by Emma Davies
Spring Fever
Emma Davies
Spring Fever © Emma Davies 2016
All rights reserved in all media. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical (including but not limited to: the internet, photocopying, recoding or by any information storage and retrieval system), without prior permission in writing from the author and/or publisher.
The moral right of Emma Davies as the author of the work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 1
Merry screwed her eyes tight shut, and then opened them again. ‘Nope,’ she said, laughing, ‘it’s still a mess. Remind me again why we did this, Tom.’
Her husband slid an arm around her waist and surveyed the yard they were standing in. ‘Well now let me see…’ He smiled at the baby strapped to Merry’s chest, reaching out to touch her downy cheek. ‘This little one made us think that we needed a different challenge, that running a country house hotel with a pretty huge income and a nice little pension pot was not the sort of thing we needed in our lives anymore. So we swapped all that for a house that hasn’t been lived in for a year, and a derelict shop that will need a miracle to get it open again.’
Merry nodded absently. ‘Yes, I thought that was it,’ she said. ‘We are actually stark staring mad aren’t we? I mean who in their right mind would take this on?’
Tom gave his wife a sideways glance. ‘Don’t you like it anymore then?’ he asked.
‘No,’ replied Merry. ‘… I absolutely love it! I’ve never been so excited before in my life. I can’t wait to get in here and get started.’
Tom grinned widely.
‘What time did Freya and Sam say they’d come over?’
Tom looked at his watch. ‘In about half an hour or so. We should feel very honoured you know. I’m surprised they could tear themselves away from each other for long enough to come and visit.’
Merry slapped his arm. ‘Stop it!’ she said. ‘I think it’s lovely. And so what if they are love’s young dream, they’ve waited long enough.’
‘True. That they have.’ Tom looked about him, shuffling his feet. ‘Well, we’ve got half an hour to kill before they arrive. Whatever will we think of to do?’
‘I’ve absolutely no idea,’ Merry replied with an impish grin. ‘Want to go and look in the house again?’
‘I’ll race you,’ said Tom. ‘Last one in’s a cissy!’
‘That’s not fair, I’m carrying Robyn!’
‘Who said anything about fair?’ he retorted, and shot off across the garden.
Merry watched him go, a slow smile spreading across her face. She shielded her eyes from the sun and looked up at the old house. ‘Well, Five Penny House, I think we’re going to be very happy here. It’s nice to be home.’
‘Does my bum look big in this?’ laughed Freya, skipping away from Sam’s playful hands. She reached the bedroom door and turned for a moment, her peachy bottom wobbling as her naked body came to a halt. She picked up a cushion from the chair beside the door and threw it back towards the figure slumped beneath the covers.
‘Come on lazybones, time to get up!’
Sam gave a muffled groan as the cushion found its mark. ‘Slave driver,’ came his voice from the depths of the duvet, but warmed with a smile.
Freya grabbed her dressing gown from the back of the door and headed downstairs. She winced as her feet made contact with the quarry tiles on the kitchen floor. The temperature outside might be warming up a little, but those tiles were never anything other than freezing. It would help if she could remember where she had left her slippers, but, as the memory of the night before came back to her, bringing a rosy blush to her cheeks, she knew that her slippers would not be the only item of clothing she’d be looking for this morning….
She spied her wellies propped up by the back door and crossed the room to put them on instead. They were bright pink with white spots, and clashed violently with her purple dressing gown, but Freya merely shrugged and wriggled her feet into them. Having filled the kettle and set it to boil, she unlocked the back door and slipped out into the morning air.
The sun was still a little hazy and as yet had no real warmth to it, but it was only early in the year, and the day looked like it had some promise. There had been a slight change in the air over the last couple of days, a lightness and softness to it that was hard to define, but which to Freya was unmistakeably the herald of spring, and as she crossed the yard she swung her arms, breathing deeply. She was late this morning, but it was the weekend after all, and she knew the hens would forgive her.
Her breath caught in her throat as she reached the barn at the top of the yard. The door was a tiny bit ajar, and although she knew that the cause was probably only the faulty catch, a little nugget of hope still flared inside her. She pulled the door open cautiously, peering into the dim space, and pausing until her eyes became accustomed to the gloom. It was empty, and she allowed herself a small sigh. The barn wasn’t empty of course; it was full of all sorts of equipment, some of it junk, some vital to the running of the farm, but none of it was Amos Fry, the man who had drifted into her life one afternoon a few months ago, and then wafted away with the wind one day, just as she knew he would.
It was hard to define exactly what Amos was; a man with no fixed abode who came and went as he pleased, moving to wherever the next job took him, but a man who had come into Freya’s life just when she had needed him the most; enigmatic, wise beyond his years, and now someone she considered a dear friend. He had left at Christmas time, when the snow still lay thick on the ground; to where, Freya never knew. In fact it was quite possible that even Amos didn’t know where he was bound for, but she still harboured a hope that one day she would open her barn door and find him there, asleep on her blankets, just like she had before.
Freya collected the pellets for the hens and walked back out into the yard. She looked over towards the house, where just for a moment a shadow crossed the kitchen window, and she smiled. Amos had brought her Sam, a man she had loved for years, but who she had thought was lost to her, and in turn Sam had given her back Appleyard. She stretched out her hand in the low morning sunlight to admire the ring on her finger. Sam hadn’t just given her back Appleyard, he had given her a future, as his wife.
By the time she returned to the kitchen, the smell of bacon cooking was already beginning to waft out into the yard, and she hurried inside. It was a bit too early for most of the hens, but she still had two warm ovals in her hands, which would go down a treat with the bacon.
Sam had already made the tea, and she shivered as she accepted a mug from him, the sudden warmth of the kitchen a contrast to the day outside.
‘Have you no shame woman?’ he asked, one eyebrow raised in question. He motioned towards her dressing gown, which was now gaping rather at the front.
Freya giggled. ‘Well the chickens never seem to mind!’
Sam reached forwards with his free hand and pulled slowly at her dressing gown tie. ‘No, neither do I…’
; ‘The bacon’s burning.’
‘Is it?’ murmured Sam. ‘I like it crispy.’
An hour and a half later, Freya and Sam finally pulled out of the drive, turning into the lane that led down past Appleyard Farm into the village.
‘I knew we were going to be late,’ remarked Freya mildly.
Sam merely smiled. ‘Merry’s your oldest friend, she’ll understand.’
‘That’s rather what I’m afraid of,’ replied Freya, knowing just the sort of teasing comments her friend was likely to make. She pulled at her skirt a little self-consciously. ‘I’d rather not be late that’s all. This is a big day for them, and we need to show our support.’
Sam took one hand off the steering wheel and laid it on her arm. ‘I’m sorry. Blame it all on me. It was my fault… to begin with…’
Freya blushed again, although revelling in the joy of their relationship, which just a short while ago was something she’d never thought she’d find again.
‘And don’t forget,’ added Sam, ‘Little Robyn is only three months old, so Merry and Tom will still be packing the enormous amount of stuff that she requires into their car, they’re bound to be late.’
‘Hmm, that’s true. I can’t wait to see the baby again, I bet she’s grown heaps.’
Sam pulled neatly into a passing space in the narrow lane to let a tractor past. ‘Totally ruling the roost no doubt. I know what they’re doing makes sense, but even for Merry this is a bit of a tall order. I hope they haven’t bitten off more than they can chew.’
Freya had been thinking the same thing. She and Sam had a lot of work ahead of them, but they didn’t have a small child to worry about too.
‘I do understand why Merry feels that this is the right time for them to do something different, though. They’ve run the hotel ever since they’ve been together, and whilst that was fine when there were just the two of them, having Robyn changes everything. It’s not the kind of life they can sustain any longer, and well… you and me of all people should know that sometimes you have to take a chance on things.’
Sam nodded at the truth of her words. ‘Point taken. I shall say no more.’
They drove in peaceful silence for a few minutes until the car swung round the final bend, bringing them into Lower Witley.
‘I can’t remember the last time I was here,’ remarked Freya, ‘and I still can’t picture where this new place is they’ve bought. Merry says it’s up past the green, nearer the top of the hill, but I don’t remember there ever being a shop there.’
‘Well, we’re about to find out,’ replied Sam, slowing to a crawl as the village green came into view.
On a day like today it was easy to see what had attracted Merry and Tom to the village. At its centre stood a circle of warm red brick, or black and white timbered houses, in front of which was a traditional village green, complete with pond. A weeping willow swayed lazily at one end of it, while three ducks bobbed about aimlessly, without a care in the world. The road widened, sweeping onwards in a wide circle, revealing another cluster of cottages behind low brick walls, with paved paths and blossoming cherry trees. The pale blue sky provided the perfect backdrop as they drove on.
The village was bigger than it first looked and, as they crossed over the small bridge and followed the road up the hill, Freya looked back to see the church which stood on the other side of the village. It was certainly all very appealing.
The road gave one final bend before Five Penny House came into view.
‘Look there it is,’ pointed Freya. ‘I can see Tom’s car.’
Sam turned into the wide courtyard to the side of the house, admiring the handsome lines of Merry and Tom’s new home.
Freya was out of the car in a flash. ‘Halloo,’ she shouted. ‘We’re here!’ waving her arms at the two figures she could see in the garden. She ran across the lawn. ‘I remember this place now, isn’t it beautiful?’ she said, and reached up to give Tom a kiss.
Tom beamed at her and Merry in turn. ‘We think so, don’t we?’ he replied.
Freya stood back to look at Merry. She looked tired, although happiness shone from her face. A baby carrier was strapped to her front, from which two legs dangled, encased in bright red woolly tights. Freya automatically bent to grasp the baby’s toes, grinning as Robyn tried to pull her legs away. ‘Look at her, and look at you,’ she exclaimed, giving her friend a hug and a kiss. ‘You both look gorgeous!’
Merry pushed a lock of dark hair off her face. ‘Well I don’t feel gorgeous at all, but this little one certainly is. She’s finally beginning to grow at last too.’ Freya knew how worried Merry had been during the first month or so after Robyn was born, as the baby steadfastly refused to put on weight. ‘She’s pretty much caught up now.’
‘See. I told you everything would be all right,’ replied Freya, tickling Robyn’s toes again. ‘Not that I know anything about babies of course, so you’re probably wise not to listen to me.’ She paused for a minute, watching Merry closely. ‘And who said you weren’t looking gorgeous? Give me their name and I’ll have them taken care of.’
Merry gave Tom beside her a furtive glance, and leaned in towards Freya. ‘It’s hard to feel gorgeous when your boobs seem like they’re on fire. Jesus, they’re sore, Freya. No-one told me that breastfeeding would hurt this much.’
Sam arrived at this point which forestalled any further discussion, something which Freya was secretly relieved about. She winced inwardly at the thought of her friend’s nipples being mashed to a pulp.
Tom shook his jacket, listening for the jangling that would reveal which pocket he had stashed the keys to the house in. He fished them out with a flourish.
‘Come on then, who wants to look around?’ he asked needlessly, ‘although don’t get too excited; like Merry said, it needs a lot doing to it. The décor is a bit well… you’ll see.’
He led the way up the path to the stout front door and wrestled with the lock for a moment, before beckoning them all in.
‘So what’s the story with this place then Tom?’ asked Sam. ‘Freya said something about a family dispute?’
Tom nodded. ‘It was owned by two sisters and a brother, inherited when their great uncle died a year or so ago. The brother contested the will actually, believing that the property should have been his alone, but, even though he didn’t win his case, he flatly refused to sell the house either and so it’s been empty ever since.’
‘So how come you were able to buy it?’
‘The brother died, just before Christmas.’ Replied Tom. ‘A bit spooky actually; he fell through the ice on a lake in a freak accident while on holiday. He went for a walk apparently, and never came back…’
Freya gave an involuntary shudder. ‘Oooh, that’s a bit creepy.’
‘No it isn’t,’ retorted Merry. ‘Tom, will you stop with the ghoulish stories. It was an accident, nothing else; very tragic I grant you, but no more than that, and before you say it, no, the house isn’t cursed either.’
Freya’s eyes widened. ‘It isn’t, is it?’ she asked, looking around the hallway.
‘So they say…’ replied Tom, a smile curving his mouth upwards.
‘Don’t listen to him,’ said Merry firmly. ‘It’s just some silly story he heard in the village.’ She took Freya’s arm. ‘Come on, let’s start upstairs, the view from up there is amazing.’
As Freya gazed out of the window, she felt a deep peace wash over her. It felt right, this house. She hadn’t seen that much of it yet to be fair, as Merry had led the way upstairs, and although the décor was… unusual, the house had an undeniably comfortable feel to it. It felt welcoming, despite having been empty for a while, and Freya, who set great store by such things, felt warmed by this feeling. Buying this house was a big change in her friends’ lives and she would hate for it to be a mistake. And Merry was right; the views were simply stunning.
Five Penny House sat just short of the top of the hill, and from the windows upstairs the whole village lay spread
out before them. It was like looking down onto a model village, so wide was the view. The other side of the house looked out over open countryside, the swoop and sway of the fields stretching away into the distance.
Freya could hear the others moving about the bedrooms and reluctantly pulled herself away from the window to join them.
‘Blimey, what colour would you call this!’ she exclaimed, walking into the next room, which was painted a shockingly bright shade of purple.
‘How about “over my dead body”?’ quipped Tom. ‘It’s not staying.’
‘Ahh, shame,’ laughed Freya, as she followed him out into the hallway. ‘Are they all like this?’
‘See for yourself,’ said Merry, catching up with her. ‘It’s weird… It looks as if the house should be falling apart, but in truth it’s been well looked after. It’s had new electrics, new plumbing, and even new windows in most places, but the one thing that hasn’t been touched is the decoration. Some of it’s newer than the rest, but as you can see, every room is a different colour, and they’re not what you’d call easy on the eye.’
Freya wandered about, taking in the exuberant hues of lime green, cherry red, teal blue, and zesty orange. It really was quite extraordinary.
‘Wait till you see the kitchen,’ said Merry, catching hold of her arm, and winking.
It was like stepping back in time, straight into a nineteen fifties’ diner.
‘Oh my God, Merry. Is this original?’
‘Yep,’ she grinned. ‘I knew you’d like it.’
‘It’s amazing. It must be worth a fortune!’
Merry pulled a face. ‘Only to those who appreciate it, sadly. You know the saying, one person’s trash is another’s treasure.’
Freya ran her hand over the pristine cabinets. ‘Please tell me you’re not going to rip all this lot out?’
‘I’ve already told Tom I’ll divorce him if he does! Fortunately he loves it too. It needs a bit of tidying up, but even so. . .’
‘I think I’d have bought the house just for the kitchen alone.’
‘It is rather special isn’t it?’ Merry agreed. ‘The paintwork I can do without, thank you, but the house itself, I’m totally in love with.’
