Can I go closer?’

  Grace nodded. ‘As close as you’re comfortable with. If any bees land on you just wait quietly until they fly off again. They’ll soon work out that you’re not bearing gifts of nectar.’

  Flora took her phone from her pocket and crouched in the grass. Turning on the camera, she increased the zoom until she was focused right on the entrance to the hive. She took several shots straight off.

  ‘They’re beautiful,’ she said. ‘I love the way their wings catch the light, like tiny slivers of gold.’ In her mind she was already beginning to see how she might transform the photos into art.

  She took a couple more pictures and straightened again. ‘One of my favourite designs is a print of a thistle head with a fat bumblebee feasting on it. And it’s all the more extraordinary because the thistles were in a big bunch in a bucket outside my shop in the middle of a busy street. The bee just flew along and helped himself. I prayed no customers would come along for a few minutes so I could quickly sketch the scene, and that night I cut the lino block to make the print in record time. It was the most perfect composition, and I loved how the whole thing came together so effortlessly.’

  Grace looked delighted. Flora could see she understood perfectly how that felt and she needed to say no more.

  ‘Well, I hope that next time you come you’ll have more wonderful work to show me,’ said Grace. ‘I’d love to see it. In fact, bring anything. I’m going to take what you’ve already brought to the shop if you don’t mind, and put up a display. I’m certain we would sell them, but I’m only going to do it on one condition.’ She looked at Flora expectantly.

  ‘Which is…?’

  ‘That you let me decide what price to put on them.’

  Flora didn’t reply and Grace took her silence for discomfort. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ve embarrassed you.’

  ‘No, it’s not that.’ Could she confide in Grace? Flora wondered. Everything she knew about this woman told her she could be trusted, but it was a big thing for Flora to take her into her confidence. She screwed up her courage; there were bigger things at stake here. ‘I’m incredibly flattered that you like my art so much, and if you really think they’d attract a higher price then… well, that’s incredible!’ She couldn’t help a glimmer of excitement slipping out. ‘But, well, it’s a bit of a difficult subject.’

  ‘Talking about money always is. But spit it out, Flora, it’s the only way.’ She smiled in encouragement.

  Flora took a deep breath. ‘It’s not a secret as such, what I do. In fact, Ned has wonderfully supportive but… well, since coming to the farm I don’t have any means of making any money of my own and I don’t like to ask Ned for it
. He doesn’t mind at all, but I’m trying to save a bit, you know, for the wedding and—’

  She didn’t need to finish. ‘Don’t worry,’ Grace said. ‘When they sell, because I’m sure they will, I’ll make sure that just you and I know about it, how’s that? I’ve spent years being a kept woman because my husband liked it that way, while I hated every minute. You don’t need to say any more.’

  Flora heaved a sigh of relief. It wasn’t quite the whole truth, but it was close enough.

  ‘Thank you, Grace. I really appreciate it.’

  ‘Not another word,’ she replied, smiling. She paused and a more sombre expression crossed her face. ‘I know that things are a little difficult for you at the moment because of Fraser,’ she said. ‘And they have every chance of being difficult for some while to come, but your art is important to you, Flora, it makes you who you are. It brings you peace, and solace too when you need it, but it also fires you up and gives you the energy you need to go on. The joy that radiates outward from you at that moment is good for other people too. Hold onto it, Flora, don’t ever let it go.’

  Flora nodded, seeing the wisdom and sincerity in Grace’s brown eyes. She had a feeling that something rather important had just happened and she stood for a few moments, drinking in the quiet and serenity. Whether that came from the view, the garden, the bees, or Grace herself, Flora wasn’t sure, but it was profound.

  ‘Penny for them?’

  Grace had moved to stand beside her, with her face turned towards the sun.

  The question surprised her. Flora hadn’t realised she’d been thinking about anything much, but then she realised that she had. There was a vision in her head that was so clear it could have been real. And the smile that had curved around her lips had come completely in response to it as she looked out across the field that was no longer a grassy meadow. Instead, it had become a riot of colour from the rows and rows of flowers planted there, heads waving in the softest of breezes, just enough to release the most wonderful scent of summer…

  She shook her head, laughing, suddenly a little embarrassed at her flight of fancy. ‘You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,’ she said. ‘I’ve always had the most overactive imagination…’

  Grace regarded her quietly. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I think I’d believe you. I’ve often stood here and imagined the future. Maybe that’s what you’ve seen.’

  A tingle ran up Flora’s spine. That’s exactly what it had felt like…

  Chapter Sixteen

  Flora scarcely had time to think over the next few days. Her mornings started early, rising with Ned so that at least they could share a few minutes together before he left for the day. As he was working by himself, he no longer came in for a proper breakfast, but instead Flora would make up a parcel of sandwiches and fruit and take it over to the main barn, from where Ned would collect it at some point. It wasn’t ideal. On the one hand, she was pleased that he wasn’t eating a fat-laden breakfast every day, but on the other it meant that Ned didn’t stop for a break either; with lunch consumed the same way, he was effectively working twelve-hour days.

  Given Hannah’s deep mistrust of hospital food, early mornings also included making lunch for Fraser which they would take with them when they visited later in the morning. Then, after lunch, they made yet more food ready for when Flora visited again after dinner, with Ned this time. Flora suspected that Fraser gave most of it away, but she didn’t dare say anything.

  In the scarce moments Flora wasn’t helping to prepare food, she was systematically cleaning the house from top to bottom according to Hannah’s instructions. Curtains were taken down and washed, carpets were cleaned, window sills and skirting boards were scrubbed. It left Flora exhausted and with little time to think about Grace’s words, but they stayed with her, at the back of her mind, biding their time.

  Now, one week and two days after his operation, Fraser was finally coming home, and Hannah was as nervous as a kitten. By now, she’d read all the information that the hospital had given her so many times she’d practically committed it to memory and would repeat it verbatim to anyone who dared suggest what Fraser would, or wouldn’t, be able to do when he came home.

  Despite her initial misgivings over the use of the dining room, Hannah had now taken the furnishing of the room very seriously and had seemingly brought most of Fraser’s possessions down from their bedroom. The room was consequently stuffed to the gills with things that he might need, and just looking at it all made Flora feel claustrophobic.

  ‘Come on, let’s go and bring him home,’ said Flora, as she watched Hannah plump the cushions on his bed for the zillionth time. ‘He’s waited long enough, let’s not keep him any longer.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course.’ Hannah looked flustered, and Flora took her arm.

  ‘It will be okay you know,’ she said. ‘I know the thought of having him home is scary for all sorts of reasons, but we’ll all be here to help, and the hospital wouldn’t let him go if they didn’t think he was ready.’

  Hannah smiled gratefully. ‘You’re right, I know, but…’ She trailed off, looking around the room again, and Flora began to wonder if she’d ever get in the car. Flora took a deep breath; Hannah wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

  After the last few days of milder weather, the temperature had been getting steadily colder as if reminding them that winter wasn’t quite over yet. The evening was bitter and, as early as teatime, a frost was already beginning to form outside. But Flora didn’t mind; being outside was far preferable to being inside, and Brodie, bless him, was a willing accomplice.

  Fraser had been home now for exactly one hour and forty minutes and Flora already felt like screaming. In fact, if she heard Hannah ask him how he was feeling one more time, she probably would have. To give him his due, Fraser, despite catching her eye with a wry smile on one or two occasions, didn’t seem to mind. He was just pleased to be home, delighted with his new room, and obviously exhausted from the journey.

  She hadn’t intended to walk as far as she had, but the clear sky was lit by an almost full moon and the garden was enticingly silvery and mysterious. It drew her onward until she realised that she was standing by the fence at the bottom. In front of her lay the sweep of fields she had walked through her first morning at the farm.

  She hadn’t a clue what had prompted her vision a few days ago, but it had been as clear to her as her surroundings were now and, as she stared around her, the echo of Grace’s appeal to never let go of her art made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck.

  Before speaking to Grace, Flora had almost come to terms with having to give up her creativity; at least she thought she had. She’d packed away her art materials and decided to throw everything she had at life on the farm. Except that now she realised that she just couldn’t do that. The call of nature and art was stronger than ever, and it just might be the only thing that could save her sanity. She felt her heart lift slightly as her decision settled in her head. Fraser was home, and things would surely improve. Somehow she would just have to find the time she needed.

  Turning around, she scoured the garden for Brodie and spotted him by the back door. Now used to her bouts of introspection, he was waiting patiently for her to finish so he could return to his place by the Aga. She hurried over and threw her arms around the old dog.

  ‘You understand, don’t you, boy,’ she said. ‘Otherwise I think I might go completely mad. I mean, I know I’m mad already, but mad in a bad way…’

  Brodie’s dark eyes glinted in the moonlight as he licked her hand. He was a very wise dog indeed.

  ‘Come on then,’ she said. ‘Let’s get back inside. Best foot forward and all that.’

  But her heart sank again the moment she opened the back door to the sound of Caroline’s trilling laughter coming from the kitchen. Resisting the urge to turn on her heels and run, she pasted on a smile and went to join the others.

  Ned was sitting at the table but barely looked up when she came in; he was cl
early exhausted. Hannah was standing in the middle of the room looking flustered and Caroline was just taking possession of a small tray filled with two mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits.

  ‘Hannah, please go and sit down and take a breather for a bit. I can entertain Fraser for a few minutes, and I promise I will call if there’s anything wrong.’

  Hannah looked from Caroline to Ned and back again but, met with no reaction from Ned, reluctantly drew back a chair from the table and made to sit down.

  ‘Well then, see if you can get him to eat something,’ said Hannah. ‘He’s had virtually nothing all day.’

  ‘Mum, we’ve only just had tea. He isn’t going to want anything else,’ said Ned, without looking up from the table.

  ‘Yes, and he barely ate a thing. A couple of biscuits won’t hurt.’

  ‘Leave him to me,’ said Caroline, smiling. ‘I’ll see if I can entice him.’ The way she said it left Flora in no doubt that Caroline had every faith in her ability. ‘Hi, Flora,’ she added.

  Flora nodded. ‘Hi,’ she replied. ‘Blimey, it’s freezing outside. It’s very brave of you to venture out tonight.’

  There was a tight smile. ‘No, well, when I heard that Fraser was coming home today, I just had to pop over and welcome him back to the fold. I feel bad that I didn’t get to see him in hospital, so it’s the least I can do.’

  ‘Just don’t expect too much,’ said Hannah. ‘He’s still very poorly.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I won’t be too long.’ She smiled directly at Flora, who went to take a seat opposite Ned.

  ‘We might have to go and rescue him,’ she whispered once Caroline had left the room. ‘It’s really kind of her to visit, but I would imagine that Fraser is worn out from the emotion of being home as much as anything. He probably just wants to be left alone.’

  ‘Caroline’s a very old friend though,’ said Hannah.

  ‘And Fraser might be pleased to see her,’ added Ned.