He’d not expected to see her until the evening. It was the last weekend of the school summer holidays, and he knew that Lucy, organised as she was, would be busy with spreadsheets and lesson plans, getting ready for the new term of fresh-faced children, excited after a summer of freedom.
He felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten. This term that included his daughter Maisie, and he was dreading it.
He’d been over the moon when his ex, Josie, had finally let him see Maisie again. The daughter she’d told him might not be his, the daughter she’d refused to let him see for months.
When she’d asked him to look after Maisie while she worked abroad for a few months his whole world had seemed brighter and he’d been naively expecting it to be just like it had when they’d been a family.
Maisie had moved in with him at the start of the summer holidays, and it had been a big adventure. Now, with the new term approaching the reality had started to sink in. She was starting a new school, she wasn’t going back home to the friends she loved. She had a new uniform to pick up on Monday, and a bright new book bag that she didn’t like at all. It was the wrong colour. It had the wrong badge on it. Mummy hadn’t picked it.
They were both struggling, him with how to deal with the unexpected tantrums, and her with adjusting to a different life.
He sighed. After Maisie had begged, then told him it wasn’t fair, then stared at him with her big brown eyes brim-full with tears, and her lower lip trembling, he’d relented and allowed her to spend Friday night with a friend from her old school. He still wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing. He’d cocked up; he should have spent all summer ensuring she made friends with the children in Langtry Meadows. But it had seemed wrong to expect her to take the move in one massive step.
He was already proving pants at this single parenting lark. He was heading for disaster.
When Lucy had suggested they spend Saturday evening together, then take a picnic out on Sunday afternoon, fly the kite he’d bought, have some fun, he’d jumped at the suggestion as quickly as his daughter had. Maisie loved Lucy; he wasn’t convinced she held him in quite as high esteem.
‘It’s been sick again just in the time it’s taken me to walk down here.’ Lucy ran through the open doorway, out of breath, going straight through to the consulting room, where she put the box down and slowly undid the top. As though worried about what she’d find.
Charlie glanced in and frowned. This was worse than he’d expected. He reached for some gloves, then carefully lifted the tiny scrap out of the box. A gangly, skinny bundle of dirty fur that seemed to weigh nothing in his hands.
It shivered violently, the shakes travelling down its whole body. ‘Has,’ he paused, glancing up at Lucy who was pale, biting her lip, ‘she been in contact with any of your other animals?’
‘No, I’d only just found her when I rang, well Gertie found her. But she didn’t touch her, the box was still done up. I left her by the gate while I rang, she just looked so poorly …’
He nodded, relieved. ‘Good. You didn’t clean her up, then …’ He had to be sure.
‘No. Should I have done? I just panicked and …’ She stared at the gloves.
‘No, no. You did exactly the right thing, didn’t she little one?’ Charlie stroked one finger gently over the tiny puppy’s head, but it barely reacted.
‘What’s wrong with her, Charlie? Why are you wearing …?’
‘I’m sorry Lucy, the gloves are a precaution.’ He softened his tone. He didn’t want to upset her, but he had to be honest. ‘I can’t be sure, but there’s a chance this little mite has got parvo.’ He wanted to hug her. But he couldn’t.
‘Parvo?’
‘Parvovirus. It’s pretty lethal when it comes to young animals like this, and from a quick look at her she’s not very old at all. No idea where she came from?’
‘None.’ She shook her head, and her blonde ponytail swung from side to side. ‘The box was just dumped by the gate.’
‘Well she can’t be local, nobody here would do that. They must have driven in from outside the village.’ He frowned, angry at the callousness of some people. ‘How much effort would it have taken to have the animal treated, to have taken it into a local surgery?’ He knew the rough edge was back in his voice, but he couldn’t help it. ‘Instead of abandoning it to its fate. If you hadn’t been at home, it could have been dead within twenty-four hours.’
‘It’s that serious?’ Lucy leaned forward to look at the pup, her voice soft, and he knew she was finding it hard not to reach out, touch it, reassure the tiny scrap.
He nodded, tried to be brisk, business like. ‘It’s good that you got here quickly before morning surgery started.’ Charlie quite liked Saturday morning surgery, usually it ran at a nice steady pace. People bringing cats and dogs in for vaccinations, and consultations about neutering or teeth cleaning. At this time of year though there were often young animals and the last thing he wanted was the risk of a parvo outbreak in the village. ‘Look I need to get her on a drip.’
There was the tring of the bell as somebody opened the surgery door.
‘Sally?’
Sally, the practice receptionist and animal nurse appeared at the consulting room door, her normal ready smile spreading across her face as she saw Lucy.
‘We need to get this little one isolated.’
The smile faded. ‘Parvo?’ As she spoke she dropped her bag on the chair and reached over to grab a pair of gloves. Carefully she took the unprotesting puppy into her arms, and headed out of the consulting room into the back.
‘I’ll call you later, Lucy.’ She was still worrying at her lip, her eyes glistening, and he really did want to hug her. Instead he peeled off his gloves and then put his hands on her arms. ‘If you’ve handled her make sure you wash your hands properly won’t you?’ She nodded. ‘This virus is highly contagious and we really don’t want it to be passed on to any of Annie’s animals.’ He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose, and wished more than anything he could stop, reassure her, but he knew he had to do his job. Save the puppy.
‘Will she make it?’ The words were soft, and he wouldn’t have heard them if his forehead hadn’t been resting against hers.
‘I honestly don’t know if it’s parvo. Let’s hope it isn’t.’ He brushed his thumb over her cheek, then pulled back reluctantly. ‘God, what a horrible start to the day for you. Look, I’m sorry, I’m really going to have to go.’
‘I know.’ Lucy was staring after him, as he elbowed the door through to the back of the surgery open.
‘I’ll call you in a bit, okay?’ He shot an apologetic glance over his shoulder as he headed through.
She nodded.
‘Still on for tonight?’
‘Sure. Is Maisie any better?’
‘Fine, well she’s had a sleepover at a friend’s and I’ve got to go and pick her up after lunch. She’s getting a bit uptight about the new term, she wants to go back to her old school.’ He grimaced. There’d been tears at bedtime more than once, and he didn’t know if he’d done the right thing agreeing for her to go and visit a friend from her old school. ‘It’s just been like a holiday, having those couple of weeks at Langtry Meadows Primary at the end of last term, then the summer break. She wants to go back to her old life now, and I don’t know what to say.’ It bothered him. ‘Am I doing the right thing, Lucy? Have I got this wrong?’
‘You’re doing the only thing you can, Charlie.’ Her voice was soft, it was her turn to reassure him now, but he could see a trace of worry in her blue eyes. ‘She’s bound to miss her mum, and her old home, it will take time. It’s a big change for a little girl.’
‘I better …’
‘You had, go on, go! We’ll talk later, and we’ll make sure she has a great time tomorrow. I’ll make cakes!’
He opened his mouth in horror. ‘Oh no, not Lucy cakes.’
‘Sod off, I have mastered fairy cakes now,’ she paused melodramatically, ‘I have watched a whole
series of Great British Bake Off back to back I’ll have you know.’
‘You’ll be in the WI next!’ He winked, thankful to her for lightening the atmosphere, even though he was more worried than he’d let on. Then turned back to the matter in hand. A very poorly puppy.
Chapter 2
Jasmine Cottage lived up to its name. The sweet-scented white flowers spread a delicate flush of colour over the old red brick as the plant snaked its way round the old window frames, over the ramshackle porch and up towards the roof. In amongst the feathery leaves of the summer jasmine were thicker, woody stems that Lucy was pretty confident were winter jasmine. Six months ago she wouldn’t have had a clue, but after spending all her spare time trying to tame Annie’s garden she discovered she’d taken in more details from the gardening books she’d found in the tiny bookcase under the stairs than she’d have thought possible.
If she remembered correctly, winter jasmine had yellow flowers, which meant that once Christmas was over she could look forward to a flush of cheery bright colour.
Since she’d spoken to Mr Bannister on the phone, she’d been completely distracted by the puppy and hadn’t been able to give the cottage (or him) another thought. In fact, she’d not even remembered to mention it to Charlie. But now she was here every doubt about whether this was the right thing to do fled her mind.
Which could be bad news, given the state of the overgrown garden, and peeling porch and window frames.
It might be a good job she enjoyed a challenge she thought wryly, as she pushed the small gate, and it rocked alarmingly on its one hinge and squeaked in protest.
‘Morning, Lucy.’
Jumping at the cheery greeting, she spun round to see the tall, lanky figure of Simon Proofit.
‘Simon, am I glad to see you!’ Which could be taken as rude. ‘Not that, well, I was expecting Mr Bannister.’
Simon grinned as though her reaction wasn’t totally unexpected. ‘Alf couldn’t make it.’
‘Alf,’ Lucy felt the smile twitch at the corners of her mouth, ‘that’s his name?’ That made him seem much more human.
‘It is, he inherited more than just the business from his grandad. What do you think?’ Simon gestured at the cottage. ‘It’s the type of property we say,’ he put on his ‘estate-agent’ voice, ‘has got oodles of charm and character.’
Lucy laughed, the last trace of the jitters disappearing from her stomach at his disarming smile. ‘I bet you do. Along with dry rot and rising damp?’
He chuckled. ‘The plumbing has character as well. Want a look?’ He strode past her, and was opening the front door before Lucy had a chance to answer.
Lucy stepped from the stone flags to the warmth of the old oak floorboards and fell head-over-heels in love with Jasmine Cottage.
‘It’s beautiful.’ The words came out on a sigh.
‘It is.’ Simon’s tone had softened, lost its normal slightly bombastic strength, and he walked over and settled into one of the armchairs by the fireplace, sending up a plume of dust that danced in the sunlight. ‘It’s been empty since May had to go into the nursing home, and her family haven’t wanted to part with it. I think they’ve hung on because giving up on the place would be accepting she’ll never come back.’
‘How sad. I don’t think I know her, she must have left before I came to the village.’ Lucy wandered over to the window; she had the perfect view of the green, of the bench where she and Charlie had sat so many times. For a second something caught in her throat, a sadness she didn’t want to acknowledge. Charlie had to go where his daughter led. If Josie took Maisie away, then he’d be leaving the village too. She was sure he felt the same way about her, as she did about him. That he’d want her to go with him. But it wouldn’t be easy. They both had busy lives. And leaving this lovely place would be hard.
For the first time in her life she felt like she belonged somewhere. That Langtry Meadows was her home.
‘Oh, May’s been gone a couple of years now.’ Lucy turned her attention back to the estate agent, and he waved in the direction of the fireplace. ‘You could put a nice wood burning stove in there.’
She gazed round the room. ‘It would be so easy to make it cosy.’ She could reach the beamed ceiling if she stretched up, but the place felt safe, and comforting, even in its present neglected state. ‘I could soon clean up the floorboards.’
A few bright rugs scattered around, a bookcase in the corner, some new curtains would transform the place. She could even squeeze her desk into the alcove.
‘Want to see more?’ Sensing a sale, Simon jumped to his feet, and waved her on enthusiastically.
The kitchen was bigger than she’d expected, and brighter, with a lovely large window which she was instantly drawn to and found herself looking out over the small cottage garden. Next to the house was a York paved patio, with a small, round wrought iron table and chairs and a mass of colourful pots all different shapes and sizes that she could imagine overflowing with summer bedding plants.
Lucy turned back to study the room. There was a mix of old fashioned cupboards, and under her feet the red quarry tiles seemed to glow, leading her gaze straight to the cream Aga.
‘Wow, is that a proper Aga?’
Simon grinned. ‘It is, May’s daughter told us it’s been looked after, but it runs on coal so you might want a more modern version.’
‘Oh I love it, just as it is, it must be so cosy in the winter in here.’ She could sit, on a chair by the Aga, reading a book or doing her marking, and gaze out at the cute back garden. Charlie and Maisie would adore the place, though she really, really mustn’t think that way, their future could be far away. But the pup would love it here, it would be heaven for a dog.
Oh God, she mustn’t think about that, the poor thing was really ill, and she still didn’t know quite how poorly it was. The way it had looked at her, so trusting, lifting its head even though it was so weak. She blinked. She mustn’t think about it, she’d had her heart broken once before as a child, when she’d lost her dog, her best friend. Her and her mother had moved, and not been able to take Sandy with them, and now she really didn’t know if she was ready to risk the heartache again. Even thinking about the poor little scrap, the thought of it dying …
She gulped away the feelings and stroked a hand along the old stone sink.
She’d love it here. She just knew she would. And buying it was something she’d be doing for herself.
‘I’ve got to warn you that the bathroom isn’t up to much.’ Simon was heading up the small staircase as he spoke, ducking to avoid the beam. ‘It was originally outside the back door of course, which is now a brilliant storage shed, I’ll show you in a minute, but they squeezed one in up here about forty years ago.’ He turned to wink at her. ‘Modern development.’
The small bathroom was far from modern, but she could imagine how it would look if she got a claw foot bath near the window, if she stripped out the thin green carpet, the olive-coloured tiles, and the avocado suite that might well be as old as the bathroom itself.
‘You’d need a survey of course, but the place is basically sound as far as we can tell. The family did look after it for May, it just needs a bit of updating and a few throws and cushions and stuff, not that I’m into interior decorating, but my mum is a whizz with a bit of soft furnishing. Only started to appreciate it when I started going into other people’s houses and realising how much difference a few bits and bobs could make.’
Lucy couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, and he blushed, ushering her into the next room.
‘Master bedroom, nice view over the green and pond, you can peer round the net curtains and keep up with business better than Elsie Harrington can. Must drive her mad being hidden away by the church.’
‘She does get to see what goes on in the square.’
‘True. What do you think then?’
‘Honestly?’
‘Honestly.’ He sat down next to her on the little window seat.
&n
bsp; ‘It’s amazing, Simon. I could see myself living here. But …’
‘But?’ His shoulder nudged against hers, as though chivvying her on, willing her to say yes.
‘Well Mr Bannister, Alf, said it would sell quickly and I’m sure he’s right, and I’d need to sell my own house first.’
‘Don’t worry about that. If you really want it, get yours on the market and we’ll sit on this for a few days.’
‘But you can’t …’ She frowned. ‘It’s business, you …’
‘It’s much better for the village if the people who live here own the houses. Especially these ones. We can’t hold on to it for ever, but if you’re serious …’
‘Yes.’ She looked around, and nodded. ‘I’m serious.’ There was a little flutter of anticipation deep down in her stomach. This could be her home. Her real home. Not some characterless block of bricks that was little more to her than a symbol of her achievements. ‘I am.’ She could hear the conviction ring out in her own voice. ‘I’ll ring the agent who’s letting mine out as soon as I get home, I’m sure he can give me an idea of how long it would take to sell, and confirm a price.’ Although she had a fair idea of how much the house would be worth. Hopefully she’d be able to keep the same level of mortgage and she’d have a little bit of equity to spend on the work the cottage needed.
‘Great, Alf will be pleased.’
She raised an eyebrow, and Simon laughed.
‘He’s okay, just a bit of a grumpy git on the outside, but his heart’s in the right place. He’d far rather somebody we know buy it, and so would May’s family.’
Lucy felt a little glow spread up through her body. Somebody we know. She hadn’t been in the village that long, less than a year, but she did feel she belonged, she did feel she knew people – which was something she’d never expected at all.
‘Feel free to come and collect the key if you need another look.’
‘I will, thanks Simon. I’ll let you know this afternoon what the agent says, although you’re closed aren’t you?’
‘Officially, according to Alf. Here,’ he held out a card, ‘take this, it’s got my mobile number on it.’
Coming Home to Jasmine Cottage Page 2
