Can love blossom in the countryside?

Artist Holly Hunter is turning her life upside down! She’s leaving the bright lights of London (and a cheating husband) behind her and hoping for a fresh start as she escapes to the peaceful Cotswolds countryside.

Men are off the cards for Holly. Instead, she’s focusing on her little gallery and adopting an adorable Border Collie puppy named Tubs. Or so she thought …

Because no matter how hard she tries to resist him, local vet Adam Whitney is utterly gorgeous. And in a village as small as this one, Holly can only avoid Adam for so long!

Escape to the Cotswolds this summer with this uplifting romantic comedy. Perfect for fans of Jane Costello, Holly Martin and Carole Matthews.

Escape to the Cotswolds

Natalie Kleinman

ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Title Page

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Endpages

Copyright

NATALIE KLEINMAN

a born and bred Londoner, has a not-so-secret wish to live in the area she so enjoys writing about. While this isn’t practical at the moment, she still allows herself to dream of honey-coloured stone cottages, quaint villages and rippling brooks. Maybe one day.

A late-comer to writing, she has two published novels and many short stories to her name. She attributes her success to a determination to improving her craft, attending any and every writing event she can. All that, and a weekly attendance at The Write Place Creative School in Dartford, where cream cakes are frequently on the agenda.

Natalie lives with her husband, Louis, in Blackheath, south-east London - except when she’s tripping off to the Cotswolds in the name of research. Somebody has to do it!

You can find Natalie on Twitter @NatKleinman or Facebook www.facebook.com/natalie.kleinman

Thank you to Charlotte Mursell and Rayha Rose, my editors at HarperCollins HQ, whose enthusiasm and support have been a beacon lighting my way. To Elaine Everest who runs The Write Place Creative Writing School in Dartford. She has mentored and sometimes bullied me and, even in the midst of her own busy writing life, still always finds time for her students. She has taught me so much. To The Romantic Novelists Association who opened up a whole new world to me – one which continues to expand. My faithful beta readers, Jean, Moya and Bren, willing from the word go to read and reread till a stage was reached when my manuscript was fit to submit. To my daughters Carole and Tracy and my sister Rhona whose faith in me was absolute. And to my husband who cooks and cleans for me, encourages and enthuses, and never ever by hint or word suggests that I am neglecting him, which I know I do.

To my husband, Louis

Who doesn’t seem to mind how many times I ask him to take me to The Cotswolds

Chapter One

‘I’m leaving him, Emma.’

There was determination in her voice but an underlying hesitation as well.

‘And not a moment too soon, if you ask me.’

When Holly pulled the corkscrew out of her strawberry-blonde curls the side bits were just long enough to reach her mouth. It had been a habit since childhood, sucking the ends of her hair when she was agitated.

‘Yeah, well it’s easy for you to say,’ Holly said, the tiniest edge to her voice. She was never short with Emma, her oldest friend and her shoulder to cry on. At the moment though she was understandably distraught and Emma took it in good part.

‘No, of course it isn’t. But it’s time you showed Harry what you’re really made of.’

‘He’s seen what I’m made of. He just doesn’t seem to be interested any more.’

‘Oh, Holly, you have to get yourself out of there and as soon as possible.’

Holly sucked harder on her hair while conjuring up a picture of her best friend on the other end of the phone: willowy and with long thick dark waves that Holly had envied ever since they were nine years old. She still found it hard to believe Emma was the mother of six-year-old twins.

‘So have you decided what you’re going to do?’

‘No, I’ve just been getting through one day at a time. I haven’t even told Harry yet.’

‘And you’re waiting for what exactly?’

‘Courage.’

‘Oh, Holly,’ Emma repeated then paused, as if she didn’t quite know what to say next. ‘Do you want me to come over?’

In spite of her pain Holly smiled. ‘What, like hop on a bus, you mean? Emma, I live in London. You’re in the middle of the country.’

‘Why don’t you come and stay with us then? Just for a while, just till you work out what to do next.’

Holly’s mouth, and her fingers, fell open. and the curl dropped away and sprang back into place.

‘What, just ditch everything? I have a job remember.’

‘You must have holiday time owing. Take extended leave and see what happens. Why not?’

‘You don’t think a husband and two small boys are reason enough?’

‘You don’t have two small boys!’

‘You, you fool,’ Holly said, with a ready smile even in these circumstances.

Emma’s voice, naturally deep, lowered even further.

‘I suppose you’re right.’

It sounded bald. Holly tried to disperse the lump in her throat. ‘You’ve got enough to do without me there as well,’ she said, hoping her token protest hadn’t prompted Emma to change her mind.

There was a long wait when not even a crackle could be heard on the line. And then, with steel in her voice that could have cut paper: ‘For heaven’s sake, Holly, how long have you known me? Since for ever! And Tom since you were eighteen. As for the boys … In any case, don’t think it’s going to be a picnic. You’ll be washing the dishes, scrubbing the floors, helping with Jake and Jamie …’

Holly felt relief flood through her whole body. She realised she’d been holding her breath.

‘In that case I can’t think of anything I’d rather do right now – that is if you really don’t mind.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘I guess I’d better break the news to Harry then. Can I let you know when, just as soon as I’ve sorted things out here?’

‘Whenever you’re ready, but don’t put it off any more. It’s time, Holly.’

Holly swallowed hard. Telling Emma had made it a reality. She was right. It was time to move on.

‘Just out of interest, Hol, what’s the bastard done now? Another woman? Again?’

‘Does a leopard change its spots? I don’t think any of them ever last very long. It’s happened so often he’s become careless. His shirt absolutely reeked of perfume when I took it out of the laundry box this morning, and it definitely wasn’t my perfume. If the smell is anything to go by his latest certainly doesn’t count subtlety among her attributes. Still, I don’t suppose that’s the sort of attribute Harry’s looking for. It’s the last time though. I should have made this decision a long time ago.’

***

It didn’t take Holly long to realise that a distance of almost a hundred miles didn’t mean she’d left her old life behind her. Emma and her family made her as welcome as anyone could but Holly’s heart was in London; at least it was at first.

In spite of a determination to start anew and reminding herself she was after all only in her late twenties she found herself thinking, not of the bad times with Harry, but of the trips to the theatre, the candlelit dinners – at home and in some of the countless wonderful restaurants in the capital. Harry was an attentive and charming host and she had to keep reminding herself that he’d been attentive and charming to several other young women as well. It wasn’t really until she began house-hunting though that she started looking forward instead of back.

***

‘I’ve been checking out the property market,’ Emma said not long after Holly arrived. ‘Do you want me to arrange some viewings for you?’

‘Regretting your impulse already, Em?’ Holly asked, using the nickname her friend hated because she thought it made her sound like someone out of an Ian Fleming novel. Emma swiped her round the head with a tea cloth. ‘No, but I might if you carry on like that.’

‘I’m not sure I’m ready yet. Maybe I’ll just rent somewhere for a while, get out of your hair.’

‘You are not in my hair and you can stay as long as you like; you know that. Don’t even think about renting.’

Holly looked at her friend and swallowed hard. ‘I’m scared.’

Emma’s features softened immediately. She could obviously feel her friend’s pain.

‘Of the commitment? Are you changing your mind? Thinking of going back?’

‘No, not that. Definitely not that. In any case, I’ve already resigned from my job and initiated divorce proceedings. When I first came to stay it was to give me breathing space. But I’ve visited you enough over the years to know now that I want to make my home here permanently. It’s just that it’s such a big thing.’

‘Okay, I won’t push you if you’re really not ready.’

‘No, you’re right. I’ve marked time for long enough. Go ahead, make the call.’

Emma phoned the agent and made a couple of appointments for the next day and more for the one after. Emma left the boys with Tom and the two friends set off in a fever of excitement, but they quickly discovered that judicious use of the camera could disguise tatty décor and exaggerate room sizes. Holly wasn’t after anything palatial but she was hugely disappointed when none anywhere near lived up to its promise. Somehow she’d thought it would be easy.

With the legacy her parents had left her and the proceeds of her half of the home she’d shared with Harry, she had a pretty decent-sized budget, or so she’d thought. The London house had been snapped up quickly and contracts had already been exchanged so finances were in place. Just not enough it would seem.

‘I expected to get so much more for my money here than in London, Emma.’

‘That depends on what you mean by here. Out in the middle of nowhere maybe, maybe not, but in the centre of one of the most sought-after areas in the Cotswolds, no chance.’

After the initial let-down Holly adjusted her expectations and having taken the decision to search in earnest looked forward eagerly to the next viewing. She spent the following two weeks not finding her dream home but learning a lot about the local geography.

Then Emma, who had been surfing the Net, found a house that looked quite interesting. It was a private sale and the photos were amateurish but the description sounded good, so Holly made an appointment to see it the next morning. Emma was at work so she went on her own.

This time she held her excitement in check. Well she tried to anyway, attempting to conquer the expectation of finding her dream home in days, rather than the weeks or months it might realistically take. She was concerned too about how long she could impose on Emma and Tom’s hospitality. They’d given no sign of being fed up with her and she was determined it shouldn’t ever come to that.

Her excitement when she saw the house was all the greater because this time she hadn’t set herself up for a fall. It was perfect! Described as a chocolate-box cottage with a thatched roof, which she suspected added several thousand pounds to the asking price, it was right at the end of the high street, as far away as it was possible to be from Emma and Tom and still be in the village.

There was a huge extension on the side that ran front to back. It didn’t quite blend in with the rest of the cottage. At least it had a sloping roof, but it was tiled and you could see it was begging for a new hairdo. The potential though was enormous. She could use it as a studio. She could even see it as a commercial gallery. In fact, it was so big she could use it as both.

All of a sudden new possibilities were presenting themselves. In spite of Harry not wanting her to work – how old-fashioned was that! – she’d had a job for years at one of the London galleries. Her passion so great that she couldn’t distance herself from it. Harry didn’t make too much of a fuss; it was the sort of genteel occupation he could accept for his wife.

At home she’d continued in the well-lit attic room to turn out a substantial number of paintings. Maybe at last the collection of pictures she’d produced over the years could find a proper home instead of being stacked against the walls. If everything went well she could have her own commercial premises and be her own boss. Holly had never dreamt of starting a business but the prospect was staring her in the face. She made it pretty obvious she was keen. She couldn’t have feigned indifference even if she’d tried; it wasn’t her way, and the owner, an elderly lady who was moving to live with her daughter, was completely frank with her.

‘Perhaps I should mention, my dear, that there are two more people coming to see it this evening. I’m not pushing you, but you seem like such a nice young woman, and all on your own too.’

Well, what would any normal person have done? Holly made an offer there and then.

‘That is a little less than I’d hoped for, I’m afraid. I think I’ll have to wait and see what the next people say.’

‘I understand, of course, Mrs Foster, but please come back to me anyway. If they do make an offer I’d really like the opportunity to match it.’

Holly wondered if she sounded over-eager. Well, she was and there was no way she could have pretended otherwise.

‘You remind me of my daughter when she was your age. I’d like to help you, if I can.’

Mrs Foster smiled at Holly. ‘Look, I tell you what; I won’t make any more appointments and if either of these other two is interested I’ll give you the chance to match the price. If you still want it then, it’s yours.’

For Holly the next few hours were interminable. Emma couldn’t believe it when she didn’t eat supper. Nothing ever put her off her food. And she was pacing. Nervous, or what! When she phoned Mrs Foster later in the evening her hand was shaking; her whole body was shaking.

‘One of the couples has topped your offer by £2,500 but I did tell them that I’d promised you first refusal. It’s up to you now.’

It wasn’t the full asking price, but it was pretty close. Still, she’d known what the asking price was. If she’d thought she couldn’t afford it, she wouldn’t have gone to see it in the first place would she. When it came to convincing herself, Holly was a pushover.

‘I can meet that offer, Mrs Foster. I’d like to go ahead if it’s okay with you. I’ll contact my solicitor first thing in the morning.’

‘All right, my dear. In that case it’s yours.’

‘Thank you. Oh, thank you so much. Goodbye.’ … ‘Emma. Eeeeemma! How do I go about finding a solicitor?’

And so began the nerve-racking process that every new buyer goes through. Holly was so anxious while she waited for completion that Emma, in spite of having told her she could stay as long as she liked, threatened to throw Holly out onto the streets if she didn’t stop wittering. Secretly Holly knew her friend was almost as excited as she was. She felt the weight of responsibility for Holly’s move to Cuffingham and her own part in it and was anxious to see her settled.

Oddly enough the twins didn’t seem to mind their godmother burbling on about ‘my cottage’ either. They’d long ago formed the opinion that she was a bit crazy. They even asked her occasionally if she had any news. Six-year-olds! She didn’t think it was because they couldn’t wait for her to leave.

***

It may have been late autumn but Holly obeyed the demands of the weak sunshine streaming in through Emma’s window. Bundled up against the bright but rather chilly day she set out to further explore her new surroundings. Harry would have loved this, she thought. Damn Harry. Charming, gorgeous Harry. But not for her. No, definitely no longer for her. She still thought about him far more often than was comfortable.

She could call him all the names she liked but she couldn’t get away from the fact that she missed him desperately. She’d learned to cover it well, particularly when she’d been house-hunting or sheltered in the company of her friends, but you can’t put a marriage behind you that quickly. Consequently it was on days like this one, when members of the Carter family were at work or school, that loneliness hit her with a very big L.

Turning into the high street, to follow what was fast becoming her favourite walk, her aim was to go through the village and out the other side. That way she’d get a quick peek at what she earnestly hoped was going to be her new home. Like so many places in the Cotswolds Cuffingham was charming. A river flowed through the main street with a bank on one side and a road on the other. Shops and houses faced each other across the ribbon of water.

Emma’s home was on the tarmacked side, so Holly crossed the footbridge to get to the bank. Another river ran behind the row of houses and shops on this side. It was as peaceful as it was beautiful and to Holly, as she left her old life behind and in spite of her pangs, it was becoming everything she’d never known she’d wanted.

She began walking through the village intending to search for treasure on the riverbanks beyond the cottages. She’d seen and made some fantastic creations out of things as mundane as a few bits of wood and twigs, or some leaves and feathers; bottle tops; old socks. Well, maybe not old socks. Holly knew herself well enough to realise that once she started it would be all-absorbing and hopefully sufficient to shake off the alien depression that had descended as she’d thought again of Harry.

There was a cool, almost chilly breeze, in spite of which she wasn’t walking quickly for fear of missing something. She hadn’t lived in Cuffingham long enough to take it for granted and hoped she never would. The sound of quacking alerted her to a pair of ducks on the river and she glanced at them with a smile, moving towards them to get a better look, already feeling her mood lifting. At least it was, until she was knocked off balance and sent flying. She landed on her back, her rucksack cushioning her fall, her lightened frame of mind changing to one of irritation.

‘Can’t you look where you’re going,’ she muttered as she scrambled to her feet. It was only when she looked up, way up, to find herself staring into a pair of piercing, very blue eyes strongly reminiscent of a young Paul Newman, that something stirred inside her. The actor had had eyes you could drown in but the ones that were returning her gaze held a strong hint of steel, and the face they shone out of may have been gorgeous but she could see he was very angry.

‘Can’t I look where I’m going? Just exactly what do you think you were doing? You were all over the place. I couldn’t have missed you if I’d tried, which, by the way, I did.’

Never one to turn down a challenge, Holly wasn’t going to let that pass, deciding that maybe he wasn’t so very good-looking after all in spite of thick dark hair glinting with auburn shades where it caught the sun. Oh no, she thought. Not hair envy again. The fact that she needed to crane her neck to look up at this giant did nothing to soften her reply. Rather, and even though she’d never desired to be of the Amazon race, she felt disadvantaged by her size and went on the attack.

‘Have you even stopped to look around? It’s a beautiful day – not that you would have noticed at the rate you were haring along,’ Holly said, allowing disapproval to creep into her voice.

‘That’s right. I was. One of my patients is about to give birth and I’m in rather a hurry. I certainly didn’t expect someone to throw themselves into my path. Anyway, I can’t stand here all day arguing with you. I’m needed elsewhere.’

And he took off without another word.

Insufferable! And what made it worse was that he was right. Holly knew she’d been in a little world of her own, aware only of the increasingly warming caress of the sun and the ducks on the river. She’d been so engrossed that it was she in fact who hadn’t been looking where she was going, thus putting herself in the path of the stranger who obviously didn’t have any soul or he too would have been enjoying the day.

Guilt-fuelled frustration made it worse because she wasn’t even able to defend herself. She’d readily have admitted fault if he’d apologised for knocking her over, but there was no way she would now; even if she could; but she couldn’t because he’d gone. Rushed across the footbridge, jumped into a parked Land Rover, and raced off, leaving her standing like an idiot.

She’d been bowled over and given the brush-off in less than three minutes by someone she suspected was the most gorgeous man in the village, or possibly even the world. The strange feeling she’d had in the pit of her stomach the moment she’d looked up into those amazing eyes began to subside.

Who was he anyway? Holly had registered at the local surgery and, although she hadn’t yet met the doctor, she knew from Emma that he was softly spoken, cuddly, and about a hundred years old. She was sure the practice only had one doctor. Maybe this one was a locum. Good job if he was. At least she probably wouldn’t have to bump into him again.

Chapter Two

A little shaken by the encounter, Holly carried on walking, though with perhaps slightly more caution. It was a lovely crisp day and now she’d shaken off her misery over Harry she certainly wasn’t going to let some pompous, full-of-himself doctor upset her again. And if that was anything to go by she was pretty willing to bet he had a terrible bedside manner!

The lovely weather had lured others out into the sunshine and every single person she met smiled at her. That kind of thing just didn’t happen in London, not in her experience anyway, and it made her feel good. She allowed her mind to wander – though not her attention. She wasn’t looking to run into another crashing boor!

Holly found herself reflecting again on what she might be able to do when (and if) the cottage finally became hers. Though modest, she was also innately honest. She realised of course that being a grade A student didn’t qualify her to run a business. Many things can be taught but talent is something that, if you are lucky, you are born with, and hers had been nurtured.

Her work at college was outstanding and nobody envied her success. Holly was unassuming and only too ready to help any of her fellow students if she could. It came as no surprise that she achieved a BA (Hons) First Class and her framed certificate – one of the few things she’d brought with her from London – was second only to her mother’s table (at present in storage) as her most cherished possession. But could she turn her talent into a successful commercial reality?

Before marrying Harry she’d lived with her parents, selling her work to pay for her keep, something her parents objected to but which her pride insisted upon.

‘But I want to. How else am I even going to begin to repay you for putting me through uni?’

Biased as he was, her father hadn’t been entirely convinced it was something she’d be able to make a living out of. Nevertheless he agreed to let her have her way, rather liking her independence of spirit.

‘We all have to start somewhere, Holly,’ her dad had said, almost apologetically. ‘I don’t buy a new painting every week and I don’t suppose anyone else does either.’

In spite of his somewhat mixed attempt at reassurance, no one was more astonished than he when one sale was followed by another and then another. Not only was Holly’s work good, it was saleable. She wasn’t a ‘name’, didn’t become an overnight success, but she was doing very nicely thank you.

Then she met Harry. They’d both picked the same bench in Trafalgar Square after she’d been to visit the National Portrait Gallery and he was whiling away the time before a meeting. He never did make that meeting and after a whirlwind romance they were married in grand style – Harry’s choice not hers – and she moved into his flat. There was no room for her to paint so she continued working at her parents’ home until they offered to help with the purchase of a house.

‘Can’t stand the mess, eh?’

‘No, Holly, but art has been your passion since you were tiny. Not that you’re much bigger now.’

‘Watch it.’

‘Anyway, this way you’ll have everything you want at your fingertips. Your mother and I are prepared to put up half the money if Harry can do the rest.’

With the proceeds from the sale of his flat Harry was able to fulfil his side of the bargain and six months after the wedding they moved into a spacious town house. Harry was adamant that she didn’t work and Holly, quite impressed by his macho attitude, had at first acceded to his wishes – though later she’d taken a job at a gallery to prevent herself climbing the walls out of boredom. However, he considered painting was what people did for a hobby and was content enough for her to continue but, as a contribution to the family coffers, no, definitely not.

By the time she took the job at the gallery he considered her earnings to be ‘pin’ money. Holly, in love and anxious to please her husband, gave up selling her own work. After all, she told herself, it’s not as if I do it for the income. She couldn’t and wouldn’t give up painting though, which under her current circumstances was just as well, since her future now depended upon her being able to support herself. She hadn’t been in the market for a few years now. Aware that fashions are always changing she just had to hope that what she did was still in demand. Emma and Holly had discussed it, naturally.

‘It’s not as if you’ve been out of touch. You’ve been working in the business for years.’

‘I know, Em, it’s just that I …’

‘And as far as I know you’ve subscribed to every magazine going.’

‘Yes, but …’

‘You’ll have to make a name for yourself, locally at least. But you’ve got the talent. You just need to be a bit pushy.’

‘Oh and you can just see me doing that, can’t you.’

‘The only way you’re going to find out is to try. And I’ll be shoving you from behind.’

‘I can feel it already,’ Holly had said, rubbing the small of her back with the back of her hand. There was no doubt about it though, Holly thought, looking across at the cottage as she passed it on her way out of town. If she got it, it had the potential to be a business as well, always supposing she could get planning permission.

Reaching the riverbank her wandering thoughts were matched by wandering hands, sifting, sorting. Several treasures were now nestling at the bottom of her backpack along with the tissue Holly always carried since the loss of a beautiful piece of bark, fragile and with its intricate patterns already, in her mind, incorporated into a montage of which it would be the central feature. Sadly it was just a crumbling mess by the time she got it home.

She could never be sure what she’d find that might need protecting. As she sifted and searched her mind ran free. On the whole she was a pretty positive person and she was beginning to realise that her positivity was returning now she was no longer with Harry. It had come as quite a shock to discover how much of her own personality she’d suppressed trying to be the wife he’d wanted. She’d allowed herself to dream of one day being an artist of note but she’d made absolutely no effort to pursue that dream.

Now though, she was ready to go for it. She was also realistic enough to know that even if she ultimately gained the recognition she so craved the journey would be long and possibly bumpy. Definitely bumpy!

She thought again of Emma, despite the distance between them her friend had been her prop through the troubled years. She too was an artist but had a pragmatic side to her nature. With a husband and two small boys, teaching suited her very well. She had a pretty decent income and holidays to match those of her children.

‘All that lovely time off,’ she said, but Holly knew how hard her friend worked. Schools weren’t the only places where teaching went on though and Holly’s gallery, if she got the cottage and the requisite permission, was large enough to use as a classroom. Why shouldn’t she teach adults? She could make some money at the same time as providing something for which she hoped optimistically if a little naively there would be plenty of enthusiasm.

It isn’t as if I won’t have time to do my own painting as well. Thanks to Mum and Dad – Holly felt the familiar lump rise to her throat when she thought of the tragic accident that had taken them both from her – there’s a financial cushion until I get myself established. A regular income would help though, even a small one.

Materials wouldn’t be a problem. They were readily available along the riverbanks or at garage sales or car boot sales – any number of sources. As far as the fundamentals went she already had more than enough basic equipment, at present in the same storage facility as her mother’s table, though there were some things she would never share. In any case she was sure people would get their own paints and brushes, or whatever, once they decided (hopefully) they liked it enough to carry on. With very little expenditure, she could set up a business at home. It’s not called cottage industry for nothing.

Turning for home and walking more quickly now, she made her way back through the village, excited about her plans and praying some of them at least would come to fruition.

***

‘So what are you going to wear this evening?’

Holly looked up from the floor where she was playing with Jake and Jamie.

‘Wear? Why?’

‘Duh! Kate and Charlie’s. Drinks and nibbles. Mind you, Kate’s nibbles always constitute a feast. No cooking for me tonight, except for the boys.’

‘Emma, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Drinks and nibbles. Tonight. At Ka … Have you looked at your text messages today?’

‘No, I put my phone on silent when I went down to the river and forgot all about it.’

‘Well you’d better go and sort out your glad rags. We’re going to a party.’

Holly was suddenly very still. She loved people but she loved them in small intimate groups, preferably when she knew most of them as well. A party sounded like something else. She’d met one or two of Emma and Tom’s friends on previous visits, and even since she’d come to stay, but a party?

‘Why don’t I just stay and babysit? I’m quite happy to stay at home.’

‘Did you hear that, kids? Holly wants to babysit.’ They looked indignant. ‘Haven’t you heard the term child-minding, Holly?’

Holly smiled at her godsons. ‘I guess I lost a bit of ground there, eh boys? But I’d sooner stay with you than go to some old party.’

‘No chance,’ said their mother. ‘Kate would be mortally offended. She especially asked us to bring you with. Go on. Go and pick something pretty. We’re due there at eight.’

Reluctantly Holly did her bidding but as she went upstairs she felt the excitement begin to bubble up within her. After all, it had been a long time since she’d been to a party. She tried on several combinations before finally deciding what to wear. She dressed with care, the smart navy trousers a change from her usual jeans, hugging her tiny hips atop ridiculously silly high heels – she needed all the help she could get. She chose a lacy cream-coloured top and loose-knit cream cardigan – its one detail, a single large button just above the waist, was the reason she’d bought it. Ornately carved, it set off the simplicity of the rest. She hoped to be able to take it off when she got there, but winter was fast approaching and the evenings were quite chilly. Well, cold if she was brutally honest. The lacy top was pretty though so she thought she might just have to suffer goose pimples.

***

Standing outside Kate and Charlie’s house, flanked by Emma on one side and Tom on the other, Holly’s heart was racing. Some of it was caused by apprehension but that was tempered by anticipation. She might prefer small groups but essentially Holly was a people person. All of a sudden she couldn’t wait to get inside and meet some.

Unbelievably, the first person she saw when they opened the door was the guy who’d bumped into her that morning. Well, not the first person exactly. Naturally Kate and Charlie were the first, greeting her as they did Emma and Tom, as if she was an old friend. She remembered meeting them on a previous visit to Emma and was really pleased to see them again. But behind them in their large entrance hall was the doctor chap.

Holly drew herself up to her full five foot two inches plus three for the shoes – she liked to think she was big in character, if not in stature – and moved forward to be introduced as her escorts disappeared into the room beyond. Doc was standing with two other men and a girl about the same age as her. They all looked up as Kate took her over to meet them and it was obvious from the expression on his face that her acquaintance from earlier in the day was about as delighted to see her as she was to see him.

‘This is Holly, guys. She’s new to Cuffingham. She’s staying with Emma and Tom until she finds a place of her own,’ Kate told them. ‘Holly, this is Phoebe, Gordon, Adam, and Steve. Oh, there goes the bell again. Look after her for me, will you, while I answer the door.’

Phoebe, Gordon, and Steve all smiled encouragingly at her. Adam looked as if he’d rather be on another planet, or that she would be. Also, unless she was mistaken, he was a bit red in the face.

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Holly. Adam’s just finished telling us how he crashed into you this morning.’ No wonder his face was red! ‘Not that you match his description at all. I was expecting a real firebrand, but you seem perfectly benign. I presume it was you? We don’t get too many new people in Cuffingham at this time of the year.’

Holly smiled back at Phoebe gratefully.

‘I guess that would be me then, though I didn’t realise it would be more dangerous in a country village than in London. I lived there all my life and I’ve never been mugged before.’

She smiled. It was a fairly innocuous joke after all, but she regretted it immediately, remembering that it was in fact she who’d been at fault. Before she had a chance to apologise, and without a word, Adam turned and walked away into what Holly found out later was the lounge. She didn’t know whether to be cross or embarrassed. But she was human so cross won the day.

‘That’s the second time he’s done that to me today. Is he always so rude?’

‘The thing is,’ Steve said ruefully, ‘Buttercup died. The calf survived but he’s convinced that if he’d only got there a bit sooner he could have saved them both. Feels that if he hadn’t got tied up with you he might have been in time.’

‘Tied up! But that’s ridiculous! The whole thing was over in less than two minutes.’ It was Holly’s turn now to be red-faced. ‘He can’t possibly blame me. That’s so unfair!’

‘You’re quite right, of course. But he takes this doctor/patient thing very seriously. Gets thoroughly upset if any of them die on him. He really is a damned good vet though. Come on now. Where are my manners? Let’s get you a drink.’

The four of them moved into the main reception room where Emma and Tom had gone to mingle and there were now twenty or so people gathered. Holly tried not to gasp and failed miserably. She had cause enough.

‘What a fantastic room!’

She was completely enchanted. Wider from the doorway than long, it must have measured about twenty-eight by twenty feet.

‘And look at those windows.’

The left wall was broken up by two of them, each with very deep sills. Between them was an oak unit housing several attractive and, she suspected, very expensive pieces. Her professional eye appreciated the heavy drapes with cushions covered in the same material and scattered apparently randomly on dark wooden benches filling the alcoves beneath the curtains. The opposite wall was a mirror image of the first.

‘Even with the timber lining it must be really bright in here during the day.’

Phoebe and Steve had moved off and Gordon put a glass of red wine in her hand (how did he know it was her favourite?) and, with his hand on her elbow, led her across the floor to where a huge log fire was pouring out heat from the ingle. Time to remove the cardigan and show off the lacy top.

‘Yes, Kate’s got a great touch, which is just as well because Charlie doesn’t have a clue. Leaves all that sort of thing to her.’

‘If this is the result I’m not surprised.’

Traditional furniture matched the oak panelling and three-legged stools stood either side of the fire, just far enough away not to make one’s face burn. Holly, always seduced by the smell of wood smoke, breathed it in like an animal scenting its prey. Phoebe, Steve, and Gordon did a good job of looking after her and between them made sure she mingled with all the other guests – all except Adam.

Everyone else was really nice. Adam didn’t glance in Holly’s direction the whole evening. Not that she was looking at him either. She was at a party, having a wonderful time and not having to peer over her shoulder half the time to see if Harry was behaving himself. She hardly even saw Emma and Tom but Emma did, at one stage, whisper in her ear: ‘I see you don’t want us now you’ve got new friends. Don’t forget. We’re walking you home. Unless, that is, you get a better offer.’

‘Ratbag!’ Holly said affectionately as she moved on. ‘I’ll talk to you later.’

She didn’t get a better offer. At least, not one she was prepared to accept on such short acquaintance and, though Gordon seemed very keen and offered to walk her home ‘because the village is obviously so much more dangerous than London’, she declined after a short internal struggle.

‘I appreciate your concern,’ she said with a smile, ‘but I think Emma and Tom might be offended if I didn’t think them sufficient escort to their own home.’

She’d felt an immediate attraction to this large man and had sensed a corresponding spark in Gordon, though perhaps spark was the wrong word. More like a gleam in the eye. Definitely like a gleam in the eye. But she didn’t want to be alone with him so soon after their first meeting. She hadn’t been single for long and was enjoying the feeling of freedom it gave her. At least, that’s what she told herself. In truth, though she’d left Harry behind, she wasn’t ready to move on, even on a superficial level.

As they walked home she told Emma about her confrontation with Adam that morning by the river and then at the party. Well, she told Emma and Tom but as he was somewhat the worse for wear he didn’t pay very much attention. Emma was indignant on Holly’s behalf but quite surprised as well.

‘But he’s such a sweetheart! Wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Well, of course he wouldn’t. Likes animals. Looks after them. Wouldn’t scare the shit out of them, would he?’

‘Well he certainly scared the shit out of me.’

‘I know he takes his work seriously and he’s very dedicated, but I’ve never heard of him giving anyone a bollocking before, though I do know he can be quite short. I think it’s because he’s shy.’

‘Shy! He certainly wasn’t shy this morning. Honestly, Emma, I feel awful. You don’t really think it was my fault that he couldn’t save Buttercup, do you?’

‘Course not. It’s just that Adam’s such a perfectionist, and anyway he was rather fond of Buttercup. How could you not be fond of a cow called Buttercup? He was probably just trying to lay the blame at someone else’s door because of what he might otherwise have to regard as his own shortcomings. Can’t bear to lose a patient.’

‘Yeah, that’s what Steve said. I wonder if he’s going to hold it against me for ever. I’m damned if I can see why I should be the scapegoat!’

‘Or even the scapecow,’ Emma retorted, clearly rather pleased with her little joke.

Chapter Three

Christmas was approaching hard it seemed on the heels of the party and Emma and Tom were going to stay with parents over the holidays. They’d invited Holly to go with them but it didn’t seem fair to take advantage when it was a time for families to be together. She knew both sets of parents, Emma’s particularly well, and this was going to be her first Christmas without Harry. He’d been her bolster since she’d lost her own mum and dad. Who was going to bolster her now?

To say she was apprehensive was more than an understatement but this was the new Holly. Independent-Girl was now her middle name which, she realised, taking her initials made her HIGH. What could she do to make sure she stayed that way? It was time to go to Scotland!

It wasn’t quite as random a decision as it sounded. She decided to take the opportunity to visit her uncle. Uncle Mac – no Scottish blood in her family but that had been his nickname ever since he’d moved up north when Holly was a child – had invited her several times since her mum and dad died and now seemed like a good time to accept. She hardly knew him. The only time she’d seen him in recent years was at her parents’ funeral after the accident she found it so difficult even to think about.

She was having serious second thoughts as the train carried her north. Well, she decided, short of jumping ship, or in this case train, I guess I’ve got to go through with it now. Not only were Holly’s fears unfounded, but Uncle Mac was so much like her mother only bigger, she felt an immediate sense of belonging as well.

All three of her cousins were there with their respective other halves and offspring and dinner on Christmas Day was a riotous affair. It was Hogmanay though that Holly was particularly looking forward to. She eventually came away strongly of the opinion that anyone who’s never spent New Year Scottish style ought at least to give it a try. Only once though, unless they have a very strong head.

Like many people, Holly had always used the television to check the exact time to pop open the champagne. She’d seen the spectacle and heard the bagpipes and she thought she knew how they celebrated north of the border. Television, she was forced to conclude, was nothing like the real thing. Nothing!

Once she’d regained her ability to focus and could walk in a straight line she went back to Cuffingham to stay with Emma and Tom again, promising to stay in touch with her family in Scotland. Her father hadn’t had any brothers or sisters and she realised, she’d never thought about it before, that these were her only relatives in the whole world. They’d looked after her and loved her. Tears had been shed and she’d felt a wee bit empty on the way home.

Tom was at work, Emma and the boys had gone back to school, and she was quite lonely during the day. This was due in part to the fact that she hadn’t had a single moment on her own during her trip to Scotland except when she went to bed, and the days had been so full that her nights were peaceful and dream free. It’s possible alcohol might have been a contributory factor too.

It was very quiet back in Cuffingham. Once Emma and the boys came home everything was fine. There was no way anyone could feel lonely in that household, but she wasn’t in her own home yet and the days seemed to stretch interminably.

She spent some time thinking about Harry. The exchange of letters with her solicitor didn’t help. Everything was going through as planned and, while she didn’t for one moment think she’d made a mistake – painful experience had taught her otherwise – they had spent several years of her adult life together and she couldn’t dismiss them as if they’d never happened. Nor would she have wanted to. Some of it had been good … very good. Especially in those first few years before he’d begun to stray. And later, when she thought he’d stopped straying. Later still, when she’d hoped he had.

***

Holly wasn’t the only one who’d been regretting her outburst the day she met Adam. He had remonstrated with himself more than once. Okay, so he was worried about Buttercup, but that was no excuse for such bullish behaviour. And then to follow it up by ignoring her at the party. What am I – a child? Adam too had been bowled over that day by the river, though in quite a different way from Holly.

He was normally impervious to the lures that women extended to him, completely unaware of his own charm and air of unavailability and indeed vulnerability. There are few women who can resist that. He still carried around with him the scar of a failed relationship when his fiancée had abandoned him only weeks before the wedding. It was all he’d needed to confirm that with animals, unlike people, you know exactly where you stand. If they don’t like you they let you know but if they love you there is no doubting their sincerity. So animals, already a major part of his life, became his everything. The place where he felt safe.

When Adam had bumped into Holly his reaction, instead of leaning forward to help her up, had been to step back, just a physical manifestation of what he’d been doing metaphorically for the last five years. He was ashamed of himself for such a lack of manners.

While Holly was still in Scotland Adam had met up with Emma when he went to give a talk about family pets at her school, a twice-yearly project that he enjoyed immensely. He’d taken a rabbit with him and there had been a handling session where the pupils had learned to show respect to another living breathing creature. Fits of laughter too when Adam had asked for a volunteer and, with permission, had turned the child upside down and flung him over his shoulder. ‘This is how NOT to do it.’ The volunteer had laughed loudest of all.

During Emma’s break over a cup of coffee they’d talked about Holly.

‘I know she’s beginning to feel uncomfortable being with us so long but actually I can’t wait for her to get back tomorrow. It’s like being back at uni, and school before that, when we’re together.’

‘You go back a long way?’

‘For ever. That’s why it hurt so much watching her marriage disintegrate and not being able to do anything to help – well, except listen on the phone from what felt like a million miles away.’

Adam tried not to appear too curious but Holly had piqued his interest, no doubt about that.

‘That bad?’

‘Frankly he was a bit of a bastard. Handsome. Charming. I’ve no doubt he loved Holly, still does probably, and she him, but one woman is never enough for his sort. In the end she couldn’t take it any more and to be honest I’m not sure she’ll ever trust anyone ever again.’

Adam had all the confirmation he needed that any approach to Holly would be rebuffed, even if he could have gotten past the disaster of their first two meetings.

***

When Holly returned to Cuffingham she resumed her voluntary work at the local old folks’ home, something she’d started doing quite soon after moving in with Emma and Tom. She’d spent a couple of weeks unsuccessfully looking for temporary work but this was more because she wanted something constructive to do rather than that she needed an income. Aside from her work at the gallery, helping at a nearby centre was one of the ways she’d filled her time while living in London. She had a gift for it. And it made her feel fulfilled.

There was an arts and crafts room at the home and Holly did what she did best. With a couple of the residents she used modelling clay, warming it in her hands before placing it in theirs and helping them move stiff fingers to form recognisable shapes.

‘I could hardly move my fingers before you came,’ one had said. ‘Now I can’t wait to get in here every day and see what else I can make.’

With others she demonstrated some of the techniques of using watercolours and with those unable to hold a brush she, and they, had a hilarious time using finger paints. There was also a supply of coloured felt for those who could hold a pair of scissors – albeit not very sharp and with rounded ends – together with pompoms, feathers, and coloured paper for pasting onto heavy-duty card. Some rather spectacular collages were created and the walls of the craft room were rapidly becoming covered.

‘Oh but just look at all these trees,’ Holly had gasped on her return after the holidays. ‘You’ve all done so well.’ Before going away she’d cut out Christmas trees in varying sizes. Some of them had holes in. Those with holes had been interwoven with decorations and hung from the ceiling. Others that had been painted or covered in gummed stickers vied for wall space with the collages. Corner to corner across the large room paper chains had been hung, made with care and sometimes with a little pain by the residents. It must have taken them ages and had been finished while she’d been away.

‘We couldn’t wait to see your face when you came back again,’ said one.

‘No, and it was definitely worth waiting for,’ said another.

They were so proud of themselves, as was Holly, and it was unlikely that these particularly seasonal decorations would be taken down any time soon. Her one day a week at the home was the only time, other than when the Carters were at home, that she was able to forget about the loneliness that seemed to creep into bed with her every night in the dark hours. Two weeks after she returned to Cuffingham from Scotland she picked up the keys to her new home.

***

Moving Day! Not most people’s idea of a good time no matter how much the end may justify the means. Holly wasn’t having a great time. Okay, the level of excitement was way off the scale. But though in her mind she’d left almost everything behind – and as far as furniture was concerned she had – the actuality was that there were a lot of things she needed to find places for and for the most part she had no idea where she was going to put them. Most important was her mother’s old pine table. She’d hovered as the removal men lifted it off the van and manoeuvred it into the house.

‘Don’t worry, luv, a few more scratches and dents won’t make any difference. Lovely old piece, it is, but seen better days.’

‘It was my mother’s,’ she’d said, which she’d thought would explain her anxiety while it was being moved, and it did.

‘Know what you mean, Mrs Hunter. My wife’s still got her mum’s old work basket. Means more to her than anything.’

The table went into the extension. There had never been any doubt where it would go because there definitely wasn’t enough room for it in the tiny dining room. Instead all her paintings, and they were many, and all her art materials had been stacked in that otherwise empty room. Her clothes were put in the smaller of the two bedrooms for the time being, the main one comfortably accommodating the new king-sized bed without looking silly. Surprisingly for a cottage it was a decently sized room.

After the removal men had gone Holly went from room to room before twirling around ballerina-style, but with slightly less grace, and shouting ‘Wheeeee!’ into the silence. Then she took a closer look at the furniture that Mrs Foster had left. It would have to do for the time being, and maybe even for ever. Much like her mother’s table it had seen better days but it went well with the old cottage and the artist in her could see the beauty in its lines. She was very happy with it. By the time she’d made up the bed the day was well advanced and she was just wondering what to do next when Emma arrived.

‘Tom said he’d pick up the twins from school so I could come round to see if you needed any help.’

‘Well, the floors need scrubbing. I remember you offering that to me as a high treat when I came to stay with you.’

‘As if. Seriously, is there anything? I really came over to drag you back with me for something to eat. I knew you wouldn’t have even thought about food.’

‘You’re not kidding anyone. What you actually came over for was to have a good nose.’

‘You know me so well.’

‘Pity you weren’t here a bit earlier. You could have helped me make the bed. I know it’s big for one, particularly a little one like me, but it’s a luxury I promised myself after Harry and I split up.’

Holly looked up at Emma. ‘You’re a teacher. You do craft with the kids. Any good at assembling flat-pack furniture?’

‘You don’t catch me out that way. I’ve seen those flat-pack things before. Is it urgent?’

‘No, just a couple of cupboards. They’ve been dumped in the spare bedroom with my clothes but I’m happy to live out of boxes for the time being. In any case, there’s a huge built-in wardrobe cupboard in my bedroom that’ll take most of my clothes. The rest is for storage really and I’m in no hurry to move things from one place to another just for the sake of it. You serious about food?’

‘When was I ever not serious about food?’

‘Then I’d love to. Thank you.’

***

Holly’s kitchen was immaculate but sadly lacking in fundamental requirements – like crockery and cutlery and … well, it was a very long list so next morning Holly abandoned what was left of the unpacking and ventured out in search of a few vital items to add to the kettle and mugs she’d moved in with.

Tourists don’t tend to visit picturesque Cotswolds villages for new saucepans but, while a trip to the local retail park was on the cards in the near future, the general store at Emma’s end of the village would provide all she needed to tide her over. She mooched her way along the high street, popping in and out of shops every now and then to buy some essential and some not so essential items. She loved it that not a single business was one of a chain, something she’d been unable to get away from in London. Part of the joy was not knowing what to expect when she went through the door.

Without transport and the ability to reach and, more to the point, carry things back from outside the village, Holly decided to concentrate her efforts on the things she could do and applied herself for the rest of the day and those that followed to giving the side extension a much-needed facelift. Somewhere along the line ‘when it got too much for me to put things in the loft’ this room had become Mrs Foster’s storage room. It was immaculately clean, the whole house was, but it had a sad, neglected look.

Holly had bought paint, brushes, and stepladder prior to moving in, arranging for them to be delivered with everything else as she had recognised this as a priority. The rest of the house was a bit faded too but it had a warm, lived-in personality. There was no hurry to change anything there. Maybe without the matching roof the room felt like a poor relation. Holly hoped she’d be able to rectify that though she knew it would be expensive and certainly nowhere near the top of her to-do list.

Inside she set to with a will and that was when she discovered very quickly that the painting of walls and woodwork bears no resemblance at all to the watercolours that were her favourite medium. It wasn’t a task she enjoyed but she was pleased enough with the results. Country air and sheer hard work did their job and Holly slept like a baby those first few nights. She was keen for Emma to come round again to see the results and come round she did, the following Friday after school.

‘I like the make-up, Holly. Is this your new look?’

‘Yes, I know,’ she said, turning to the wall mirror in the hall and peering at her face, trying to pick yellow specks off with her fingernail. ‘I thought I’d managed to scrub it all away but it gets everywhere. I don’t think I got this much paint on me the whole time we were at college.’

Emma didn’t have a studio. Being a teacher, she had everything she needed at school. Holly though needed somewhere to work.

‘Let’s have a look then, Hol.’

Holly half dragged her to that part of the house where she now spent most of her waking hours, so glad at last to get hands-on in her new home, falling over her words as they went.

‘It’s nowhere near finished yet, but it’s clean and bright. And I had no idea how big that front window was. With a couple of coats of paint, well, you can see how the light just streams in and reflects off the walls – ét voila.’

Emma stood in the doorway, her mouth a perfectly formed ‘O’.

‘It’s a bit different from when you saw it last, isn’t it?’

‘It’s amazing. No wonder you’re so excited. You must have been decorating day and night. I can’t believe how much you’ve done since I was here last week.’

‘Well, I just couldn’t wait to get it finished, but I’ve discovered muscles I never even knew existed. If I hadn’t taken a day off in the middle to help out at the home I think everything would have seized up by now.’

‘I’d give my right arm for somewhere like this,’ Emma said, the envy discernible in her voice. ‘It’s an artist’s dream. You could get carried away in here.’

‘Well, Emma, for a small fee you can come and use the facilities any time you like.’

‘I can see what you mean about turning it into a retail gallery as well as a studio,’ Emma said, doing a three hundred and sixty degree turn as she examined the space. ‘It would work really well, but you’ll need more than just passing trade if you want to make a real go of it, particularly as you’re right out on a limb here at the end of the street.’

Emma knew about Holly’s dream; knew she wanted to build a viable business around her passion.

‘Yes, I know, and I’m going to need some help putting together a website, or more likely getting someone to do it for me. I’m not techie as you well know. I can design the flyers myself of course but I’ll get them run off professionally. My poor old printer would never cope with the quantity. It throws a hissy fit if I try anything larger than a three-page document. Then I’ll be walking the streets pushing them through letterboxes. Firstly, though, I’m going to the tourist information office and the library. I need advice from people who know what they’re talking about ’cos I sure as hell don’t.’

Holly’s voice got faster and faster as her excitement grew and it was only when she paused for breath that Emma said, ‘And next week?’

Not allowing her friend’s sarcasm to diminish her enthusiasm, she replied, ‘Okay, I know it isn’t going to happen overnight but if I’m a bit frugal – and, if I come round to yours three or four times a week to eat – I should be able to manage.’

‘Don’t be shy. Just ask. Move back in if you want to. No? I thought not. Maybe you’d like meals on wheels.’

‘Well, if you’re offering …’

‘You’re pushing it now, you know. There are limits to this friendship.’

‘But, Em. I’m a poor orphan.’

‘More of that wheedling and you’ll be a seriously bruised orphan.’

‘Anyway,’ Holly said, reverting to her normal voice, ‘I would like to be ready in time for at least some of this year’s tourist season, if I can. It’s only just February. No need to panic yet, I hope.’

‘Well, you didn’t collar every prize going at college for nothing. What was it Blush the Brush said about you? “Enormous potential to succeed”.’

‘Yeah, but …’

‘You were a little star, Hol. You know you were. This is not the time for false modesty.’

‘Emma, I know you …’

‘If anyone can make it work, you can. And when you’re rich and famous I’ll remind you how I helped set you on your way. In fact, I could be your business manager.’

‘That would be in your spare time of course.’

Emma didn’t have a lot of spare time, not with two boys and a husband to whom the adjective practical would never apply. Her work didn’t stop at the school gate either. There were always lessons to prepare and homework to be marked. Today she’d left the twins with a friend for an hour while she came over.

‘Ah, you’ve realised I’ve done a runner. No chance of any peace and quiet with my two. I’ve left them with Kate. Six-year-olds! Give me work any day.’

‘You’re not serious?’ Holly was quite indignant on behalf of her godchildren.

‘Absolutely. At least by the time I get them in class they’re into double figures and most have learned some sense. I’ve always been hopeless with small children.’

Emma was not hopeless with children of any age. She had that amazing gift that made people warm to her no matter how many years they’d notched up, or indeed how few. It was true though that as far as teaching was concerned she preferred a bit of maturity. Her enthusiasm promoted confidence in everyone though and, in Holly’s case and after all she’d been through, a welcome faith in her own ability to take control of and make a success of her future. Emma really was the best of friends.

Chapter Four

In between decorating and visiting the home that first week Holly made time to apply for permission for change of use for the extension. This was the most urgent thing on her agenda as in her opinion her whole future depended on it. Well aware it would take weeks if not months to come through it was important to set the wheels in motion as soon as possible. If they rejected her application she’d have to think again, except it didn’t bear thinking about because her heart was set on it.

‘I can’t see why they would turn you down,’ Emma had said one day when the two friends were talking on the phone. ‘All you have to do is look along the high street to see how many properties have done the same thing. Lots of them must have originally been houses rather than shops. And there isn’t a gallery as such at all. Yes, a few places sell pictures, mostly prints, along with their other gift and crafty things, but there’s nothing that is dedicated to original artwork so there would be no conflict.’

‘I know, Emma, but until I have official confirmation I can’t really move forward.’

‘Well, the decorating’s done and you don’t need to buy anything. I’ve never known anyone make something out of nothing the way you do.’

‘I must point out that that’s a slight exaggeration.’

‘Maybe, but only slight.’

‘There will be lots of things I’ll need, but you have to speculate to accumulate. Who was it said that? Anyway, I’m positive that he was right. Or she was.’

She was positive too that if she were to have any chance of achieving and maintaining a successful business she would have to run it in a professional manner. Cuffingham was in the middle of a hugely popular tourist area and there were always a lot of people milling around in the summer months. However, trade was seasonal and there were countless shops selling arts, crafts, and gifts, two of them in the high street. Hers would be different of course but it would have to be pretty special to compete.

Being on the end of the run could prove to be a blessing or a disaster – only time would tell. She hoped there’d be enough trade to carry her for the rest of the year. She assumed that was what happened with most retail outlets.

Holly’s experience at the old folks’ home had confirmed she could share her skills with others and she loved doing it. Her plan to run classes would provide an occupation out of season as well as being an added bonus the rest of the time. She began to consider seriously the logistics of running two businesses in tandem. There was no reason she could see why she wouldn’t be able to produce her own work and teach others as well.

It was then that she had a ‘eureka’ moment. While she’d been decorating, with little else to do than stare at the four walls, literally, she’d been mulling over potential names for her new business. Now, when she wasn’t thinking about it at all, it hit her square between the eyes.

She’d always loved mythology at school. At the time, though, before her marriage to Harry, she’d had a different surname. The one she had now fitted so well she could hardly believe it. Artemis – Goddess of the Hunt … and her name was Hunter. I can call the business ‘Art-e-Mis’ and I can be an Arty Mistress. She like the pun so much she repeated it to Emma.

‘If that’s the best you can do I’d advise you to stick to art. Witticisms of that kind are definitely not your forte.’

‘I thought it was quite funny.’

‘No, Holly, it’s pathetic.’

‘Oh,’ she said, feeling a little deflated and winding one of her curls around her finger the way she did whenever she was upset or disconcerted – but still liking the joke anyway.

Holly had no way of gauging the potential success of the retail trade but teaching could go a long way to providing a regular and reliable year-round income. All she had to do now was find some students. Oh, and there was the small detail of getting her proposal accepted.

Her mother’s old pine table could sit ten for dinner, twelve at a pinch, but that was for a meal. If it was going to be used as a workbench, people would need a bit of elbow room: space to spread things around. In spite of Harry not being keen, she’d insisted on keeping the table when her parents died. It reminded her of her childhood with the little pictures that she’d carved into its surface.

Her preoccupation with art had begun at an early age. It was one of those tables you expect to find in the enormous kitchen of a stately home. When Holly was little her family had lived in the ground floor/basement flat of an old Victorian house, and her mother had loved that old table. She didn’t seem to mind Holly’s carvings too much either, though there was the occasional token protest. They’d virtually lived in the basement kitchen and it had always been a warm and happy room, light filtering down through the window because they were on the sunny side of the street.

No way was Holly going to let the table go just because Harry didn’t want it. Too big for the house, it had been kept in the garage in London – who keeps their car in the garage anyway? – until she’d moved it and her paintings into storage pending divorce and the sale of the house.

‘You can have the bloody thing. I don’t want it,’ he’d said when she told him she was taking it with her to the Cotswolds. He’d sounded like one of Emma’s petulant pupils. As if she’d have left it with him anyway! For all its size it was dwarfed in the studio. It would certainly be big enough to take all the paraphernalia Holly’s students might need.

She couldn’t, however, ask them to sit on the floor so she decided her first task would be a tour of the local antique and second-hand furniture shops, far more a labour of love than a disagreeable chore. Holly had visited many of the shops over the years when staying with Emma, and since she’d left London, but there were still some she didn’t know and some she was looking forward to reacquainting herself with. She whisked herself up a smoothie to take the place of lunch, put it in a flask, and set off, excitement bubbling just below the surface.

The day was still young and Holly stepped out of her front door like a woman with a purpose. Any remaining doubts she might have had about the move had been laid to rest. Each day she felt more like a resident and less of a tourist. There were no airs and graces from the people she’d met at Kate and Charlie’s (unlike some of Harry’s friends) and over the ensuing few weeks, apart from the gap at Christmas, she’d seen most of them again and was beginning to feel she belonged.

There was only one fly in the ointment and Adam chose that moment to come out of the small post office and nearly bowl her over again. He pulled up sharply, flashing those great big blue eyes, and mumbled: ‘Look, I’m really sorry we got off to such a bad start. I guess you heard about Buttercup. I was a bit stressed. Maybe we can pretend it didn’t happen.’

Feeling a little mollified Holly opened her mouth to speak, ready to meet him halfway with her own apology, but before she had a chance to reply off he went just like he had the first time they’d met.

‘Yes but … Hang on a minute. You can’t just …’

‘Sorry. Can’t stop. Patient.’

Positively bristling with fury Holly took a deep breath and tried to regain her earlier mood of contentment. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had so got under her skin. The deep breath didn’t work but she was fairly sure retail therapy would and she set off along the street determinedly in search of something, anything, to take her mind off Adam.

She spent a very happy though fruitless half an hour or so rummaging around and finally treated herself to a small ornamental dish of absolutely no use and very little value, but she liked it. I can use it for sweets, she thought. Or peanuts. Having salved her conscience by convincing herself that it would be of some use after all, she walked across the road and sat down on a bench facing the river, taking out the smoothie and a small packet of nuts she’d also brought with her.

While she was munching she began mentally revising a part-planned leaflet and decided on a logo depicting Artemis killing a wild boar with a spear – the hunter overcoming her prey. A bit gruesome really but, hopefully, artistic! She realised also that advertising would have to come before props. There would be no point in buying six chairs if she had nobody to sit on them. Reluctantly she dragged herself away from the river.

On her way home she stopped at a shop selling art materials. They also did printing so she went in to get an estimate for a two-colour flyer and an idea of how long it would take to produce. Then it was off home to finish the leaflet design so she could get it into production and distributed as soon as possible. The chairs would have to wait.

Once the idea had taken hold it wasn’t long before Holly had tweaked the design to her satisfaction, so she turned her attention to another of her favourite things – cooking. She enjoyed what was just another aspect of her creativity. Her kitchen was the kind one dreams about but never dares hope to have.

Mrs Foster had had it refitted five years earlier, long before she’d decided to go and live with her daughter. Cooking had been her hobby too and no expense had been spared in kitting out the hub of the cottage to a very high standard. Its size, relative to the rest of the place, was huge, spanning as it did the whole of the back of the original property, now butting up against and giving access to the extension that had been added later. Holly couldn’t be at all sure it wasn’t the kitchen that had sold her on the house in the first place, with its quarry-tiled floor and fitted range.

‘I don’t know how she could bear to leave it,’ Holly had gasped at Emma soon after she’d first seen it. ‘It’s like something out of a showroom, what with all the appliances and white goods hidden behind the cupboard doors.’

‘I bet you can’t wait to get your hands on it. I still dream about your dinner parties in London. You gave up on the catering idea pretty quickly, didn’t you?’

‘Don’t remind me. Just another thing Harry didn’t want his wife to do.’

‘Seems to me he just wanted to compartmentalise you.’

‘I don’t think it was that. I really believe it would have been a blow to his ego if I’d had any kind of job other than the one at the gallery. That suited his vision of status – my status. And it was fine to have dinner parties at home but anything commercial was out of the question. He had this romantic idea of me playing housewife. It didn’t occur to him for one moment that I’d be bored out of my mind. Fortunately the attic was well lit and I could use it as a studio when I wasn’t at work. Just as long as I didn’t try to sell anything. Harry always referred to it as my hobby.’

‘And you with more talent in your little finger than him in his whole body.’

‘I’m not sure some of his girlfriends would agree with you,’ Holly retorted, feeling like she was scratching at an old scab.

***

Holly opened one oak door after another but many of the cupboards were empty. She came to the conclusion that she must plead with Emma for a trip to the retail park. Her fridge was full and the local general store had supplied many of her needs, but she was used to having all the ingredients she needed to hand and all the equipment required to cook them in. She piled such things as she did have onto the huge central reservation with its drawers and units underneath a spacious granite top. Running her fingers over the cool surface she thought about how lucky she was.

Holly opened the door to the garden, at right angles to the one that led into the studio. She couldn’t resist taking a quick peek into the studio and imagined what it would be like when it held more than just her mother’s table. She gave her head a little shake, as she did most times when she thought of her beloved parents and the cruel fate that had taken them from her.

The outside area must at one time have been quite beautiful but English cottage country gardens didn’t look after themselves and Mrs Foster hadn’t employed a gardener other than to cut the grass. Holly picked some of the herbs that were growing outside the back door, thus far her only attempt at cultivation, and sighed. So much to do. For the time being though it would have to wait.

Back in the kitchen she set to with a will, using the few implements and pans she had and grateful for the large foil containers she’d bought locally. She spent the whole afternoon cutting, preparing, and cooking while listening to music on her iPod. Finally she left everything on the granite top and settled down in her very comfortable armchair – offering up silent thanks to Mrs Foster – to make a couple of calls while she waited for things to cool down enough to put in the fridge or freezer. She began with Emma and, finding her at home, invited her and Tom over for the meal she’d promised her as soon as she’d settled in.

‘Do you want to come in the evening by yourselves, or would you rather make it Saturday and bring the boys for lunch?’

‘Every single moment of Saturday’s already accounted for but tomorrow’s Friday, they don’t have to get up early for school next day, and since it’s half-term they’ve got time to catch up on sleep. Is that too soon? What if we bring the boys in the evening, if you don’t mind eating early?’

‘I’d love that. Can Tom manage six o’clock? Will that be early enough for the twins?’

‘I’ll make sure he can. And if they start to fall asleep we can each carry one home.’

‘What!’

‘Only kidding. Do you know how much a six-year-old weighs? Perhaps we’d better bring the car. See you tomorrow.’

Holly’s next call was to Kate. Since the party they’d become firm friends and it had become part of nearly every day for them to have a natter. Phoebe too.

‘Phoebe and I are going to Bath next Thursday if this glorious weather carries on. We were wondering if you could come with us if you’re free.’

Holly jumped at the offer and Kate arranged to pick her up the following week.

Kate was a kept woman. She and Charlie had been married for about six years but Kate was a homemaker, not a working wife. The kind of situation Harry had wanted for Holly – but where it hadn’t suited Holly at all Kate thrived on it. Holly was really looking forward to a day out with her and Phoebe. She had no idea what Phoebe did for a living or how she managed to run around the country on a weekday – somehow the subject had never come up – but she was glad to have the opportunity to get to know them both better.

She’d left friends in London, of course she had, but Emma had always been her best mate and until recently she’d been too far away to see very often. Most of the people in London had been joint friends, hers and Harry’s and, while there were one or two she would miss, leaving the rest behind wasn’t the wrench it might have been.

Things had cooled off in the kitchen and Holly portioned and packed, keeping something out for dinner before putting the rest in the freezer. She hadn’t had a proper meal for two days and she ate her supper on her lap and curled up for the rest of the evening with a good book. Life was, she figured, pretty wonderful.

***

After nearly flooring Holly again outside the post office Adam had hurtled off down the street to the safety of his Land Rover. Once inside he gripped the steering wheel, though he didn’t start the engine. Bloody woman. Why does she have to reduce me to a blithering idiot every time I meet her? For the truth was that although Adam did have patients to see he was only on his daily round and there was no need at all for him to rush. It was panic that instigated his flight.

He had to face the fact that Holly had made a profound impression on him. After his disastrous engagement he’d learned to face the world with an outward air of assurance that had now become more real than assumed. Adam was a bloke’s bloke but he could usually turn on the charm to make most women his slaves. In a work environment he was assertive and confident. Seemingly that confidence deserted him in the presence of this tiny girl with the bubbly hair.

The first time he’d met Holly he’d been angry, very angry, because his commitment to his patients was absolute and he was genuinely worried about Buttercup. But his behaviour at Kate and Charlie’s was inexcusable and though he’d tried to make amends by asking for a fresh start his sangfroid had completely deserted him. He ran his hands through his thick hair, sighed deeply, and set off in the direction of his first call. As it happened he was going to see Buttercup’s orphaned calf.

‘She’s doing really well, Bert. Taking the bottle with no trouble?’

‘We got off to a shaky start but she soon got the hang of it.’

‘Okay, I’ll pop in again next time I’m passing but don’t hesitate to call if you need me. Anything else while I’m here?’

‘Just a small cut on Sunshine’s left hind if you wouldn’t mind taking a look. Otherwise, touch wood all is fine. We’ve called her Ada, by the way. The calf. After you, considering you’re the reason she survived.’

Adam was touched by the gesture, shaking Bert’s hand by way of thanks but without embarrassment. He found himself thinking about Holly again as he drove away. He’d believed after their first meeting that she’d brought what he imagined to be her London ways to the country. His ex-fiancée had been from London too and perhaps he carried with him an unreasonable bias. It was obvious at the party that Holly wasn’t like that. She’s got spirit, is all. I like that. Why can’t I just behave normally around her? He wasn’t too happy about the amount of time he spent thinking about her either.

Chapter Five

On Friday morning Holly went straight to the print shop armed with her leaflet design. After a bit of discussion they decided on royal blue to be printed on yellow paper. This would match the colour scheme Holly had in mind for the gallery and studio.

‘Next Wednesday suit you?’

‘Yes, thank you, that’ll be fine.’

Now that she’d got this big decision out of the way Holly decided to busy herself resuming the search for chairs that she’d had to abandon previously. There were a number of other things she wanted to pick up as well and while she still didn’t have any students she realised she could hardly advertise if she had nowhere to put them. Previously it seemed a bit like a chicken and egg situation but in the time she was waiting for interest in the classes there was no reason she could see why she shouldn’t get the chairs. Even if things didn’t work out the way she wanted them to the table still needed chairs.

Having justified her decision she popped in to get some more ingredients and dropped them at home, reflecting on how nice it was that everything was virtually on her doorstep. She’d been seriously worried that she’d miss the capital’s shops but it hadn’t happened so far. Right, she thought after unpacking her shopping, time to look for those chairs.

Holly bypassed the first two antique shops she came to, having been in them several times before and knowing neither carried the sort of thing she was looking for. The next one was double-fronted and for some reason, though she remembered looking in the window, she’d never been in there. A little brass bell rang as she pushed open the door and Gordon appeared from behind a desk.

‘How lovely to see you, Holly. Were you looking for me or have you come to be nosy?’

‘Not looking for you because I didn’t have the slightest idea you’d be here. Is this yours?’

‘Yes, even the dust is mine.’

It wasn’t dusty at all but Holly liked his sense of humour.

‘Would you like to be shown around or do you prefer to browse?’

‘Browse, if you don’t mind. At least to begin with.’

Gordon moved away, leaving Holly to her own devices, but he reappeared about ten minutes later and put a cup of coffee in her hand.

‘You look like you need caffeine.’

Remembering back to Kate and Charlie’s party – what a long time ago that seemed now – it was apparent this man was going to make a habit of plying her with drinks every time they met, be they alcoholic or not.

‘Does it show?’

‘No, but it takes one to know one. Anyway, it would be less than hospitable of me not to offer you some kind of sustenance, seeing as how we’re friends.’

‘We are? Nice of you to say so, particularly on such short acquaintance,’ but it gave her a warm feeling. After a little while he was back, asking if she’d like to see the rest of the premises.

‘There’s more?’

‘Much more,’ he said and proceeded to give Holly a guided tour of what was plainly his pride and joy. She loved the musty smell of the place and was delighted when Gordon didn’t rush her but told her to take as long as she liked.

‘As you can see, I’m not overwhelmed by customers at the moment.’

Holly picked up a piece by Clarice Cliff, loving the way she used colour and wishing she could buy it. This was not the time, however, for self-indulgence and regretfully she put it back in its place.

Gordon put a ‘please ring’ notice on the front door, slipped the latch, and led her through to the back. This was a much larger area even than the shop and it housed all sorts. There was a beautiful ancient spinning wheel that she immediately wanted, seeing her parlour as a perfect setting for it. She wouldn’t have had a clue how it worked but it would make a lovely ornament. She rather liked the picture she’d conjured up and for a moment felt a bit dreamy.

‘Earth to Holly. Where are you, Holly?’

‘Picturing this at home in my parlour. Anywhere else and I would have called it a lounge or a sitting room, but parlour definitely suits the cottage.’

‘I’d love to see it.’

It was an innocent enough remark but Holly couldn’t help feeling there was more than politeness in Gordon’s statement. He sounded a tad eager. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond but then her attention was drawn to a magnificent old pine chest that she lost her heart to – it would have really set off her studio table and the, for her, awkward moment passed.

‘I could keep masses of stuff in here,’ she said, pulling out one of the drawers. ‘And the room is big enough to take it.’

Reluctantly she turned her back on it. A glance at the ticket had told her the price and there was no way she could justify spending that much money on something that wasn’t a necessity. Gordon wasn’t a fool. He summed up the situation without her uttering a word.

‘I could give you first refusal if anyone shows any interest.’

It sounded like Mrs Foster all over again.

‘I wish, and thank you but no.’

She moved from one beautiful piece of furniture to another, this being mainly what the back area was given over to. More than once she ran her hand over smooth wood, marvelling at how it could feel cool and warm at the same time.

‘You’re so lucky to work with such fabulous craftsmanship. How can you bear to part with any of it? I’d go under in no time because I’d never be able to let any of it go.’

‘So what do you do when someone wants to buy one of your paintings or any other piece of artwork that you’ve made with your own fair hands; put your heart and soul into?’

He had a point. He also had chairs! Exactly what she wanted, six of them and at a price that made her wince but which she could afford. She didn’t haggle but he still gave her a discount, insisting that he’d have done the same for any customer who tried to push the price down. It was how his business worked. People expected him to be beaten down and he built it into his asking price. He also promised to deliver them.

‘How about this evening, after I close?’

‘Thank you. That would be fantastic.’

Then she remembered that Emma and Tom and the boys were coming for supper, so of course she asked Gordon if he would like to come too and she was delighted when he said yes. The twinkle in his eyes that she’d seen at Kate and Charlie’s was back. Interesting.

As it was close on lunchtime and supper was going to be early Holly thought she’d better go home and start preparing, particularly as Gordon was coming as well. He was her first new grown-up visitor and she felt one should try to make a good impression. Who did she think she was kidding? Then she thought of Harry again and the bleakness returned as she remembered the dinner parties they’d had with friends, how proud he’d always seemed to be of her, how badly he’d let her down. She gave herself a mental shake. I’m moving on now. I’ll have my own dinner parties.

***

It was a fantastic evening! As Easter wasn’t too far away, Holly had cut some yellow cardboard into egg shapes and drawn a line just below the middle to represent a belt. Using different coloured card, buttons, and paints, she’d put everything on the newspaper-covered studio table, together with scissors, glue, and cotton wool.

Gordon was the first to arrive and together they unloaded the chairs and set them around the table. Holly was delighted with them and grabbed a couple of scatter cushions from the parlour to raise the seats for the twins. Being little herself she knew how uncomfortable it was if you couldn’t quite reach. They’d just finished organising the furniture when the Carters arrived.

‘Come on, this way, you’ll have to work for your dinner,’ Holly said, herding them into the studio. ‘We can’t eat without tablemats,’ she declared seriously, totally ignoring the fact that the table was already engraved with her childhood carvings. ‘As I haven’t got any, we’ll have to make them. We’ve got half an hour before dinner will be ready, so let’s get to it.’

After Holly tied an apron around the neck of each twin to save Emma washing their clothes …

‘No chance. If it’s not paint, it’ll be dinner.’

… they all spent a hilarious half an hour cutting and pasting and painting until each had a Humpty Dumpty, though no two were alike, and one definitely had a squint!

‘Okay, dinner’s ready. Sorry it’s paper plates and plastic cutlery. I haven’t got the real thing yet. I’m still waiting for Mummy to take me shopping.’

‘I’m ready whenever you are.’

‘After half-term then. It’s probably not a good idea to go while school’s out. Can you do a Sunday?’

‘Tom?’ Emma queried, looking across at her husband.

‘No problem.’

‘No problem, the man said. We’ll get it done.’

‘Wonderful. In the meantime let’s get this mess off the table and eat. Oh, and by the way, here are some I prepared earlier,’ Holly said, pulling out some tablemats she brought to the Cotswolds because Harry had never liked them.

‘But you said you didn’t have any.’

How do you tell a six-year-old that you lied, without saying that you lied?

‘I know, Jamie. But I knew the ones you made would still be wet, and in any case they are for you to take home.’

‘You told a fib!’

‘Er, well yes, I’m afraid I did.’

He looked thoughtful. Everyone else was thoroughly enjoying the exchange … everyone except Holly.

‘It’s naughty to tell fibs.’

This was getting worse!

‘Yes, but it’s okay,’ he said, brightening. ‘Mummy says it’s all right sometimes to tell a white lie if it’s for a surprise or something. Why is it called a white lie?’

Holly was rapidly getting out of her depth.

‘Do you know, I have absolutely no idea? I bet Mummy knows. Why don’t you ask her? I’ll go and get dinner.’

And she escaped to the kitchen, somewhere between panic and giggles. Dinner was really delicious! You can’t go wrong with meatballs in gravy, can you? And Holly was almost ashamed of the number of desserts she’d made, but she knew from staying with Emma and Tom that she wasn’t the only one with a sweet tooth.

It’s amazing how six people can all talk at once and still listen to everyone else’s conversation. It was noisy and hilarious but it seemed that everyone had a lovely time. Holly certainly did. Sure enough, somewhere around half past eight, Jake and Jamie became suddenly quiet and turned a bit pale and Emma started looking concerned.

‘I think it’s time we went home, don’t you, Tom?’

They spent a few minutes arguing over which Humpty belonged to whom and, when they were all happy that they’d got their own masterpiece, there were hugs and kisses all round and they left. All except Gordon. He insisted on staying to help clear up the mess, but instead they sat in the parlour and polished off the rest of the wine.

‘Thank goodness you brought the chairs. What I hope will eventually be my dining room is full of clutter and in any case I don’t have the furniture to go in there. It’s certainly not big enough to take the table I’ve got.’

‘Isn’t it? I don’t know the house at all. I never came when the Fosters lived here.’

‘Come on, then. I’ll show you. If you’re interested, that is.’

‘Of course I’m interested. Homes, well furnishing them, is a large part of my business.’

‘I wasn’t inviting you to buy anything. Just to have a look.’

They went straight across the hall from the parlour into the room that was destined to be the dining room. Though Holly had complained about Mrs Foster’s junk in the extension, this room was practically full to the ceiling with hers, most of it canvases and other art materials so not junk really.

‘Sorry about the mess.’

‘No worries. You’ve only just moved in. I can see what you mean, though. It’s a lovely room but a bit cosy.’

‘Are you always this polite?’

‘Okay, it’s small. But it’s big enough for a dining room. It’d be different if you wanted to put a three-piece suite in here.’

‘Do you want to see the rest or is that just a girly thing?’

‘It absolutely isn’t. I can be just as nosy as the next person.’

They went into the kitchen and Gordon said he liked the way they’d put the door on the side so it led straight into the studio. ‘Much nicer than knocking a hole in the parlour wall.’

‘Yes, nice too that there’s access from the studio to the side passage. It means people can come in that way without having to come through the house.’

‘So you’ll use that door when your classes start?’

‘Yes, fingers crossed – and now that I’ve got chairs. I was going to put the Carters on my four fold-up chairs and perch myself on a stool. I can’t tell you enough how nice it was to sit at a proper table.’

‘It was really nice to be included. I’m so glad you asked me.’

‘No choice really, seeing as how you were bringing the chairs. No, no,’ she said, holding her hands up in mock self-protection, ‘only kidding.’

‘How do you feel about opening another bottle? It seems much too early to be going home.’

‘Good idea. I wouldn’t normally eat at that time. Still, I’m pretty sure the twins enjoyed it. I wouldn’t like to do it every day though. By nine o’clock I’d be snacking again!’

Holly picked up a bottle of wine and followed Gordon into the parlour and, plonking herself beside him on the sofa, she was soon into her third glass of the evening and feeling very mellow. Mrs Foster had left all the carpets and curtains and Holly had paid her a nominal fee for the lounge furniture, which went so well with the house. Even the threadbare patches on the arms of the period-looking couch added a certain charm.

‘I saw some of your work while we were in the studio, Holly, and in the dining room. I have to say I’m very impressed! Did they give you any idea how long you might have to wait for permission to come through?’

‘I think it’ll be several weeks yet but I’m keen to get the classes up and running before then if I can.’

Gordon, an attentive listener, put his arm along the back of the sofa and started running his fingers through her hair. Well, he tried to, but it was so unruly he got caught up in a tangle of curls and, instead of reducing her to jelly as he’d so obviously planned, he reduced her to giggles instead.

‘Hang on. You’re going to spill that all over your lap,’ Gordon said, rescuing the glass from her unsteady fingers. He leaned across her to put it on the coffee table then turned his face towards her, close to hers. She stopped giggling. Well, she didn’t think it would be polite while he was kissing her. He was very gentle and it was a very nice kiss, and she hadn’t been kissed in a long, long time. He drew back, his face just inches away, his eyes holding hers. ‘Holly, I …’ And that’s when panic set in and she moved back. She wasn’t ready for this. Gordon leaned in again.

Sheer force of will enabled her to slide out of his embrace and away from the sofa. In spite of the amount of wine she’d consumed she was suddenly stone-cold sober and her thoughts were as clear as a crisp morning. But her face was on fire. She raised her hands to burning cheeks.

‘Gordon, I’m sorry. I can’t do this. It’s too soon. I hardly know you.’

He smiled and stood in front of her, a square man, large and reassuring, his hands taking hold of hers.

‘I know. It’s crazy. And you’re right, of course.’

He released his grip and raised his arms, cupping her face, forcing her to look straight at him.

‘But magic has happened here this evening, Holly. Magic doesn’t happen often, does it?’ He gripped her chin with a finger and thumb. ‘People shouldn’t fly in the face of magic, should they? But neither should they abuse it. We won’t abuse it. We’ll nurture it. Don’t look so worried, Holly. We can wait. I can wait.’

And he did – but not before he’d kissed her again and held her close. Gently, oh so gently, but she could feel the passion raging within him, a passion she didn’t share.

‘Sit down, Holly. Sit down and finish your wine. I’ll do the washing up and make coffee.’

She realised she must have fallen asleep, because she woke up on the sofa early next morning, covered with a duvet and with a crick in her neck – and alone. Inexplicably a vision of Adam’s face swam before her. It surprised her and she dismissed it, trying instead to conjure up a picture of Gordon – and failing.

It had been a fabulous evening. In a way she was sorry it had ended as it did but she was frightened too by the intensity of Gordon’s feelings, feelings that her own emotions didn’t reflect. She wasn’t yet ready to jump.

Holly found a note from Gordon on the kitchen table. ‘Can’t believe I’ve just spent an evening with six-year-old twins and had such a great time. The rest wasn’t bad either! Call you later.’

Pouring soya milk onto her muesli Holly realised she was humming to herself. Romance hadn’t figured in her life for quite a while and Gordon was behaving in a very romantic way. She asked herself why she’d really held back last night but she knew the answer. She was terrified. Couples seemed to jump into bed together at the drop of a hat these days. She’d been off the market for such a long time she didn’t know the rules any more.

‘Magic’ Gordon had said. She’d felt something too but she wasn’t at all sure it was magic. She didn’t know what it was. The joy of being desired? The freedom of being able to respond if she chose to do so? And was it real, what Gordon had said, or was it just a chat-up line? And why on earth was it Adam’s face she’d seen when she woke up!

Chapter Six

Holly decided to take a day off and went exploring instead. Her walks so far had mostly taken her through the village when she’d been staying with Emma and Tom. This time she went in the other direction. The only time she’d come this way was the day she’d bumped into Adam. She’d been driven along that stretch of road before and it didn’t look very interesting, or at least not as far as she could see. But as she couldn’t see all that far she decided she wasn’t really being fair. So off she went, bottle of water and apple in her backpack.

Beyond where she’d rummaged that first time it was actually quite pretty. The rivers diverged fairly quickly, one sweeping dramatically away from the road and the other, a much narrower body of water, following the black tarmac ribbon. She stayed with the road till she noticed a footpath between the trees and the river so she headed for that instead.

‘Oh, this is brilliant,’ she said aloud, her voice resonating. Embarrassed, she peeped over her shoulder to make sure there was no one else around. She didn’t usually talk to herself. The river looked really lovely here, not deep and with overhanging branches, and she could see tiny fish sparkling in the water. A flash of electric blue and orange streaked by at lightning speed and the only thing she could be sure of was that it was a bird. She had no idea what she’d just seen but she resolved to search for a book that would identify not just this little wonder, but all the others she could see flitting in and out of the trees.

Holly was fast coming to realise that this peaceful countryside was in fact far from serene. The almost constant birdsong, the trickling of the water, and the wind whispering through the branches all added to the volume, but the noises were very soothing. London with its totally different sounds seemed a very long way away.

She hadn’t gone very far when the character of the river changed. There were small boulders here and there – well, large stones really – the shallow water foaming as it splashed over them. Then she heard a new sound. Something was whimpering and, a few yards ahead and nearer to the opposite bank, she saw a dog with its front paw apparently caught between two rocks.

Now Holly knew animals about as well as she knew birds, but this one was obviously in trouble. She tried to use some of the larger rocks as stepping stones as she crossed the river towards the dog, but still managed to get one foot very wet. She couldn’t quite believe just how cold the water was.

As she approached he waved his tail, something she recognised as a sign of welcome, so she moved towards him confidently; but if he thought she could do anything to help he was sadly mistaken.

‘Hello, boy. You are in a pickle, aren’t you?’

Big brown eyes looked trustingly into hers. She found on closer inspection that his paw was entangled in fishing wire, which was also wrapped around a large stone. Holly tried to untangle the wire, both from the dog and the stone, but she didn’t have any scissors and the line remained firmly fixed. Not only that but, when she tried to ease his leg out of its trap, though the flag at one end continued to wave, there was a definite rumble coming from the throat at the other.

Holly realised she was causing even more pain and she didn’t have a clue what to do. She stepped onto the bank and pulled off her backpack. Emma’s number was stored in her mobile and she prayed for an answer.

‘Emma, I don’t know what to do. I just came out for a walk and now I’ve found a dog and it’s trapped and …’

‘Slow down, Holly, and start at the beginning. I missed half of that.’

So slow down she did and, because she’d kept to the river path, she had no trouble telling Emma exactly where she was.

‘I’ll get Adam down there as soon as I can. Just stay there and try to keep him calm so he doesn’t damage himself trying to pull his foot out.’

Emma had obviously learned a thing or two about animals since she’d moved to the country. She used to be as ignorant as Holly was. Neither of them had dogs when they were kids.

The poor thing was whimpering and trembling quite violently, so she gave up on trying to keep herself warm and dry and sat down on the bank next to him.

‘It’s okay, boy. Help is on its way. You’ll soon be free again.’

And there she stayed, stroking him and talking in what she hoped was a reassuring voice, until Adam arrived. Through the trees she saw his Land Rover stop almost exactly opposite where Holly was sitting. Well, at least I’ve done that right! Adam picked a path across the river and she noticed bitterly that he didn’t put a foot wrong. But he wasn’t interested in arguing with her today.

‘It’s Old Meg. She often goes AWOL and gets herself into trouble. Betty and Donald will be frantic by now. Good thing you were out here. She’s very cold and she’s very old. If you hadn’t found her I doubt she’d have made it through the day, never mind about lasting all night. Hypothermia can be a killer.’ And to the dog: ‘Come on, old girl. Let’s get you out of there.’

She was obviously soothed by his voice, and more so by what he told Holly was a painkilling injection. Once it had taken effect, she held her firmly, as instructed, while Adam worked to free her from her trap, and when he did Holly burst into tears. Adam, pretending not to notice, was feeling Old Meg’s foot and leg, examining her for signs of injury.

‘Don’t worry. She’ll be all right now. I’ll just take her back to the surgery and check her out thoroughly before I send her home. Well done!’

And he picked the dog up and he was gone. Just like that. Indignant at first she then realised that his concern for Meg was paramount and his anxiety to get her back and examine her properly far outweighed any other considerations. She rather admired him for that and, as a feeling of elation overwhelmed her because in her small way she had helped to save a life, she understood. If that was what it felt like, it was no wonder Adam got so upset when he lost one. She crossed the river and turned for home. Her feet were freezing and she needed a long hot bath, but inside she felt very warm.

The bath was wonderful. Dried and dusted, she put on tracksuit bottoms and a fleece, made coffee, and checked the phone for messages. Nothing as yet, but Gordon wouldn’t shut shop until five-thirty. And in any case she wasn’t quite sure what her own feelings were and was glad of a bit more time to reflect.

She sat down and thought about her morning’s adventure. Had she been a bit too hard on Adam? She knew she would have been devastated if Old Meg had died. Is that how he felt every time it happened to him? And she guessed the nature of the job meant it happened to him fairly often. Today she’d seen a new side to this man. It still didn’t excuse his rudeness, but it did explain it, at least to her satisfaction. Not, as her mother would have said, that there’s any excuse for bad manners. It did make them a little more understandable though.

She emptied her backpack, the contents of which thankfully were still dry, as she didn’t really want to have trashed her phone. She’d just finished making a sandwich for lunch – bugger healthy eating, she was hungry – when the bell rang. Taking a big bite, she went and opened the door and practically spat a mouthful of food at her visitor. She managed to swallow instead, but not without inducing a fit of coughing.

‘Harry, what the hell are you doing here?’

He was carrying an enormous bunch of flowers behind which he seemed to be cowering in a very un-Harry-like sort of way.

‘Can I come in, Holly? I feel a bit of an arse standing here on the doorstep like this.’

Oh no. This was so unfair: just when she was jogging along so nicely without him. She didn’t want her life turned upside down again. Her head was getting over him, but suddenly her heart was beating a tattoo loud enough to bring down the walls of Jericho.

She stepped back from the doorway and he walked past her into the cottage. She pointed him towards the kitchen and offered him a chair.

‘Coffee?’

‘Please. It’s been quite a journey.’

Holly put a mug in front of him and sat down on the opposite side of the table as her knees were beginning to knock and she wasn’t sure how long her legs would hold her. Harry was looking around, obviously quite impressed.

‘I thought I was going to find you in a tiny two-up two-down cottage. This is great!’

‘What are you doing here, Harry? What do you want?’

He turned back towards her.

‘It was all a mistake, Holly. A huge, terrible mistake. I miss you dreadfully. I want you to come home.’

He looked utterly miserable, but she’d been on the receiving end of his wiles before. She’d also given in to them before.

‘I am home, Harry,’ she said as gently as she could.

‘Things just aren’t the same without you. The house is gone and my new flat is soulless without you. Don’t six years of marriage count for anything?’

‘They did for me. Apparently they didn’t for you. Five times! And those are only the ones I know about.’

‘Holly, I know it must be a bit of a shock, me turning up like this, but I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t think you’d talk to me about it on the phone.’

Too right!

‘I’ve taken Monday off work, so I’ve still got two more days. I’ll check in at a B&B, or maybe I can stay here?’ He looked at her hopefully. A raised eyebrow was all the answer she gave him. ‘Then maybe we can talk later? Please, Holly. Let’s just talk about it, eh?’

Holly had never been impervious to his cajoling, and she felt herself weakening now. He must have sensed it.

‘At least have dinner with me. We can go to a nice cosy pub like we used to. Surely there’s no harm in that?’

‘I’m not changing my mind, Harry. The divorce is in progress. You know that.’

‘It doesn’t have to be. We can change our minds.’

Could it be that easy? Just phone the solicitor and call it off? But she didn’t want to call it off, did she?

‘Just have dinner with me. You owe me that.’

She didn’t actually feel she owed him a thing but thought it would be unkind to say so.

‘It won’t change anything, but if you want to spend your money taking me out for a meal, who am I to turn you down? Don’t think you can get round me, though. I’m making a nice life for myself here and I’m afraid it doesn’t include you any more. And you’d better book a table. The pubs around here are all very popular, particularly on Saturday nights. I’ll see you about eight. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got things to do.’

It sounded harsh but she needed to maintain her guard. She stood up and walked determinedly to the door, remembering as he passed to thank him for the flowers.

Holly leaned her back against the door and slid down to the floor. Sitting cross-legged, she burst into tears for the second time that day. At this rate she’d be dehydrated in no time. She wasn’t even premenstrual. Get a grip, girl. You’ve managed perfectly well on your own for almost six months now. Don’t let him do this to you. Remember what you went through. Be positive.

She wiped her nose on her sleeve; the fleece was lovely and soft. Pulling herself to a standing position she went to phone Emma for help, also for the second time that day.

‘Put the kettle on. I’ll be straight round.’

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