by Holly Martin
Olly turning up and texting me what he wanted to do to me only made things worse. Publicly he was still very attached to Vivienne so Jessica saw Vivienne as the poor scorned fiancé and me as the cheating whore. The police turned up, the paparazzi turned up, though quite how they found out I’ll never know.
I could see she was getting scared and the looks she was giving me was of pure hatred. I told her I felt sick and eventually she untied me to take me to the toilet. I fought her, grabbed a frying pan and smacked her over the head with it. She hit the floor like a sack of potatoes and I ran outside, straight into the arms of Olly.
Of course he kissed me, passionately, not caring who saw. Unfortunately, the world’s press was there and captured it on film for everyone to see. The newspapers were filled with it the next day. And the world waited to see what Vivienne’s reaction would be. Olly and Vivienne had planned a big ‘break up’ for the following week and so it seemed we had accidentally brought that ‘break up’ forward. We expected her to stick to the script and fall in to the loving, caring arms of her best friend Darcy and then for her to come out officially a few months later. Although Olly was never supposed to come out of his ‘relationship’ with Vivienne as the bad guy, we had all gotten what we wanted out of it. Me and Olly could now be together publicly and Vivienne could now be with Darcy. The press hounded us for days and poor Olly got a right bashing in the papers.
Then Vivienne gave an exclusive interview, promising to give her full reaction to Olly’s betrayal. Instead, as the interview went out live, Vivienne confessed to everything, that the whole relationship was a sham, that she had persuaded Olly to be her ‘fiancé’, that she had been too scared to come out and declare her love for Darcy to the British press, but now she wasn’t going to hide it any longer. She actually made Olly out to be quite the hero and that he had been forced to keep his relationship with me quiet for months. The press followed us around for a few days and left us alone after that.
Until we got married. They were very interested in that.
And what of Jessica Axe? Well she was arrested for her assault on her husband and kidnapping me but thankfully it was clear the woman was very unhinged and she is now getting some much needed counselling and therapy. Many of her friends and family vouched for her that she was normally a very sane, very together kind of person. The court case is due for next year. I am not pressing charges for her kidnap and assault on me. I’m sure we’ve all had moments when you want to wrap your hands round someone’s throat and shake the life out of them. I remember one such moment when my now husband phoned me in Wales to tell me my cottage had burnt down. Finding out he had lied to me after a seven hour drive back from Wales resulted in many such ‘how do I kill him’ fantasies. Many of us have the good sense not to act on these fantasies, Jessica Axe lost her good sense that weekend and I hope the judge recognises that and doesn’t punish her for a moment of madness.
You’re too soft. I personally would like her thrown in jail for the rest of her life.
Olly!
The woman nearly killed my wife, I’m not going to forgive that so easily.
So yes, now I’m married and I couldn’t be happier. Our first anniversary will be New Year’s Day.
And like Hetty, we have done a bit of travelling too. We actually met up with her and William in Chicago and they stayed with us for a while in New York. But getting pregnant put a temporary stop on our travels and we came back to Olly’s flat in London instead.
So now I’m fat. I swear if I give birth to a baby cow next week I won’t be at all surprised.
I bloody well will be. The scan showed no signs of udders or horns.
And you’re not fat, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Always have been, always will be.
Still not sexy enough to be in one of your books though eh?
What Fat Annie Butterworth, not a chance.
Ow!
You know I love you, now there’s more of you to love.
The baby was supposed to be here by now; we booked this weekend thinking that we could bring our child to meet all our family and friends. If the baby does not arrive this weekend, I’m being induced on Tuesday.
I wouldn’t actually mind if I had the baby here, it seems fitting somehow.
We are not having our baby in this cottage, we are having him in hospital where there are doctors and medicines and machines to help if anything goes wrong.
Nothing will go wrong. And who says the baby will be a he?
We have tried everything to bring on the labour. I’ve had spicy curries, long walks, hot baths and we even had sex which was the funniest experience I’ve ever had, we couldn’t stop laughing throughout. But to no avail. The baby seems quite content to stay in there, where it’s warm.
I’m going to bed now, need to conserve my energy for when we have sex again tomorrow.
Really?
Oh yes, I’m actually feeling very horny.
Oh ok then if I must.
Like it’s a hardship for you. You were the one that suggested sex might be the answer.
Purely to get the baby to come, it was completely altruistic.
Yeah right. Come upstairs and rub my back, it’s starting to ache again. Maybe this is it!!!!
We are not having our baby here
Saturday:
Shit, shit, shit!
THE END
Acknowledgements
So many people have helped me to get this book out into the wider world. I want to thank them all, but here are just a few.
My mom for reading every word I have written a hundred times over and still loving it every single time. My dad for straying away from his favourite Crime Thrillers to read The Guestbook, for laughing and crying in all the right places, and for loving it so much. My brother, Lee and my sister-in-law Julie, for all your support, enthusiasm and encouragement. Gareth and Mandie George for just being the best friends a girl could ever wish for, your support and love mean so much. Verity Davenport for reading everything so willingly and for your advice and unfailing encouragement. For Arron Davenport for giving me a laptop when mine died in the middle of writing this book. Jac and Mark Rumsey for getting excited for me and listening to me ramble on about it at every opportunity. Wonderful author Belinda Jones who saw something in my writing and helped me to realise my dream by publishing my short story in her Sunlounger anthology, for fighting my corner and for all the advice, support and friendship over the last nine months. The lovely Sharon Sant for being my rock during the lead up to publication, I don’t think I could have made it through this without you. Wonderful book bloggers, Victoria Stone, Kirsty Maclennan, Megan Wood and Laura Lovelock for getting excited about this book, for tirelessly championing and promoting it every single chance they got and for all the efforts in organising my book tour. My brilliant, patient agent Madeleine Milburn who replied to every email and kept me calm. The lovely Aven Ellis for being my friend and for cheering me on. To Hazel Osmond who encouraged me to not give up and gave me so much support. The fantastic Carina authors who took the time to advise me on the whole process. Others that have helped, encouraged, supported, promoted, got excited or just listened; Erin McEwan, Lisa Dickenson, Jaimie Admans, Jack Croxall, Dan Thompson, Rosie Blake, Jodie and James Brown, Zoe Markham, Jess Bickerton, Kelly Rufus, Jo Hurst, Sharon Benjamin, Sharon Wilden, Pernille Hughes, Kate Gordon, Kiri Mills, Trish H, Carolyn Aspenson, Louise Wykes, Pat Elliott, Louise Marley, Janet Emson and so many more, thank you. To all those involved in the book tour and cover reveal. To anyone who has read my book and taken the time to tell me you’ve enjoyed it or wrote a review, thank you so much.
And finally to the wonderful Lucy Gilmour, my lovely editor who fell in love with The Guestbook at Willow Cottage as much as I did, to the whole fantastic team at HQ Digital who helped to see it through to publication, especially to the publishing department who had to deal with all the tricky fonts.
Thank you, I love you all.
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If you enjoyed The Guestbook at Willow Cottage,
read on for an extract from Holly Martin's A Home on Bramble Hill
Prologue
Joy crouched down behind the bush, her heart hammering against her chest. Someone had called the police and now, after two years, she was finally going to get caught.
Her car was hidden in the dark trees behind her and she glanced towards it, trying to decide whether to make a run for it. It was quite far, maybe a hundred metres or more. She peered through the leaves at her would-be captor. He was a lot older than she was and held a bit of weight on his stomach. She was certain she could outrun him. But running would draw his attention, as would the noise of the engine.
She couldn’t get caught, her life would be over.
The policeman walked slowly towards where she was and she tried to make herself as small as possible. He was only a few metres away now. If she was going to run, now was the time to do it.
Suddenly another policeman came round the edge of the house with a dog; a great, snarling Alsatian.
‘Come on Phil, there’s nothing there,’ the dog handler called. ‘There’s no sign of a break in, no damage, it was probably just kids messing about. They’ll be long gone by now. Or shall I release Tiger; he’s dying for a run around?’
Tiger? Joy swallowed as she felt cold sweat prickle her neck.
‘Keep that savage beast on the lead, you know we don’t see eye to eye,’ Phil called back, rubbing his bum as he obviously remembered his last run in with the evil hound.
Tiger and his owner disappeared back round the house and with a last look in her direction Phil turned away too.
Just then her stomach gurgled loudly and Phil whipped back to face her, grabbing his baton like it was a loaded gun.
‘Colin!’ called Phil.
Her heart in her mouth, she leapt up and ran.
‘Oi! Police!’ yelled Phil. ‘Stay where you are.’
Joy leapt over a log and tore through the trees. Behind her she heard Tiger bark and she pushed herself faster. The branches caught her clothes and hair, like fingers dragging her back.
Black metal gleamed in the moonlight and she ran for it. She threw her rucksack into the passenger seat as torchlight danced through the trees towards her.
She quickly started the car, threw it into reverse and seconds later she hit the road. Thanking her brother for teaching her the darker side of how to drive, she slammed her foot on the brake and spun the wheel, executing a perfect J-turn manoeuvre, before tearing off up the road.
The road stayed empty behind her.
She took the first turn off and her wheels screeched as she took several other corners in quick succession. She turned the engine off as she parked outside a quiet, unassuming row of cottages and threw herself across the passenger seat.
A minute later she heard the sound of the police car tearing along the main road. The siren faded into the distance and she knew she was safe.
With a shaky hand, she pushed her hair from her face and waited for her heart to stop pounding. That was close, too close.
Chapter One
‘Please let me lick it,’ Joy said.
‘Uh uh, no way, not in my car,’ Alex said. ‘I’m driving as fast as I can. Bloody stupid country lanes, could you have picked anywhere more remote than this to live?’
She smiled as they passed the village sign: “Bramble Hill; Voted Britain’s Friendliest Village for the Last Nine Years.”
‘I love that it’s in the middle of nowhere. It’s so cute and quiet. Fifty-six people live in this village Al, can you imagine. Pretty soon I’ll know them all by name. There’ll be Mrs Twinkly Eyes who will invite me in for a slice of homemade lemon drizzle cake whilst she regales me with stories from her youth. Mr Silver Hair who will come round to offer advice on my garden, and lovely mummies who will invite me round for coffee and we’ll chat in the garden whilst the angelic little cherubs play quietly nearby. And there’s a local pub, a proper local. Do you know how long I’ve wanted a proper local? Somewhere the landlord knows your name, knows your usual tipple and has it waiting for you on the bar as soon as you walk in. There’ll be cake sales and village fairs and people will give me eggs and fresh vegetables in return for my delicious apple pies. I can’t wait.’
She surreptitiously licked a tiny droplet of chocolate ice cream off her hand and looked up at Alex who was smiling at her.
‘What?’
‘What’s it like in your head Joy, is everything slightly rose-tinted? Your glass is permanently overflowing isn’t it? When it rains you smile because it’s good for the garden. Joy by name, Joy by nature.’
She smiled at the turn of phrase he had used for years as he pulled up outside the house.
He leaned over her looking out on the tiny whitewashed cottage. ‘Are you sure about this place? It’s quite close to Blueberry Farm.’
She frowned slightly. ‘I know. That wasn’t my intention. When I agreed to move here, I had no idea it was so close. Maybe it’s fate though; maybe it’s time I came home.’
His face darkened at this. It was the same disagreement they’d had for the last few years. He put his fingers to his heart. ‘Home is in here, you know that, it’s not a much-revered bunch of bricks. And you shouldn’t allow fate, tradition or sentiment to dictate where you live. You just need to open your heart to new possibilities.’ He brushed a stray hair from her face. ‘This is a fresh start for you; I hope you get everything you want from this.’
‘I’ve had a lot of fresh starts and none of them worked. But I have a good feeling about this place.’ She ignored the protest that Alex was quickly forming and pressed on. ‘It’s not just its proximity to Blueberry Farm. There’s something about here that feels like coming home.’ She negotiated the door handle with her little finger and carefully clambered out, holding the two ice creams precariously in her hands. ‘You’ll see. Moving here will be the best thing that has ever happened to me.’
She ignored the look from Alex. Admittedly, she’d said that for the previous eight places she had lived in over the last few years, but this time she hoped it would be different. She turned back towards the house and walked straight into someone.
‘Oh sorry.’ Joy leapt back and to her horror realised that the man now had two large round chocolate stains on his gleaming, white shirt – almost as if two fake breasts had been painted on. An expensive shirt too, she recognised the little logo on the breast pocket.
‘Oh god, I’m so sorry, I…’
He glared down at her and then down at his shirt in shock. She balanced the ice creams in one hand and fished a tissue from her pocket. But as she started to wipe away the ice cream, all she succeeded in doing was mushing the chocolate stain into a larger area across his shirt. He stood watching her as she desperately tried to get some off but made the stain bigger every time she touched him. Now tissue bits were sticking themselves to the shirt too. She abandoned the tissue, which was now hanging off him, and used her hand instead. As she felt his heart thud against her fingers, he suddenly caught her hand and moved it off him.
Joy’s mouth went dry. The man was huge, the largest man she had ever seen in her life. He wa
s almost like a bear in terms of size and build, the hand that had pushed her own hand away was like a giant paw. His hair was a shaggy, dirty blond mess that fell across his eyes. Slate grey eyes, like thunder clouds.
In stark contrast to the angry bear before her, a shaggy grey mongrel stood at his side, wagging his tail, his tongue falling out of his mouth in what looked like an amused grin.
Emboldened by the dog’s smile, she tried one of her own. ‘I really am very sorry. I’ll pay to have your shirt cleaned of course and…’
Suddenly Alex was by her side, obviously sensing there was trouble brewing.
‘Hey, there’s no harm done here – we’ll pay to have your shirt cleaned or for a new shirt, and as it was obviously an accident it would be a shame to start off on the wrong foot. This is Joy, your new neighbour, and I’m Alex, her brother.’
Joy watched as the big man tore his glare away from her and his eyes slid to Alex.
‘Brother?’ he asked, deliberately ignoring Alex’s outstretched hand.
Alex nodded.
‘For Christ’s sake,’ he muttered as he stormed away.
‘Well you certainly know how to make a good first impression,’ Alex said.
‘I’m sure I can win him round.’
‘I’m sure you can. You’re my favourite person in the world and if he can’t see how fantastic you are, then he’s blind.’