by Heidi Swain
Praise for
Heidi Swain
‘Sweet and lovely. I guarantee you will fall in love with Heidi’s wonderful world’ Milly Johnson
‘Wise, warm and wonderful – a real summer treat!’ Heat
‘Sparkling and romantic’ My Weekly
‘The most delicious slice of festive fiction: a true comfort read and the perfect treat to alleviate all the stress!’ Veronica Henry
‘A fabulous feel good read – a ray of reading sunshine!’ Laura Kemp
‘Sprinkled with Christmas sparkle’ Trisha Ashley
‘A story that captures your heart’ Chrissie Barlow
‘Fans of Carole Matthews will enjoy this heartfelt novel’ Katie Oliver
To
Emma Capron,
with love and thanks
Prologue
I was curled up on my sofa, tweaking my ‘chuck-it-all-in chutney’ recipe and dreaming about preparing it in my new kitchen in Nightingale Square, when my mobile rang. It wasn’t the first time it had interrupted my evening and I snatched it up, fully prepared to tell my best mate Lou that I was absolutely certain that an evening in the pub celebrating Halloween was not the way to prepare for packing up my flat.
‘I haven’t changed my mind,’ I announced, accepting the call without checking the ID. ‘You and Colin will have to manage without me.’
It was just a week until the move and I couldn’t risk wasting precious packing time nursing a Creepy Cocktail-induced hangover.
‘Poppy?’
‘Mum?’ I jolted upright, scattering my notes and recipe cards far and wide as I squinted at the screen.
‘Poppy?’ came her voice again.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’m here.’
‘Good, because I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.’
My heart sank. Mum and I didn’t have the sort of relationship where we kept up with each other’s lives. In fact, we didn’t have a relationship where we kept up with each other at all. Her call was completely unexpected and I knew from past experience that it wouldn’t be littered with idle chit-chat. I only hoped it wasn’t about my brother.
‘It’s about Ryan.’
My heart slumped further. Ever since Ryan’s father, Tony, divorced our mother three years ago I had been wondering how long she would be able to cope. Tony was still very much on the scene, but with Mum severely lacking in the maternal instinct department it had always felt like just a matter of time before the testosterone-charged teenage bomb detonated.
‘He got surprisingly good GCSE grades,’ she shocked me by saying, ‘and now he’s studying for his A levels.’
Perhaps the urgency wasn’t of the negative variety after all.
‘But I’m not sure he’s going to be able to keep it up,’ she continued. ‘In fact, I know he isn’t.’
But then again . . .
I braced myself for impact.
‘The thing is, Poppy,’ she went on, sounding more whiney with every word, ‘I just can’t afford it.’
‘What do you mean, you can’t afford it?’ I snapped, cutting her off, the second I sensed trouble.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘we moved house in June. Straight after Ryan’s last exam.’
I wasn’t at all fazed by this announcement. She had moved before and neglected to tell me until I had been forced to text after Ryan’s birthday card, marked ‘return to sender’, had landed on my doormat. Had I not put my own address sticker on the back I never would have known.
‘We’re just on the outskirts of Wynmouth now.’
That, I was not expecting. Wynmouth was on the north Norfolk coast and only an hour or so from my patch in Norwich. Suddenly she was a little too close for comfort.
‘Sorry,’ I said, forcing myself to remain focused on her words as opposed to her uncomfortable proximity, ‘but I don’t see how you living near Wynmouth means Ryan can’t afford to study.’
‘He’s enrolled at Norwich city college and has to commute every day and it’s not just that, there’s the equipment he needs and money for trips, not to mention the new laptop he’ll have to buy to keep on top of everything. It’s got to be a specific one, apparently.’
‘But surely Tony will help out with all of that,’ I said bluntly.
He had never shirked his parental responsibilities before. I couldn’t imagine he was exactly thrilled that Mum had moved Ryan so far away, but he wasn’t the sort of bloke to throw his toys out of the pram over something like that.
‘Tony’s will hasn’t been sorted yet,’ Mum shot back, every bit as bluntly. ‘There’s some complication apparently . . .’
‘Tony’s what?’
‘Will,’ she said, louder this time.
I didn’t say anything.
‘You know,’ she carried on as if I hadn’t heard of a will before, ‘the legal document that shares out your worldly goods when you die. Do keep up, Poppy.’
‘Are you actually telling me that Tony’s dead?’ I gasped.
‘Yes,’ she said, an edge of frustration creeping into her tone. ‘He had a heart attack just after Easter and never recovered. That’s the reason why we moved. To help Ryan move on.’
I didn’t for one second believe that had formed any part of her motive for packing up but it wasn’t the time to mention it. I was still reeling from the casual way she had dropped Tony’s death into the conversation.
‘Ryan said he was going to let you know,’ she carried on.
Why she thought that grim task should fall to him, I had no idea.
‘Well, he didn’t,’ I stammered.
‘I thought it was a bit strange when you didn’t turn up for the funeral.’
‘But not so strange that you thought you should call me?’
She ignored the question.
‘But it’s all done now.’ She sighed, as if the situation had exhausted her. ‘We’re just waiting for the money— Ryan’s money,’ she hastily corrected herself, ‘to come through. Should there be any, that is. But in the meantime, I was wondering if there’s any chance you could help tide us over? Tide Ryan over, I mean.’
I hated the thought of Ryan having to give up his education when it must have been so difficult for him to carry on with it, and I didn’t allow myself to think about why he had been within spitting distance of me most days over the last few weeks and not been in touch. The ball was in my court now and I was going to have to make amends. I wanted to make amends.
I grabbed a scrap of paper as Mum relayed her bank details, all the while wishing that I’d gone out with Lou after all. A creepy cocktail was probably just the thing for treating shock.
Chapter 1
Winter determinedly matched my mood and for seemingly weeks the city was held tight in the clutches of what the media called another Beast from the East. Having had to shelve my plans to move into my beloved Nightingale Square, I had avoided the place, along with the community garden attached to it and Kate, the lovely lady who owned the house I had so longed to rent, as much as possible.
Instead of hankering for what I had lost, I focused my attention on trying to build bridges with my brother, but my enthusiasm to rekindle our relationship was never reciprocated. In fact, Ryan had bailed on every single get-together I had pushed for and he kept communication between us firmly confined to occasional texts and the odd stilted and extremely brief call. He had never thanked me for the money and I didn’t feel comfortable mentioning
it.
*
‘Poppy!’ called Harry, my boss, one afternoon in early March. ‘Customer!’
There had been a sudden change in the weather since the calendar had flipped from February to March and I was grateful for the reappearance of the sun. Not only because it meant warmer weather was on its way, but also because it meant that Greengages Grocers, the shop I had worked in since dropping out of university six years ago, was busy again.
‘Coming,’ I called back, snapping my laptop shut.
Harry had asked me to start investigating the possibility of Greengages going plastic-free. Customers had been asking about it more and more and he considered me the person best suited to finding out whether it was a viable option for his business. I had been using every spare minute to research the idea and was excited about what I had found so far. It wasn’t going to happen overnight but it was looking feasible long-term.
‘Oh,’ I said, as I stepped from the stockroom and on to the shop floor.
I had expected to find Harry swamped but there was only one customer.
‘Kate.’ I swallowed. ‘How can I help?’
I retied the bow of my apron and looked everywhere but at her. I still felt awkward about letting her down at such short notice, especially as I knew the tenants she had then hastily taken on had turned out to be less than ideal.
‘I’m hoping I might be able to help you actually.’ She smiled, stroking the head of her baby, Abigail, who was cosily nestled in a fabric sling across her chest. ‘It’s about the house.’
I felt my face begin to flush.
‘I heard your tenants had another humdinger of a party last weekend,’ Harry tutted.
My cheeks flared even redder. Had I moved in when I was supposed to, Kate’s pretty little property wouldn’t have had to endure the tenants from hell.
‘Yes,’ she said with a sigh, ‘they did. It’s hardly any wonder that the other new resident in the square doesn’t want anything to do with any of us, is it?’
I hadn’t met the chap myself, but I knew he had moved in just before Christmas and had made a point of keeping his door firmly shut. Hardly surprising given who his closest neighbours were. Everyone else in Nightingale Square was lovely but his first impression of the place would have been far from impressive.
‘It can’t be easy for any of you living next door to folk like that,’ said Harry, before disappearing through to the stockroom.
‘I take it he still hasn’t visited the garden?’ I asked, finally finding my voice.
I knew that if I had moved to the square as planned I would have never been out of the place. In fact, it had been one of the main reasons why I was so keen to secure the property. The thought of utilising all that fresh produce in my pickle and preserve recipes still set my heart racing, but it was too late now.
‘Nope,’ said Kate. ‘He hasn’t so much as set foot in the grounds of Prosperous Place.’
Prosperous Place was the Victorian mansion house across the road from Nightingale Square where Kate now lived with her partner, Luke, stepdaughter Jasmine and their beautiful baby Abigail. It also happened to be where the garden was located.
‘Truth be told, he’s a right old grumpy so-and-so,’ she carried on in a low voice. ‘He keeps himself to himself and you’re lucky to even get so much as a mumbled hello out of him . . . but he’s not what I wanted to talk to you about, Poppy,’ she went on as Abigail began to stir.
‘Okay,’ I said.
‘As I said, it’s about the house.’ Kate smiled, rocking her baby from side to side. ‘And please don’t look so worried whenever I mention it. I’m sure you had your reasons for changing your mind last year.’
Well, my mother had, but Kate didn’t need to know that.
‘I just wanted to tell you that it’s available again. The tenants from hell have decamped.’
Her words were music to my ears, but the melody was less than tuneful. Thanks to Mum’s inability to balance her budget I had even less available in the bank now than I’d had before.
‘It’s in a bit of a state,’ Kate continued, ‘but they’re gone and that’s all I care about. There’s nothing a decent clear-out and a deep-clean won’t sort and I wanted you to be the first to know. I wanted to offer it to you.’
I shook my head. I wished I had started saving again, but I hadn’t for one second thought the house would be available so soon.
‘That’s very kind,’ I said sadly, ‘especially given everything that’s happened since I let you down last time round, but I can’t take it, I’m afraid.’
‘Have you got somewhere else in mind?’ Kate frowned.
‘No,’ I said, ‘no, it’s not that. I just can’t afford it. What with the deposit and everything, I’m just not in a position to move anywhere right now.’
The simple life I strived to lead was perfect in my eyes, but on rare occasions like this a few reserves in the bank would have been most welcome.
‘Oh, good grief,’ said Kate, shaking her head. ‘Sorry, Poppy. I’m not explaining myself very well, am I?’
‘Aren’t you?’
‘No,’ she said, laughing, ‘I’m not. What I should have said is that I want you to take it and I’m not going through the letting agency again, not given the fiasco I’ve already been through. I love that little house and I want to move someone in who will treasure it every bit as much as I do.’
‘But what about the deposit and everything?’
‘I’m not worried about that,’ said Kate, waving the mention of money away. ‘I would far rather secure the right tenant than worry about cash up front.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’ She smiled. ‘Please tell me you’ll take it. You can move in as soon as I’ve had it cleaned and polished.’
*
‘So,’ demanded Lou when I met her and our other friend, Colin, in his bookshop along the road later that day, ‘spill the beans, Pops! I’ve shut up shop early as requested, so whatever it is you have to tell us better be worth the loss of custom.’
‘Do you think I should shut up too?’ suggested Colin, looking around the dark and dusty shop he had inherited from his uncle the year before, along with a stocky little French bulldog called Gus.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Lou, frowning. ‘I can’t imagine you’re going to be inundated now, Col, can you?’
Colin’s shop couldn’t have been more different from the vibrant retro emporium, Back in Time, which Lou had opened in the new year. Her place was never without at least three browsers, even during the worst the winter had thrown at us, and they rarely left empty-handed.
‘Hardly,’ huffed Colin. ‘To be honest, I’ve forgotten the meaning of the word “inundated”. I’ve had one person through that door today. One!’
‘And did they buy anything?’ I asked, picking Gus up and stroking his silky ears while Lou made cups of instant coffee in the makeshift kitchen corner of Colin’s office.
‘No,’ said Colin, blushing. ‘They only came in to ask for directions.’
I looked down at Gus’s little face. He looked every bit as miserable as his new master. I was certain the pair of them were still missing their beloved Uncle Alowishus. How the old guy had stayed in business was beyond me and I feared for the future of what was now Colin’s shop.
‘Oh Colin,’ said Lou, flapping into full mother hen mode. A role she adored, by the way. ‘This can’t go on.’
‘I know,’ said Colin, relieving her of the coffee tray and looking down at her with adoring eyes, ‘I know it can’t.’
‘But,’ said Lou, completely unaware of his affectionate attention, ‘we can’t worry about that today. We’re here for Poppy, remember? Please don’t tell me your mother’s back on the scene again, Pops?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘this has absolutely nothing to do with her. Although’ – I grinned, thinking of the text I had sent Ryan earlier suggesting he could come and visit now I was going to have more room – ‘what I have to tell you mi
ght mean I can finally form some sort of relationship with my brother.’
The pair looked at each other and shrugged as I took a sip of my drink.
‘Kate came to see me at work today,’ I told them, refusing to allow the bitter tang of the cheap coffee to sour the moment. ‘She’s offered me her house again and I’ve said yes. I’m finally moving into Nightingale Square!’
Chapter 2
I’d never really understood what it meant to be floating on cloud nine, but the next couple of weeks were an education in the art. Kate had insisted that I could visit the house as many times as I wanted before the big day, but I had been dreaming of the layout for so long that there was no need – and, more to the point, there was no time!
I had so much to do that my feet hardly touched the ground, and as moving day drew nearer I began to realise that Mum’s phone call hadn’t been such a disaster for me after all. Yes, I might have spent the winter harbouring less than friendly feelings towards her, even though I knew my money had gone to a good cause, but was there really a better time than spring to be moving house?
A change of residence offered the opportunity for the ultimate spring-clean and as much as I had enjoyed living above Greengages and was grateful to Harry for giving me the opportunity, I was ready to spread myself out a little further and move on.
Change was in the air and I was delighted to be a part of it. Harry was gearing up to embrace the plastic-free ethos, my new seasonal recipe cards were flying off the shop shelves as fast as we could print them and from what I could make out from Lou’s mysterious midweek request to meet her in the pub, she had something up her sleeve for Colin. I knew it wouldn’t be what he hoped, but I was keen to hear about it nonetheless.
The Dragon was the tiny pub my mates and I had frequented for more years than I would care to mention. A tucked-away, low-ceilinged little place, it was cool in the summer and cosy in the winter, the perfect amalgamation of Rowling’s Leaky Cauldron and Tolkien’s Prancing Pony.
