‘It was last time I looked.’ I couldn’t help the huge beam on my face. What a welcome!
‘Our dear Alice, finally home, and that accent, very …’
‘American,’ I finished off her sentence. ‘It’s good to see you, Mrs Jones.’
‘Dorothy, don’t be calling me Mrs Jones, I feel old enough as it is,’ she chuckled, before enveloping me in a tight hug.
‘Let me look at you,’ she said, finally releasing me from her grip and taking a step backwards. ‘All grown up, a beautiful young lady … Bert!… Bert!… Bert!’ she bellowed towards the kitchen door. ‘Look who’s here,’ she said without taking a breath.
Dorothy’s husband Bert poked his head around the door. ‘Where’s the fire?’
‘Look who it is, it’s young Alice, back from America.’ She finally caught her breath.
‘Well I never, so it is!’ exclaimed Bert, tipping his cap and heartily shaking my hand.
‘How are you, Mr Jones?’
‘Bert, call me Bert … Mustn’t grumble. Still taking orders from Dorothy, nearly fifty years married to this wonderful woman and ready for retirement a long time ago,’ his eyes twinkled towards Dorothy.
‘He does tease, he wouldn’t have it any other way.’
‘Golden wedding anniversary?’
‘It’s in a couple of weeks but I keep telling him there’s still time to trade him in.’ She gave a small chuckle.
Just at that moment, Grace walked through the door. ‘Afternoon, Dorothy. I see you’ve discovered who’s back in town,’ she grinned, joining in the jovial atmosphere.
‘We can’t believe it. She’s certainly her grandfather’s granddaughter.’
‘Aye … look like Ted, you do,’ agreed Bert.
‘And how’s your mum? Is she here with you?’
‘She’s fine, Dorothy, but not here with me on this occasion.’
‘That’s a shame, we would have loved to see Rose, wouldn’t we Bert?’
He nodded.
‘You girls take a seat.’ Dorothy ushered us to a table in the front window which overlooked the courtyard outside. ‘Best table in the house. Now let me get you each a slice of cake and a cup of tea.’
‘Thank you, lemon drizzle for me,’ I smiled, not having to think twice about it.
‘Me too, great choice,’ said Grace, sliding into the seat opposite me.
Dorothy gently shooed Bert back into the kitchen before disappearing back behind the counter.
‘Now that’s what you call a welcome!’
‘Lovely couple, this place won’t be the same when they retire,’ said Grace fondly.
‘How did you do at your audition? Any news yet?’
Grace shook her head. ‘No, they email you, but there’s another one in a couple of weeks, Romeo and Juliet, you should give it a stab too?’
‘A show like that would go on for months,’ I answered, knowing I’d swerved the question. I’d battled with crushing disappointment for years so I wasn’t about to put myself up for an audition against the likes of Grace who obviously brimmed with talent. The feeling of failure would be too much to bear.
Grace gave me a wicked smile. ‘That’s the plan. See, there’s a method to my madness!’ she laughed, wagging her finger at me in jest before I glanced down at my phone.
I had one new notification on Facebook, and quickly swiping my phone, I noticed I had a new message waiting for me. Nervous butterflies began to flutter around my stomach when I saw it was a message from Sam:
‘How’s little Miss America today? If you’re free for coffee anytime do let me know. Sam x’
‘You’re smiling,’ noticed Grace as I looked up from the screen.
‘I’m not,’ I grinned even though I knew there was a huge beam spread right across my face.
‘Anything interesting?’ asked Grace, narrowing her eyes at me while I punched back a quick reply:
‘I’d love that, Alice x’
‘Maybe,’ I teased as Dorothy appeared at the side of the table with a pot of tea and two slices of the most delicious-looking cake I’d ever set eyes on.
‘These are on the house but promise me you won’t disappear before saying goodbye.’
‘Too kind, and of course I won’t.’
Mrs Jones turned and bustled back towards the counter. ‘Our Alice back in town, I can’t quite believe it, brightened up my day,’ she was excitedly still mumbling under her breath.
Grace poured us both a cup of tea. ‘Right, Parker, get talking, what’s going on with you?’
In the pit of my stomach I wasn’t looking forward to this conversation, but I knew I needed to confide in Grace. I agonised for a split second and took a deep breath. How did I start this conversation?
‘Hey, come on, it can’t be that bad. Ted is okay, isn’t he?’ she asked tentatively, sensing my hesitation.
‘Yes, it’s not Grandie.’
‘Then what is it? You can tell me.’
A little smile appeared on Grace’s face, followed by a look of anguish.
Feeling nervous, I took another deep breath and exhaled sharply. ‘I’ve not been totally honest with you.’
Grace met my gaze and held it.
‘What do you mean?’ she questioned.
‘I couldn’t audition for Romeo and Juliet in a million years …’
‘Why?’
‘I’m struggling, Grace, and I mean struggling,’ my voice was low and my lip began to tremble.
It was Grace’s turn to listen and I began to talk.
I told her everything, absolutely everything, from feeling like I’d never belonged in New York to failing every audition and living in the most run-down flat. I told her about my life being a mess, and how it had been easier to paint a smile on my face and hide how difficult things had become.
The whole truth was laid out in front of us.
I gulped in some air while Grace hugged her cup of tea. I watched as her eyes widened. There was no mistaking the look of shock on her face.
‘Are you mad at me?’ I asked, but not sure if I actually wanted to hear the answer.
A lump formed in my throat while Grace’s eyes searched mine. ‘Of course I’m not mad, I’m just lost for words, which is actually a first for me.’ She gave a slight smile then exhaled. ‘It’s a lot to take in, this is all so awful for you. Why didn’t you tell me things had got this bad?’
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t straight with you when I arrived. I feel dreadful misleading you, really I do, but I felt ashamed, a failure.’
‘Please, don’t ever feel like that or beat yourself up about that. Things happen. I’m so sorry it hasn’t worked out as you’d hoped, I really am.’ Her tone was warm and kind.
‘Me and you both,’ I admitted, feeling glad I’d finally confided in Grace.
‘I wish there was something I could do. But you, Alice Parker, aren’t a failure, and you can stop with that talk right now.’
‘I feel so useless, though, Grace. I had dreams like you. But all I can manage is a job sweeping the theatre stage.’
After we both tucked into our cake, Grace posed the question to me that was already on my mind: ‘What I don’t understand is why you are both still there? What’s keeping your mum in New York?’ she asked, trying to grasp the whole situation.
I knew exactly what was keeping her in New York … good old-fashioned stubbornness.
‘The argument with Grandie, it’s never been put to bed, but that’s not all …’
‘There’s more?’ she asked, taking a sip of tea.
‘I’ve not told anyone else but this morning, after you left, I disappeared up to Honeysuckle Farm.’
I reached down and fished out the keys from my bag and put them on the table in front of her.
A look of confusion passed over Grace’s face. She still had no clue what was going on.
‘Okay, they are a bunch of keys but what are they for?’ Grace arched an eyebrow.
I took a deep breath. ‘This one …
Honeysuckle Farm … this one … I’m assuming is the spare key for the annexe, this one … I’m not so sure about, but this one … the dancing school,’ I said, my eyes wide.
‘And what are you doing with them?’ Grace moved her tea-cup to one side, folded her arms and waited for me to answer.
‘These … are … the … keys … to … my … future,’ I said slowly, stringing it out for dramatic effect. ‘If I choose to accept, it could all be mine – Honeysuckle Farm, the annexe and the dance school,’ I explained, watching Grace’s face change as my words registered. ‘Grandie has offered it all to me.’
‘Woah! Information overload, this is amazing! How the heck have you kept that to yourself? Would this mean you staying in England? How do you feel about that?’
‘Excited … scared … I feel at home here, this is my home … but I can’t stay, can I? I’m torn between doing something that I want to do and my relationship with Mum.’ My voice faltered just thinking about Mum.
‘So, if there wasn’t this issue between them both, would you stay?’
‘I don’t think we would be in New York in the first place, if I’m truly honest,’ I said sadly. ‘I know it sounds silly when I’ve only just arrived but in here …’ I thumped my chest, ‘it feels right. England is where I belong.’
‘It doesn’t sound silly at all.’ Grace sat back in her chair, her hands cupped around her tea-cup, her mind clearly in overdrive while she sipped slowly.
‘But this will solve all your problems,’ she squeezed my arm over the table. ‘You’ll have a home, a business. That dance school would be back up and running in no time. It’s meant to be. This is your time.’ The excitement danced in Grace’s eyes.
‘It does solve all my problems, and it doesn’t,’ I answered solemnly, trying to keep a level head, even though inside my stomach flipped at the thought of staying in England. ‘How can I leave Mum in New York? She’d never speak to me again! It’s just not that simple.’
‘Tricky one.’
We sat in silence for a second. ‘But surely you aren’t going to say no? You’d be mad to say no. You need to talk to her. Tell her how unhappy you are.’
‘Firstly, the inheritance should technically belong to Mum, as she’s Grandie’s next of kin. How is she going to feel, knowing he wants to give her legacy to me? It would be like a kick in the teeth for her.’
‘Okay, I kind of see your point, but it’s your grandfather’s choice and they haven’t spoken for thirteen years – that’s a long time. What the heck did they fall out about anyway? Did he give you any more clues?’
I shook my head. ‘No, and I wish I knew,’ I told her, sighing.
‘Must be one hell of a falling out. I spoke to Mum about it, but it’s a mystery to her as much as it is to you.’
‘Do you think they still keep in touch?’ I probed lightly, knowing Mum had never spoken about Connie in recent years.
Grace shook her head. ‘I asked Mum that very same question last week when I knew there was a possibility you were coming back.’
‘And?’
‘She said the last time she spoke to your mum was the day we waved you off, the day you left for New York. She was teary when we talked, and felt hurt that she didn’t have a clue about it all, especially with the two of them being best friends for all those years. What happened that your mum couldn’t trust mine or confide in her?’
I blew out a breath, ‘I’ve no idea. The plot thickens and then there is the dance school.’
‘A fantastic opportunity.’
‘But how can I re-open the dance school and run it as a business? Firstly, there’s Grandie, his reputation,’ I continued. ‘He and Grandma were local celebrities, they performed on the stage. Would I ever be good enough to teach people to their standard when I can’t even land a part in a show? It’s a lot to live up to! What if I fail at that too? I don’t want to let anyone down,’ I spluttered, sitting back in my chair and waiting for Grace’s reaction.
‘If you don’t give it a go there will always be that niggle in the back of your mind. You’ll regret it.’
Grace was saying exactly the same thing as Ben.
I tried to put on a brave face, but a tear slid solemnly down my cheek, which I quickly brushed away with the back of my hand.
Grace’s eyes swept towards me. ‘There’s only one thing for it.’ She gave me a knowing look then picked up her mobile phone.
My heart was racing now and my mouth was dry.
‘Which is?’ I asked, watching Grace slide the screen on her phone.
‘Let’s ask Siri! Should Alice Parker live in New York or England?’
We both smiled, the mood lightened a little. ‘Grace Anderson, you are nuts.’
‘Ha! That’s not in dispute!’
In an ideal world, I knew what I wanted to happen, but it was unlikely I could ever persuade Mum to swallow her pride and travel to England to see Grandie.
‘These things have a knack of working themselves out, try not to worry,’ Grace added softly with a reassuring smile.
‘I know,’ I said, relieved to have Grace on my side.
‘But first things first, you need to call your mum, and talk to her.’
I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. Of course, I’d sent the odd text telling her I’d arrived safely and explaining how welcome Connie and Grace had made me feel, but there was this huge elephant in the room and we weren’t even in the same country. The one person each of us avoided talking about … Grandie. Letting out a huge sigh, I told myself I’d ring her that afternoon. Perhaps, if I just came out and said it, it might jolt her into realising there was a possibility that I might well stay in England.
‘I’d be surprised if either of them can remember what they even fell out over. I’m going to phone her as soon as we get back to the cottage.’
‘I think it’s for the best, get it out of the way. At least this way you are being honest with her.’
Grace was right.
‘How’s the cake?’ Dorothy appeared at the side of the table with her hands cupped together.
‘Perfection,’ I smiled, ‘the best lemon drizzle I have ever tasted.’
‘And I second that,’ chipped in Grace.
‘That’s what I like to hear, satisfied customers.’
‘I’ve got to nip out, but please tell me, dear Alice, you are staying around for a little while.’
‘A few weeks at least.’
She placed her hand on my shoulder, ‘Good, good, that’s what we like to hear.’
‘Dorothy,’ called Bert, ‘you’ve forgotten your bag and the file.’
She chuckled, ‘That’s old age for you.’
‘Going anywhere nice?’ asked Grace.
‘You know … WI business,’ answered Dorothy, clutching her bag and file.
‘WI?’ I mimed at Grace, thinking it was some sort of code.
‘Women’s Institute,’ she mouthed back.
‘It’s Village Day, you see. The committee needs the final schedule. It’s getting close now. You will still be here for that, Alice? Oh, we hope so.’
‘You still have Village Day?’ I was amazed.
Village Day was just that, a day where all the local businesses, scout groups, schools and community groups gathered on participating floats and paraded through the village. Everyone would bring their picnic blankets and camp on the grass, enjoying a day of stalls packed with cakes, home-made produce and knick-knacks. There was fun for all the children, games to play and a show put on by the local schools and groups each year on the make-shift stage in the middle of the green.
‘We do, but each year we do miss the dance school’s performance. There has been a massive void since it closed down.’
‘I’d forgotten all about Village Day.’
‘Here, take a leaflet, there’s still time to schedule a performance. Maybe you girls could dance for us this year?’ Dorothy looked hopeful.
But before I could answer, I noticed the smile f
all from her face. Her expression hardened and was it my imagination, or did Dorothy bristle?
Following her gaze, I watched Sam sauntering past The Old Teashop. His earphones were firmly planted in his ears and he was looking in the direction he was walking. My heart flipped at the mere sight of him. Dorothy muttered under her breath, ‘You keep walking. You’re not welcome in here.’
Catching Grace’s eye, I was shocked. ‘What’s that all about?’ I mouthed, but she didn’t answer.
Dorothy’s eyes burned angrily and she didn’t take her eyes off Sam until he’d disappeared out of sight. There was no mistaking the fact that the jovial atmosphere in the café had somewhat plummeted.
A flustered Dorothy was still mumbling something under her breath when she turned round towards me. ‘Alice, my dear Alice, I’m so sorry you have to put up with the likes of him walking the streets.’
Words failed me.
‘This village will never forget. Taken too soon,’ she said, her eyes glistening with tears. ‘We will never forget.’ She patted my arm before leaving the shop and pulling the door shut behind her.
‘Oh my God, what the heck was that all about?’ I asked Grace in bewilderment, feeling the strange tension in the air.
Grace shot me a warning glance before looking towards the kitchen door. ‘Not here,’ she said, her voice barely a whisper.
To me, Sam seemed a normal bloke walking through the streets minding his own business. What had he done to warrant comments like that from Dorothy? And what did it have to do with me? I had no clue what had just happened but I had every intention of digging further.
Chapter 12
Seconds later we both said farewell to Bert and Dorothy and strolled back through the courtyard.
‘What was that all about?’ I asked again, completely and utterly mortified at what had just happened inside The Old Teashop.
Grace quirked an eyebrow.
‘And why did she apologise to me?’ I added, feeling baffled.
‘A long story, and that’s village life for you. People never forget.’
‘What do you mean? Hang on … you’ll have to hold that story right there, that’s my phone ringing,’ I said, quickly rummaging through my bag. I glanced at the screen, ‘It’s Ben.’
A Home at Honeysuckle Farm Page 11