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Emma phoned the agent and made a couple of appointments for the next day and more for the one after. Emma left the boys with Tom and the two friends set off in a fever of excitement, but they quickly discovered that judicious use of the camera could disguise tatty décor and exaggerate room sizes. Holly wasn’t after anything palatial but she was hugely disappointed when none anywhere near lived up to its promise. Somehow she’d thought it would be easy.
With the legacy her parents had left her and the proceeds of her half of the home she’d shared with Harry, she had a pretty decent-sized budget, or so she’d thought. The London house had been snapped up quickly and contracts had already been exchanged so finances were in place. Just not enough it would seem.
‘I expected to get so much more for my money here than in London, Emma.’
‘That depends on what you mean by here. Out in the middle of nowhere maybe, maybe not, but in the centre of one of the most sought-after areas in the Cotswolds, no chance.’
After the initial let-down Holly adjusted her expectations and having taken the decision to search in earnest looked forward eagerly to the next viewing. She spent the following two weeks not finding her dream home but learning a lot about the local geography.
Then Emma, who had been surfing the Net, found a house that looked quite interesting. It was a private sale and the photos were amateurish but the description sounded good, so Holly made an appointment to see it the next morning. Emma was at work so she went on her own.
This time she held her excitement in check. Well she tried to anyway, attempting to conquer the expectation of finding her dream home in days, rather than the weeks or months it might realistically take. She was concerned too about how long she could impose on Emma and Tom’s hospitality. They’d given no sign of being fed up with her and she was determined it shouldn’t ever come to that.
Her excitement when she saw the house was all the greater because this time she hadn’t set herself up for a fall. It was perfect! Described as a chocolate-box cottage with a thatched roof, which she suspected added several thousand pounds to the asking price, it was right at the end of the high street, as far away as it was possible to be from Emma and Tom and still be in the village.
There was a huge extension on the side that ran front to back. It didn’t quite blend in with the rest of the cottage. At least it had a sloping roof, but it was tiled and you could see it was begging for a new hairdo. The potential though was enormous. She could use it as a studio. She could even see it as a commercial gallery. In fact, it was so big she could use it as both.
All of a sudden new possibilities were presenting themselves. In spite of Harry not wanting her to work – how old-fashioned was that! – she’d had a job for years at one of the London galleries. Her passion so great that she couldn’t distance herself from it. Harry didn’t make too much of a fuss; it was the sort of genteel occupation he could accept for his wife.
At home she’d continued in the well-lit attic room to turn out a substantial number of paintings. Maybe at last the collection of pictures she’d produced over the years could find a proper home instead of being stacked against the walls. If everything went well she could have her own commercial premises and be her own boss. Holly had never dreamt of starting a business but the prospect was staring her in the face. She made it pretty obvious she was keen. She couldn’t have feigned indifference even if she’d tried; it wasn’t her way, and the owner, an elderly lady who was moving to live with her daughter, was completely frank with her.
‘Perhaps I should mention, my dear, that there are two more people coming to see it this evening. I’m not pushing you, but you seem like such a nice young woman, and all on your own too.’
Well, what would any normal person have done? Holly made an offer there and then.
‘That is a little less than I’d hoped for, I’m afraid. I think I’ll have to wait and see what the next people say.’
‘I understand, of course, Mrs Foster, but please come back to me anyway. If they do make an offer I’d really like the opportunity to match it.’
Holly wondered if she sounded over-eager. Well, she was and there was no way she could have pretended otherwise.
‘You remind me of my daughter when she was your age. I’d like to help you, if I can.’
Mrs Foster smiled at Holly. ‘Look, I tell you what; I won’t make any more appointments and if either of these other two is interested I’ll give you the chance to match the price. If you still want it then, it’s yours.’
For Holly the next few hours were interminable. Emma couldn’t believe it when she didn’t eat supper. Nothing ever put her off her food. And she was pacing. Nervous, or what! When she phoned Mrs Foster later in the evening her hand was shaking; her whole body was shaking.
‘One of the couples has topped your offer by £2,500 but I did tell them that I’d promised you first refusal. It’s up to you now.’
It wasn’t the full asking price, but it was pretty close. Still, she’d known what the asking price was. If she’d thought she couldn’t afford it, she wouldn’t have gone to see it in the first place would she. When it came to convincing herself, Holly was a pushover.
‘I can meet that offer, Mrs Foster. I’d like to go ahead if it’s okay with you. I’ll contact my solicitor first thing in the morning.’
‘All right, my dear. In that case it’s yours.’
‘Thank you. Oh, thank you so much. Goodbye.’ … ‘Emma. Eeeeemma! How do I go about finding a solicitor?’
And so began the nerve-racking process that every new buyer goes through. Holly was so anxious while she waited for completion that Emma, in spite of having told her she could stay as long as she liked, threatened to throw Holly out onto the streets if she didn’t stop wittering. Secretly Holly knew her friend was almost as excited as she was. She felt the weight of responsibility for Holly’s move to Cuffingham and her own part in it and was anxious to see her settled.
Oddly enough the twins didn’t seem to mind their godmother burbling on about ‘my cottage’ either. They’d long ago formed the opinion that she was a bit crazy. They even asked her occasionally if she had any news. Six-year-olds! She didn’t think it was because they couldn’t wait for her to leave.
***
It may have been late autumn but Holly obeyed the demands of the weak sunshine streaming in through Emma’s window. Bundled up against the bright but rather chilly day she set out to further explore her new surroundings. Harry would have loved this,she thought. Damn Harry. Charming, gorgeous Harry. But not for her. No, definitely no longer for her. She still thought about him far more often than was comfortable.
She could call him all the names she liked but she couldn’t get away from the fact that she missed him desperately. She’d learned to cover it well, particularly when she’d been house-hunting or sheltered in the company of her friends, but you can’t put a marriage behind you that quickly. Consequently it was on days like this one, when members of the Carter family were at work or school, that loneliness hit her with a very big L.
Turning into the high street, to follow what was fast becoming her favourite walk, her aim was to go through the village and out the other side. That way she’d get a quick peek at what she earnestly hoped was going to be her new home. Like so many places in the Cotswolds Cuffingham was charming. A river flowed through the main street with a bank on one side and a road on the other. Shops and houses faced each other across the ribbon of water.
Emma’s home was on the tarmacked side, so Holly crossed the footbridge to get to the bank. Another river ran behind the row of houses and shops on this side. It was as peaceful as it was beautiful and to Holly, as she left her old life behind and in spite of her pangs, it was becoming everything she’d never known she’d wanted.
She began walking through the village intending to search for treasure on the riverbanks beyond the cottages. She’d seen and made some fantastic creations out of things as mundane as a few bits of wood and twigs, or some leaves and feathers; bottle tops; old socks. Well, maybe not old socks. Holly knew herself well enough to realise that once she started it would be all-absorbing and hopefully sufficient to shake off the alien depression that had descended as she’d thought again of Harry.
There was a cool, almost chilly breeze, in spite of which she wasn’t walking quickly for fear of missing something. She hadn’t lived in Cuffingham long enough to take it for granted and hoped she never would. The sound of quacking alerted her to a pair of ducks on the river and she glanced at them with a smile, moving towards them to get a better look, already feeling her mood lifting. At least it was, until she was knocked off balance and sent flying. She landed on her back, her rucksack cushioning her fall, her lightened frame of mind changing to one of irritation.
‘Can’t you look where you’re going,’ she muttered as she scrambled to her feet. It was only when she looked up, way up, to find herself staring into a pair of piercing, very blue eyes strongly reminiscent of a young Paul Newman, that something stirred inside her. The actor had had eyes you could drown in but the ones that were returning her gaze held a strong hint of steel, and the face they shone out of may have been gorgeous but she could see he was very angry.
‘Can’t Ilook where I’m going? Just exactly what do you think you were doing? You were all over the place. I couldn’t have missed you if I’d tried, which, by the way, I did.’
Never one to turn down a challenge, Holly wasn’t going to let that pass, deciding that maybe he wasn’t so very good-looking after all in spite of thick dark hair glinting with auburn shades where it caught the sun. Oh no, she thought. Not hair envy again. The fact that she needed to crane her neck to look up at this giant did nothing to soften her reply. Rather, and even though she’d never desired to be of the Amazon race, she felt disadvantaged by her size and went on the attack.
‘Have you even stopped to look around? It’s a beautiful day – not that you would have noticed at the rate you were haring along,’ Holly said, allowing disapproval to creep into her voice.
‘That’s right. I was. One of my patients is about to give birth and I’m in rather a hurry. I certainly didn’t expect someone to throw themselves into my path. Anyway, I can’t stand here all day arguing with you. I’m needed elsewhere.’
And he took off without another word.
Insufferable! And what made it worse was that he was right. Holly knew she’d been in a little world of her own, aware only of the increasingly warming caress of the sun and the ducks on the river. She’d been so engrossed that it was she in fact who hadn’t been looking where she was going, thus putting herself in the path of the stranger who obviously didn’t have any soul or he too would have been enjoying the day.
Guilt-fuelled frustration made it worse because she wasn’t even able to defend herself. She’d readily have admitted fault if he’d apologised for knocking her over, but there was no way she would now; even if she could; but she couldn’t because he’d gone. Rushed across the footbridge, jumped into a parked Land Rover, and raced off, leaving her standing like an idiot.
She’d been bowled over and given the brush-off in less than three minutes by someone she suspected was the most gorgeous man in the village, or possibly even the world. The strange feeling she’d had in the pit of her stomach the moment she’d looked up into those amazing eyes began to subside.
Who was he anyway? Holly had registered at the local surgery and, although she hadn’t yet met the doctor, she knew from Emma that he was softly spoken, cuddly, and about a hundred years old. She was sure the practice only had one doctor. Maybe this one was a locum. Good job if he was. At least she probably wouldn’t have to bump into him again.
Chapter Two (#u087cf73f-931b-5769-b50f-a7645a10a441)
A little shaken by the encounter, Holly carried on walking, though with perhaps slightly more caution. It was a lovely crisp day and now she’d shaken off her misery over Harry she certainly wasn’t going to let some pompous, full-of-himself doctor upset her again. And if that was anything to go by she was pretty willing to bet he had a terrible bedside manner!
The lovely weather had lured others out into the sunshine and every single person she met smiled at her. That kind of thing just didn’t happen in London, not in her experience anyway, and it made her feel good. She allowed her mind to wander – though not her attention. She wasn’t looking to run into another crashing boor!
Holly found herself reflecting again on what she might be able to do when (and if) the cottage finally became hers. Though modest, she was also innately honest. She realised of course that being a grade A student didn’t qualify her to run a business. Many things can be taught but talent is something that, if you are lucky, you are born with, and hers had been nurtured.
Her work at college was outstanding and nobody envied her success. Holly was unassuming and only too ready to help any of her fellow students if she could. It came as no surprise that she achieved a BA (Hons) First Class and her framed certificate – one of the few things she’d brought with her from London – was second only to her mother’s table (at present in storage) as her most cherished possession. But could she turn her talent into a successful commercial reality?
Before marrying Harry she’d lived with her parents, selling her work to pay for her keep, something her parents objected to but which her pride insisted upon.
‘But I want to. How else am I even going to begin to repay you for putting me through uni?’
Biased as he was, her father hadn’t been entirely convinced it was something she’d be able to make a living out of. Nevertheless he agreed to let her have her way, rather liking her independence of spirit.
‘We all have to start somewhere, Holly,’ her dad had said, almost apologetically. ‘I don’t buy a new painting every week and I don’t suppose anyone else does either.’
In spite of his somewhat mixed attempt at reassurance, no one was more astonished than he when one sale was followed by another and then another. Not only was Holly’s work good, it was saleable. She wasn’t a ‘name’, didn’t become an overnight success, but she was doing very nicely thank you.
Then she met Harry. They’d both picked the same bench in Trafalgar Square after she’d been to visit the National Portrait Gallery and he was whiling away the time before a meeting. He never did make that meeting and after a whirlwind romance they were married in grand style – Harry’s choice not hers – and she moved into his flat. There was no room for her to paint so she continued working at her parents’ home until they offered to help with the purchase of a house.
‘Can’t stand the mess, eh?’
‘No, Holly, but art has been your passion since you were tiny. Not that you’re much bigger now.’
‘Watch it.’
‘Anyway, this way you’ll have everything you want at your fingertips. Your mother and I are prepared to put up half the money if Harry can do the rest.’
With the proceeds from the sale of his flat Harry was able to fulfil his side of the bargain and six months after the wedding they moved into a spacious town house. Harry was adamant that she didn’t work and Holly, quite impressed by his macho attitude, had at first acceded to his wishes – though later she’d taken a job at a gallery to prevent herself climbing the walls out of boredom. However, he considered painting was what people did for a hobby and was content enough for her to continue but, as a contribution to the family coffers, no, definitely not.
By the time she took the job at the gallery he considered her earnings to be ‘pin’ money. Holly, in love and anxious to please her husband, gave up selling her own work. After all, she told herself, it’s not as if I do it for the income. She couldn’t and wouldn’t give up painting though, which under her current circumstances was just as well, since her future now depended upon her being able to support herself. She hadn’t been in the market for a few years now. Aware that fashions are always changing she just had to hope that what she did was still in demand. Emma and Holly had discussed it, naturally.
‘It’s not as if you’ve been out of touch. You’ve been working in the business for years.’
‘I know, Em, it’s just that I …’
‘And as far as I know you’ve subscribed to every magazine going.’
‘Yes, but …’
‘You’ll have to make a name for yourself, locally at least. But you’ve got the talent. You just need to be a bit pushy.’
‘Oh and you can just see me doing that, can’t you.’
‘The only way you’re going to find out is to try. And I’ll be shoving you from behind.’
‘I can feel it already,’ Holly had said, rubbing the small of her back with the back of her hand. There was no doubt about it though, Holly thought, looking across at the cottage as she passed it on her way out of town. If she got it, it had the potential to be a business as well, always supposing she could get planning permission.
Reaching the riverbank her wandering thoughts were matched by wandering hands, sifting, sorting. Several treasures were now nestling at the bottom of her backpack along with the tissue Holly always carried since the loss of a beautiful piece of bark, fragile and with its intricate patterns already, in her mind, incorporated into a montage of which it would be the central feature. Sadly it was just a crumbling mess by the time she got it home.
She could never be sure what she’d find that might need protecting. As she sifted and searched her mind ran free. On the whole she was a pretty positive person and she was beginning to realise that her positivity was returning now she was no longer with Harry. It had come as quite a shock to discover how much of her own personality she’d suppressed trying to be the wife he’d wanted. She’d allowed herself to dream of one day being an artist of note but she’d made absolutely no effort to pursue that dream.
Now though, she was ready to go for it. She was also realistic enough to know that even if she ultimately gained the recognition she so craved the journey would be long and possibly bumpy. Definitely bumpy!
She thought again of Emma, despite the distance between them her friend had been her prop through the troubled years. She too was an artist but had a pragmatic side to her nature. With a husband and two small boys, teaching suited her very well. She had a pretty decent income and holidays to match those of her children.
‘All that lovely time off,’ she said, but Holly knew how hard her friend worked. Schools weren’t the only places where teaching went on though and Holly’s gallery, if she got the cottage and the requisite permission, was large enough to use as a classroom. Why shouldn’t she teach adults? She could make some money at the same time as providing something for which she hoped optimistically if a little naively there would be plenty of enthusiasm.
It isn’t as if I won’t have time to do my own painting as well. Thanks to Mum and Dad – Holly felt the familiar lump rise to her throat when she thought of the tragic accident that had taken them both from her – there’s a financial cushion until I get myself established. A regular income would help though, even a small one.
Materials wouldn’t be a problem. They were readily available along the riverbanks or at garage sales or car boot sales – any number of sources. As far as the fundamentals went she already had more than enough basic equipment, at present in the same storage facility as her mother’s table, though there were some things she would never share. In any case she was sure people would get their own paints and brushes, or whatever, once they decided (hopefully) they liked it enough to carry on. With very little expenditure, she could set up a business at home. It’s not called cottage industry for nothing.
Turning for home and walking more quickly now, she made her way back through the village, excited about her plans and praying some of them at least would come to fruition.
***
‘So what are you going to wear this evening?’
Holly looked up from the floor where she was playing with Jake and Jamie.
‘Wear? Why?’
‘Duh! Kate and Charlie’s. Drinks and nibbles. Mind you, Kate’s nibbles always constitute a feast. No cooking for me tonight, except for the boys.’
‘Emma, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Drinks and nibbles. Tonight. At Ka … Have you looked at your text messages today?’
‘No, I put my phone on silent when I went down to the river and forgot all about it.’
‘Well you’d better go and sort out your glad rags. We’re going to a party.’
Holly was suddenly very still. She loved people but she loved them in small intimate groups, preferably when she knew most of them as well. A party sounded like something else. She’d met one or two of Emma and Tom’s friends on previous visits, and even since she’d come to stay, but a party?
‘Why don’t I just stay and babysit? I’m quite happy to stay at home.’
‘Did you hear that, kids? Holly wants to babysit.’ They looked indignant. ‘Haven’t you heard the term child-minding, Holly?’
Holly smiled at her godsons. ‘I guess I lost a bit of ground there, eh boys? But I’d sooner stay with you than go to some old party.’
‘No chance,’ said their mother. ‘Kate would be mortally offended. She especially asked us to bring you with. Go on. Go and pick something pretty. We’re due there at eight.’
Reluctantly Holly did her bidding but as she went upstairs she felt the excitement begin to bubble up within her. After all, it had been a long time since she’d been to a party. She tried on several combinations before finally deciding what to wear. She dressed with care, the smart navy trousers a change from her usual jeans, hugging her tiny hips atop ridiculously silly high heels – she needed all the help she could get. She chose a lacy cream-coloured top and loose-knit cream cardigan – its one detail, a single large button just above the waist, was the reason she’d bought it. Ornately carved, it set off the simplicity of the rest. She hoped to be able to take it off when she got there, but winter was fast approaching and the evenings were quite chilly. Well, cold if she was brutally honest. The lacy top was pretty though so she thought she might just have to suffer goose pimples.
***
Standing outside Kate and Charlie’s house, flanked by Emma on one side and Tom on the other, Holly’s heart was racing. Some of it was caused by apprehension but that was tempered by anticipation. She might prefer small groups but essentially Holly was a people person. All of a sudden she couldn’t wait to get inside and meet some.
Unbelievably, the first person she saw when they opened the door was the guy who’d bumped into her that morning. Well, not the first person exactly. Naturally Kate and Charlie were the first, greeting her as they did Emma and Tom, as if she was an old friend. She remembered meeting them on a previous visit to Emma and was really pleased to see them again. But behind them in their large entrance hall was the doctor chap.
Holly drew herself up to her full five foot two inches plus three for the shoes – she liked to think she was big in character, if not in stature – and moved forward to be introduced as her escorts disappeared into the room beyond. Doc was standing with two other men and a girl about the same age as her. They all looked up as Kate took her over to meet them and it was obvious from the expression on his face that her acquaintance from earlier in the day was about as delighted to see her as she was to see him.
‘This is Holly, guys. She’s new to Cuffingham. She’s staying with Emma and Tom until she finds a place of her own,’ Kate told them. ‘Holly, this is Phoebe, Gordon, Adam, and Steve. Oh, there goes the bell again. Look after her for me, will you, while I answer the door.’
Phoebe, Gordon, and Steve all smiled encouragingly at her. Adam looked as if he’d rather be on another planet, or that she would be. Also, unless she was mistaken, he was a bit red in the face.
‘It’s lovely to meet you, Holly. Adam’s just finished telling us how he crashed into you this morning.’ No wonder his face was red! ‘Not that you match his description at all. I was expecting a real firebrand, but you seem perfectly benign. I presume it was you? We don’t get too many new people in Cuffingham at this time of the year.’
Holly smiled back at Phoebe gratefully.
‘I guess that would be me then, though I didn’t realise it would be more dangerous in a country village than in London. I lived there all my life and I’ve never been mugged before.’
