by Fay Keenan
Caroline glanced at the alarm clock by the bed. ‘We’d better go downstairs in a minute – the guests will be arriving.’
Jonathan grabbed his jacket from where it was slung over the chair in the corner of the bedroom and turned to take Caroline’s hand. ‘Ready?’
Caroline nodded. ‘Yup.’ She felt butterflies in her stomach as fluttery as they’d been on The Cider Kitchen’s opening night nearly a year ago. This lunchtime they’d closed the restaurant to any other bookings, and decided to fill it with friends and family to announce their marriage. Everyone had received an invitation to The Cider Kitchen for half past twelve, but no-one had been told exactly why. Caroline had briefed Emma and Gino, who’d prepared the food on the understanding that it was for a special Easter party, but she was looking forward to telling them they could have the afternoon off and be guests, too.
Heading out of the living quarters they currently shared, Jack’s bungalow undergoing some renovations before they returned to it as a married couple, Jonathan clicked the door shut. Caroline looked over the bannister to the floor of the restaurant, which she’d spent a few hours decorating.
The tables had been pushed to the edge of the floor and decorated with vases of daffodils, hyacinths and other spring flowers. White, pink and yellow balloons floated above them and bottles of wine, cider and other assorted drinks were laid out. At the far corner of the restaurant was another set of tables laden with irresistible looking party food; delicate cupcakes in Easter colours, tiny sandwiches and miniature hot cross buns, baked by Gino. Pots of strawberry jam and jars of fluffy pink and white marshmallows labelled ‘bunny tails’ jostled for space with canapes, smoked salmon blinis and the lightest, flakiest cheese straws. By the front door was a sign that read ‘Egg hunt starts here’, pointing out to the orchards. Earlier, Caroline had hidden lots of multicoloured eggs around the building and the trees, ready for the children to race off and find. Jonathan had hung swathes of pastel coloured bunting across the windows and beams, and had even strung some around the bannisters. Spotted napkins and paper plates were stacked on the tables, and jam jars of freshly picked primroses from the orchard peeked out from shelves and alcoves.
Anna, Matthew, Meredith, and Ellie were the first to arrive. Anna was holding baby Jack, who looked adorable in a blue Babygro patterned with cavorting white Easter bunnies. Anna put the hood up to show the floppy ears that were attached to it. ‘I thought he should dress for the occasion!’ she said. Baby Jack’s eyes were still blue, but they focused on his new aunt and he gave a gummy smile.
‘He looks good enough to put on the Easter cake!’ Caroline said, taking him from Anna and giving him a cuddle. As she wrapped her left hand around the baby to get a better grip, Anna spotted the wedding ring.
‘I don’t believe it,’ she said slowly. ‘Oh, all right, perhaps I do!’
Caroline smiled, suddenly nervous again. ‘We didn’t want to make a fuss, what with losing the other Jack so recently. And let’s face it, there wouldn’t be that many people on my side of the church these days, would there?’
‘Neither of you are exactly what anyone would call conventional,’ Anna said. ‘But I do understand.’
‘And this party, hopefully, will make up for not telling anyone,’ Caroline said. She laughed as Ellie, bored with the grown ups’ conversation, raced over to the laden tables and, quick as a flash, reached a hand into the marshmallow bunny tails jar.
‘Congratulations,’ Matthew said, leaning forward to kiss Caroline and shake Jonathan’s hand. ‘You both deserve a bit of happiness after recent events.’ He smiled at Caroline. ‘And it looks like Anna got what she wanted now you’re her sister-in-law again!’
Caroline laughed. ‘I guess I’m stuck with her.’ Handing baby Jack back to Anna, she went to welcome the stream of newly arriving guests, which included Anna’s mum and dad, Charlotte, Simon and Evan, a few members of the life drawing class, Kelli from the wine shop who’d become quite a friend recently, her waiting and kitchen staff, all off duty, Gino and Emma, who seemed faintly uncomfortable about being guests rather than caterers, and a few of The Cider Kitchen’s best customers.
When all the guests had assembled and had helped themselves to a drink, Caroline looked around and then cleared her throat. ‘Before we get on with more eating and drinking, and the inevitable questions about my new jewellery, my husband and I—’ she had to pause as a cheer went up to the rafters of the building. ‘Jonathan and I want to thank you for being there for us both over the course of a very exciting, and at times, dramatic and emotional year. And although we decided to get married in private on a beach in Mauritius, we hope that this party will in some way make up for that.’ Caroline turned back to Jonathan, who was regarding her with the same look of solemnity she’d seen on his face at Matthew and Anna’s wedding. ‘I met Jonathan in the spring, when the blossom was on the trees and the scent of lilac was in the air, and I fell in love. Not that I knew it at the time. I fell in love not just with him, but with this place. It’s worked its magic on me, and by taking on The Cider Kitchen, making it my own, I feel as though I’ve become a part of this village. And this is where I want to stay. This time of year will always be special to me, because it really was a new beginning for me when I came here last spring. And I hope to share many more beautiful springtimes with you all in this wonderful place.’ She turned back to Jonathan. ‘I never dreamed in a million years that I’d be standing here making this speech, but I’m so glad I am.’ She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him, and this time the cheers threatened to take the roof off.
Caroline turned back to the party guests. ‘And now that’s over, I want to invite the children, and the young at heart, out into the orchard for an Easter egg hunt. The first person to collect an egg of each colour of the rainbow will win the Easter bunny on the table over there.’ She pointed to the large cuddly toy that sat on a table near the door.
‘Me, me!’ Ellie squealed, racing over to the door. ‘Come on, Mummy!’
‘No way, munchkin, that bunny’s mine!’ Meredith said, grabbing Ellie’s hand and racing out of the door.
As the guests dispersed into the orchard, which, once again was in full bloom, the grass around the trees splattered with vibrant yellow primroses, Caroline paused and turned back to Jonathan. ‘Did I remember everything?’ She asked.
‘I think you just about covered it, as usual,’ Jonathan said. ‘But then, I wouldn’t have expected anything less.’ He raised a glass of Somerset Prosecco to his new wife. ‘To Caroline Carter; my wife, my business partner, and the only woman I will ever love.’
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Acknowledgements
Many thanks once again to Caroline Ridding, Sarah Ritherdon, Melanie Price and the wonderful team at Aria for their support, encouragement and enthusiasm for this story. I couldn’t ask for a better team to work with. And, as ever, thanks so much to the wonderful Sara Keane, who is, without a doubt, the best agent in the world. Friends and family have, once again, been tolerant, supportive and patient with me when I’ve been talking non-stop about imaginary people for months on end. You know who you are, and I’m so, so grateful. I definitely couldn’t have done this without you! From medical advice to cat anatomy, coroners and culinary treats, I’ve had an answer to every question from someone!
To my gorgeous daughters Flora and Roseanna, without whom I wouldn’t have had my guilty pleasure motivation to write. I love you to the moon and back. To Bertie, who gave me an excellent reason to get away from my desk and breathe in some Somerse
t air. And to Nick, who perhaps got it all along; I love you.
Finally, to you, the readers, who have come back for a second slice of Little Somerby; I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’ve visited again. Thank you, and come back again soon.
About Fay Keenan
FAY KEENAN was born in Surrey and raised in Hampshire, before finally settling back in the West Country. When Fay is not chasing her children around or writing, she teaches English at a local secondary school. She lives with her husband of fourteen years, two daughters, a cat, two chickens and a Weimaraner called Bertie in a village in Somerset, which may or may not have provided the inspiration for Little Somerby.
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Addictive Fiction
First published in the UK in 2017 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Fay Keenan, 2017
The moral right of Fay Keenan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (E) 9781786694898
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