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A Home at Honeysuckle Farm: A gorgeous and heartwarming summer read
Christie Barlow
The brand new romantic comedy from bestselling author Christie Barlow!‘Full of warmth, fun and feel-good factor’ Sunday Times bestseller Katie FfordeA family secretOne shocking argument and ten-year-old Alice Parker’s world was turned upside down. Her peaceful life at Honeysuckle Farm in the quiet rural village of Brook Bridge swapped for the bustling metropolis of New York City. Alice’s life was changed forever…A second chance Now, thirteen years later, Alice’s American dream is over. With her life in tatters, there is only one place Alice wants to be… home at Honeysuckle Farm. So, when Alice learns her beloved Grandie is ill, she knows this is her last chance to heal the family rift.A forever home? But secrets still swirl in Brook Bridge, and Alice is no closer to discovering the truth. And for some reason her new friendship with local heartthrob Sam Reid seems to be making the locals tense.Sick of the lies Alice knows it’s time to lay the past to rest once and for all. But could the truth ruin her hopes of ever calling Honeysuckle Farm home again?
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HarperImpulse
an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
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www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2018
Copyright © Christie Barlow 2018
Cover illustrations © Shutterstock.com (http://www.Shutterstock.com)
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018
Christie Barlow asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008240929
Ebook Edition © April 2018 ISBN: 9780008240912
Version: 2018-03-13
Table of Contents
Cover (#u50122111-7006-52fd-8ac2-76f6f3bd064e)
Title Page (#uece4fc05-7278-564d-8322-1ac0fc2c5a32)
Copyright (#u4e99b5cb-b4ba-53ad-b8ea-7402e341b4dc)
Dedication (#u452a3cd0-2a0e-5930-9a38-88ad06380f32)
Prologue (#ub9922f77-cf30-5326-ab7b-d43d6b077157)
Chapter 1 (#u4c671c81-8fac-5fb9-b479-807dc4af26aa)
Chapter 2 (#u0f17dd4d-66a6-54bd-850d-3eb6564aacc7)
Chapter 3 (#u47676624-20e3-5bc3-9c74-a684d2c25f00)
Chapter 4 (#u2d6f2891-feda-53fc-8322-b9b48efe9a8a)
Chapter 5 (#u07c74c81-a068-5c92-9b61-50f649eb4b62)
Chapter 6 (#u9ca65bc2-1550-55cf-9f85-7ad57ad23ea3)
Chapter 7 (#u5db08eb4-feb0-52cd-8412-9582fec5ab4f)
Chapter 8 (#ud805fc9c-5447-5824-baec-0e7cc006eff5)
Chapter 9 (#u0d7eb0bd-94d6-50a6-8455-4bc6491e384a)
Chapter 10 (#u9f8672b4-77e0-5152-a85e-105eb8a045fc)
Chapter 11 (#ubb23bb3e-6915-52e0-813b-36347e6a212a)
Chapter 12 (#u90424788-db56-5448-90b9-8c71cb1adbf9)
Chapter 13 (#u6fae2d79-706f-51ee-95b0-384272f2cca8)
Chapter 14 (#u1339f431-72ad-58eb-9dcf-fe639cb98fab)
Chapter 15 (#uc42c61c7-02bc-57b2-baf8-f808a139e273)
Chapter 16 (#u86bd719c-7431-5ef7-8d8f-b3aec6474659)
Chapter 17 (#uef2f7044-cccd-5689-ac2a-f329378d3a48)
Chapter 18 (#u310477cc-d415-5f35-a795-b6cd0ef754a1)
Chapter 19 (#u6a56ada5-c35a-5fb4-8d92-746336f61a32)
Chapter 20 (#u422dfb72-cf0d-5711-81a7-0564ab9e0faa)
Chapter 21 (#uf9b45e5a-4a6a-5db5-b94c-2878783eab82)
Chapter 22 (#u1c11f41d-a628-5299-99f2-c9f2e0a77a35)
Chapter 23 (#ub1fb2791-2a2e-54e8-8f68-4734bbcf7daa)
Chapter 24 (#u9ecbb724-6c51-5092-b282-99719e65adec)
Chapter 25 (#uccdd0d65-b3fa-5ccc-af3d-c0ab2e7ec378)
Chapter 26 (#u70684cb2-976a-55e7-bb9e-6282113a2a65)
Chapter 27 (#u28994856-54d8-503a-8ed2-e96b55fffe5d)
Chapter 28 (#u1ac4294b-a02b-5a74-b970-2a602aa5bc65)
Chapter 29 (#ufe38ebbb-eca2-5ed5-b85e-9c844d34eece)
Chapter 30 (#uf0ebe220-2dbb-5a89-9751-8fe704424f21)
Chapter 31 (#uea7b45d6-b385-5c34-a6c9-3a3a43392ac3)
Chapter 32 (#u836b33c2-273a-5008-8507-49e7400bcdf6)
Chapter 33 (#u8c029754-80a8-5caf-b4b0-4b7348fca9ec)
Chapter 34 (#ud51c0a1f-519e-5684-a699-5133d7b8b51f)
Chapter 35 (#ua7838cad-05fe-5405-9032-cbd2fd758e06)
Chapter 36 (#u4f82bcaf-78b5-5db0-a695-278253dc0c91)
Chapter 37 (#u90159d50-03f6-5692-8b22-899674bdc3f1)
Chapter 38 (#u4a8f7cf5-e44d-5df2-b39a-5069f80a4e3a)
Chapter 39 (#ub9dad12c-f37e-50c1-b8a7-17fc91c603e3)
Acknowledgements (#u9e15f9d5-8e17-5a77-ba92-cf0330fcb7b2)
Keep Reading … (#ucee73e0c-0d84-5428-b62b-188898a5cbec)
About the Author (#uedc9271a-bc2d-5e94-a404-5a6461207fad)
About HarperImpulse (#u2bbec1b5-30e2-5949-a8aa-fe881d5744db)
About the Publisher (#u53eb5ac2-85cb-5875-874d-ba5d533b4448)
For Sharon Pillinger,
Whose tireless cheering and continuous
excitement for my books has never
gone unnoticed.
Thank-you.
Love AB x
Prologue (#u617cfc03-939a-5dd5-ac82-9a6531adb4ea)
At ten years of age, Brook Bridge village was all I’d ever known. Nestled right in the heart of the countryside on the outskirts of Staffordshire, it was a quaint little village that radiated olde-worlde charm with its narrow streets and timber-framed properties, many of which boasted thatched roofs. It was a close-knit community where everyone was friendly and people looked out for each other. I loved everything about living there.
The summer months were always the busiest, when visitors would flock to admire the old, striking Tudor buildings and explore the nooks and crannies of the shabby-chic shops and historic pubs that lined the cobblestoned high street.
I’d look forward to Sunday mornings, my favourite time of the week, when I’d stroll with Grandie over the arched stone bridge which led us to a quaint courtyard that was a magnet for painters and photographers. On the corner we’d relax outside The Old Tea Shop, hugging our hot chocolate and treating ourselves to one of Mrs Jones’ scrumptious cakes that were truly delicious.
I lived with my mum on the fringes of the village at Honeysuckle Farm, in the annexe which was attached to Grandie’s three-storey rustic brick farmhouse. I’d felt safe ambling about the barns, riding my bike over the uneven grass and splashing about in the stream. The countryside surrounding the house stretched for miles and in the quilted fields of golden and green squares knitted together by the hedgerows grew potatoes and root vegetables for all those delicious autumn stews that Mum would rustle up. And not forgetting the abundance of fresh eggs laid by the chickens which roamed freely around the farm. It was simply the best place to live.
Beyond the corncribs there was a rickety old wooden bridge that arched over the trickling stream with its rust-coloured willow bushes growing on the banks; this was my favourite spot. I’d sit on the huge grey rock at the foot of the maple tree and watch Billy, the chestnut Welsh cob, graze in the field.
I’d just broken up for summer, the long school holidays stretched out before me, and I was happily waiting for my friend Grace to come over for a play day. As I jumped and splashed through the shallow waters of the stream in my Wellington boots, I didn’t have a care in the world.
Little did I know that my life was about to drastically change …
Happily skipping back towards the farmhouse, with the promise of buttery scrambled eggs on homemade granary bread, I flung open the door to the porch that housed an array of boots, coats and umbrellas. Kicking off my muddy wellies outside the back door, I felt slight disappointment that there were no delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen. Marley was curled up in his basket at the foot of the Aga, but the sleepy spaniel never even attempted to open his eyes when I walked into the room.
It was at that moment that I heard raised voices coming from the living room. Barely daring to breathe, I tiptoed down the hallway, my eyes falling towards the gap in the living-room door.
Grandie was standing at the far end of the room, his hands resting on the mantelpiece of the huge stone fireplace, his head bent low. Mum was sitting on the edge of the coffee table, her eyes firmly fixed on the floor.
He let out a long shuddering breath and turned back towards Mum, who shifted her gaze towards him.
‘Jesus Christ, Rose,’ he shouted at her, ‘when the hell were you going to tell me?’
Mum was now physically shaking but she didn’t answer him.
I’d no idea what was happening or what Mum was supposed to have done, but a feeling of trepidation rushed through my body. An eerie atmosphere swathed me, one I’d never felt before, cocooned in my perfect idyll.
Rooted to the spot, I waited anxiously to see what would happen next.
As Grandie’s voice continued to boom I felt scared, my heart hammering against my chest. I’d never heard Grandie shout before, and I’d never heard him and Mum argue. I didn’t like it, I didn’t like it one little bit.
‘Everything I’ve done for you, and this is how you repay me.’ Grandie’s face was flushed.
Mum hung her head once more, unable to look him in the eye.
‘I thought I’d brought you up better than this. How could you betray me like this? Have you no shame?’ He snorted with disgust. ‘Get out of my sight, I never want to see you again.’ His face was thunderous, his eyes dark.
Those words jolted Mum.
I held my breath, not daring to move.
‘W-w-what do you mean?’ Mum stuttered, her cool façade now slipping and tears beginning to stream down her face.
‘Exactly that, get out of my sight,’ his voice boomed again, causing her to spring to her feet.
