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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2018

Copyright © Christie Barlow 2018

Cover illustrations © Shutterstock.com

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018

Christie Barlow asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008240929

Ebook Edition © April 2018 ISBN: 9780008240912

Version: 2018-03-13

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

For Sharon Pillinger,

Whose tireless cheering and continuous

excitement for my books has never

gone unnoticed.

Thank-you.

Love AB x

Prologue

At ten years of age, Brook Bridge village was all I’d ever known. Nestled right in the heart of the countryside on the outskirts of Staffordshire, it was a quaint little village that radiated olde-worlde charm with its narrow streets and timber-framed properties, many of which boasted thatched roofs. It was a close-knit community where everyone was friendly and people looked out for each other. I loved everything about living there.

The summer months were always the busiest, when visitors would flock to admire the old, striking Tudor buildings and explore the nooks and crannies of the shabby-chic shops and historic pubs that lined the cobblestoned high street.

I’d look forward to Sunday mornings, my favourite time of the week, when I’d stroll with Grandie over the arched stone bridge which led us to a quaint courtyard that was a magnet for painters and photographers. On the corner we’d relax outside The Old Tea Shop, hugging our hot chocolate and treating ourselves to one of Mrs Jones’ scrumptious cakes that were truly delicious.

I lived with my mum on the fringes of the village at Honeysuckle Farm, in the annexe which was attached to Grandie’s three-storey rustic brick farmhouse. I’d felt safe ambling about the barns, riding my bike over the uneven grass and splashing about in the stream. The countryside surrounding the house stretched for miles and in the quilted fields of golden and green squares knitted together by the hedgerows grew potatoes and root vegetables for all those delicious autumn stews that Mum would rustle up. And not forgetting the abundance of fresh eggs laid by the chickens which roamed freely around the farm. It was simply the best place to live.

Beyond the corncribs there was a rickety old wooden bridge that arched over the trickling stream with its rust-coloured willow bushes growing on the banks; this was my favourite spot. I’d sit on the huge grey rock at the foot of the maple tree and watch Billy, the chestnut Welsh cob, graze in the field.

I’d just broken up for summer, the long school holidays stretched out before me, and I was happily waiting for my friend Grace to come over for a play day. As I jumped and splashed through the shallow waters of the stream in my Wellington boots, I didn’t have a care in the world.

Little did I know that my life was about to drastically change …

Happily skipping back towards the farmhouse, with the promise of buttery scrambled eggs on homemade granary bread, I flung open the door to the porch that housed an array of boots, coats and umbrellas. Kicking off my muddy wellies outside the back door, I felt slight disappointment that there were no delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen. Marley was curled up in his basket at the foot of the Aga, but the sleepy spaniel never even attempted to open his eyes when I walked into the room.

It was at that moment that I heard raised voices coming from the living room. Barely daring to breathe, I tiptoed down the hallway, my eyes falling towards the gap in the living-room door.

Grandie was standing at the far end of the room, his hands resting on the mantelpiece of the huge stone fireplace, his head bent low. Mum was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, her eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

He let out a long shuddering breath and turned back towards Mum, who shifted her gaze towards him.

‘Jesus Christ, Rose,’ he shouted at her, ‘when the hell were you going to tell me?’

Mum was now physically shaking but she didn’t answer him.

I’d no idea what was happening or what Mum was supposed to have done, but a feeling of trepidation rushed through my body. An eerie atmosphere swathed me, one I’d never felt before, cocooned in my perfect idyll.

Rooted to the spot, I waited anxiously to see what would happen next.

As Grandie’s voice continued to boom I felt scared, my heart hammering against my chest. I’d never heard Grandie shout before, and I’d never heard him and Mum argue. I didn’t like it, I didn’t like it one little bit.

‘Everything I’ve done for you, and this is how you repay me.’ Grandie’s face was flushed.

Mum hung her head once more, unable to look him in the eye.

‘I thought I’d brought you up better than this. How could you betray me like this? Have you no shame?’ He snorted with disgust. ‘Get out of my sight, I never want to see you again.’ His face was thunderous, his eyes dark.

Those words jolted Mum.

I held my breath, not daring to move.

‘W-w-what do you mean?’ Mum stuttered, her cool façade now slipping and tears beginning to stream down her face.

‘Exactly that, get out of my sight,’ his voice boomed again, causing her to spring to her feet.

‘Are you serious?’ This time her eyebrows shot up and she dared to hold his gaze.

‘Deadly serious.’

The words hung in the air.

‘Right then, in that case I’ll go and you’ll be sorry,’ she spat, storming towards the door. ‘I’ll go where you can’t find me, and I’ll take Alice. You’ll never see her again, if that’s how you feel.’

‘You are not taking Alice,’ thundered Grandie.

‘I will and I am. I’m her mother, you can’t stop me,’ she shouted through her frustrated tears.

Her words penetrated my heart. Feeling shocked, my eyes misted with tears.

‘How can you do this to me? You know how much I love that girl. If you walk out that door with Alice we’re finished … forever.’ He moved towards the table and thumped his hand down, sending a cup and saucer crashing to the ground.

Mum was about to fling open the door and I was suddenly terrified of being caught standing on the other side. She couldn’t discover me listening to their conversation. For a split second, Mum hovered with her hand on the door handle and gave a dismissive shrug. ‘If that’s what you want …’

Sensing my knees were about to crumble, I quickly crouched down at the side of the grandfather clock and held my breath. Her voice trailed off as she flounced past me and disappeared up the stairs. She didn’t spot me, much to my relief.

Forcing myself to stand up, I stole a quick look into the living room before racing back through the kitchen and thrusting my feet back inside my boots. I ran and ran over the fields until I flung my hands around Billy’s neck, who nuzzled my pockets looking for carrots.

I thought back to Grandie who had been slumped down in his chair. He’d raked his hand through his hair before doing something I’d never seen him do before: he cried.

I’d no idea what he and Mum were arguing about but just twenty-four hours later I was strapped into the back of a taxi, tightly hugging my teddy bear. Of course, I’d asked where we were going but Mum wasn’t forthcoming with any answers. ‘Stop asking questions Alice, you’ll see when we get there,’ was all she offered me.

Mum’s best friend, Connie, had clutched on to her arms at the bottom of the steps to the farmhouse. ‘I don’t understand why you’re leaving. Where are you going? What’s happened?’ The barrage of questions tripped off her tongue, but Mum never answered any of them. In a trance-like state Mum muttered something then swiftly pressed a kiss on to Connie’s cheek before hugging her and clambering into the passenger seat of the taxi. She never even gave as much as a fleeting glance backwards.

I had no idea where we were going or why. All I knew was I had this wretched, nauseous pain in the pit of my stomach. Feeling scared, I snuggled my teddy bear and blinked back the tears. As the taxi pulled away from Honeysuckle Farm, I looked up and took a last glance towards the farmhouse. There was Grandie, standing in the bedroom window. He placed a hand on the pane of glass in front of him and I did the same. His tearful, saddened eyes never left mine but as the taxi reached the ornate black iron gates at the end of the drive he got smaller and smaller, before he finally disappeared out of sight, and the pain twisted in my heart.

Little did I know that this would be last time I saw Grandie for thirteen years.

Chapter 1

New York City, thirteen years later …

Hearing a knock on the door, I knew immediately it would be Molly, you could set your watch by her. Molly Gray had been my best friend for the last three years. She was a proper city girl, born and bred in New York and living in a second-floor apartment near the corner of 57th Street and 9th Avenue on the west side of town. I, on the other hand, had arrived thirteen years ago as a terrified and bewildered child, and I had always felt I struggled to fit in. I was now living in a dingy flat in a less salubrious area of Manhattan, a place full of unfamiliar sounds and smells and where everything and everyone were constantly on the move. It was a million miles away from the country village upbringing I’d had, and often, I’d long to hear the familiar sounds of a cockerel or the bleat of a lamb. Occasionally I’d dream that I could freeze the constant motion and walk the streets silently, at my own pace.

Every Sunday morning, come rain or shine, Molly would power her legs around Central Park for a good hour or so before grabbing a coffee and a catch-up at mine when she’d finished.

‘The door’s open,’ I shouted, ‘I’m in the kitchen.’

Molly soon appeared in the doorway, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks aglow.

‘Morning,’ she panted, switching off the latest gadget that was measuring her performance and heart rate. ‘Not a bad time,’ she muttered to herself.

Her slender body was poured into the tightest, most flamboyant running gear you’d ever set eyes on and an abundance of rust-coloured hair was escaping her pony-tail as she hooked it behind her ears.

‘This was sticking out of your mail box,’ she said, placing the flyer down on the table in front of me before slumping on to the chair. ‘That’s right up your street,’ she said, sneakily pinching a piece of buttered toast from my plate then grinning at me.

Auditions for Wicked

The Majestic Theatre

Broadway, New York City

‘What, are you saying I’m a witch?’ I smiled up at her, hugging my third mug of coffee of the morning.

‘A good witch,’ she chuckled, ‘but this morning looking more like one of those English eighties rock stars. What’s with the make-up thing?’ she waggled her finger towards my face before standing up and sliding her Nike-swathed feet over the brown tatty lino that had seen better days towards the coffee pot.

‘It wasn’t the best night I’ve ever had, let’s put it that way,’ I answered, placing my mug on the table and looking up at Molly.

‘I’ll pour us both a coffee and you can tell me all about it. It can’t be that bad.’ Her tone was sympathetic.

‘Sorry, but there’s no more coffee, I’ve run out … again.’

Molly peered at the coffee pot then back to me, her expression a mix of surprise and sympathy, but she had no idea how difficult things really were. I immediately felt guilty for not sharing my woes with her, but the last thing I wanted was pity.

‘You can have this one,’ I offered, sliding the mug over the table towards her.

‘It’s okay, you look like you need it more than me. I’ll grab a water from the faucet.’

‘I don’t get paid until tomorrow.’ I sighed, ‘But there’s a couple of slices of bread left if you fancy some more toast.’

Molly gave me an inquisitive stare before pulling open the door to the refrigerator. Every shelf was bare except for a mouldy block of cheese wedged right at the back.

‘What are you planning on eating today?’

I shrugged, feeling totally helpless. I hadn’t even thought that far ahead yet. I didn’t want to think that far ahead.

‘Dunno, I’ll probably end up with a couple of Twinkies,’ I replied partly in jest, but deep down I knew if things carried on the way they were this could become reality.

‘Have things really got that bad?’ Molly’s tone was now a little more serious.

‘Oh Molly, I just can’t make ends meet, no matter how hard I try,’ I answered, not meeting her gaze. ‘It’s really difficult to find work, with a decent wage, working decent hours. Every job I go for has already been filled or the salary only just about covers my rent, leaving nothing for anything else. I don’t want to be working dead-end jobs; I want a career, I want to work in the area I’m trained for, but I just don’t get past the auditions. Something has got to give. I can’t carry on like this.’

Molly shut the refrigerator door before squeezing my hand, but stopped short of telling me it was going to be all right. It wasn’t. In fact, it hadn’t been all right for the last few years, but lately things had been slipping further out of my control and I was unable to hide it any more. There was a pile of unpaid bills sitting on the table in front of me and to make matters worse, I was already a month behind with my rent.

‘Let me help you.’

I didn’t realise I was holding back the tears, but I clearly was, as her kind gesture soon had them flooding down my cheeks.

I shook my head, ‘Thank you, that’s a kind offer but no, you have your own bills to pay. This is my problem, not yours.’

‘Don’t be crazy Alice, you’re my friend, my best friend. I can stretch to some groceries for you and help you sort out this mess. Have you told your mom?’ she probed lightly.

‘No,’ I confirmed, ‘the diner she was working at has just closed down and I know she’s in a similar situation. I didn’t want to go worrying her.’

Molly gave me a concerned look and pulled out a chair and sat down at the table opposite me.

I thought back over my last three jobs and blew out a breath. I’d handed out leaflets in Times Square for a pittance, worked unsociable hours in a twenty-four-hour burger joint which was usually frequented by drunks and undesirables, and currently I was employed as a cleaner at a theatre on Broadway. The money barely covered my rent, never mind extras for food or nights out. I couldn’t afford new clothes and every day was a struggle. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Last night had been a turning point for me, I’d decisively told myself that something had to change. I needed to take control.

‘I had dreams once Molly, and look at me now. Can you remember when we first met?’

Molly smiled, ‘Of course I remember.’

Molly and I had met three years ago while doing an impression of a tin of sardines on the subway. It had been rush hour and we’d been travelling in the same direction towards Times Square, holding on to the same metal handrail. We’d both noticed him at the same time.

‘Look at those lashes, jealous!’ Molly had whispered to me and I’d chuckled.

I couldn’t help but stare at his bright-blue eyes, his rugged cheekbones and those eyelashes. Molly had been right, they were incredible. Any girl this side of the city, actually any side of the city would have died for those lashes. His attire, which consisted of a bright-purple velvet suit, a brown top hat and a gold bow tie, was causing a little commotion with another group of girls sitting nearby. And I was mesmerised too, he had a certain aura about him.

The train slowed down and he jumped off at 42nd Street. But just before he did, he’d turned to us with a twinkle in his eye and whipped out two golden tickets to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

As we hopped off the train close behind him, we watched as he disappeared through the hordes of people.

‘It’s not every day you get a ticket to chocolate heaven,’ Molly sighed, and I laughed, stuffing the ticket inside my handbag. We walked and giggled all the way to Times Square.

In that short walk, something between us just clicked and we got on like a house on fire. I told her I’d just graduated from performing arts and about my dream to perform on Broadway.

Molly invited me for a coffee and we strolled up 6th Avenue in the New York sunlight towards the radio station, the place where Molly had worked since leaving school. She told me she’d started off as a general dog’s body, answering the telephone, making endless cups of coffee and generally avoiding the wandering hands of the guy on the news desk. But now, with her quick wit, hard work and determination she’d secured a place behind the mic and worked the afternoon show between five and seven o’clock on weekdays.

I was in awe of her, and as we walked through the glass doors of the studio, it felt like stepping into a different world. In the foyer were signed photographs of numerous famous people that had been interviewed at the station and Molly told me that she’d met most of them. It was exciting to think she’d rubbed shoulders with the rich and famous and was becoming successful in her own right. I too wanted my name up in lights, I wanted to be interviewed by radio stations and see my name splashed across magazines.

Now that I’d graduated, there was a fire in my belly. I was searching for jobs on Broadway and was excited for what the future would hold.

After the coffee, Molly invited me to join her in the studio and sit in on her radio show. The excitement kicked in as she gestured for me to sit opposite her. I watched in amazement while she put on her headphones and pulled the mic towards her and got the show underway. After the first song had played, Molly snapped a photo in the studio with us holding up the golden tickets and tweeted #findwillywonka. Within the hour, Twitter had responded and the actor Joe Tucker had replied.

That same evening Joe had invited us to one of his shows. It had been sensational, the performance out of this world. He’d met us for a drink afterwards and in his kindness arranged numerous auditions for me, but time after time the competition had been fierce, and I just hadn’t been good enough to secure a part, and the rejection letters littered the door mat. As each month passed, I felt stardom slipping further and further out of reach and I began to feel like a failure, struggling to fulfil my dream career. That’s when I’d begun to take any job, work any hours to pay for my own place and how I’d found myself in the situation I was now in …

Molly took a sip of her water. ‘Come on then, what happened last night?’ she asked, dragging me from my memories.

I shot a look around the dingy kitchen. Wallpaper was peeling from the damp spot in the corner of the room, the brown lino was curling at the edges and there was barely any light seeping through the kitchen window. Every surface seemed to be piled with flyers, newspapers and unpaid bills.

I exhaled, then took a breath.

‘I needed time to think, so took a walk along 5th Avenue, until I found myself looking up at the Empire State Building. You know …’ I paused, ‘I’ve never been up to the top of that building until last night. I was standing there, looking up towards the lights at the top, when I heard someone calling my name. I couldn’t believe it when I saw Madison, a girl I went to college with. She was selling tickets outside and slipped me a free pass to the top. And as I was making my way towards the 86th floor I could feel myself becoming teary, something inside changed,’ I began to explain.

‘What do you mean?’

I blinked back the tears and swallowed down the lump in my throat. ‘The view was spectacular, and in all the time I’ve lived here, in New York, I’ve never seen anything like it. I stared out across the city … at the million lights sparkling in the night sky, and it was simply breath-taking. And it might be the most beautiful place in the world, Mol … but,’ I prepared myself as the words left my mouth, ‘I’m not happy.’

Almost immediately, Molly reached over the table and grasped both my hands.

‘Oh, Alice,’ she said softly, ‘what can I do to help?’

I could tell by the look on her face she’d no clue to how I was feeling. Of course, living in New York had its good moments, but there was something inside me telling me I just didn’t belong here anymore, I didn’t fit in – and I never really had. Even at school, I was the girl with the pale freckled face, the English girl with the funny accent who always stood out.

Mum would never talk about the reason we moved to New York, and as time went on it became even more difficult to broach the subject with her.

My voice quivered, ‘I’m not sure there is anything you can do … I must have been standing at the top of the Empire State Building for ages, lost in my own thoughts, staring out over the city. And then, all around me, applause erupted. I looked round to see a crowd of people had gathered around this couple. There was a man bending down on one knee looking up at a woman grasping a burgundy box. You could see how much he loved her and right there and then, he proposed! What a proposal, Molly! It was so romantic, all hearts and flowers, something out of a fairy-tale but … it just made me think, what have I got here?’

‘You’re not too shabby,’ she gave me a half-hearted smile, trying to lighten the mood. ‘I know loads of men who’d give their right arm for a date with you … except maybe I would lose the eighties rock make-up first.’

‘I’m lonely Mol, sat here in this dingy flat with hardly any money, working any job I can to make ends meet. Surely there’s got to be more to life than this?’

Over time I’d begun to resent this flat more and more. In the last week alone my sleep had been disturbed nearly every night. Music pounded through the wafer-thin walls from the flat above, the lampshade shaking from the vibrating drum and bass. Often, I’d spend my nights shouting expletives and banging on the ceiling with the handle of the broom, and when that didn’t work I’d bury my head under the pillow in an attempt to block out the sound.

‘I’d never realised things had got this bad,’ said Molly, her attention unwavering. ‘Let me see if there’s anything at the radio station.’

‘It’s too late,’ I said softly, ‘it’s too late.’ Casually leaning both my hands on the table, I sighed.

Molly gave an infinitesimal nod, taking in what I was saying, and we sat there in silence for a moment.

‘In time, you’ll meet the right man,’ she offered.

I managed a smile. ‘It’s not just that.’ There had been something on my mind for a while, a niggle, an itch that needed scratching, but I just hadn’t said the words out loud.

I took a deep breath. This was the time to clear my conscience and confess all while I had Molly’s full attention. She was my best friend and I’d no idea how she was going to react to my next bit of news. But I managed to splutter the words out: ‘I’m thinking of going back to England.’

I watched as the words registered on Molly’s face. Her expression changed then she sprang upright in her seat like a jack-in-the-box being unleashed for the very first time.

‘Alice, England’s over 3,000 miles away,’ she finally said, breaking the silence. It was difficult for her to keep her voice steady.

‘I know, but it’s been playing on my mind for a while,’ I answered truthfully.

Molly’s bottom lip wobbled. ‘How long is a while? And why didn’t I have any idea about any of this?’ She fiddled with the strap of her Garmin with a grief-stricken look on her face.

‘Maybe the last six months or so, but even more so since I received this,’ I admitted, exhaling slowly and turning my laptop towards her so she could read the message I’d received at the beginning of the week via Facebook from Grace.

Grace Anderson and I had known each other from the year dot. Our mums had been the best of friends and as children, we’d gone everywhere together. Not only were we in the same class at school but we’d shared a passion for dance and drama, and every Saturday, dressed in all things pinkish, Grace’s mum Connie had dropped her off at Grandie’s ballet school, where my mum had worked as a dance teacher. Everyone thought we were sisters as we twirled with our identical long plaited coffee-coloured hair, blue eyes and a string of freckles across our noses. Back then, we had been inseparable, the best of friends until the day I left.

When I’d left, I remembered Grace clinging to me on the step, making me promise to write to her as soon as I could. I never broke that promise and never lost touch. Over the years, staying in touch had become easier. We’d followed each other’s lives on social media and I’d been thrilled to see that she was living her dream, starring in the theatre in Birmingham, even though I had to admit I was a tiny bit jealous that her career had worked out much better than mine.

I felt my pulse quicken as Molly began to read Grace’s message:

Dear Alice

I hope you’re behaving in that big old city and it’s treating you well.

Please forgive me for the late-night message, I’ve toyed for the past twenty-four hours about whether to say anything at all but decided that if I were you, I’d want to know. I’m afraid your grandfather isn’t well. His health has been deteriorating over the last couple of months and he’s been admitted to the local hospital. Mum is still cleaning and acting as general housekeeper up at Honeysuckle Farm. He’s mentioned to her he would like to see you one last time, which I know may be difficult in the current circumstances, but I feel you needed to know.

If you decide you want to come back, there’s always a spare bed at mine. I would love to see you too!

Grace xx

‘Does your mom know about this?’ Molly’s eyes were wide as saucers as she tucked her feet back underneath her.

I swallowed hard and shook my head.

‘You’ll have to tell her you are going back to England. You can’t just up and leave without saying a word.’ Molly managed a glimmer of a smile, ‘You need to go, Alice.’ Her voice faltered as she handed the laptop back to me and I slowly closed the lid. ‘You need to see your grandfather. They don’t live forever, and time is precious.’

I knew Molly was right, I didn’t have any intention of just upping and leaving but I didn’t relish the idea of telling Mum either. I’d no clue how she was going to react. Grandie’s name had not been mentioned for years, in fact it was never mentioned again after the day we left. My stomach was churning just thinking about it.

‘Don’t worry, you have me to help you through it,’ Molly said, giving me a reassuring smile.

‘Thanks, Mol, it means a lot.’

‘Are you definitely sure about this?’

I nodded, ‘Definitely sure. I need to see him again. It might be my last time.’

‘I know,’ Molly’s voice was barely a whisper.

‘Grace wouldn’t message me if it wasn’t serious and something inside me is telling me I need to try and put this situation right.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked tentatively.

‘I loved Grandie, I still love Grandie, but at the time we left, I didn’t have any choice, I was ten-years-old. But I do have a choice now. I’m my own person and whatever went on between him and Mum is not my argument.’

Molly gave a brief nod of understanding. ‘Do you have any idea what the argument between them was about?’

‘No,’ I shook my head and felt myself tremble, remembering back to that day. ‘I’ve no idea, all I know is that Grandie was angry, shouting she’d betrayed him in some way.’ The pain twisted in my stomach just thinking about those words.

‘Do you remember much about England?’

I nodded and smiled, and a warmth filled my heart just thinking about it. ‘Grandie lives at Honeysuckle Farm, and we lived in the annexe attached to the farmhouse.’ I hadn’t realised how much I missed him, until now.

‘Sounds very grand.’

‘It is,’ I cast my mind back, remembering the three-storey building full of exposed brick, wooden beams and huge stone fireplaces which roared every winter. ‘And there was a secret spiral staircase at the back of the house.’

‘Very quaint, like something out of a romantic novel.’

I smiled. Honeysuckle Farm was idyllic, set in acres of land with stone walls, ponies and chickens. ‘One day, you need to come and visit.’

‘I’d love to.’

‘Then there was the dance school where my love of ballet and drama began. Mum was a teacher there and helped to run the business. The idea was that she’d completely take it over from Grandie when he retired.’

Molly frowned at me with concern, ‘Do you know what happened to it? Is it still up and running?’

‘I’m not sure, I’m assuming eventually it closed down.’ My tone was pained, thinking about it. I’d never even asked Grace whether it was still there. As time passed it had never really crossed my mind what had happened to it, but it was that little place that had moulded my dreams into becoming a performer. I’d loved dancing there.

‘Such a shame.’

I nodded, ‘You’d love Brook Bridge; it’s a pretty village, a typical idyllic setting with lovely tea shops too, all things rustic.’

‘Very England!’

I felt a sudden warmth surge through my body, a feeling of belonging at my memories.

‘It was a wonderful place, but I’ve no idea what it’s like now.’ I began to wonder if it had changed and how different it might be.

Suddenly Molly’s mood dampened. She bit down on her bottom lip and her eyes drooped. ‘If nothing else, moving here meant we met.’

‘Mol,’ I exclaimed, ‘I’m going back for a short while, a few weeks at most. I need to recharge my batteries. I think I need a change of scenery, and hopefully I’ll come back with a new lease of life.’

‘So, when are you going to tell Rose?’ asked Molly as though she was reading my thoughts.

I exhaled and took a deep breath. ‘I’m just trying to work that one out,’ I said, turning it over in my mind.

‘And when are you thinking of leaving?’

‘I’m going to look at flights today. I applied for a credit card and it came through yesterday. The quicker I go, the quicker I’m back.’

‘Alice Parker, I’ll be counting the days until you return.’ She threw open her arms and I fell into them, hugging my friend tight.

As much as I’d miss Molly, the thought of going back to England by myself caused a feeling like excited fireflies exploding in the pit of my stomach. Was this a chance to get my life back on track? I couldn’t wait to see Grandie and Grace, and of course Honeysuckle Farm. The only pang in my heart was that Mum wouldn’t be going with me.

Chapter 2

Twenty-four hours later the warmth of the early evening air had enticed out most of the city dwellers and Molly and I were sitting on the comfy seats of the rooftop jazz bar overlooking the neon signs and giant billboards that illuminated the city. The clear, azure sky was the perfect backdrop for the skyscrapers that glistened in the evening light. I loved this bar, it was all gypsy swing, stunningly crafted cocktails and just a stone’s throw from the radio station where Molly worked. The ambience was perfect, with a low-lit interior, wall plants and fairy lights that draped the bar. The rooftop was small and intimate with a band playing on the little stage in the corner.

Molly had talked me into coming out. It was her treat, she said but as her boyfriend Jay was the bar manager of this drinking establishment, we rarely ever paid for our drinks. Jay had reserved our favourite table and the moment he spotted us he beamed, then saluted us.

Within seconds he appeared at our side with two prosecco cocktails balancing on a round silver tray.

‘Now that’s what you call service.’ Molly gave Jay a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. ‘Can we open a tab?’

He winked, ‘Not on my watch, you provide the smiles and I’ll provide the drinks,’ he replied with a sparkle in his eye before pressing a swift kiss to my cheek.

‘Deal,’ both Molly and I said in unison, then laughed.

Molly had met Jay at this very bar nearly five years ago and they’d been the perfect couple ever since. He too was a proper New Yorker, born and bred, and his smile would be one I would miss when I returned to England.

‘Busy day?’ he asked, placing the cocktails on the table in front of us.

‘Yes, the radio show was fun tonight and missy here,’ she smiled towards me, ‘worked her last shift as a cleaner and has begun packing her case.’

‘Huh?’ asked Jay, puzzled.

‘I knew you weren’t listening to me when I was telling you!’ Molly jabbed him in the ribs in jest.

‘Telling me what?! I’m always listening,’ he tipped her a wink, ‘but maybe not at 3 a.m. when I’ve just finished my shift and all I want to do is sleep.’

‘Mmm, you’re forgiven,’ she answered playfully.

Jay turned towards me, ‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m taking a trip … back to England,’ I answered.

‘I wasn’t expecting that,’ he said, cocking an eyebrow and sitting down on the arm of the chair. ‘Any reason why?’

‘My grandfather is ill, and it’s been a very long time since I’ve seen him. It may be the last time I ever see him,’ I said, giving Jay a watery smile.

‘Will you come back?’

‘Of course, I’m just unsure when at the minute, but I won’t stay away too long,’ I promised.

‘I will miss you, my Mary Poppins.’

I smiled at Jay. The moment I’d first walked into the bar with Molly, Jay had guessed I was English. Over time I’d obviously picked up an American twang to my voice but there was still a hint of an English accent underneath. He’d called me Mary Poppins – a nickname that had stuck.

‘You too, Jay.’

‘When do you go?’

‘Day after tomorrow.’

Jay fell silent and took a second to absorb this information. ‘So soon.’ He looked towards Molly whose eyes had misted over. ‘Drinks definitely on me tonight.’ He touched my arm tentatively before returning to the bar.

For a moment, Molly and I stared out into the impressive night sky in silence, sipping our cocktails and lost in our own thoughts until she broke the silence.

‘Who am I going to drink with when you’re gone?’

‘You make it sound like you have no other friends! You have a whole gang at the station.’ I smiled at her.

‘It’s not the same though, is it?’ She poked out her bottom lip sulkily. ‘You’re my best friend.’

‘I’ll be on the other end of an iPad, we can FaceTime each other and I’ll be back before you know it.’ The words left my mouth, but they didn’t sound convincing, not even to myself.

Molly pointed her index finger at me. ‘You’d better be, or I’ll come and find you.’

Even though we’d both laughed it felt like there was an air of uncertainty hanging over me. Did I really want to come back to this life? I couldn’t see how my misery would change here, with the same old same old, day in and day out.

The band in the corner were now in full swing and a jovial group of thirsty drinkers had arrived, enjoying the beginnings of a night at the bar. Jay was busy entertaining them and preparing their drinks.

Molly eyed me carefully, the straw of her cocktail poised at her lips. ‘Do you want to talk about this afternoon?’ she asked. ‘I was surprised when I received the text.’

I swung my gaze back towards Molly, swallowed hard and felt the colour drain from my cheeks. I knew it was the question she’d wanted to ask all evening.

‘I would have gone with you, you know,’ she continued smoothly, ‘you didn’t have to face it on your own.’

That afternoon, I’d never been so nervous in my whole life. Auditioning for a lead role in a production was one thing – the nerves always kicked in – but that didn’t even come close to how I’d felt visiting Mum and telling her I was travelling back to England. My hands were sweating, I’d felt nauseous and I honestly thought I was going to pass out.

‘I know, thanks. But once I’d got it into my head that I was going, there was no stopping me. I had to get it over and done with.’

‘And dare I ask?’ Molly sat back to look at me carefully.

Mum had opened the door with a beam on her face, then right on cue, made her usual comments, like how she wasn’t expecting me and to excuse the state of the flat. Of course, the flat was immaculate with not a thing out of place. Then, just like every other time when I’d turned up out of the blue, we had the usual spiel – if she’d known I was coming she would have fetched some groceries, etc., etc. I knew she was struggling to stay afloat as much as I was, and I’d often thought about moving back in with her but when I started college I’d become independent. I wanted to do things my way, I’d needed to grow as a person and going back to live with her would have been tiresome for both of us in such a small space.

I drained my glass. ‘The subject of Grandie was difficult to raise, believe me. I felt like I was walking on eggshells. In the end, I just showed her the message from Grace on my phone.’

‘And?’

‘And she stared at it for a minute but didn’t say a word. She carried on folding the washing like she hadn’t even read it.’

A curious look appeared on Molly’s face. ‘Then what?’

‘I told her I was going back to England. All she said was, “You do what you need to do.” I could see it troubled her, the colour drained from her face and there were tears in her eyes, but she just stared at her hands which were visibly shaking. It upset me to see her that way.’

‘Does she know when you’re leaving?’

I nodded, ‘Yes, I told her. She stood up and disappeared into her bedroom for a while and I could hear banging about. Then she reappeared clutching a small blue book.’

‘What was it?’

‘A bank book …’ I took a breath. ‘She told me that ever since I was a little girl, Grandie had been putting money into a savings account for me. She’d no idea if he still did it, as the book couldn’t be updated, but once I’m back in England I can check at the bank and withdraw the money.’

‘How much is in it?’ Molly enquired with a questioning look.

‘Five thousand pounds, but that was the amount thirteen years ago.’

I’d been astounded when I’d opened up the book. I’d no idea that Grandie had been saving for me. Mum claimed she hadn’t mentioned it before because, after her falling-out with Grandie, she hadn’t wanted to take anything from him. She was uncertain how to withdraw the money with only the old-fashioned bank book, but now I was returning it should be easy to sort out. The money was mine and all I would need was my birth certificate and driving licence to prove my identity.

Molly gave a low whistle, ‘That’s an unexpected surprise.’

I nodded. ‘To be honest, it couldn’t have come at a better time. And it means I don’t have to put my flight on a credit card. You know how those things frighten me, and the interest soon mounts up.’

‘Yes,’ Molly agreed, ‘but with this money you can pay it off as soon as possible and have enough left for your flight home.’

‘Absolutely,’ I smiled at her. ‘I even asked Mum to come with me, but she just shook her head.’

‘Did you attempt to change her mind?’

‘Of course, I tried, but she just wouldn’t discuss it. She told me to leave it, repeated that I had to do what I had to do, then stood up and started folding the washing again in a kind of trance. It was like I’d never said anything in the first place.’

After telling Mum it had felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, but I was worried about her. She looked fraught, her shoulders were slumped and now it seemed like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. I knew I couldn’t push the conversation any more but one day I was determined to uncover the secret that had driven us from England.

‘It must have been one hell of a disagreement,’ Molly probed.

‘It was, and there’s only two people who know the truth, and that’s Mum and Grandie. Mum isn’t talking – she never has – but I can see she is hurting. She must miss him too.’

‘It’ll be pride.’

‘Stubborn pride. How can you let things slide so badly?’

‘I’m not sure, but there’s one thing I’ve learnt in life, there’s nothing as funny as folk or family disagreements.’

I knew the argument I’d witnessed had been heated and had split the family up but the whole situation still puzzled me. We’d had a good life at the farm, everything had been peaceful and calm and we’d both had a relationship to treasure with Grandie, up until that day.

In New York, Mum had done a variety of jobs, just like me. Mostly jobs she detested, with unsociable hours, but she made enough money to put food on the table. On the surface, she put on a front for everyone, but underneath I knew she was sad and had lost the zest for life she once had in England.

There she’d been a respected dance teacher, working in the family business. Each year she’d choreographed the village show and the local children and elderly had flocked to her lessons, enjoying every second of them. She must miss her life back in England. If only I could turn back time to the day before the argument, both our lives might have panned out differently.

I managed a weak nod. ‘What if he dies Mol, and she hasn’t put things right?’ A tear slipped down my cheek just thinking about it. ‘Surely she wouldn’t be able to live with herself?’

Molly jumped up from the chair and immediately wrapped her arms around me with a hug. ‘You can’t beat yourself up over that, that’s her decision. You’ve asked her to go back with you and she’s said no. What more can you do? It’s her choice. You’re doing the right thing, doing what you need to do. That’s all that matters,’ she reassured me, but it still didn’t stop me from feeling anxious leaving Mum behind. I wanted her to come with me.

‘I’m going to miss you, Molly.’

‘Don’t go all soppy on me, you’ll have me crying,’ she insisted, trying to keep her voice steady.

‘Hey you two, no time for tears in my bar.’

Our eyes slid towards Jay who’d appeared at the side of our table. ‘And your glasses appear to be empty,’ he grinned, slipping another two flutes of fizzy prosecco cocktail down in front of us and picking up the empty ones before balancing them on his tray.

‘You know what Jay, you are the best barman in the city,’ Molly tipped him a wink.

‘Thanks Jay, you’re a superstar,’ I added with a watery smile.

‘Do get I a hug, Ms Poppins, before you go?’

‘You certainly do,’ I replied, standing up without any hesitation.

Jay hugged me tight. ‘Hurry back soon, it’s not only Molly who will miss you.’

‘Make sure you look after her while I’m away.’

I tipped my head towards Molly who blinked away her tears.

‘Without a doubt,’ he answered, flinging his arms open wider. ‘Come on, group hug. And when you get back, I’ll take my two favourite ladies out for a night on the town.’

‘That’s worth coming back for,’ I smiled at them both, trying to put on a brave face through my tears but knowing it was unlikely I’d be back any day soon.

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