A Home at Honeysuckle Farm

by Christie Barlow

  She opened the gate and we headed up the path.

  The front garden was utterly gorgeous, striking in fact. There were so many flowers blooming, the beds were bursting with colour. ‘This is so beautiful and quaint,’ I said, admiring the pink roses straggling through the hedgerows. ‘Very English countryside.’ It was a far cry from my own front garden in New York, mainly because I didn’t have one. The door to my block of flats was grey with a chrome keypad to enter the darkened stairwell, and I didn’t even have the luxury of a flowerbox hanging from my front window. Where I lived was completely dull and colourless.

  ‘Look at those roses … simply stunning.’ I leant forward and inhaled the rich scent from the prized flowers that danced in the light breeze.

  ‘I worked hard on this little piece of paradise when we bought this place and never in a million years thought I’d end up living on my own here after such a short time,’ Grace said, fishing the keys out of her bag. ‘It was difficult at first, but I’ve made it just the way I want it. It’s my home and I love it.’ She pushed open the door and we followed her into the small hallway.

  ‘Meet Harry.’ Grace knelt down and scooped up a long-haired black-and-white cat. ‘He’s the only reliable man in my life and that’s the way it’s staying – well, for now, anyway,’ she grinned, handing me the cute bundle of fluff who immediately purred and butted his head gently against my face.

  ‘He’s adorable,’ I exclaimed.

  ‘Let me take your suitcase and show you up to your room. Follow me,’ Grace insisted, hanging her coat on a peg and climbing the stairs while Connie disappeared down the hallway.

  ‘There’s a bathroom in there and that’s my room,’ she nodded towards the door at the far end of the landing. ‘You’re in here,’ she said, pushing open the door with her foot while dragging the case behind her. I put Harry down on the floor and he immediately jumped up on to the bed and gently padded the duvet with his paws. I took in my surroundings.

  ‘Look at this place, very shabby chic.’ On the bedside table there was a lamp and a small vase of colourful flowers. The antique rose bouquet bedding looked so inviting on the single bed and lengths of triangular floral bunting featured strongly, as did the twinkling of fairy lights draped across the light-pink pastel walls, giving the room a very homely feel. There was a single wardrobe, a dressing table and a pink stripy rug that lay on the exposed wooden floor and an idyllic view out of the bedroom window. ‘Now this is what you call a room with a view,’ I said in utter amazement, staring out on to the fields beyond. Again, so different from the view I was used to back in New York.

  ‘It’s quite a sight, isn’t it?’ Grace stood by the side of me and looked out of the window. ‘Eventually, this room was going to be a nursery, but how things change in such a short space of time!’ She spoke with a twinge of sadness to her voice.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ I admitted, thinking of how happy Grace had seemed when she’d announced the news that they’d finally got the keys to this place.

  ‘What can you say? Finn wasn’t the person I thought he was. Within hours of finding out he’d been having an affair, I stripped the house of all his belongings and changed the locks. You’d never have known he’d ever lived here. He moved straight in with her and signed the house over to me.’

  ‘Guilt?’

  Grace nodded, ‘Probably. At times, the mortgage is a struggle with the type of work I’m in. Things can get a bit tight, but I’ve had a good run with Mamma Mia and managed to save enough for the next couple of months, in case I find it difficult to get work.’

  ‘Have you got anything else lined up?’ I asked, lifting my case on to the bed. I thought back to my own dreary flat in New York, so unlike the soft comfort of Grace’s home. I could cope with Grace’s kind of tight, if this is what I had to come home to every day … a beautiful cottage with spectacular views and no drum and bass pounding above my head into the early hours. This was heaven, pure heaven.

  ‘There’s a few auditions coming up which my agent has put me forward for, so fingers crossed, but you need to tell me what you’ve been up to. After graduating from performing arts … well done you, by the way … your lack of status updates must mean you’re extremely busy.’

  ‘Yes, very busy,’ I answered. The words tumbled out of my mouth before I’d thought about what I was going to say. I didn’t want to stand there and admit I was a failure or share with Grace that I was living in a run-down flat, struggling to pay my bills with barely any money to my name. What would she think?

  ‘Yes, in fact …’ again I wasn’t thinking, ‘I’m just waiting to hear about an audition … a huge show opening on Broadway.’

  Inside I was screaming to myself, Alice, what are you doing? Just tell the truth! I couldn’t believe I’d lied to Grace. I felt so underhanded, but she’d assumed I had it all, and I couldn’t face admitting to her that the truth was so very different.

  Grace was successful, living the dream, and I wasn’t. I didn’t want the focus of conversation to be on me – I’d only just arrived. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about how it had all gone wrong for the girl in New York City. The reason I didn’t post regular updates on Facebook wasn’t because I was too busy. It was more down to the fact that I didn’t have anything to say. Surely, there was no harm in telling a tiny white lie.

  ‘How exciting! I knew you’d make it big and in New York too. You had that raw talent … anyone could see that, even at an early age. I tell all my friends about you … my friend is a star in New York! Everyone is jealous … I can only dream about being that successful.’

  How dreadful did I suddenly feel, misleading Grace like that? I needed to put her right straight away … but I didn’t. I swallowed, opened my mouth, but no words came out. I hadn’t meant to give her the impression I was something special, I was far from special, but for the first time in a long time, it was heart-warming to think someone actually thought I could be successful and capable of achieving my dreams too. That part gave me hope and boosted my confidence a little. So I wasn’t quite ready to spout out how difficult things were back in NYC. Did anyone really need to know?

  My heart squeezed with guilt for giving Grace the wrong impression, and giving myself a small shake, I managed a slight smile.

  ‘At least you can recharge your batteries while you’re here on holiday,’ said Grace.

  The word ‘holiday’ echoed in my head. Usually a holiday was a short period of time away from your work and then you returned home, but already, within a couple of hours, I felt more relaxed than I had in a long time, away from the bright lights of the city. Brook Bridge village was already drawing me in and I hadn’t even seen Grandie yet.

  ‘What are you pair doing up there?’ Connie shouted up the stairs. ‘The food’s ready.’

  Grateful for the change of focus and thankful this conversation was over for the time being, I gave a small sigh of relief.

  ‘Coming,’ Grace shouted. ‘Are you okay with Harry sleeping on your bed?’ He was now curled up in a tight ball and fast asleep at the foot of the bed.

  I smiled at him, ‘He’s absolutely fine there, I don’t mind at all.’

  Animals had been a huge part of my life when I lived in England and I missed the unconditional love they provided. I can remember feeling disappointed when I signed the lease for my flat back in New York, and the very last clause stated no pets were allowed, not even a goldfish.

  ‘Can I quickly use the bathroom to freshen up?’ I asked, taking the washbag out of my case and pulling a brush through my hair.

  ‘Of course, there’s a bundle of fresh towels in there. Help yourself to anything, treat the place like it’s your own.’

  Five minutes later, feeling refreshed, I wandered towards the kitchen. Connie had rustled up a delicious-looking ham-and-egg salad with homemade onion chutney and fresh crusty bread. ‘Eggs from the chickens at Honeysuckle Farm,’ she smiled. ‘Simply divine, and homemade pickles too.’


  ‘This looks delightful,’ I hungrily announced, sitting down at the table opposite Grace who was scrolling on her phone. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’ve received a message from Molly on Facebook,’ Grace flicked her phone towards me, ‘asking if you’ve arrived safely.’

  I gasped. ‘I forgot to message her and Mum when I landed. I’ll do it now. Talking of Facebook, I flicked through your latest photo album.’ I wasn’t sure why but the photograph of Sam Reid immediately popped into my mind. ‘You looked amazing.’

  Grace picked up her knife and fork. ‘Thank you. The cast’s last night together – it’s always sad when a production comes to an end. I’m actually feeling pretty gloomy about it. It becomes your whole life and then suddenly there’s nothing, but you’d know that feeling.’ Grace flicked a glance in my direction.

  I didn’t say anything but felt yet another pang of guilt at not confiding in them both about my current situation.

  ‘In fact, were your ears burning? You were the hot topic of conversation,’ Grace now teased, giving me a wink.

  ‘Ha! Me?’ I asked in wonderment when I realised she wasn’t joking. ‘How come?’

  Grace took a mouthful of water and put her glass back on the table. ‘I mentioned you to one of the cast members, told them my best friend from across the pond was a superstar and you were jetting in from New York for a visit.’

  ‘Far from a superstar,’ I managed to say.

  ‘Says the one who is far too busy to update her social media due to her hectic schedule!’

  Grace gave me a knowing smile and I could feel my cheeks redden at the mere thought that my little white lie was already coming back to haunt me only seconds later. Why did I have to give the wrong impression? The embarrassment and guilt were gnawing away at me, I knew I was no superstar. ‘Over-exaggeration,’ my voice came out a little sharper than expected.

  ‘Don’t be modest, credit where credit’s due, and it was only Sam I was chatting to.’

  My ears pricked up, ‘Sam?’

  ‘Yes, Sam … Sam Reid, the lead role in the production we’ve just finished.’

  My heart was racing now.

  ‘He was very impressed I had a friend who lived in New York City, in fact we need to have a drink with him while you’re over here.’

  Of course I was nervous about meeting the man in the photograph I’d admired from afar – but also a little excited. ‘I think I saw him in one of your photos: tight T-shirt, Levi’s jeans.’

  ‘You did notice him and scrutinised his photograph, by the sound of it,’ smiled Grace.

  ‘Maybe a little,’ I smiled, feeling the crimson flush to my cheeks.

  ‘You’d get on well, both of you are top of your game … are you blushing?’

  ‘Leave the girl alone, give her time to settle in before you go teasing her,’ Connie joined in, trying to rescue me from Grace’s scrutiny.

  The blushed cheeks had everything to do with Sam Reid but were also helped along by the high pedestal everyone seemed to be putting me on, which I’d encouraged by not offering the truth straight away about my life and career.

  ‘What about the kids we went to school with? Sarah, Sian, Lizzie and Ben, are they still living around these parts?’ I asked, safely steering the conversation away from my failing career.

  ‘They all moved on after university. Sarah’s a vet, Sian’s a doctor and Lizzie works on one of the national newspapers in London. They all discovered life outside the village, but Ben is still here.’

  ‘Works for his dad’s building firm. The yard is still in the same place, just off Captain’s Lane, and doing very well, by all accounts. The new development we drove past on the way in is all down to them,’ Connie chipped in.

  I gave a low whistle. ‘Definitely doing all right for himself.’ Inside my mood slumped a little further. It seemed there was only me out of the old gang that wasn’t in the least bit successful. For the past twelve months, I knew I’d been stuck in a rut, unable to see my way out of it all. Every day it had been a struggle, the same old same old, and there had even been days when I didn’t want to climb out of bed and sweep the stage of the theatre. I wanted more, and I knew I was capable of more. Things needed to change and hearing about how successful my old school pals were gave me a jolt. Inside a spark of determination ignited, just like the feeling I’d had when I was a little girl dreaming of a life on the stage.

  ‘Is the dance school still open?’ I looked towards Connie and took a sip of my drink.

  She looked up, ‘Afraid not. It closed down the day you left.’

  I raised my eyebrows. ‘The day we left? Really? That’s so sad,’ I answered, feeling a gush of emotion, but I suppose in all honesty that was what I’d expected to hear.

  ‘It was very sad, it affected the whole community. All those children and adults suddenly without dance classes. Some had been coming to the school for years. It affected Ted’s mental state in a big way. He felt like he’d let everyone down, so he hid away in the farmhouse for a while. He couldn’t face anyone, the questions …’

  ‘Was there any chance of him handing it over to anyone else?’ I asked, already knowing the answer and unable to keep the slight note of sadness from my voice.

  Connie regretfully shook her head. ‘No, that was Florrie’s school, a family business. He would never have entrusted it to anyone else.’

  I pressed my lips together, not knowing what to say.

  ‘I suppose without the support of Rose he would have found it difficult to manage. He didn’t want to interview new staff,’ added Connie, her eyes blinking sadly at me. ‘It was one of those things … timing.’

  ‘What happened to the school? Did Grandie sell it?’ I asked, thinking it had probably been bulldozed for houses by now.

  ‘No, he didn’t sell it. Funnily enough, Jim and I were talking about it only this week. The dance school is still locked up and Jim checks on it on a weekly basis.’

  ‘Really?’ I asked, amazed. ‘And it hasn’t been used since?’

  Connie said sadly, ‘Ted couldn’t bear to part with it … Memories, I suppose.’

  I wasn’t sure why but all of a sudden I felt emotional, my eyes prickled with tears and my throat became tight. Even though it hadn’t been my choice to leave back then, a wave of guilt washed over me. The day we left for New York, Grandie had lost everything: us, the dance school and his life within the community. It was so sad to hear.

  I slapped the table as a thought occurred to me. ‘I’d love to see it, while I’m here,’ I blurted, hoping that was a possibility. ‘Jim has the keys, you say?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ replied Connie. ‘And of course you can. I’m sure your grandfather won’t mind at all.’

  Delighted by Connie’s enthusiasm, I realised the dance school still held a special place in my heart. That had been my grandfather’s empire, his passion and a huge part of my childhood. How would it feel to step back inside that building? A shiver of excitement ricocheted through my body at the very thought.

  We spent the next twenty minutes enjoying our food and chatting about all the people I might remember in the village. The pair of them reeled off a long list of names, mainly from the dance school days, but I couldn’t remember half the people they mentioned.

  ‘Dessert?’ asked Connie, standing up and collecting the empty plates from the table.

  ‘Not for me, thank you.’

  ‘Or me,’ Grace smiled up at her mum. ‘Sit down, I’ll clear away in a moment.’

  ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to get going, leave you girls to it,’ she said, slipping her arms into her coat and grabbing her bag from the worktop.

  ‘Thank you for picking me up from the airport,’ I said, smiling up at Connie.

  ‘You are more than welcome. Shall I collect you around eleven-ish tomorrow and we can visit your grandfather? Would that time suit you?’

  ‘Perfect,’ I ans
wered with a little apprehension. I was beginning to feel nervous about seeing him again.

  Connie must have noticed the look on my face. ‘There’s no need to be nervous, I promise.’

  Grace stood up and kissed her mum on the cheek before Connie disappeared out of the cottage.

  ‘Here, have a look through that while I wash up.’ Grace handed me a programme from the latest production she’d performed in.

  ‘I’ll help you clear up.’

  ‘You will do no such thing,’ Grace insisted. ‘Sit and relax, it won’t take long.’

  ‘I could get used to this.’

  Grace began to run the hot water while I browsed through the thick booklet she’d handed me. ‘Wow! Good photo of you there,’ I cooed, incredibly proud of her. ‘Just think where it all started, in a little village dance school.’

  ‘I know, two superstars from the same community.’ She flashed me a grin, placing the dishes on the drainer.

  This was my opportunity to come clean, to tell Grace I’d never made it on to the stage, I’d never passed an audition or even got a call back. My face would never be printed in a programme. But I didn’t tell her. Instead I kept quiet, not wanting anyone’s pity. I didn’t want people to know how badly I’d failed, so I brushed over it once more, hiding the fact that I was a disappointment.

  Turning the pages casually, I knew at any second Sam Reid would once again be staring back at me, and there he was on page twelve, making the hairs on the back on my neck stand to attention.

  Grace must have noticed I’d gone quiet and glanced over my shoulder.

  ‘Sam Reid, Birmingham Hippodrome’s favourite heart throb.’ Grace pressed her lips together then whistled softly.

  ‘Which I’m assuming is undisputed.’ I knew I was staring gormlessly at his picture. ‘It’s a hard job but someone has to do it,’ I murmured, still not able to tear my eyes away from the page.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Will Sam Reid be joining us in the pub tonight?’ I bit down on my lip to stop my smile from escaping.

  ‘No, afraid not, but I’m sure it’s more than likely you’ll bump into him very soon.’