A Home at Honeysuckle Farm

by Christie Barlow

  ‘My grandfather is ill, and it’s been a very long time since I’ve seen him. It may be the last time I ever see him,’ I said, giving Jay a watery smile.

  ‘Will you come back?’

  ‘Of course, I’m just unsure when at the minute, but I won’t stay away too long,’ I promised.

  ‘I will miss you, my Mary Poppins.’

  I smiled at Jay. The moment I’d first walked into the bar with Molly, Jay had guessed I was English. Over time I’d obviously picked up an American twang to my voice but there was still a hint of an English accent underneath. He’d called me Mary Poppins – a nickname that had stuck.

  ‘You too, Jay.’

  ‘When do you go?’

  ‘Day after tomorrow.’

  Jay fell silent and took a second to absorb this information. ‘So soon.’ He looked towards Molly whose eyes had misted over. ‘Drinks definitely on me tonight.’ He touched my arm tentatively before returning to the bar.

  For a moment, Molly and I stared out into the impressive night sky in silence, sipping our cocktails and lost in our own thoughts until she broke the silence.

  ‘Who am I going to drink with when you’re gone?’

  ‘You make it sound like you have no other friends! You have a whole gang at the station.’ I smiled at her.

  ‘It’s not the same though, is it?’ She poked out her bottom lip sulkily. ‘You’re my best friend.’

  ‘I’ll be on the other end of an iPad, we can FaceTime each other and I’ll be back before you know it.’ The words left my mouth, but they didn’t sound convincing, not even to myself.

  Molly pointed her index finger at me. ‘You’d better be, or I’ll come and find you.’

  Even though we’d both laughed it felt like there was an air of uncertainty hanging over me. Did I really want to come back to this life? I couldn’t see how my misery would change here, with the same old same old, day in and day out.

  The band in the corner were now in full swing and a jovial group of thirsty drinkers had arrived, enjoying the beginnings of a night at the bar. Jay was busy entertaining them and preparing their drinks.

  Molly eyed me carefully, the straw of her cocktail poised at her lips. ‘Do you want to talk about this afternoon?’ she asked. ‘I was surprised when I received the text.’

  I swung my gaze back towards Molly, swallowed hard and felt the colour drain from my cheeks. I knew it was the question she’d wanted to ask all evening.

  ‘I would have gone with you, you know,’ she continued smoothly, ‘you didn’t have to face it on your own.’

  That afternoon, I’d never been so nervous in my whole life. Auditioning for a lead role in a production was one thing – the nerves always kicked in – but that didn’t even come close to how I’d felt visiting Mum and telling her I was travelling back to England. My hands were sweating, I’d felt nauseous and I honestly thought I was going to pass out.

  ‘I know, thanks. But once I’d got it into my head that I was going, there was no stopping me. I had to get it over and done with.’

  ‘And dare I ask?’ Molly sat back to look at me carefully.

  Mum had opened the door with a beam on her face, then right on cue, made her usual comments, like how she wasn’t expecting me and to excuse the state of the flat. Of course, the flat was immaculate with not a thing out of place. Then, just like every other time when I’d turned up out of the blue, we had the usual spiel – if she’d known I was coming she would have fetched some groceries, etc., etc. I knew she was struggling to stay afloat as much as I was, and I’d often thought about moving back in with her but when I started college I’d become independent. I wanted to do things my way, I’d needed to grow as a person and going back to live with her would have been tiresome for both of us in such a small space.

  I drained my glass. ‘The subject of Grandie was difficult to raise, believe me. I felt like I was walking on eggshells. In the end, I just showed her the message from Grace on my phone.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And she stared at it for a minute but didn’t say a word. She carried on folding the washing like she hadn’t even read it.’

  A curious look appeared on Molly’s face. ‘Then what?’

  ‘I told her I was going back to England. All she said was, “You do what you need to do.” I could see it troubled her, the colour drained from her face and there were tears in her eyes, but she just stared at her hands which were visibly shaking. It upset me to see her that way.’

  ‘Does she know when you’re leaving?’

  I nodded, ‘Yes, I told her. She stood up and disappeared into her bedroom for a while and I could hear banging about. Then she reappeared clutching a small blue book.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘A bank book …’ I took a breath. ‘She told me that ever since I was a little girl, Grandie had been putting money into a savings account for me. She’d no idea if he still did it, as the book couldn’t be updated, but once I’m back in England I can check at the bank and withdraw the money.’

  ‘How much is in it?’ Molly enquired with a questioning look.

  ‘Five thousand pounds, but that was the amount thirteen years ago.’

  I’d been astounded when I’d opened up the book. I’d no idea that Grandie had been saving for me. Mum claimed she hadn’t mentioned it before because, after her falling-out with Grandie, she hadn’t wanted to take anything from him. She was uncertain how to withdraw the money with only the old-fashioned bank book, but now I was returning it should be easy to sort out. The money was mine and all I would need was my birth certificate and driving licence to prove my identity.

  Molly gave a low whistle, ‘That’s an unexpected surprise.’

  I nodded. ‘To be honest, it couldn’t have come at a better time. And it means I don’t have to put my flight on a credit card. You know how those things frighten me, and the interest soon mounts up.’

  ‘Yes,’ Molly agreed, ‘but with this money you can pay it off as soon as possible and have enough left for your flight home.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I smiled at her. ‘I even asked Mum to come with me, but she just shook her head.’

  ‘Did you attempt to change her mind?’

  ‘Of course, I tried, but she just wouldn’t discuss it. She told me to leave it, repeated that I had to do what I had to do, then stood up and started folding the washing again in a kind of trance. It was like I’d never said anything in the first place.’

  After telling Mum it had felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, but I was worried about her. She looked fraught, her shoulders were slumped and now it seemed like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. I knew I couldn’t push the conversation any more but one day I was determined to uncover the secret that had driven us from England.

  ‘It must have been one hell of a disagreement,’ Molly probed.

  ‘It was, and there’s only two people who know the truth, and that’s Mum and Grandie. Mum isn’t talking – she never has – but I can see she is hurting. She must miss him too.’

  ‘It’ll be pride.’

  ‘Stubborn pride. How can you let things slide so badly?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but there’s one thing I’ve learnt in life, there’s nothing as funny as folk or family disagreements.’

  I knew the argument I’d witnessed had been heated and had split the family up but the whole situation still puzzled me. We’d had a good life at the farm, everything had been peaceful and calm and we’d both had a relationship to treasure with Grandie, up until that day.

  In New York, Mum had done a variety of jobs, just like me. Mostly jobs she detested, with unsociable hours, but she made enough money to put food on the table. On the surface, she put on a front for everyone, but underneath I knew she was sad and had lost the zest for life she once had in England.

  There she’d been a respected dance teacher, working in the family business. Each year she’d choreographed the village show and the local children a
nd elderly had flocked to her lessons, enjoying every second of them. She must miss her life back in England. If only I could turn back time to the day before the argument, both our lives might have panned out differently.

  I managed a weak nod. ‘What if he dies Mol, and she hasn’t put things right?’ A tear slipped down my cheek just thinking about it. ‘Surely she wouldn’t be able to live with herself?’

  Molly jumped up from the chair and immediately wrapped her arms around me with a hug. ‘You can’t beat yourself up over that, that’s her decision. You’ve asked her to go back with you and she’s said no. What more can you do? It’s her choice. You’re doing the right thing, doing what you need to do. That’s all that matters,’ she reassured me, but it still didn’t stop me from feeling anxious leaving Mum behind. I wanted her to come with me.

  ‘I’m going to miss you, Molly.’

  ‘Don’t go all soppy on me, you’ll have me crying,’ she insisted, trying to keep her voice steady.

  ‘Hey you two, no time for tears in my bar.’

  Our eyes slid towards Jay who’d appeared at the side of our table. ‘And your glasses appear to be empty,’ he grinned, slipping another two flutes of fizzy prosecco cocktail down in front of us and picking up the empty ones before balancing them on his tray.

  ‘You know what Jay, you are the best barman in the city,’ Molly tipped him a wink.

  ‘Thanks Jay, you’re a superstar,’ I added with a watery smile.

  ‘Do get I a hug, Ms Poppins, before you go?’

  ‘You certainly do,’ I replied, standing up without any hesitation.

  Jay hugged me tight. ‘Hurry back soon, it’s not only Molly who will miss you.’

  ‘Make sure you look after her while I’m away.’

  I tipped my head towards Molly who blinked away her tears.

  ‘Without a doubt,’ he answered, flinging his arms open wider. ‘Come on, group hug. And when you get back, I’ll take my two favourite ladies out for a night on the town.’

  ‘That’s worth coming back for,’ I smiled at them both, trying to put on a brave face through my tears but knowing it was unlikely I’d be back any day soon.

  Chapter 3

  I lay on top of my bed with my laptop open and scrolled through my messages. There was nothing of much interest except a few audition emails, notifications of upcoming Broadway Shows which I’d subscribed to. I sighed then hit the unsubscribe button. What was the point in torturing myself, reading those emails? After all, they only ever resulted in yet another rejection letter.

  Logging on to Facebook, I clicked on Grace’s profile which was a portfolio of success compared to my own disappointing timeline. Currently, she was starring in the musical Mamma Mia in the city of Birmingham. I’d followed her career over the last few years and marvelled at how well she was doing. She was living the dream – our dream – the dream we’d had as small children, two best friends. Of course, I was happy for her, but a part of me felt envious of the roles she’d played and what she’d achieved.

  I noticed Grace had uploaded an album of photographs, herself and the cast from her latest production enjoying a night out. She looked stunning, her long russet wavy hair bounced on top of her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled. The Cath Kidston floral dress she wore with her vintage-stitch scallop-edge cardigan looked like something straight out of a fashion magazine. She was standing alongside different groups of people in the various photos, drink in hand and always wearing a perfect smile. I casually flicked through the album, but I didn’t know any of them. They all had that immaculate polished West End look about them, bright smiles and not a hair out of place.

  As my eyes flicked over the next photo the hairs on the back of my neck prickled and a flurry of goosebumps ran down my spine. My eyes locked with a pair of mesmerising hazel eyes and an almost perfect symmetrical face. This man had stopped me dead in my tracks, which took me completely by surprise!

  ‘He’s undeniably a damn fine-looking man,’ I mumbled to myself as my breath caught in my throat and I hovered over his name tagged in the picture … Sam Reid.

  ‘In fact, that’s what you’d call orgasmic.’ I knew I was talking to myself, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the photo. I stared at him for a moment longer and felt my body flush with warmth. Something inside me had awakened. I was, purely and simply, attracted to him. There was a softness to his eyes and a gentleness in his smile which drew me in. He sailed the fine line between handsome and downright sexy. This was a photo of a person I’d never met but felt an immediate connection to, a feeling that had been missing from my life for a long time.

  ‘Who are you talking to?’ Molly asked, appearing in the doorway with a grin. ‘Do I need to send for the men in white jackets?’

  Even though I’d been expecting Molly, I jumped out of my skin. ‘Ha, funny, just talking to myself, as you do,’ I answered, smiling. ‘In fact, I’m just looking through Grace’s uploads from last night,’ I said, scrolling back to the first photograph.

  Molly pointed at the screen and sat down next to me. ‘I love Grace’s dress. Very quintessentially English.’

  ‘She knows how to dress.’

  ‘And who’s that?’ Molly’s eyes were wide, her finger pointing at exactly the same photograph that had caught my eye.

  ‘Sam Reid, according to Facebook.’

  I looked closer at the photo again. He was standing next to Grace with his arm draped around her shoulder wearing a faded vintage T-shirt and Levi jeans.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind ruffling my face against that chest,’ Molly rolled her eyes.

  ‘Molly! You’re taken,’ I said, slightly miffed, even though I knew she was joking and Sam Reid lived on the opposite side of the world, and who knew whether he was in a relationship or not?

  ‘That T-shirt is fitting snuggly around … well, actually, every muscular part, and those eyes, oh and that shaggy, mousy hair …’ She tilted her head and dreamily put her hand on her heart.

  ‘Just for you, Molly. Stalk all you like while I nip to the restroom.’ I stood up and stepped over my packed case before glancing at my watch. ‘Time’s ticking, the taxi will be picking me up in fifteen minutes,’ I said, with mixed feelings, sad I’d be leaving Molly behind, but with a realisation that life wasn’t offering me any new challenges of late. In just a few hours I would be flying halfway across the world and who knew what my adventure might entail? I felt a twinge of excitement at the thought of it.

  ‘I know, I don’t want to think about it, but this Sam Reid is going to help us pass the time before you fly off back to the land of farmyards and people who speak like the Queen,’ she attempted an English accent before tugging the laptop towards her and tipping her head towards the screen.

  ‘They don’t all have accents like the Queen, you know,’ I insisted with a smile, disappearing inside the bathroom.

  ‘Works on the same production as Grace,’ she shouted after me, ‘according to his Facebook profile, but I can’t see whether he’s single or not. There’s no relationship status.’

  ‘Not everyone lives their life through Facebook, you know.’ I grinned at my own reflection in the mirror, waiting for Molly’s outburst.

  ‘Mmm, is that a dig at me?’ she exclaimed huffily, knowing full well she checked in at every bar, and documented her life like it was a Reality TV show.

  ‘If the cap fits.’

  ‘You have some very funny sayings, however … oh no!’ she suddenly exclaimed the second I walked back in the room.

  ‘What have you done?’ I asked, noticing the mischievous glint in her eye.

  She tried to arrange her face into an innocent expression. ‘I hope you don’t mind but I accidently pressed the friend request button when I was scrolling through his profile.’

  ‘Oh God! You haven’t?’ My eyes fell towards the screen.

  Molly scrunched up her face and bit down on her lip.

  ‘He’ll have no clue who I am!’ I said in mock indignation but secretly curious
to see if he noticed I was friends with Grace and accepted the request. I closed the lid on the laptop and stowed it away in my bag.

  ‘Something tells me it’s going to be an interesting trip back to little old England! I’ll be watching your every move, Alice Parker, whilst I’m missing you like hell!’

  I swiped her arm playfully. ‘By the time I get to England you’ll find yourself blocked from all my social media!’

  ‘Such a spoilsport,’ she laughed, rolling her eyes. ‘Sometimes the English are so uptight!’

  Chapter 4

  Taking a deep breath, I paid the taxi driver and climbed out of the cab. I’d arrived at Newark airport wheeling my case behind me with my rucksack slung over my shoulder. The blast of air conditioning inside the terminal building was a welcome relief after the blistering heat outside, but a twinge of sadness hit me as I made my way through the revolving glass doors.

  In the pit of my stomach there was an unsettling feeling regarding Mum. I’d looked over my shoulder as I’d climbed into the taxi, hoping to see her, but she wasn’t anywhere to been seen. I’d texted her to let her know I’d left for the airport and slight relief flooded through me when she replied, telling me to have a safe journey and that she loved me.

  Shoving my sunglasses high on my head, I glanced at my watch. I’d given myself loads of time and once I’d checked in I’d have enough time to relax and settle my nerves.

  Thankfully, according to the departure times on the plasma screen, the flight to Manchester was on time. I’d only travelled once before on a plane and that was when we’d arrived in America, but I’d always kept my passport up to date. Deep down I knew I’d return one day.

  Inside the terminal building the white floor tiles gleamed as people hurried over them, pulling suitcases, checking watches and tapping on mobile phones. Everywhere people seemed in a state of mad panic. There were two glass elevators leading to the upper levels and kiosks dotted about manned by harassed-looking cashiers. I chewed on my lip and looked around in bewilderment, everywhere was so busy. My stomach was churning with nerves, I’d no idea where to go or what to do.