Sheila Norton lives near Chelmsford in Essex with her husband, and worked for most of her life as a medical secretary, before retiring early to concentrate on her writing. Sheila is the award-winning writer of numerous women’s fiction novels and over a hundred short stories, published in women’s magazines.
She has three married daughters, six little grandchildren, and over the years has enjoyed the companionship of three cats and two dogs.
When not working on her writing, Sheila enjoys spending time with her family and friends, as well as reading, walking, swimming, photography and travel. For more information please see www.sheilanorton.com
Sam has always dreamed of working with animals...
But her receptionist job in a London vets is not hitting the spot. Unsure of whether a busy city life is for her, she flees to her Nana Peggy’s idyllic country village.
But despite the rolling hills and its charming feel, life in Hope Green is far from peaceful. On first meeting Joe, the abrupt and bad-tempered local vet, Sam knows she must get him on side, but that is easier said than done...
With her dream close enough to touch, will she get there, or will events conspire against her...?
A heart-warming and inspiring story about living the simple life, perfect for fans of Cathy Bramley.
Oliver the Cat Who Saved Christmas
Charlie the Kitten That Saved a Life
In memory of our own ‘Nanny Peg’, my late mum-in-law, whose favourite random phrases will live on in our family conversations forever! Nana Peggy in this story isn’t based on her or even much like her, but I thought about her a lot while I was writing it.
It was a beautiful, warm day at the end of May and the countryside on either side of the road was full of the promise of summer ahead. I wound down the driver’s window of my little car and turned up the radio so that I could hear the music above the noise of the breeze as I whizzed along in the fast lane of the motorway. Mile by mile, I felt myself relaxing. I felt my worries and uncertainties begin to melt away and my heart lifted with the anticipation of my destination.
Hope Green. The very name made me feel more optimistic. I sang along to the radio, remembering happy family holidays on the Dorset coast when I was a child. Hope Green had hardly changed since those days, its age-old charm untouched by the increased pace of life elsewhere. It was somewhere I could unwind and be at peace, take stock of things and perhaps really find myself at last.
As I steadily increased my distance from my home on the outskirts of London, I could almost feel my old life slipping off my shoulders like a heavy coat that had been weighing me down – the crowded streets, the rush-hour crush on the Tube, the traffic fumes, the stress on people’s faces – I was leaving all this behind me, leaving it for a place where life still depended on the seasons, where people still had time to chat on street corners, where people picked blackberries and elderberries from the hedgerows instead of buying them in tiny plastic packets from the supermarket at ridiculous expense. Here I would be able to see the stars at night instead of neon lights. And the only traffic jams were caused by tractors.
I knew I was also leaving behind a few people who thought I’d lost my mind and was making a huge and ridiculous mistake. Perhaps I was, but I didn’t think so. This was my opportunity to start again, to carve out a new future for myself. A future that wouldn’t be just about me. And I was rushing headlong towards it, never more certain of anything in my life. Hope Green was my hope for that future, and I was determined not to look back.
Six weeks earlier
It had been a fairly ordinary day at the James Street Vet Clinic. We’d had the usual procession of dogs, cats, hamsters and rabbits, but also a pair of budgies, a little white mouse and an urban fox who had been hit by a car and had been carried in almost lifeless by the kind but distraught lady who had found him. Without exception, the pet owners were all well heeled, well dressed and well paid, settling their bills without a murmur on their Amex cards before rushing back to their large expensive homes and their important jobs.
Not that I resented our clientele, I reminded myself as I pulled on my coat and prepared to set off for my own, not-so-large home in a far less expensive area of the city. They were polite and responsible people for the most part and, after all, they did keep me employed. I loved seeing all the different animals being brought in and I knew many of the regulars by name and personality. I enjoyed the breakthrough moments when sick animals were restored to health and, on sadder occasions, though it was initially upsetting, I took satisfaction in my ability to comfort and console the owners.
I’d always wanted to work with animals, and when I was offered the position of receptionist at this upmarket clinic in the heart of London’s West End, I thought all my dreams had come true. However, after four years of the same monotonous routine, I was beginning to feel that it wasn’t enough any more.
Adam didn’t understand. I knew this because he delighted in questioning me on it every time I brought up the subject. I thought that your boyfriend was supposed to be someone who listens and sympathises, but he had taken the opposite tack. The last time it had come up, when we’d met for drinks after work, he had asked me in his usual weary voice what exactly it was that I wasn’t happy with.
‘Nothing,’ I’d told him, equally wearily. ‘I keep trying to explain to you – there’s nothing wrong with the job itself, it’s just that I feel … kind of frustrated, I suppose.’
‘Frustrated with what?’
I sighed. To be fair, I had trouble rationalising it myself. On the surface, my job was everything I wanted it to be. I loved seeing and spending time with all the animals, especially the regulars, but I’d always hoped for something more. I’d never really told Adam how strong my desire was to become a vet myself one day, though of course he knew I’d taken the City & Guilds course in Animal Care the previous year. His view was that I was ‘only’ the receptionist – as if I wasn’t all too aware of this already – and wasn’t employed to start ‘scrubbing up and interfering in operations’.
I’d taken the course with the intention that it would allow me to help out occasionally at the clinic. Playing with my favourite pets while they waited in the reception area was nice, obviously, but it wasn’t where I saw myself further down the line.
‘I just don’t have the chance to do anything with what I learned.’
‘You’re not one of the nurses,’ he said, with a slight lift of his eyebrows, ‘or one of the vets.’
‘I’m not that stupid, Adam. I just thought they’d let me help out if they needed an extra pair of hands. Holding a difficult patient or calming them down, that kind of thing.’ I sipped my drink, wishing yet again that I hadn’t brought up the subject.
‘You must have known what the job description was when you accepted the post.’
‘Of course I did, but that was four years ago and … well.’ I shook my head. This was going nowhere. ‘Let’s just say I’m starting to feel like I want a change.’
When I’d first moved to London from Norfolk to take up the much longed-for position of working with animals, I was perhaps a tad starry-eyed and naïve. The reality of living in London had been a series of shocks, mostly of the financial variety – I rented a tiny single room, no bigger than a matchbox, in an upstairs flat which I shared with two other girls – and the reality of being a receptionist in an inner-city veterinary clinic was not how I had envisioned it. I don’t know why I’d allowed myself to assume it would eventually lead to something other than what it was. It wasn’t the job. It was me.
‘Perhaps you’re just in a bit of a rut,’ Adam said. ‘Maybe you’ll feel differently when we buy a place together.’
And that was the other thing. I might have been naïve when I first moved to London, but the scales had long since fallen from my eyes. It amazed me that Adam continued to think it was only a matter of time before we could afford to get a place together – neither of us was exactly earning mega bucks. Adam was living with his parents in Hampstead, claiming to be saving up, and while I couldn’t deny the idea of one day setting up home together had once been an exciting prospect, as time passed it seemed more and more unrealistic. In fact, the difficulties seemed to be all I thought about these days, and I’d started to question whether I actually wanted our relationship to last at all.
I wasn’t ready to confront these thoughts, though, so I changed tack and gave Adam an apologetic smile.
‘OK, maybe I’m just being silly,’ I said. ‘You’re right: I knew from the start what my job was all about, and at least it’s better than working in that estate agents’ office back in King’s Lynn.’
‘Exactly. I don’t suppose there was much contact with dogs and cats there.’ He smiled and took my hand.
‘And of course, I do want us to move in together,’ I went on, ignoring the doubts at the back of my mind. ‘It’s just so difficult. I wonder how we’ll ever manage it.’
‘At least we can try, though. We can still have our dreams.’
I smiled back at him. ‘I do dream about it, actually. A lot, as a matter of fact. I like to fantasise about a pretty little cottage somewhere in the country. It has a huge garden all around it where the dogs can run free, with apple trees where the children can climb and swing from the branches—’
I stopped short. What on earth was I thinking of, sharing that with him? But it was too late. He’d stopped smiling and had taken his hand away from mine.
‘More of a fairy tale than a dream, that one, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘I mean, if you’re going to be that unrealistic, no wonder you think we’ll never be able to afford it.’
‘I know. I did say it was just a fantasy.’
‘We both work in London. It’ll have to be a flat. And as for a garden, forget it. Quite apart from the fact that you know I don’t particularly like dogs.’ And then he added under his breath, ‘Or children.’
‘Since when have you not liked children?’ I asked, taken aback. ‘That’s a new one to me.’ It was one thing he wasn’t an animal lover, but I didn’t quite know if I could process that he didn’t like children either.
‘OK, I don’t not like them, but I’ve never wanted any of my own. Not for a long time, anyway, if at all. Maybe when I’m about forty I might feel differently …’ He looked at me sharply. ‘You’re not getting broody or anything, are you?’
‘No. Of course not,’ I said. ‘But I suppose I’ve assumed we’d have them at some point. When we’re ready and … financially stable and everything.’
‘And living in the cosy cottage in the country with roses round the door?’
‘Don’t mock me, Adam. We all need our dreams.’
As I swung my bag over my shoulder and walked out of the clinic, I thought about my ‘dream’ and whether Adam really was part of mine or not. I’d met him just over three years ago at a birthday party for one of my flatmates, and the attraction was instant – and mutual. Back then, we never seemed to argue. We were like any other young couple – independent and carefree, spending what little we had to spare on fun and frivolity. Ironically, it was only when our relationship became more serious and we started making long-term plans to settle down that the arguments began. Our differences, which hadn’t particularly mattered up till then, now seemed to loom in almost every conversation. He positively loved London and never wanted to leave, whereas I’d only ever seen it as a temporary base, somewhere I could enjoy an independent city-dweller life and establish a career, but not a place where I could settle down.
Adam was a trainee accountant and had aspirations of climbing the professional ladder and eventually commanding a big salary, with things like flashy cars and riverside penthouse apartments high on his wish list. I’d have been happy with a pushbike, a couple of Labradors and, well, yes, that fantasy cottage in the country. Were we really even compatible? Or had our relationship simply become a habit?
Easter was coming up and I’d booked two weeks off work so I could spend at least part of it with Adam at his parents’ house in Hampstead. I hadn’t taken any holiday since the previous summer, and when Adam had suggested it around Christmas time it had seemed like a nice idea. Back in the dark chill of December, when I was spending every evening huddled in my duvet in front of the electric fire in my tiny room, the thought of going for long walks with Adam on Hampstead Heath in the sunshine held a lot of appeal. I liked his parents, I liked their big townhouse on a tree-lined avenue, and I liked his mum’s hearty cooked breakfasts, roast dinners and home-made desserts. I’d managed to romanticise the whole notion of the holiday to the point where it was almost irrelevant that Adam and I were quarrelling so often. I’d even convinced myself that, somehow, things would be different during this mythical springtime idyll, and that afterwards, everything would feel better.
Dream on, Sam, I muttered to myself as I swiped my Oyster card at the turnstile in the Tube station. I needed to start facing up to the fact that we weren’t getting along so well any more. The longer it went on, the harder it was going to be. And suddenly, I realised that instead of spending more time in each other’s company over Easter, what we really needed was a break from each other.
‘Darling! How lovely to hear from you! Hold on, let me just put this down and turn off this …’ My mum, as usual, sounded like she was in the middle of doing at least three things at once, all of them urgent. ‘How are you?’
‘OK, thanks.’ I hesitated. It was best never to beat about the bush with Mum, so I just came out with it. ‘I wondered if I could come home for a couple of weeks?’
‘How lovely! Of course you can. When are you thinking?’
‘Next weekend.’
‘Hold on, let me think. So you’d be here over Easter?’
‘Yes, and the following week, if that’s all right. It’ll be nice to see you both, and catch up with the family, and—’
‘I thought that was when you were going to stay with Adam and his family?’
‘Well, yes, it was.’ I let the pause become ominous, not really knowing what else to say. ‘I don’t think I’m going to go.’ It was surely the biggest hint that things weren’t going well in my relationship, but Mum failed to pick up on it.
‘Oh, that’s a shame. Dad and I will be away,’ she continued in her upbeat voice. ‘Didn’t I tell you? We’re going on a cruise – Venice and the Greek islands. We thought we’d treat ourselves.’
Oh yes. I remembered now – Mum had told me about the cruise. I think she’d counted on me being with Adam over Easter. These days, it seemed as if my parents made a career out of treating themselves, not that I blamed them. They worked hard, and since my two brothers and I had all left home, they had no ties to hold them back and were determined to see the world. I was usually pleased for them but at that moment I could have really have done with their company.
‘Oh. Never mind. I hope you enjoy it.’
‘So what will you do? Go to Hampstead after all?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps I won’t take the time off work at all.’ The thought of a holiday had lost all of its appeal now. ‘Maybe I’ll wait till you and Dad are back.’
‘Well, don’t forget we’re going to Madeira in May with Peter and Gaynor. And then at the end of June we’ll be in France for a week as usual. And then there’s the trip to New York coming up—’
‘Of course. OK, Mum. I’ll get back to you.’
‘Is everything all right? You sound a bit … down.’
Finally, she’d picked up on it, but it was too late now for her to help, so I brushed it off. ‘I just fancied getting out of London for a while, that’s all. I’m OK.’
‘I don’t blame you, Sam. It must be so exhausting, in those crowds all the time.’ She paused. ‘Why don’t you go down to Dorset and stay with your nan? It must be a while since you saw her.’
I hadn’t thought about staying with my nan. And it was true: I hadn’t seen her since she’d come up at Christmas. I loved spending time with Nana Peggy, and Hope Green, the village where she lived, was the exact opposite of London: just what I needed. I wasn’t sure if she’d want me descending on her at such short notice, but there was no harm in asking. And since my granddad had passed away a few years ago I was sure she wouldn’t mind having a bit of company.
Suddenly, my day was looking a lot brighter.
One of my favourite things about my job, apart from the animals themselves, of course, was that it was how I met Claire. Claire was one of the other receptionists, and although we didn’t always work together – she was part-time – it was always more fun when she was there. She was ten years older than me, not that you’d have known it to look at her, and was married with a little boy, seven-year-old Harry. Harry was the reason Claire only worked part-time, and he was also the reason she hadn’t had any more children. When she’d first told me this, I’d looked at her in surprise, assuming she meant that there had been complications, but she’d immediately laughed and said she meant purely for the cost of the childcare.
I could see how true it was that life wasn’t easy for a working mum. But despite my little roses-round-the-door fantasy that had so irritated Adam, I knew perfectly well that children weren’t going to be on the agenda if Adam and I stayed together. The very thought made me anxious.
‘Have you told him you’re starting to have doubts?’ Claire asked.
‘No. I’m not even sure enough myself. I’m just kind of unsettled, I suppose. But I do think it’ll be good to have some space. Now I’ve made the decision to go to my nan’s instead of his parents, I’m really looking forward to it.’ I smiled at the memory of Nana Peggy’s enthusiasm on the phone. She’d been delighted to hear from me and was looking forward to spending some time together. ‘It’ll be great. I can take Rufus for lots of long country walks. The fresh air will help to clear my head.’
‘Oh yes, Rufus. He’s a springer spaniel, isn’t he? They’re hard work, I’ll bet.’
‘They need a lot of exercise, but Rufus is getting on a bit now. Last time I went, I noticed he was beginning to slow down. But he’s a lovely boy, such a good-natured dog. I adore him.’ I sighed at the thought of being in a position to have a dog of my own. ‘And I adore Hope Green, too. It’s such a pretty little place, so friendly, and close to such a gorgeous part of the coast.’
‘It might not be quite as gorgeous in April as it is when you normally go in summer,’ Claire pointed out, laughing. ‘Nowhere quite as cold as the seaside when there’s a biting wind blowing.’
‘But if you wrap up well, it does you good,’ I said, very conscious of how much I was sounding like my mother.
‘Maybe,’ she conceded. ‘And, speaking of which, I need to pop out for a sandwich. I won’t be long, but call me if it suddenly gets busy.’
There was small chance of that, I thought to myself. It had been a very slow day at the clinic.
I’d convinced myself that after a couple of weeks in Hope Green, I’d feel more ready to make a decision about Adam, one way or the other. We’d been together for more than three years now, and I knew it’d be hard for both of us if we decided to split up. We didn’t tend to go out clubbing or to restaurants like we used to because we were supposed to be saving up for our future, but there were still good times that I’d miss – cooking together, watching TV together, laughing at some inane thing one of us had said. Those times were the reason I was still with him, why I hadn’t ended it yet. Was I really going to end it? I thought to myself. My heart felt heavy at the thought. It was bad enough that I’d changed my holiday plans – a fact that he hadn’t responded to very kindly – but did I want to end the relationship completely?
The night before, I’d told him that I was going to Hope Green to see my nana instead, and he hadn’t taken it well at all. I tried to explain my reasons calmly and thoughtfully, but it was as if we were speaking different languages. Adam’s expression quickly changed from calm to perplexed, and then through disappointed to downright annoyed. He stared at me as if I’d grown horns and demanded to know whether it was because of the ‘funny moods’ I’d been having recently.
‘Funny moods?’ I repeated, immediately on the defensive.
‘You know, about your job. About being in a rut. Does that apply to being with me, too?’
‘No!’ I lied. I wasn’t ready to cause a scene, and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. Instead, I told him about Nana – how Mum didn’t often get the time to see her, so I felt like I ought to give her some company.
‘My parents will be so disappointed, Sam. Mum’s been stocking up the freezer with apple tarts because she knows you like them so much.’ He shook his head, paused, and then said grudgingly, ‘But she’ll probably think it’s really nice that you want to spend time with your nan.’
It struck me as odd that he seemed more focused on his mother’s disappointment than on his own. But perhaps that was just my imagination.
But before I could dwell on this any longer I was brought back to the present by a loud banging noise. The door at the front of the reception had flown open, smacking into the wall violently. I looked up, half-expecting it to be Claire having forgotten her purse or something, but it was a thick-set, worried-looking man struggling under the weight of a large Alsatian lying in his arms, its head and paws dangling lifelessly.
‘Can you help me?’ the man cried out. ‘Please – he’s been hit by a van!’
I immediately sprang into action before I’d even had a chance to think about what was happening. Emergencies like this happened from time to time and I was well trained to know just what to do. I jumped to my feet and showed the man through to one of the treatment rooms, at the same time calling out for someone to come and help.
Sonia, one of the nurses, appeared at once and helped the man to lay the poor dog on the table, reassuring him that Mr Fulcher, the vet, would be with them in a minute.
‘He got out,’ the man said, wiping his eyes. ‘There was a fence panel broken. It must have happened in the storm the other night. I didn’t notice. Oh my God. Is it too late?’
I stared at the dog as Sonia checked for vital signs. His injuries were terrible. I could barely look – just the sight of the wound sent my head funny. I had no idea whether he could be saved or not.
‘There’s a pulse,’ she said gently. ‘But it’s very weak. We’ll do our best, sir. Here’s Mr Fulcher now.’ She turned to greet him and caught my eye. A look of concern crossed over her face. ‘Are you OK, Sam?’
‘Yes. I, er, think so.’ My head had started to feel peculiar. Everything in the room was going out of focus.
‘Go and sit down,’ she said. ‘You don’t look well.’
But instead, I bolted out to the staffroom, past Claire, who had just returned, and straight into the toilet cubicle, where I was horribly sick.
‘What …?’ Claire was behind me in a second, holding me and scraping back my hair. ‘You poor thing, you look awful. Are you not well? You’d better go home.’
‘No. I … I think I’ll be all right now. I just came over kind of woozy. There’s a dog just come in, he’s awfully hurt …’ I straightened up and tried to compose myself.
‘I’m really sorry, Claire. Could you cover the desk for a moment? I just need a minute.’
‘Of course. Typical, I’d only popped out for a minute. I still think you need to go home, though.’
And I had to, of course, even though I was starting to feel better. It was the clinic’s policy, in case I had something infectious. I knew I didn’t, that I’d just reacted badly to the sight of that poor dog’s injuries. But what I couldn’t understand was why. I’d witnessed scores of horrible sights during my time here, and although the emotional impact had sometimes been hard to deal with, I wasn’t squeamish and I’d never been taken ill like this before.
As I sat on the Tube on my way back to my dismal flat, I thought about what had just happened. Was it just the shock? The emergency had come in pretty suddenly, after all. But I still didn’t really get why it should have affected me so violently. Maybe I was overtired, working long days and worrying myself silly about Adam. Perhaps I really did need my holiday.
Now I thought about it, there had been a couple of times recently when I’d felt a bit dizzy and nauseous for no apparent reason. Perhaps I was anaemic or something? I remembered one of my flatmates had fainted halfway through making herself an omelette one evening, and had eventually found out that she needed iron tablets due to her heavy periods. Whereas my periods were—
Well, actually, come to think of it, I hadn’t had—
I sat up straight. It couldn’t be that, surely? My pulse suddenly racing, I fumbled in my bag for my diary and had a quick check of my dates. I was over a week late. How had I not noticed? I must have been so caught up with my worries about Adam and what I was doing for the Easter break. A wave of panic overcame me, but within minutes I’d talked myself round. No, there was probably another explanation. Like stress. Yes, that’d be it. I was probably late because of the stress of all the recent arguments.
But the next morning, there was something about the sight of my boiled egg that gave me the same feeling as the poor Alsatian’s injuries had, and after being thoroughly sick again, I went back to the kitchen, feeling shaky and anxious, wondering what I could eat or drink that wouldn’t make me feel ill. I automatically went to put on the kettle, but changed my mind. The last thing I fancied was a cup of tea, which was strange in itself as it was always my favourite lifesaving pick-me-up. And then I remembered how Claire had joked with me a couple of days before when I told her I didn’t want one.
‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’ she’d teased, making me laugh through my firm denial. ‘There’s got to be something up for you to say no to a brew. Loads of pregnant women go off tea or coffee, it’s a really common sign.’
At the time, of course, I thought nothing more of it. But now …
‘What’s up?’ Helen, one of my flatmates, gave me a curious look. I was sitting at the table, staring into space. ‘Did you overdo it last night or something? You look well hung-over.’
‘No. I’m OK.’
‘Well, you don’t look it. Not going into work, are you?’ She shook cereal into a bowl and poured milk over it, which made my stomach lurch with nausea again.
‘No. I’ve got the day off.’ I’d been told to stay home for forty-eight hours in case I had a bug. I got to my feet and headed back to my room. ‘See you later.’
Within minutes I was dressed in jeans and a jumper and heading for the pharmacy on the next street. All the way there and back, I kept telling myself there must be some other explanation. But there wasn’t. Back in the safety of my flat, the result of the test was all too conclusive. I was pregnant – with a baby Adam had made very clear he didn’t want, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for either.
The shock made me feel weak and nauseous all over again. I spent most of the day lying on my bed, my mind in a whirl. I had no idea what I was going to do. But I had made one very important decision. I wasn’t telling anyone yet – not my parents, not Claire or my flatmates and most of all, definitely not Adam. I’d wait until I’d got back from my two weeks in Hope Green. That, at least, would give me some time to think, get some much-needed perspective and make some decisions. Perhaps by the time I came back, Adam and I would have missed each other so much we’d be ready to make a fresh start, and perhaps then, his reaction to the pregnancy would be better than I was imagining.
When I left for Hope Green, the wind was bitterly cold, but at least the sun was shining, making it feel comfortably warm inside my ageing little Polo as I headed down the M3. I’d waited until the nausea had settled before setting off. It seemed that now it had started, it was going to be a regular thing every morning. In the last few days at work I’d really hoped that I wouldn’t have any further episodes, or I’d have had to come clean about the pregnancy sooner rather than later. But fortunately my morning sickness was limited to just that – the morning – and I left London feeling at ease, if a little hungry. I turned on the radio and sang along with the music, trying to get myself into a happier frame of mind for when I arrived at Nana Peggy’s. I was supposed to be there to keep her company, and I wasn’t going to be very good company if all I kept thinking about were my own worries.
I realised Claire had been right when she’d said Hope Green wasn’t going to be quite the same at this time of year as when I normally visited in the summer. Then, it always looked like a picture postcard, with every little pink or white thatched cottage sporting hanging baskets of brightly coloured summer flowers – geraniums, lobelias, fuchsias, petunias. Front gardens were full of roses, marigolds, dahlias and sunflowers; grass verges were sprinkled with forget-me-nots and wild basil. The village had either won, or been runner-up, in a Best-Kept Village contest for as many years as it had been going, and the residents worked hard to keep their lawns immaculate, the paintwork of their houses spruce and their roadsides litter-free.
I’d never visited outside of the summer holidays – for other family occasions, Nana was usually brought up to the family home in Norfolk – so I was used to the village having a festive atmosphere, with tourists strolling along the main street taking photographs of the church, the duck pond and the ancient stocks on the village green, and families relaxing in the pub garden or outside the tea room. Luckily, Hope Green never got completely overwhelmed with visitors as, although it was only a mile from the sea, that area of the coast was inaccessible except by footpaths. The nearest seaside town was several miles away and the one road in and out of the village consisted of a long, winding and very narrow hill, which was enough to put off all but the most intrepid drivers if they weren’t familiar with the area. So, despite the village pub and only guest house usually being fully booked for the season, a large proportion of the visitors were walkers, and none arrived in coach parties.
It’ll probably be really quiet and a bit dreary at this time of year, I told myself as I eventually turned off the main road on to the lane that climbed up to the village. The sun had suddenly gone in, and there was a spattering of drizzle on the windscreen. But that’s OK. It’ll suit me to be quiet and dreary at the moment. I just need a bit of peace and a chance to get my head together.
But coming into the village, I was welcomed by bright, colourful daffodils and grape hyacinths clustered around the village sign on the green. Despite the weather, the village still seemed to exude a warm, welcoming feel and I let out a huge breath that I had unknowingly been holding.
Nana got hold of me in a fierce hug the moment she opened the cottage door. Rufus was just as keen and circled us enthusiastically, barking and sniffing at my legs.
‘Come in, come in, quickly now, it’s raining! You can fetch your bag in later. I’ve got the kettle on, and a nice fruitcake just out of the oven.’
She held me at arm’s length and studied me with a slight frown on her face. ‘My Little Sam!’ she said affectionately, kissing me on both cheeks.
I’d always been ‘Little Sam’ to my family. The youngest child, I had always been short for my age. My two very tall older brothers liked to tease me about being short, blond and curly-haired, as if this somehow made me a silly airhead. Since growing to the grand height of five foot three and regularly straightening my blond curls, I’d forgiven them. But, although she was exactly the same height as me, Nana had never got out of the habit of my pet name.
She was in her late seventies now and getting a bit stout, but her short, curly grey hair was still regularly highlighted with glints of copper or silver (depending on her mood) by the local hairdresser who did home visits, and the sparkle in her bright blue eyes and frequent bursts of hearty laughter made her seem at least a decade younger.
‘You look worn out, love, and no wonder, all that rushing around in London, and standing up on those damn Tube trains every day with your face in people’s armpits – so unhealthy.’ She shook her head in disgust and laughed. Nana had a countrywoman’s instinctive distrust of cities. ‘Go and sit down and put your feet up. There’s a nice fire going in the sitting room.’
I laughed. ‘But Nana, I’ve come to look after you.’
‘Who said I need looking after?’ she said indignantly. ‘Don’t you go listening to your mother. Nothing wrong with me, young lady, nothing that a couple of new knees wouldn’t put right anyway, not that I’m considering having any of those replacements everyone keeps harping on about. Not natural, that, having bits of metal stuck inside your body, not natural at all. I’d rather use my walking stick, thanks very much, it hasn’t let me down yet.’ At this point, almost in a bid to prove her wrong, the dog jumped up at her, placing his paws on the aforementioned knees. ‘Rufus! Pack it in, before you send us both flying!’
‘He’s OK,’ I said, squatting down to give him a thorough stroking and belly rub. ‘I’ll take him out for a walk in a bit.’
In truth, it looked as if his exuberant greeting had worn him out, as he immediately laid himself by my feet, grinning up at me and panting from all the exertion. His big soulful eyes were fixed on mine, waiting for my next move, and I smiled as I scratched him behind his floppy ears. I wondered what went on in his little head; he was probably thinking about when he would next be fed or walked!
At least you don’t have my worries, Rufus, I thought to myself ruefully, and he turned to lick my hand tenderly with his big rough tongue. It was as if he’d read my mind and felt sorry for me.
Ignoring Nana’s instructions to sit myself down in front of the fire, I followed her into the kitchen and obediently cut two slices of warm fruitcake while she poured the tea.
‘I’ll just have a glass of squash, actually, Nana,’ I said without looking at her, ‘if that’s OK.’
‘No tea?’ She stared at me. ‘That’s not like you.’
‘I know.’ I smiled, and quickly thought of a fib. ‘I’ve given it up for Lent.’
‘Hmm. Well, good for you. Not too long till Easter now, at least.’
And then I’d have to think of another excuse, unless I’d started to like it again by then. I had a feeling it was going to be difficult to keep my situation hidden from Nana, but as tempting as it was to confide in someone, I was determined to keep the news to myself for a bit longer. She seemed to have twigged that I was worried about something, though. By the time we were sitting on either side of the fireplace with our slices of cake and Rufus’s head on my feet, she was already demanding that I ‘tell her all about it’.
‘All about what?’ I said, feigning innocence.
‘Whatever it is you’ve run away from.’
‘Run away?’ I said. ‘I didn’t say I was running away from anything, did I?’
‘No. But for the last – what, nine, ten years, maybe? – ever since you’ve been old enough to drive yourself down here, I’ve had the pleasure of your company every July. Now suddenly I get a bonus visit at Easter? And very nice it is, but I’m thinking there must be a reason for it.’ She gave me a sympathetic look. ‘Still, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s nothing to do with me. I’m only your grandmother.’
I smiled. This had always been Nana’s stock phrase. When my brothers and I were younger she’d often sit us down and give us interminable (but good-humoured) lectures on subjects like the length of our hair, the suitability of our friends, our choice of clothes and school subjects, and these would always finish with: ‘But I’m saying nothing, it’s nothing to do with me, I’m only your grandmother.’ We never minded. It was different from being lectured by our parents, and although we never admitted to taking any notice of her, somehow we usually did. She had a knack for knowing just the right thing to do in any situation, though at the time we hated to admit it.
‘I just wanted to see you,’ I tried. But she gave me a look of disbelief, so I smiled and added, ‘I had two weeks’ holiday booked from work, and, well, Mum and Dad are off on their cruise, so I thought it’d be nice to come down here instead.’
‘Right. Instead of going to stay with that young man of yours and his family.’
I sighed. Mum had obviously told her about my cancelled visit to Hampstead, and Nana being Nana had joined up the dots.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Instead of that. We changed our minds about it.’
‘Fair enough,’ she said, taking a sip of her tea. ‘We all need time apart from them occasionally.’
‘Them?’
‘Men. Husbands, boyfriends, partners, whatever you want to call them. However much you love them, they can drive you round the bend if you spend too much time with them.’
I laughed. ‘I can’t believe you ever felt like that about Granddad.’
‘Of course I did,’ she said. ‘Why do you think I used to pack him off to his allotment after he retired? How else do you think we survived over fifty years together?’
‘But you miss him now,’ I said gently, reaching out for her hand.
‘That’s different,’ she said, her voice only wavering slightly.
‘I know.’
We ate our fruitcake in companionable silence together.
I slept well that first night in my cosy bed in Nana’s spare room, and the next morning I managed to nibble a piece of toast and sip a glass of fruit juice without being ill.
‘Hope you’re not on one of those ridiculous diets,’ Nana commented, looking disgruntled as she put away the frying pan, sausages and eggs. ‘You look too pale and pasty already. You need some good solid food inside you, girl.’
‘Sorry. I’m not on a diet, don’t worry. I just don’t really fancy cooked breakfasts these days.’
‘No, you’ve got too used to rushing off to catch those damn Tube trains every morning, I suppose.’
‘Yes, you’re probably right,’ I said quickly, anxious to avoid any more discussion of armpits. I got up from the table and busied myself washing my plate and glass. ‘Now, would you like me to go to the shop for you? I thought I’d take Rufus, give him another try now that he’s well rested.’
The evening before, I had tried to take Rufus for a walk, but because of his excitement of my arrival and his old bones, we hadn’t made it very far at all. Warmly wrapped up in my coat, scarf and hat, and with Rufus on his lead beside me, we had headed up the village street to take a brisk walk across the fields. Well, brisk was the intention, but after just five minutes Rufus had begun to lag behind me.
‘What’s the matter, boy?’ I said, turning round in surprise to see him plodding along, tongue out, panting slightly. ‘Not tired already, are you?’
He looked up at me as if to say it was my fault for walking too fast. I hung back, and he immediately sat down to give himself a good scratch. While I waited, I had a sneaking suspicion that he was merely using this as an excuse to have a rest.
‘OK,’ I said, when he staggered back to his feet. ‘We’ll just make it a quick walk round the village today, shall we? Perhaps we can go a bit further tomorrow.’
‘Trouble is,’ Nana had said when I arrived back home and watched with some concern as Rufus headed straight for his water bowl and then flopped into his bed, ‘he’s slowed down because of me. It’s my fault, see, because of my knees. I can’t give him the amount of exercise he needs – you know how lively he’s always been.’
‘But he’s fourteen now, Nana. I don’t think it’s just because of you that he’s slowed down.’
She shook her head. ‘He’ll soon get his energy back now that you’re here to take him for walks. It’ll do him good, poor old bugger.’
I didn’t have the heart to contradict her. I hoped she was right, but it wasn’t hard to see that, although he was still the same loveable, happy character he’d always been, physically Rufus had aged considerably since I’d last seen him.
But now that he’d had a full night’s sleep I thought he might be able to take a slightly longer walk. I went to grab his lead from where it hung on the wall, much to his delight.
‘I’ll come with you, Sam. I need my exercise too.’ Nana laughed. ‘Just wait while I get my boots on.’
The shop was only a short walk away, but we made slow progress, with Nana holding my arm but also leaning heavily on her stick, and Rufus plodding and panting just in front. I couldn’t imagine how the pair of them did this on their own every day. But here in Hope Green, time wasn’t an issue, and fortunately so, as everyone we passed wanted to stop and say hello. I’d got to know most of the villagers over the years, and they all greeted me with excitement, almost as if I were a celebrity. It soon became clear that most people were already aware I’d be coming for an unscheduled visit. Word got around fast here.
‘You remember my granddaughter, Little Sam, don’t you?’ Nana introduced me to them all in the same way, and we had similar conversations over and over as we made the short walk to the shop. ‘Down for a break from that dratted London.’ They all commiserated with me as if I’d escaped from hell itself, sighing and shaking their heads at the thought of the crowded streets, the drugs, the crimi-nals lurking on every corner, the traffic, the threat of being blown up by terrorists, and of course, the Tube trains.
‘Not that I’ve ever been there, myself,’ the girl serving us at the village shop said, as Nana finished another diatribe about the evils of the city. ‘Thank God.’
‘It’s actually not that bad,’ I tried to tell her, but she just laughed and said she admired me for making the best of it.
The village shop was a bright, cheery place where everyone congregated to chat as well as make their purchases. It was a million miles removed from the type of shop I used in London – usually a busy, impersonal branch of Tesco or Sainsbury’s – and nowhere else had I ever seen such an assortment of things for sale under one roof. Whether you needed tea bags, dental floss, a pair of socks, colouring books or a hammer and nails, you’d find it somewhere on those shelves. And, in the rare event that what you wanted wasn’t stocked, they’d order it from elsewhere and have it in within a day or two.
I hadn’t met Izzie, the girl serving us, before, but I guessed she was probably a little younger than me. Slim and attractive, with long glossy dark hair in a ponytail and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose, I imagined her being fun-loving and carefree, as well as having a host of male admirers. So it was quite a surprise when Nana explained, as Izzie helped us pack our bags, that she’d lived in the village all her life but that I probably hadn’t met her before as she’d been stuck at home, busy with her babies.
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