There was an aching familiarity about the place; the memories crowded my head. I could visualise racing around the garden with my dad, while my mum brought us glasses of lemonade to quench our thirst in the heat of a summer day.
I observed the mother wandering out of the house onto the lawn with a beaming smile. I could hear the exchange of excited chatter, the little girl relaying all of her afternoon games to her mother. I watched them skip inside, hand in hand.
This was no longer my home. I needed to face facts; those times were long gone, but I was thankful my memories kept them very much alive, even if at this moment in time the pain of remembering was unbearable.
The journey home was one of calm and peace. I’d done what I’d needed to do. Even though I felt weary, I rested my head against the windowpane and read for the whole journey. The train ride seemed quicker on the way back to Staffordshire and in no time at all I’d arrived back at the station and caught a bus back to my flat.
I let out a breath and was glad to finally be home.
This was my home now, and standing in my hallway with Alfie at my side I felt a real sense of belonging.
Chapter Fifteen
Sitting in the small yard at the back of my flat, I perched on an rotten wooden chair that had definitely seen better days while I sipped my morning cuppa. Last night I’d slept for nine hours solid, the most uninterrupted sleep I’d had in a long time. I glanced around the yard. There was no denying it lacked attention; it was dull and boring, grey flagstones with nothing more, the lack of colour and imagination apparent. A few potted plants accompanied by brand new patio chairs would certainly help to bring my little space of tranquillity to life. I might even push the boat out and plant some vibrant climbers that would give a new lease of life to the wooden fences that separated the spaces between the ground-floor flats. I pictured Alfie curled up on a cushion by my side whilst I drank tea. Once transformed this would be a fantastic haven to indulge in my favourite pastime of reading books. I had hopes and dreams for this space and was ready to grasp this new day with both hands. With a spring in my step, I ventured back indoors. I scooped Alfie up into my arms; he butted his head lovingly against my face.
Hearing a knock on the front door, I opened the door with Alfie in my arms to find Lucinda beaming back at us.
‘Good morning, Kitty, sorry to call on you unexpectedly. I was just passing in the van and thought I’d pop in to see how you are. You’ve been on my mind since I saw you at the station. I just wanted to make sure you were OK.’
‘Yes, I’m fine, sorry if I didn’t seem with it; it was my mother’s birthday and I was travelling home to visit my parents’ grave.’
Lucinda touched my arm and smiled.
‘Who’s this?’ She leant forward and gave Alfie a playful ruffle on the top of his head; he promptly took a spirited swipe at her and we both laughed.
‘He’s full of character,’ she said, grinning.
‘This is Alfie, my inherited cat. He was waiting for me in the kitchen when I arrived and we’ve been best friends ever since.’ I smiled at him.
‘Very cute. They always say a dog is man’s best friend but I’m a cat person too.’
‘Well that’s something we have in common. Have you got time to come in?’ I asked.
‘I don’t want to be a nuisance.’
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘Well, in that case, yes please,’ Lucinda answered, squeezing into the hallway beside us.
‘Come on, let’s go and switch that kettle on.’
I didn’t know Lucinda very well but she seemed friendly.
‘What are your plans for today?’ she enquired.
Stirring the sugar into my tea, I sat down opposite her at the kitchen table and chit-chatted about my hopes and dreams of transforming my outdoor living space into something a little more spectacular, which wouldn’t be difficult considering its current state.
‘There is a major flaw in my plan though,’ I said, sighing. ‘The only transport I have is the old bike with the basket on the front. I’m not sure I’m up to making numerous trips to and from the garden centre on that thing; the basket won’t hold much and I have no idea where the garden centre is.’
‘I have a plan,’ Lucinda said.
‘I’m listening.’
‘Who is the owner of a small white sandwich van? That would be me.’ She smiled. ‘We could pile the plant pots and the flowers in the back of the van. I’d be delighted to help you. We could transform your yard in no time at all.’
‘That’s extremely kind of you.’ I was beginning to feel a surge of excitement; this was just what the doctor ordered, keeping me focussed and busy on a Sunday morning. ‘Are you sure?’
‘It would be an absolute pleasure. I’m on my way to the garden-centre cafe now. I need to deliver their cakes. It’s a beautiful day, so why not; there’s no time like the present and I’m up for it if you are?’
‘There’s no time like the present,’ I repeated.
‘You may want to change from your PJs first though,’ Lucinda said, laughing.
Patting her arm, I chuckled. ‘Give me five minutes and I’ll be right with you.’
Flinging my T-shirt over my head, I sprayed some deodorant, slipped my legs into my scruffy old jersey tracksuit bottoms and with a quick brush of my hair and teeth, in less than five minutes flat I was ready and raring to go.
I sat alongside Lucinda in the van as she pulled off to join the oncoming traffic. The aroma of the freshly baked cakes from the back of the van was heavenly.
‘Well it’s safe to say those cakes smell simply delicious.’
‘Victoria sponge, cupcakes, lemon drizzle cakes, home-made brownies, meringues and carrot cake – you name it, it’s stacked up in the back.’ She smiled.
‘What’s your story, Lucinda? How did you end up owning the cake shop?’
Lucinda ran her hand through her curls and started up the engine.
‘Now there’s a question that involves a bloke called Simon. It’s been a while since I thought about him.’
‘Just tell me if I’m being too nosey,’ I said.
‘No, not at all, it’s no secret. Simon was an ordinary bloke, a bloke I’d met in the local pub one summer evening when I was nineteen. After a whirlwind romance we were married at twenty, with an exciting future to look forward to. Simon worked as a delivery driver and I was a catering student at the local college. I was happy at first but changes in our marriage had crept in – so slowly I didn’t notice them at first.’
‘What changes?’ I asked.
‘Sex had become infrequent and there were never any kisses or cuddles unless he actually wanted sex; he was never ever spontaneous and never bought me gifts of any kind. At Christmas there wasn’t even a small present waiting for me under the tree, just the excuse ‘we’re saving money’. I never had a clue what we were saving for. He no longer provided any mental stimulation for me either. Our relationship had been one-way traffic for a while. I would continuously clean up after him, wait on him hand and foot and all I usually got in return was a grunt, then he would doze off in the armchair in front of the television. Simon became lazy; he lacked ambition and like a bolt out of the blue it hit me – I couldn’t waste any more time on this man. He never ever said he was unhappy, but I was. I knew I didn’t love him any longer; I was bored rigid with the relationship and we’d grown apart. I left him. Our marriage lasted just two years.’
‘Wow! That was a brave move.’
Lucinda nodded. ‘It was a decision I didn’t take lightly, but I knew I couldn’t carry on. I did, however, have the decency to leave him his toothbrush, a towel and the distasteful clock on the mantelpiece, a wedding present that his mother had kindly given us.’
I chuckled.
‘My passion for baking spurred me on and after selling our marital home, the small shop with living quarters above in the high street came up for sale. I think it was just meant to be.’
I nodded. ‘It
certainly sounds that way.’
‘I went for it! I decided owning my own shop with a home above would be far better for me in the long run than renting. I’d have the best of both worlds: a place to live and a business to run.’
I could see Lucinda was driven not only by ambition but enthusiasm to match.
‘I bought the shop and put my heart and soul into my business, and I’ve never been happier.’
‘So is Simon a distant memory then?’
‘Ha yes, very distant,’ she replied, manoeuvring the van into a parking space outside the garden centre.
‘That’s enough about me!’ Lucinda smiled, flinging the back doors of the van open. Glancing into the back of the van, I saw boxes and boxes of delicious-looking, mouth-watering cakes.
‘Wow, look at all those.’
‘That, my friend, is only today’s orders. By the time 4 p.m. comes and goes these will all be demolished and the only thing to show for all my hard work will be a few crumbs stranded on the customers’ plates. Sunday afternoon tea is one of their busiest times,’ Lucinda stated proudly.
Entering through the revolving doors of the garden centre, I followed Lucinda into the cafe area.
‘Good morning, Lucinda, perfect timing,’ the waitress called.
Lucinda shouted a good morning back as she went by and headed straight towards the door marked ‘staff only’.
Loading the cakes the aluminium kitchen counter, we were back through the door as quickly as we’d entered it.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ She waved her hand in the direction of the assistant who was suddenly busy fighting off customers whilst she laid the cakes out in the display cabinet next to the drinks.
Ambling into the main hub of the garden centre, I saw the shelves were packed, and I was amazed by all the garden paraphernalia. I gathered I needed a trowel, a watering can, plant pots and plants, and maybe a little compost, but there were hundreds of implements and instruments, every gardening tool known to man. My mind boggled.
‘OK, so what look are you trying to achieve?’ Lucinda asked.
I didn’t have a specific idea in my mind at all; I just wanted to put my own stamp on my little patch, make it more homely, inviting, and brighten it up a touch.
‘Look at those,’ Lucinda squealed. ‘They’re in the sale – bargain price.’
My eyes darted over to where Lucinda was pointing; there before us was a wrought-iron bench with a table to match wrapped up and draped with a large red sale sign.
‘Very shabby chic – they would fit perfectly in the yard against the back wall. You could brighten them up with some soft furnishings and they could probably be left out in the winter. Oh and it would look perfect with a candle flickering away in the middle of the table on those warm summer nights.’
‘I like those and such a fantastic price too. I think they’ve sold!’ I laughed.
‘What’s your favourite colour?’ Lucinda queried.
‘I love all shades of blue and purple.’
‘Let’s head outside to the plant section. I can already see there’s a large selection of geraniums, campanula and lavender.’ Lucinda pointed towards the far aisle. ‘They’ll look perfect combined with a purple and blue flowering clematis climbing up the walls. Grab yourself a trolley.’
‘Isn’t it the wrong time of year to plant them?’
‘Maybe, yes, but they’re in the sale and hopefully, if there isn’t a heavy frost, by spring they’ll be bursting with colour.’
Pushing the small silver trolley up and down the various aisles, I saw rows and rows of potted plants, flowers and shrubs. I was overwhelmed with the beauty that surrounded me, the vibrant colours and the fragrance. Lucinda picked up various plants, checking the roots and holding them next to each other, ensuring the colours complemented one another. Only once she was satisfied did she place them onto the trolley.
I had a fantastic morning; it was the first time I wasn’t dwelling on my parents or Tom in the back of my mind. Chit-chatting away to Lucinda, I felt very at ease and was grateful she’d taken the time to see how I was settling in.
An assistant was kind enough to help us load the bench and table into the back of Lucinda’s van and alongside my watering can, trowel and various ceramic pots, we placed all the plants in cardboard boxes which we found next to the tills. I was very happy with my purchases.
‘Hold on, one more thing I’ve forgotten, don’t move,’ I shouted at Lucinda and quickly ran off back inside the garden centre.
Lucinda stood there looking puzzled, waiting patiently for my return.
Five minutes later I came out with a huge grin on my face, holding a white cardboard box bound together by a green gingham ribbon. ‘We need supplies and your Victoria sponge cake looked too delicious to leave behind,’ I said.
We grinned at each other.
After a short drive we arrived back at my flat. Balancing the table and bench between us, we managed to manoeuvre them through the hall and living room and finally towards the back door.
Once outside we removed the tatty rotten chairs and positioned the new shabby-chic furniture against the wall.
Standing back, we admired them. ‘It certainly looks better already.’
‘I agree – it brings the space to life. Do you fancy a drink and some of your delicious cake before we begin potting those plants?’
‘You read my mind,’ Lucinda said, sitting herself down on the new bench with Alfie, who’d now wandered outside and immediately jumped onto Lucinda’s lap to see what all the fuss was about, before curling up on the bench next to her.
‘I think he approves,’ Lucinda said, smiling.
Shortly after, I came through the back door juggling a pot of tea and two slices of Victoria sponge. Setting the tray down on the table, the china teapot didn’t match the cup and saucers but they were the only ones in the cupboard. Call me old-fashioned but I always think tea tastes better when drunk out of proper china cups, especially when accompanied by cake.
I couldn’t help but make lots of ooos and ahhs as I tasted the delicious sponge cake.
‘Is it nice then?’ Lucinda giggled.
‘Nice? It’s amazing! You are one very talented lady. That was just what I needed. I’ve never tasted cake like this – it is scrumptious,’ I replied with a beaming smile. ‘I wish I’d bought more!’
‘Thank you kindly. All my cakes are made with the finest eggs from the best chicken farm in the whole of Staffordshire,’ Lucinda said, and chuckled.
Even though the air was chilly and we were wrapped up in our coats, there was a lovely atmosphere. We could have sat there all afternoon drinking tea and chatting. I was really glad of Lucinda’s company. I was interested to hear about her daily routine: she was up at the crack of dawn every day baking cakes. She was a marvel and passionate about the business she had started from scratch.
‘We best start the repotting,’ Lucinda suggested, laying all the ceramic pots in a long line in front of the wall. ‘If we water every plant first and then place a small amount of compost in each of the pots, turn the plant upside down carefully, like this, and jiggle them out of their existing pots, then place them on top of the compost and pat more soil around them, we’ll be done in no time! I’ll jiggle – you trowel the compost in.’
This was definitely a job for two people.
I hummed happily while we worked alongside each other.
‘We’ll have this space transformed in the blink of an eye,’ I said, amazed.
‘I was just thinking the same thing,’ Lucinda said, smiling warmly.
Once all the plants were potted, the climbers planted in the large wooden barrels and the shoots tacked to the fence, we stood back and admired our work.
‘Drumroll please. I now declare Kitty Lewis’s yard fit for purpose,’ Lucinda joked.
‘It looks perfect.’
‘It will do once spring arrives; the overall effect will be truly magical.
‘We need a toast, a small
tipple to mark the occasion.’
Hearing clapping behind us, startled, we both jumped out of our skins. Spinning around, we came face to face with Tom and Robin peering over the back fence like naughty schoolboys.
‘Not bad at all, ladies. Looks like you’ve both been busy,’ Tom mused.
I caught Robin’s eye. I hadn’t seen him since I ran out of the pub, leaving him stranded by the bar. He seemed fine and not at all put out.
‘Looks very inviting,’ Robin hinted. ‘I think we should christen all your hard work with a beer.’ He tilted his head, smiling, and as luck would have it … he lifted a carrier bag full of beers up over the fence.
‘This is definitely how Sunday afternoons should be spent, drinking beer with friends,’ Tom said.
‘OK, if we must!’ Lucinda and I answered at the same time, laughing and holding up our hands for a high five.
Chapter Sixteen
A few weeks later my daily routine was more established and I usually left the house for the Lodge at 8.30 each morning. Tom and Jeannie were extremely kind and took care of the early mornings and late shifts between them until I felt a little more confident around my new feathered friends.
Springtime was creeping in fast. The sugar-coated, frosted grass had now been replaced by green shoots swaying in the morning breeze. The daffodils nodded their heads in delight, bees surfed from flower to flower and the flute-throated dawn chorus of birds erupted into song every morning as I cycled up the long path towards the Lodge.
I began to appreciate why it was named Bluebell Lodge – either side of the driveway, bluebells had burst from the earth, covering every spare piece of ground. The outstanding beauty was breathtaking and the scenery all around was truly idyllic.
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