A Home at Honeysuckle Farm

by Christie Barlow

We sat for a moment in quiet contemplation, before I looked up at Sam.

  ‘But things are changing now. Let’s walk,’ I suggested, standing up and linking my arm through his, ‘towards my future,’ I added with a smile.

  Sam gave me an inquisitive stare. ‘Lead the way.’

  Two minutes later I stopped on the pavement outside the dance school and took a deep breath.

  ‘My grandfather has offered me a lifeline. This place,’ I gently gestured towards the sign on the front of the building. ‘The Florrie Rose School of Dance, named after my grandmother,’ I said proudly. ‘Grandie is giving me this place.’

  It took a second for the words to register, then Sam reacted the way I was hoping he would.

  ‘Alice, that’s fantastic!’ He stood next to me staring up at the sign too.

  ‘Not only does he want me to re-open this place, but he’s offered me the farm too. I’ll have a home and a business. This could all be mine on the condition that I move back to England.’

  ‘And …’ his eyes were wide.

  ‘And I’ve made a decision: that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m coming home.’

  Sam’s beam mirrored the huge smile etched on my face.

  ‘This is fantastic news, Alice!’

  ‘I’m glad you think so. Fancy a look inside?’

  ‘Do I ever!’

  Flicking the switch, Sam followed me into the foyer. The light flooded the room and we wandered into the main dance room.

  ‘Alice, this is a fantastic opportunity, you’ll have this place up and running in no time.’

  ‘I will, won’t I?’ I trilled, feeling enthusiastic about the prospect. ‘A lick of paint, a deep clean, and then all I’ll need is pupils.’

  ‘They’ll come flocking in, you don’t need to worry about that.’

  ‘Maybe this is what I’m destined for, Sam – re-opening this place, teaching people to dance, to excel and for the community to enjoy this place again.’ I couldn’t hide the excitement in my voice. ‘When I came back to England, seeing Grandie again opened up a new future of possibilities. And I’m going to give this my all.’

  ‘I have to admit,’ he grinned, ‘I’m a teeny bit jealous.’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my reservations. What if I can’t live up to the reputation of this place, what if I can’t teach? But I’ve taken on a small project, let’s call it a taster.’

  Sam cocked an eyebrow.

  ‘There’s something I want to run past you, and before you make a decision, hear me out.’

  ‘Okay,’ he answered.

  Taking a deep breath, I continued. This was my moment to convince him about Village Day: ‘Putting the situation with Grandie, Mum and the dance school to one side for the moment, I’ve come up with a plan to save Village Day.’

  ‘Save Village Day? What does it need saving from?’

  ‘Mr Cross and his ukulele.’

  Sam laughed.

  ‘Dorothy organises the event, along with the WI, and the final act has pulled out at the last minute, leaving them in the lurch, the only other option being Mr Cross …’

  ‘And his ukulele,’ Sam finished off. ‘But what’s this got to do with me?’

  ‘I’ve made a suggestion to help them out.’

  ‘You’re not going to do a duet with Mr Cross, are you?’ he quizzed, concern written all over his face.

  ‘No! Do I look like the type of person who plays a ukulele? In fact, don’t answer that! No … I’ve suggested Brook Bridge Goes Strictly!’ I shimmied my jazz hands and waited for his reaction.

  ‘Which entails?’

  ‘Me teaching the WI to dance on stage. We have a panel of judges and we’ll crown one of them the winner! Also …’ I continued, not taking a breath, ‘it’s Dorothy and Bert’s golden wedding anniversary, and I’m teaching him to dance so he can twirl her around the stage, but that’s a secret.’

  ‘But I still don’t understand why you need my help,’ he said, puzzled.

  ‘Because … I’ve only got two weeks to teach the women how to dance, so I was thinking …’

  ‘You were thinking …?’

  ‘That’s where you’d come in. You know people in the theatre who can dance. All we would need is maybe yourself and a couple of your friends to lead them around the stage.’

  ‘Dorothy’s not too fond of me, in case you are forgetting that tiny bit of information,’ he said, looking slightly horrified at the suggestion.

  ‘I’ll speak to Dorothy … we need to make this work. Considering the time constraints, it will be much easier if the men know how to dance.’ I took a breath and gave him a pleading look. ‘Will you think about it?’

  Sam looked pensive. ‘What if Dorothy doesn’t like it, how are you going to tackle that? I really don’t want to cause you any trouble. And then there’s your grandfather. He’s only just come out of hospital and doesn’t need the past being raked up.’

  ‘Firstly, I’ll tell Dorothy that my involvement in Village Day is off if she refuses to have you involved. Okay, I’m letting them all down but I’m making a stand. If I’m doing this for the community, then all the community will be involved – otherwise, what’s the point? And as far as Grandie goes, the past has never gone away and it’s time to look to the future.’

  ‘You are a feisty one, aren’t you? And I admire your determination.’

  ‘I like to think I stand up for what’s right. Dorothy and the rest of the WI will soon see they have you all wrong.’

  Sam was staring straight at me.

  ‘So, what do you think?’

  ‘Alice, one of my family killed one of yours.’

  ‘It wasn’t anything to do with you. And he went to prison, he served his time.’

  ‘People don’t forget.’

  ‘Maybe not, but that doesn’t stop us from being friends.’ I held his gaze and refused to look away, taking his hand. We stared at each other for a second; my hand was trembling.

  ‘Let’s do this, all or nothing. How could the situation get any worse?’

  Sam’s face was serious, his eyes gazed into mine. Then I noticed the corners of his mouth begin to lift.

  ‘Okay, just for you, I’ll do it!’

  I let out a squeal and threw my arms around him.

  Sheer pleasure mixed with apprehension ran through my entire body when Sam agreed, especially knowing how certain members of the village behaved towards him. He didn’t have to help me out and I was extremely grateful. I prayed it wouldn’t make things more difficult for him in the village.

  ‘And just one more thing …’ I said softly.

  ‘Which is?’

  I gently leant forward, and placed a soft kiss on Sam’s lips.

  ‘What’s that for?’ he asked, his lips still close to mine.

  ‘Just for being you.’ My voice wavered, exhilarated by the electricity between us.

  He held my head gently in his hands and tilted my lips back towards his and then kissed me. Slow and soft, with his thumb caressing my cheek, and all my troubles instantly fell away.

  Chapter 23

  It was pitch black and the drone of a distant alarm disturbed me out of the finest dream I’d had in a very long time. There I was, curled up in the arms of Sam on the sands of a secluded beach, in our own little private cove with the sound of the waves lapping all around us …

  Damn that alarm.

  Sitting up in bed, it took me a second to realise what the sound of the gong was, and over on the dressing table was my iPad flashing. According to the clock it was 3 a.m. What the heck was someone doing, FaceTiming me at this ungodly hour?

  It was Molly. I swiped the screen.

  ‘Huh,’ I managed to say, trying to focus at the bright light.

  ‘There she is, my gorgeous friend! How’s England treating you?’ She sounded far too cheery for my liking. She paused. ‘Actually, not looking that gorgeous. You look half asleep.’

  ‘Are you for real? I was fast asleep, never min
d half asleep, and I’ve finally got over my jetlag, and you’re waking me up at stupid o’clock.’

  ‘Time difference,’ she gasped, cupping a hand to her face. ‘I’ve forgotten the time difference. Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ she giggled.

  ‘Are you drunk?’ I scrutinised her cheesy grin. ‘Yep, definitely drunk,’ I said, pulling the duvet up to my chest and smiling at her. I did miss Molly. It might be three in the morning, but it was so good to see her. I actually felt a tiny pang.

  ‘A little drunk,’ she giggled again, pinching her thumb and forefinger together.

  ‘Any reason in particular why you are ringing me?’

  ‘Just because … just because I miss you,’ her words slurred a little. ‘How’s it going there? Have you booked your flight home yet?’

  The question hung in the air and Molly seemed to instantly sober up. ‘You are coming home, aren’t you?’

  ‘Here’s the thing, Mol, I’ve every intention of coming home at some point, but a little dilemma has been thrown in my way. It’s a long and complicated story.’

  ‘Spill,’ she stared intently at the screen, waiting for me to answer. ‘I’m going nowhere.’

  And so I told her all about Grandie’s offer and, of course, the quandary with Mum and living in New York.

  Molly’s words were kind when she advised me exactly the same thing as Grace: ‘You only get one life, so live it. Do what makes you happy.’

  Of course I agreed with her, but it wasn’t that simple. Could I put my own happiness before Mum’s, and would I actually be happy if I stayed in England without her?

  ‘Anyway,’ I said quickly, trying to steer the conversation into another direction, ‘tell me what you’ve been up to and how work is.’

  Suddenly, a wide smile spread across Molly’s face. ‘Nothing much happening at the radio station. I got to interview Ben Affleck yesterday,’ she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  ‘Whoa! Stop right there. THE BEN AFFLECK?’ I knew I was nearly shouting now and for a second I forgot it was the middle of the night in England.

  Molly brought her finger up to her lips and shushed me.

  ‘And tell me how lovely Mr Affleck is.’

  Molly swooned and brought her hand up to her chest. ‘Absolutely lovely, and I told him about my mad best friend off on her adventures to England.’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t, I had a fangirl moment and spent the whole time dithering over the airwaves while the rest of New York City were probably thinking, WTF?’

  I chuckled at the look on Molly’s face. ‘So where have you been tonight to get you a little tipsy without me?’

  ‘Jay’s friend got engaged, so there was a small party after hours at the wine bar, and we both know what Jay’s like with his free drinks.’

  ‘Well, he is the best bartender in the city.’

  ‘And what about that handsome Englishman?’

  Remembering last night’s kiss, a huge smile erupted on my face.

  ‘You’ve met him, haven’t you?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Sam’s lovely.’

  ‘I bet.’

  ‘Right Mols, I need to get some sleep.’

  ‘Talk to me soon. Miss you.’

  ‘I will, but at a decent hour,’ I said, blowing her a kiss before flicking off the screen and sliding back under the warmth of the duvet. I briefly considered getting up and making myself a cup of tea, but before I had a chance to climb out of bed I heard the floorboards creak on the landing. Grace was up. I must have woken her while chatting to Molly.

  Hearing a light rap on the door, I sat up in bed. ‘Is that you, Grace?’ I whispered, wondering why I’d said that because who else would it be, it’s not as though burglars would be knocking on the bedroom door in the middle of the night.

  ‘Yes, it’s me,’ said Grace softly, pushing open the door. She was clutching her phone.

  ‘I’m sorry, did I wake you?’

  ‘Wake me … no. But why are you awake?’

  ‘Molly just FaceTimed me, she’d forgotten about the time difference. What’s up, can’t you sleep?’

  Grace perched on the end of the bed. ‘I’ve just had a phone call from Mum.’

  ‘Is everything okay?’ I asked, sitting up, not having a good feeling about this.

  Grace shook her head. ‘Afraid not.’

  My mouth suddenly became dry and my eyes welled up with tears. ‘Please tell me it’s not Grandie.’

  Grace put the phone down on the bed and took hold of my hand. ‘It is. I’m sorry, Alice – he’s been taken to hospital. He’s collapsed.’

  Feeling the sudden wrench in my stomach, I felt like I’d been kicked a hundred times, and the tears began to roll down my cheeks.

  ‘The ambulance has already left for the hospital, but Mum is driving over to collect you now.’

  ‘Please tell me he’s going to be okay?’

  ‘He’s in the best place. Get yourself ready, I’ll give you a shout when she’s here.’

  Grace stood up and left the room. I heard her footsteps echo down the stairs and the light switched on in the kitchen.

  Wearily I stood up, dragged on my jeans, T-shirt and my favourite big baggy olive jumper. I grabbed my phone that was on charge and my bag from the corner of the room, and wiped away a tear before scrolling down to Mum’s number.

  I took the plunge and began to type.

  ‘I need you, Mum. Grandie has been taken to hospital, he’s collapsed. Please come home and see him before it’s too late.’

  My hands were visibly shaking as I pressed send. All I could do now was wait for her response.

  Chapter 24

  Grandie looked so pale and weak lying in the hospital bed. He was hooked up to a machine and I could see his chest rising and falling rapidly.

  Both Connie and I sat by his side, praying he was going to pull through.

  ‘He’s been so good to me,’ Connie finally said, breaking the silence. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without him.’

  I swallowed down a lump in my throat and blinked away the tears. I glanced at my phone one last time before switching it off to save the battery. There was still no reply from Mum. Granted, it was now midnight in New York, but surely she’d have picked up her message when I first texted over two hours ago.

  As soon as Grandie arrived at the hospital, they took him off for a scan and we were still waiting patiently for the doctor to come and talk to us.

  ‘Do you think he misses her?’ I asked softly, not taking my eyes off him.

  ‘I’m assuming you mean your mum?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I know he does,’ answered Connie.

  ‘How do you know? Has he said something to you?’

  She paused. ‘Not as such, but I know him. I spend a lot of time with him, and since you’ve come back he’s been more pensive.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘The dresser in the gallery is jam-packed with old photographs, and the night before last he was sitting in the drawing room and was mooching through them all. I made him a mug of cocoa and that’s when I noticed him clutching a photograph of your mum. He quickly hid it back in the pile and wiped away his tears when he noticed me, but whatever they fell out about is deep-rooted.’

  ‘Do you think their argument is anything to do with me?’ I’d been wracking my brains since I got here, trying to work out what it was all about.

  Connie shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, Alice. Remember, your mum was my best friend, and I’m just as stumped as you are.’

  ‘The day we left, did you ask her?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Your mum couldn’t look me in the eye. All she said was, no doubt it will come out one day and everyone would hate her. I thought she trusted me, but obviously not with this … That hurt.’

  ‘This bizarre situation has begun to make me think about something else too, Connie.’
<
br />   ‘Go on,’ she answered softly.

  ‘Do you think this has anything to do with my father? Do you have any idea who he might be, Connie?’ I asked impulsively.

  I’d no idea where the question had suddenly come from or why tears had sprung to my eyes or why I was asking about it now. Over the years I’d never been curious about my father at all. Mum had always been enough for me, but who was my father? And, where was he? Like everything else in this family, he was another subject that no one ever spoke about.

  I could see Connie battling with her own conscience. It was written all over her face that she knew something.

  ‘Do you know who he was?’ I probed further, feeling a teensy bit guilty for pushing her, but I couldn’t help thinking that maybe this was something to do with the situation between Grandie and Mum. Maybe Grandie hadn’t approved of him? I might be clutching at straws but maybe that was the missing piece of this jigsaw.

  Connie didn’t have time to answer as Grandie spluttered and opened his eyes.

  ‘You’re awake.’ Feeling relieved, I smiled warmly at him.

  He extended a hand, which I took.

  ‘You don’t get rid of me that easily,’ he spoke slowly, his eyes drooped and exhausted.

  ‘I’ll get the nurse, she needs to know you’re awake.’ Connie stood up and kissed him on top of his head before disappearing out of the room.

  ‘My mouth is dry,’ he nodded towards the glass of water which I held to his lips before mopping his brow with a damp flannel.

  ‘Is that better?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  He clutched my hand and I noticed that he gulped. ‘There’s no big mystery, you know.’

  ‘Big mystery about what?’ I asked, confused.

  ‘Your father.’

  I swallowed – he’d heard me ask Connie.

  ‘Really? How come I don’t know anything about him or even who he is? It’s never even been spoken about for all these years.’

  ‘You’ve never brought this up with your mum before now?’

  I shook my head. ‘Never really thought about it much. There was the odd time when I’d wonder, but I’ve never had the urge to delve further. I was quite happy with it being just me and Mum. So, what do you know about him?’ I asked, my hands fiddling with the hem of my jumper.