A Way Back Home: Full of warmth, laughter, tears and a wedding! (The Willow Tree Hall Series)

by Alison Sherlock

It was a large, wide fronted building, two storeys high and built in a sandy coloured stone. Like a miniature Buckingham Palace in shape, it had sixteen large sash windows spread evenly across the front. The centrepiece was a huge double, bright red front door, framed by large pillars on either side of the same coloured stone.

  Skye automatically glanced at her reflection in the car mirror. She had a feeling that her newly dyed long purple hair and lack of designer clothes weren’t quite in keeping with the people that must live in a place like that.

  Norman had mentioned his old childhood friend Arthur on occasion, but she had no idea how Norman could have been connected with such a grand place. He had always lived a modest life in his little terraced house in the middle of London.

  Unwilling to leave the trailer in front of such a beautiful place, Skye decided to park it alongside another car outside what appeared to be a garage block.

  It took a few attempts but finally she thought she had lined it up reasonably straight and gave one last shot at parking it.

  It was only when she heard yet more loud clanging of metal that she stopped. A quick glance in the rear view mirror confirmed her fears.

  The fancy red sports car that had been parked nearby could no longer be seen. Probably because she had just run the trailer over it.

  2

  Will Harris was pacing up and down the kitchen inside Willow Tree Hall, trying to keep calm and failing. But, as always, he hid his emotions well.

  ‘Is there nothing I can do to help change your mind?’ he said, forcing a jocular tone into his voice. ‘Is no sort of bribery acceptable these days? Money? Whisky? My right leg?’

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ said Glenn, his now ex-manager, on the other end of the line. ‘You know how it is at the minute. Everyone’s being careful with their money and luxury ski lodges are only for the super-rich these days. The economy has slowed up so much that I’ve got to cut a few jobs, unfortunately.’

  ‘Yeah, I understand.’

  Will knew that it wasn’t just about the dodgy state of the economy. This was also about the recent scandal that had spread his name across social media and beyond.

  Despite dating numerous women over the years, Maria was the first woman he had ever become involved with that was married. It had always been a rule of his to never get between husband and wife. However, she had told him that the marriage was over in all but name and he had been unable to resist her many charms.

  Unfortunately, her husband was a high profile cabinet minister with ambitions to become a future Prime Minister. But when a story about his own secret mistress was about to be leaked, the minister had quickly revealed Will and Maria’s affair to the press instead. It didn’t help that Maria’s husband had business connections to the media and therefore his unblemished record stayed intact whilst Will’s was run into the ground.

  Will’s playboy reputation became the perfect excuse for why the marriage had broken down and he had been too much of a gentleman to tell the truth. He needed to protect Maria even though their white hot affair had cooled down after only a few weeks. So his name was splashed across every front page, embarrassing himself, his family and the firm he worked for.

  Used to work for, he reminded himself.

  ‘I’m sorry that you got caught up in my personal mess,’ said Will. He liked Glenn. They had worked together for five years, creating bespoke luxury ski lodges. It had been hard but fun work. And it had enabled him to spend most of the year in the Alps rather than at Willow Tree Hall.

  ‘You’ve already apologised for all that,’ Glenn told him. ‘Look, there’s no rush to pick up your things from the apartment.’

  Along with the job came an apartment in the Alps which had been a great place to party over the years. A winter wonderland full of champagne and beautiful women whom he had dated, albeit always briefly.

  Will didn’t do romance. He didn’t do love. At least, that was the story that the newspapers liked to tell. According to them, he was the uncaring playboy, the breaker of hearts and promises.

  But he had never promised anything to any woman he had dated. He had never been unkind to anyone, had never hurt anyone intentionally. And love? That was only for fools.

  ‘I’ll head over in the next fortnight and collect my stuff to get it out of your way,’ said Will. ‘I’ll need to pick up my Range Rover anyway.’

  ‘Listen, I’ll email you the redundancy package details,’ carried on Glenn. ‘That will hopefully see you through to the next job. You know you’ll be top of my hiring list when the economy picks up again.’

  Will knew that Glenn was trying to be fair and that the redundancy package would keep him going for a month or two. But he had also been relying on the generous Christmas bonus that he had received for the past five years. In fact, he had already spent it, two months early, along with the majority of his savings.

  ‘Okay. Let me know if anything comes up in the future,’ said Will.

  He slid the phone into the back pocket of his jeans, still stunned by the unexpected news. Of all the things he had prepared for, losing his job had never been one of them. What on earth was he going to do now?

  Will brought out the car keys from his other back pocket and stared down at them. You’re going to have to sell that vintage Aston Martin you’ve just treated yourself to, he told himself, feeling miserable. There’s no way you can afford it now.

  His whole life he had wanted a classic James Bond car from the sixties. Then, whilst he had been in Switzerland over the summer, he had heard that some American movie star had needed to liquidate his assets fast and the DB6 had come up at such an excellent price that it was too good an opportunity to miss.

  Yes, it had cost him all of his savings and the future Christmas bonus too, but he had thought at the time that it was worth it.

  He also owned a Range Rover but that had remained in the Alps to cope with the snowy winters out there. So he had brought the Aston Martin back to Willow Tree Hall to store in one of the garages as both an investment for the future and a plaything.

  It had been an incredible few days, driving the sports car across Europe. It looked and drove like an absolute dream. Even the red colour had been just right.

  It also meant that he could visit Willow Tree Hall briefly to park up the car and see everyone before the need to escape took him away once more back to the snowy peaked mountains. But now the apartment and job in the Alps were no more. There would only be one last trip to pick up his belongings and the Range Rover and then what?

  He twirled the keys around in his fingers, deep in thought. The Aston Martin was going to have to be sold. But maybe he’d allow himself one last spin around the countryside before he got his money back. He hadn’t even had time to take his brother Sam out in it yet.

  He wandered over to the kitchen window to admire the car where he had parked it next to the garage. But instead of the view of his classic Aston Martin, he found himself staring at the side of a classic Airstream trailer and run down blue Fiesta instead.

  Will was non-plussed. What on earth were they doing on their driveway? Who did they belong to? Somebody was very lost indeed.

  He was still staring in surprise when a woman got out of the car. As always with any stranger of the female species, he automatically ran his well-trained eyes over her. But whereas he normally appreciated any curves or beauty, he had trouble getting past the long, lavender coloured hair that was covering her face. He couldn’t see her figure because she was wearing a long, multi-coloured crocheted poncho, although her black leggings and black flat ballerina shoes at least showed a glimpse of shapely legs.

  He watched the purple haired stranger walk along the side of the trailer towards the back, bending down as if she had run over something. Or perhaps there was a problem with the suspension, if it was in just a bad a state as the rust riddled Fiesta.

  He thought he could see a flash of red metal at the back of the trailer. Funny, he thought. That was the exact same colour as his
vintage Aston Martin.

  And then he realised what had happened.

  Will ran across the kitchen, flinging open the back door as he rushed outside.

  ‘Oy!’ he shouted, running across the courtyard. ‘What the hell have you done to my car?’

  The woman straightened up as she turned round, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment. He could immediately see that she was looking completely mortified. ‘Oh, is it your car?’ she said, biting her lip. ‘I’m so, so sorry. It’s the trailer, you see. I’m just not used to driving it.’

  Will rushed straight past her and took a deep intake of shocked breath as he stared down. There was his beloved dream car… the bonnet caved in, crushed beneath the back of the trailer.

  ‘Move it forward,’ he shouted at her.

  ‘What?’ he heard her say in somewhat of a daze.

  He rolled his eyes before turning to glare at her. She was obviously a complete idiot, whoever she was. ‘Would you please move this bloody thing off my car!’

  She gave a start at this angry tone, her blue eyes widening. ‘Yes, of course. Sorry.’

  Maybe it wasn’t so bad, he told himself, as she got in the car and started up the engine. Maybe the Aston Martin would be fine.

  But as she slowly pulled the trailer away, the crunching of metal didn’t fill him with optimism. The fact that the bonnet was pulled off and trailed underneath the Airstream as it moved was the final insult.

  He stared down at his dream car which was now minus a bonnet. Thankfully the engine looked intact but the front bodywork was a mess. One headlight was dangling off and the corresponding side panel was badly damaged.

  He felt the woman come to stand next to him to survey the damage. ‘Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks,’ he heard her say in a breathless but hopeful tone.

  Will slowly turned his head to stare at her in disbelief. He had dated enough beautiful women to appreciate the big blue eyes, smooth pale skin and full mouth. But she was obviously a total airhead. And possibly a hippie as well. Plus she was the owner of the wretched Airstream trailer that had destroyed his pride and joy.

  ‘You’re joking, right?’ he snapped. ‘It’s a classic car. This is going to cost thousands of pounds to fix.’

  She blanched. ‘Thousands?’ she repeated, her eyes growing wide. ‘I don’t have thousands.’

  ‘I’m sure your insurance company will be able to help,’ he replied.

  She blinked at him and remained silent.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ he drawled, dragging a hand through his short blonde hair. ‘You don’t even have insurance on this thing?’

  ‘The car’s covered,’ she said, blushing furiously. ‘But money’s a bit tight and I was only going to be towing it for this one day so I thought I could get away with it. You see, it’s never left the driveway.’

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ he said, with a groan. ‘Look, Miss, er, who the hell are you, by the way?’ he asked, still wondering why this kind of person was visiting Willow Tree Hall.

  She was about to reply when they were interrupted by his elderly grandfather coming across the courtyard.

  ‘I thought I’d see what all the fuss was about,’ said Arthur Harris, leaning on his walking stick as he came to stand next to them. ‘I say, what a beautiful caravan. I haven’t seen one of these for years.’

  ‘Not now, Grandad,’ said Will, still trying to take in what had happened during the last ghastly five minutes of his life. ‘I’m trying to get this lady’s details.’

  To his surprise, Arthur smiled. ‘I think I can help you there,’ he said, turning to the stranger. ‘You must be Miss Jackson. Welcome to Willow Tree Hall. I’m Arthur Harris.’

  She broke into a smile. ‘Yes, hello. It’s nice to finally meet you. Please call me Skye.’

  ‘Then I must insist you call me Arthur,’ he replied in his clipped, aristocratic tone.

  Will watched in a daze as his grandfather held out his frail but still firm hand to shake the much stronger one of the women who had just wrecked his dream car. ‘You two know each other?’

  ‘Only by recent correspondence. Actually, this is our very first meeting face to face,’ said Arthur, in a warm tone, smiling at her. ‘One of many, I hope.’

  Presumably this Skye was going to be using one of the stalls in the refurbished stable block, thought Will.

  Over the past summer, the twelve stalls in the run down stable block had gradually been renovated so that they could be used for small and emerging businesses from the village and the surrounding area. Only one was being used full time, but the hope was that any income they could bring in would help to keep the vast estate of Willow Tree Hall out of the red.

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve accidentally crashed into this man’s car with my trailer,’ said Skye, with a grimace, glancing quickly at Will.

  ‘It’s only a car,’ said Arthur, wafting away any concern with his hand. ‘And this is my grandson, Will.’

  ‘Grandad, it may only be a car to you, but to me it’s a classic and an expensive one at that,’ said Will in an exasperated tone. ‘How am I going to get it repaired?’

  Especially now that he had lost his job and spent all of his savings. He gulped, still trying to get over the shock of that.

  ‘Don’t worry, my boy,’ said Arthur, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘We’ll think of something.’

  But for once, his grandfather’s affable nature rubbed Will up the wrong way that afternoon. ‘Look,’ he told them both, ‘I’m going to head back to the lodge whilst you two talk over whatever business it is that you have. I’ll come back in half an hour or so and then we can sort all this out.’

  He needed to get away and take a deep breath to digest all the ghastly happenings of the past hour.

  But as Will turned to leave, Arthur said, ‘Ah, well, you see, the lodge is the reason that Skye has come to visit us.’

  Will glanced at Skye who was looking as stunned as he felt. ‘The lodge?’

  He couldn’t see what his home had to do with this stranger. It was the gamekeeper’s lodge on the edge of the grounds and his own private bolthole. It had been presumed to be his place for as long as he could remember.

  After the loss of his parents in a tragic accident when they were both only teenagers, Will, and his elder brother, Sam, had moved into Willow Tree Hall to live with their grandparents. With their father gone, Sam would now inherit both the vast estate and, eventually, the title of Earl of Cranley, from their grandfather. Will was immensely grateful that he had dodged the burden of the inheritance. Sam was welcome to all the hassle and stress that the heir to Willow Tree Hall would gain. Will only had the lodge to take care of and was more than happy to be the “spare” rather than the “heir” under the inheritance rules.

  Yes, the big house had many spare bedrooms that had been recently refurbished and were now far more comfortable to sleep in than in previous years. This was all thanks to Sam’s efforts to begin to restore the whole place back to its former glory, along with his fiancée Annie. But Will had never enjoyed the stranglehold of the house around him. There were too many painful memories wrapped up in Willow Tree Hall for him. So he preferred the seclusion of the gamekeeper’s lodge on the rare occasions he returned, especially whilst the builders and decorators were still coming and going with all the renovations taking place. It was an informal agreement with the family which suited him just fine. In fact, he preferred to be at Willow Tree Hall as infrequently as possible which is why his job in the Alps had been ideal. Until now, of course.

  ‘What on earth does she want with my lodge?’ asked Will, frowning as he glanced across at Skye.

  ‘Well, you see, that’s the problem,’ said Arthur, with a gentle smile. ‘The lodge, in fact, belongs to both of you.’

  3

  Skye looked wide-eyed from grandfather to grandson, trying to take in what Arthur had just said.

  ‘Excuse me but what is the lodge?’ she finally asked after a very long, shocked silence.
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br />   ‘It’s a building,’ drawled Will, his voice heavy with sarcasm. ‘You know, with four walls and windows.’

  Skye glared at him. Did he have to be so rude? Yes, she had accidentally run over his fancy car, which was pretty mortifying and heaven only knew how she was going to get that fixed. What had he said about repairing the damage? That it was going to cost thousands of pounds? She didn’t even have hundreds of pounds. Never had done. She had spent all of her adulthood scraping by from one payslip to the next to support both herself and Summer.

  But what would a man with a fancy sports car understand about being poor? She briefly took in his chunky navy jumper which looked very much like cashmere. The sleeves were rolled up and a flashy, expensive looking watch shone out from his wrist, despite the foggy gloom of the day.

  She thought perhaps he could be a bit more gentlemanly about the whole thing. After all, it was only an accident. But for now there were other matters to worry about, like the lodge which had been mentioned.

  Still confused, she looked at Arthur for clarification. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand. The note from Norman told me to come and find you.’

  ‘And so you have,’ said the elderly man, his eyes twinkling. What a contrast he was compared to his grumpy grandson.

  Skye was struggling to keep up with everything that had happened. ‘It also said that you were keeping something for Norman.’

  Arthur nodded. ‘That’s correct. As I’m sure you know, Norman and I were old childhood friends, both born during the last world war. Norman was one of many young children who came to Willow Tree Hall when they were evacuated from London. He stayed on afterwards when we found out that, unfortunately, his parents had been killed in the air raids.’

  ‘I had no idea that Norman had ever lived out here,’ said Skye, looking around at the empty fields, beyond which the trees with their yellowed leaves were shrouded in fog. It was all so different to the bright and busy crowded streets of the capital where she had lived for the past ten years.

  Arthur smiled. ‘He was always a city boy,’ he said. ‘It was in his heart. So he headed back to London when he was old enough to start work.’