by Helen Rolfe
Contents
Title Page
About the Book
Part Three: A Winter Wish
Chapter One: Sam
Chapter Two: Veronica
Chapter Three: Audrey
Chapter Four: Audrey
Chapter Five: Sam
Chapter Six: Audrey
Chapter Seven: Veronica
About the Author
Copyright
About the Book
This is part three in a heartwarming four-part serial from Helen Rolfe, author of The Little Village Library.
A little kindness can go a long way …
Veronica’s cottage is the neatest house on Mapleberry Lane. A place for everything, and everything in its place – that’s her motto. But within her wisteria-covered walls, Veronica has a secret: she’s hardly left her perfect home in years.
Then her teenage granddaughter, Audrey, arrives on her doorstep, and Veronica’s orderly life is turned upside down. With a little help from the residents of Mapleberry Lane, Audrey forms a plan to help her gran reconnect with the community: a kindness club, carrying out one generous action a day to make their world a better place – and perhaps help each other at the same time.
As their small acts of kindness begin to ripple through the village, both Veronica and Audrey find that with each passing day, they feel a little braver. There’s just one task left before the end of the year: to make Veronica’s own secret wish come true …
The Kindness Club on Mapleberry Lane is an uplifting story with community at its heart, about the little kindnesses that make the world a better place. This is Part Three.
PART THREE
A Winter Wish
Chapter One
Sam
Sam made herself a cup of tea and cradled it against her chest, the heat warming her through her dressing gown; her mum’s old house didn’t have quite the same level of insulation as she’d been used to in her previous home. It was early December, the weather had well and truly turned, and already Sam had no doubt they’d be enjoying the open fire in the lounge today. The good thing, if there was one, about her mum never leaving the house was that it was never a waste of time lighting a fire; it would be appreciated and watched over the entire day.
Winter frost set the scene in the back garden of Number Nine Mapleberry Lane as Sam stood looking out of the kitchen window. A dusting of white glistened on trees and shrubs when the sun shone down and already Sam suspected it was going to be one of those beautiful crisp days you could watch for ever. A robin redbreast came to perch on the bird table, disrupting the frost which scattered to the ground.
‘Always makes me think of Christmas.’ Veronica had crept downstairs so softly Sam hadn’t heard her. Or maybe she’d just been in a world of her own.
‘What does?’
‘The robin.’
‘That’s right, your Christmas card every year has a robin as part of the design.’ Sam watched the bird as its little head kept flicking left to right, beady eyes taking everything in and spindly legs ready to take flight whenever it liked. Her mum’s cards weren’t exactly the same every year, there was always some variation. Perhaps it was a robin with its breast as vibrant as the pillar box it stood on top of, or the bird was perched on a log covered in snow, or maybe it was nestled among holly and big red berries.
Veronica’s celebrations of Christmas included sending cards, to whom Sam had no idea, but very little else. Or at least that’s how Sam remembered it. Sam had been the one to put up the tree when her mum retreated into herself all those years ago, it had been Sam who organised presents to be around the tree so it was some semblance of normality for everyone. She had no idea what her mum did now to mark the occasion.
Veronica made a cup of tea for herself. ‘Audrey won’t be up for ages yet. Teenagers sleep for hours – I remember those days.’
Soon it wouldn’t affect Sam quite as much because yesterday she’d finally signed on the dotted line for a one-bedroom flat. Audrey was to stay with her gran for the time being while she finished school and although Sam had been resistant at first, she’d wondered whether a little distance between them could end up bringing them closer in the long run. Audrey had certainly seemed very happy with the idea.
‘You need to tell her, Sam.’
Sam didn’t need to ask what her mum was referring to. She knew, and she’d put it off for a long while now, ever since the autumn. Her ex-husband, Simon, seemed to be leaving it up to her to tell their fifteen-year-old daughter that although he had this wonderful new life in New Zealand, he didn’t want her to go over there to join him. No doubt Simon was worried about what this would do to his relationship with his new wife and children but Sam liked to think he was also concerned about Audrey. And so he should be, it was his fault she’d been so wrapped up in the idea in the first place, whether it was intentional or not. If he’d said from the start that she was better off in the UK at least until she was much older, if he hadn’t filled her head with all these images of a life that seemed out of reach, then Sam wouldn’t be having this dilemma now.
‘She’s only just started talking to me more,’ said Sam. The robin had hopped off somewhere else while she’d been distracted.
‘None of this is your fault – it’s Simon’s.’
‘You really think she’ll see it that way?’ Sam tipped the dregs of her tea into the sink and rinsed her cup, looking out again to see the robin this time perched on the highest point of the frosty rockery at the end of the garden. ‘It’s beautiful out there today.’
‘It’s what you might call a perfect winter’s day,’ said Veronica. ‘I can’t wait for it to snow, that muffled effect I can feel even inside the house.’
Sam didn’t often mention her mum’s agoraphobia. She’d always known what it was; she’d covered similar topics in her degree course as well as picking up enough from literature she’d read when she tried in vain to cope with it, at a time when all she wanted was her mother back, but understanding and sympathising was different when applying it to your own family, especially when its effect on you had been so powerful.
‘How about we walk to the end of the garden together later?’ Sam suggested.
Veronica hesitated. ‘I’ll see. Maybe.’
Sam sighed. ‘I wish you’d get some help.’
‘Leave it, Sam. I’m happy as I am. Content. Old.’
‘You’re not fooling me or anyone else.’ Sam could see plenty, apart from the new hairdo – fear, worry, all etched into her expression even when she was smiling. Sam had noticed Audrey trying to coax her gran into doing more, becoming a part of the bigger world hovering outside the doors of her home. Or were they trying to fix something that couldn’t be fixed? ‘I’m going to go for a long walk round to the fields today to see the big Christmas tree. I walked the other way to the community centre last night so I didn’t get to see it.’ There’d been no talk as yet of having a tree in the house and Sam didn’t like to mention it too often.
‘You’ll enjoy it. I’m hoping the Facebook residents group has lots of photos on there.’
‘How are you enjoying the new group?’ Audrey had got her gran involved in the online Mapleberry Village Residents Group and Veronica seemed to have got into the swing of it. ‘Did you see the photos of the community mosaic wall?’
‘They’re impressive. I did my best to spot my crockery in pieces but…’
Sam smiled at Veronica’s little joke. The community mosaic wall that separated the local community centre from the road had been a Mapleberry project for months. Locals had smashed up
old plates, bowls, teapots, mugs – whatever they could get their hands on. And those pieces were glued into place in the shape of flowers, leaves, grass, a couple of butterflies and even a gnome, making the most glorious colourful garden scene up against what had once been a rather dull wall. Last night had been the grand unveiling and although Sam hadn’t got to go with Audrey, she’d seen her face through the crowds, looking on and glad to have been involved in the destruction of china as well as adding her creative flair to some of the tallest flowers.
‘The photos don’t do it justice,’ said Sam, ‘it’s wonderful, really colourful. A little bit of summer even though we’re now into winter.’ She almost wished she’d been in the right head space to help with it along the way, but seeing the finished results would have to be enough.
‘I could easily waste a lot of time looking at everyone’s posts and photos if I’m not careful,’ said Veronica before Sam took her turn in the bathroom while it was free.
Sam left the house less than an hour later, bundled up in a midnight blue wool coat with a grape-coloured bobble hat and matching scarf as well as ankle boots lined with so much fur it made her feel as though she had a pair of slippers on. The high street across the way was ready for the season. Although not lit up now, even at a distance Sam could see the lights that had been strung from lampposts; as the day went on and the sunlight faded, the darkness would give the illuminations their full effect. Shopfronts had twinkly lights around their windows and the pub in the distance had enough lights around the entrance, it would be like a beacon come nightfall. The café was kitted out for the festive season too and along with the winter-themed menu they had fairy lights strung along the walls, a tree in one corner with multi-coloured twinkle lights and Christmas music played softly in the background, lulling customers into a relaxed, cosy environment they didn’t want to leave. Clare had even added a deep grey sofa to one corner as well as an armchair that was a customer favourite, and Veronica had knitted some lovely charcoal cushions to go on them both. Charlie, however, always stuck to his favoured table by the window each time he came in.
The wind lay low and as Sam turned the corner towards the field, the same green where she and local kids had played rounders every summer, a big smile spread across her face. She hadn’t seen the Mapleberry Village tree in years. Not visible from the café when she finished work, this was her first chance to see it in all its glory since the big switch on a few days ago. She’d heard plenty about it from those coming into the Mapleberry Mug, but seeing it for herself was something else entirely. She crossed the grass, frost crunching beneath her feet, and she put out a hand to touch the branches, just like she had when her parents, and later just her dad, had brought her here. The spiky pine needles left their scent on her gloves and put a smile on her face.
Footsteps behind her made her turn and a big smile greeted her. ‘Feels like Christmas, doesn’t it?’ Charlie, wrapped up with his collar grazing his jaw, reached out to touch the tree himself. ‘Not long until the big day.’ He pushed his hands back into the pockets of his navy jacket.
‘What brings you here this morning?’ She watched his breath come out white against the cold air.
‘I’ve worked overtime for a few days – this was my first chance to see the tree. And I couldn’t coop myself up at home when it’s such a lovely day. Look at that sky.’
‘I know, that’s exactly why I couldn’t stay in the house any longer.’ It was little moments like this that made her heart clench to know her mum only ever got to experience the changes in weather, the hopping from one season to the next, from behind glass or at best, up to the perimeter of her house. Coming here had been a real family affair, once upon a time. ‘I’m hoping for snow this year. I don’t normally wish for it, it creates havoc on the roads and getting to and from work becomes a nightmare. But this year…’ she tilted her head back in the direction of the high street.
‘You’ve got such a terrible commute – I don’t know how you do it. I mean, the café must be all of a few hundred metres from home,’ he teased.
When he stood beside her, the sleeve of his coat brushed against her arm and even though there was too much material between them to feel much of a difference, she felt a jolt at how close he was. Charlie had certainly been a pleasant bonus when it came to starting over in Mapleberry although for a long time Sam had been reluctant to let her feelings towards him show when she felt sure Audrey wouldn’t like it. Then there was the fact she’d likely leave the area soon enough. True, she had a flat lined up now, but Audrey’s feelings had to come first.… Still, it didn’t stop her enjoying his company whenever she could, appreciating the moments as they came along, the warmth of his smile, the kindness in his voice that had the power to settle her.
‘I’m all for snow this year too,’ he announced. ‘I’ve got a fortnight off over Christmas. But I’m hoping for the kind of snow that keeps people indoors with their families and not on the roads, then whoever is out in the ambulance won’t be as busy.’
‘It must be hard when you work over Christmas. How does Layla cope?’
‘She gets it, she’s understanding for an eight-year-old. I try to have every other Christmas off if I can manage it, and if I’m working and we’re quiet, sometimes I sneak in to say hello. I managed to pop in on her and Veronica last year.’
‘She went to Mum’s for Christmas?’
‘I thought Veronica might have mentioned it.’
Sam shook her head. ‘We’ve started to talk a lot more, but not about Christmas.’ Her attention was drawn back to the big tree, wondering what it would look like tonight, bedecked in all its glory, lights showing off the chosen ice-pink and silver baubles, the soft pink ribbons tied to branches. ‘Mum stopped celebrating Christmas properly a long time ago. Unless that’s all changed.’
‘I don’t think it has,’ Charlie confided. ‘But I was stuck last year and you know Veronica, she stepped in.’
Actually Sam didn’t know Veronica as a person who had ever been able to save the day, at least until now, until she and Audrey had landed themselves on her. Sam often wondered why she’d really done it. She probably could’ve managed with Audrey up in Cheshire, but maybe subconsciously she’d thought it time to test whether her mum could ever be a part of their lives again.
‘Do you mind your mum being so close to Layla?’ He must’ve misread her reaction, the surprise that Veronica had been able to step up and help out.
‘Not at all – it’s nice she has her, and you too.’
‘Last Christmas Veronica did the big Christmas day dinner with pigs in blankets – I provided the food so didn’t leave her much choice – as well as a chocolate yule log Layla got to help with, so she stepped up to save the day with my daughter by letting her be as festive as she wanted to be. They watched three movies that day and Layla was as happy as ever when I collected her. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if your mum hadn’t helped – paid through the nose for a babysitter no doubt and it wouldn’t have been the same. Layla felt like she had family and wasn’t deserted.’
‘That’s nice. I’m glad for Layla and for Mum.’ She was beginning to see that as much as she thought she knew her mum and her ways, there was so much she still didn’t understand.
‘I wasn’t sure what kind of neighbours I’d end up with when I moved to Mapleberry but Veronica was a complete surprise. I hope you know that we watch out for her as though she’s a part of our family.’
‘I’m beginning to see that.’
‘Layla hugs her all the time now,’ he smiled. ‘I think she was wary at first, but it was always going to happen sooner or later.’ They moved away from the tree when others came to admire it and they wanted their conversation to remain private. ‘May I ask why your mum doesn’t celebrate Christmas? She sends cards but other than that, I don’t think she does anything.’
‘It’s kind of a long story.’
‘Layla is at a friend’s house for lunch so I’m free all day. How about w
e head to the café and get ourselves warm?’ He was smiling at her in the way he always did, the way that somehow told Sam he wouldn’t judge, he’d listen, he’d understand.
Clare would love that; she was forever teasing Sam about how often Charlie came to the café, most likely so he could see her. But Clare wasn’t working today. ‘You’re on. We’ve just started serving festive treats that are ridiculously bad for the waistline.’
‘In that case, show me the way!’
Inside the Mapleberry Mug, they sat at Charlie’s usual table. While Sam hung her coat on the back of the chair, he went up to the counter to order two hazelnut hot chocolates.
‘I had them put the whipped cream in a dish on the side,’ he said when he came back with the tray. ‘Might be a bit sickly otherwise.’ He took off his layers and they settled in by the window, the low hum of conversation blanketing the café so they could talk privately.
It was time for Sam to make an admission. ‘I’m pleased you and Layla are so close to Mum,’ she began. ‘We rarely talked before I sent Audrey down here, and when I realised she wasn’t as alone as I’d first thought, it made me feel less of a terrible daughter. What?’ She met his gaze. ‘Surely you’re not going to claim otherwise. You knew I existed, right? You must have had an opinion.’
‘I tried to not think anything,’ he replied, diplomatic as ever. ‘Veronica never said a word against you. But she did mention you from time to time. She never went into detail but I’ve been around enough to know that what we see on the surface isn’t necessarily what we should believe.’
‘Well, Layla is very good for her,’ said Sam.
‘And so is Audrey.’
‘I don’t think that was the case when Audrey first hurtled her way into Mapleberry. Off my hands, but into Mum’s, and it sounds as though sparks really did fly.’ She added a dollop of the cream and stirred it through her hot chocolate making it a little richer but not too sickly.
‘It was hard for them both at the start, I believe – Layla filled me in on a few confrontations. But Audrey soon began to slot in. And over time Layla and I came to think of Veronica’s home as having two people living in it rather than just one.’