All Wrapped Up, page 3
‘It’s only been a few days,’ I reminded her, knowing she was referring to the renovation work and decorating being finished and me having less to do. ‘And there’s still plenty to get on with in the garden.’
‘Yes, but I know you, Clementine,’ she commented cannily. ‘You’re at your happiest when you’re up to your neck in brick dust and paint samples. Have you had any thoughts about moving to take another renovation project on?’
Both Mum and Dad had initially been devastated when I moved so far away but soon came to realise and appreciate the huge part the renovation had played in helping me come to terms with my grief.
As I had got to grips with the work, I had both the time and privacy to properly process my loss and I came to realise that just as I was changing the cottage, losing Callum had changed me. As the four walls accepted their new look, I accepted my grief. I didn’t deny it, or try to paper over it, I made my peace with it and it was then that I was finally able to let the wound start to heal.
‘I’m going nowhere, Mum. No more brick dust for me,’ I replied sincerely. ‘Rowan Cottage is my home now.’
‘In that case,’ she said, a frown etching her forehead, ‘what are you going to do?’
The last thing I wanted was her and Dad worrying that I was going to be twiddling my thumbs and falling to brooding.
‘It’s looking likely that I’m going to be helping out with an event in town soon,’ I fibbed, thinking of Lizzie’s visit. ‘And by the sounds of it, it’s going to be pretty full-on.’
Mum looked thrilled. ‘That sounds exciting,’ she smiled. ‘What is it?’
‘I can’t tell you the details,’ I further blagged. ‘My friend, Lizzie, has sworn me to secrecy.’
‘I don’t think I’ve heard you mention a Lizzie before,’ Mum mused.
‘You must have done,’ I tutted, digging myself an even deeper hole to later climb out of. ‘She runs a café in town, with her friend Jemma, and she called here yesterday to rope me into helping with this idea she’s had.’
The festival idea might have come from Moses, but I wasn’t about to get myself further into it and start attempting to explain that.
‘Oh well, in that case,’ Mum said happily, ‘the garden will have to wait a bit longer, won’t it?’
‘I’m sure I can manage both,’ I said confidently. ‘What have you been up to?’
‘Not much,’ she shrugged. ‘I had my hair done yesterday.’ She turned her head from side to side so I could see the impact of the half-inch trim. ‘Oh, hold on. I can hear your dad’s back from picking up his paper and he’s bound to want to say hello.’
‘Is that Clemmie?’ I heard Dad shout from the hall. ‘Don’t let her go. I’ve got something to tell her. I’ve just seen Jill and she said I could pass it on.’
Jill was Callum’s mum and aside from birthday and Christmas cards, I’d completely lost touch with her and his dad, Colin. Maintaining contact had been too painful after I’d made the decision to move away. I tried not to feel like I’d abandoned them, but I didn’t always succeed.
‘Did you hear that?’ Mum asked.
‘I did,’ I said, with a sigh as I imagined Jill and Colin still buried in their grief and still living in the house that overlooked the river that had taken their son. ‘I hope it’s not bad news.’
Callum and I had only been married eighteen months when he drowned in the river that ran through the town while trying to save a child who had fallen in.
There had been days of rain ahead of the accident and the river was swollen to capacity as the extra volume of water squeezed its way down from the hills, through the town and under the bridge. The road either side had been filled with onlookers as it reached its peak early one evening and somehow a little girl had fallen in. Callum had been one of three people who stopped when he spotted the commotion as he drove by and then jumped into the swirling torrent to rescue her. He was the only one who had been swept away.
I hadn’t known any of what had happened until there was a knock on the door and I found two police officers on the step looking grave. I remember I had been laughing as I skipped down the hall to open the door because I had assumed it was Callum, weighed down with the tins of paint I had asked him to pick up on his way home from work.
We were getting ready to decorate the last room in the house we had successfully bid on at auction, gutted and brought back to life. The whole place had been neglected for years and there were times during the three-year intense renovation when we had felt like giving up, but thanks to my love of social media, the project had accrued a huge and enthusiastic following online and with the extra support from our parents, we had rallied to see it through.
Or almost through. I had never got around to painting that last room and eighteen months after Callum’s funeral, I had moved to Rowan Cottage with the walls I left behind in that one room still showing bare plaster.
‘Hello, love,’ said Dad as his face filled the screen and I slowly drifted up through the sea of painful memories that mention of Callum’s parents always evoked.
‘Hi, Dad.’ I swallowed. ‘Did you get your paper?’
‘I did,’ he said, holding it up, ‘but not all the news is in print today.’
‘Oh?’
‘I bumped into Jill. And you’ll never guess.’
‘Go on.’
‘They’ve put their house on the market.’
I felt my mouth fall open.
‘They’re selling up.’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Mum said tearfully.
‘Did you get that, Clemmie?’ Dad frowned. ‘I think the screen’s just frozen.’
‘No, it hasn’t,’ I said. ‘And I did hear. I’m just in shock. I can’t believe it. What absolutely wonderful news!’
Colin had barely left the house since Callum had died and the curtains were hardly ever opened at the back because the windows overlooked the river. I had hoped for so long that one day they would find the strength to leave and now they had. I was so relieved for them.
‘I knew you’d be pleased.’ Dad smiled and I could tell he had a lump in his throat.
‘More than pleased.’ I sniffed. ‘A million times more than pleased.’
Mum looked as emotional as I felt and we were all still smiling when we signed off.
There wasn’t much in the way of dust, but I set about cleaning right through the cottage, with my summer Spotify playlist blaring and the windows all still wide open. I was in an elated and celebratory mood as a result of Jill and Colin’s decision and I hoped they’d be settled somewhere new in time for Christmas. It would be a push timewise, with autumn on the horizon but not completely beyond the bounds.
And talking of autumn…
Once the season had popped back into my head, it was impossible to shake off further thoughts of the festival that wasn’t going to be happening in Wynbridge or the fact that I had told Mum that I was going to be involved in it. I might not have gone into the details but I knew she wouldn’t forget I had mentioned something and, having looked again at what I had posted on AutumnEverything the previous year, it took no effort at all to imagine what could have been achieved if there had actually been some time to do something about it.
As I scrolled through my prettiest posts, I visualised exactly the sort of things a festival to celebrate the cosy season could include beyond the pumpkin fields Moses had loved and then without really meaning to, I started listing event ideas in my head. There were myriad opportunities to celebrate out of doors, along with art and craft workshops, whole community events – given what Lizzie had said about Christmas, I now knew Wynbridge had a thriving community – delicious food to eat and seasonally spiced drinks, anything and everything to do with pumpkins of course, and all kinds of sweater weather fun.
My imaginings weren’t ultimately going to come to anything, because there was no one available to make them happen, but it was fun to daydream. And, as long as Lizzie kept my secret, I would be able to enjoy sampling the autumn menu in The Cherry Tree Café, as well as admiring the fields full of pumpkins, which was some compensation.
‘Oh no!’ I yelped, as I realised that while I had been distracted, it had started to rain and the infamous Wynbridge wind was helping the downpour find its way inside. ‘No gardening for me today, then.’
I rushed around and closed the windows and then spotted that the garden gate was swinging wildly in the wind. If I didn’t secure it, it would probably be damaged.
‘Damn,’ I muttered, as I snatched up a jacket which was hanging above the shoe rack in the hall and pulled it over my head. ‘Rain, rain, go away!’
By the time I’d dashed down the path and secured the gate, then rushed back into the porch, I was pretty soaked. I shook the jacket out, then held it to my nose. It was a battered, waxed garment that Callum and I used to share. It didn’t smell of him now, but as I returned it to its peg and smoothed it down, I heard something crinkle in one of the inside pockets.
‘No way.’ I swallowed, as my hand reached in and came out with a crumpled piece of paper held tightly in its grasp. ‘It can’t be.’
One of Callum’s most endearing qualities was that he used to leave me little, handwritten ‘love-notes’ where I least expected to find them. Some were romantic, others were funny or poignant, but they all touched my heart and made me smile. I had found a surprising number in the three years since he had been gone. The first one, most likely the last he’d written, had been tucked inside an already opened cereal box, another in a shoe I hadn’t worn until the following summer and so it went on.
That said, I had worn the jacket dozens of times since he had passed, so I had no idea how I had missed the note I now clutched in my hand. There was no rhyme or reason for it being there, but it was definitely a note from Callum and I sat in my favourite armchair and carefully smoothed it out on my leg to read it.
Today you encouraged me to take a HUGE leap of faith, Clemmie, and boy, has it paid off!
This is just a little reminder that the best and loveliest things can happen when you take a risk!
Though you probably won’t need reminding, because you already know it, don’t you? Anyway, I hope this wasn’t a waste of ink!
Love always, C x
Tears streamed down my face as I read Callum’s words and fought hard not to wish he hadn’t taken his very last risk. It briefly saddened me to think that I couldn’t pinpoint what the leap of faith he referred to had been. I had pushed him out of his comfort zone many times during the house renovation with my ideas about decorating and design, so it could have been something as simple as painting the bedroom ceiling the same colour as the walls.
However, the details didn’t really matter. It was the timing that truly counted. Had I been the sort of person who believed in portents, the timing of finding this particular note, just as I was poised to try my hand at socialising again, though not to the extent Lizzie had suggested, would have been entirely apt, wouldn’t it?
Chapter 3
In spite of finding Callum’s rallying and poignantly timed note and receiving three WhatsApp messages from Mum, in pretty quick succession, asking if I had more to share about the event in town yet, my jitteriness about heading out and exploring saw me putting off driving into Wynbridge by distracting myself at home for the whole of the next day.
I had been considering the possibility of adding a couple of hens to the cottage garden and immersed myself in so-called essential online research, however, when I woke extremely early on the Wednesday morning and padded downstairs to find I was still carrying the weight of being alone, I knew enough was enough.
I would do what Callum had suggested, I would take a leap of faith, I would trust that Lizzie had kept my secret and go in search of her and Jemma’s café in town. That would be enough to begin with and who knows, perhaps some lovely things might end up happening as a result.
I took my time getting ready. I painted my toenails, picked out my prettiest patterned summer dress and sandals and tied my hair into a messy bun. I had never quite mastered the casual, tousled style, but ultimately, I was satisfied with the way I looked, felt a modicum more confident as a result and headed off in the Land Rover that Callum and I had invested in primarily to ferry building materials about.
‘Absolutely not,’ was the first thing I heard Lizzie say when I walked through the open door of The Cherry Tree Café. ‘No, no, no, no, no.’
The artistically decorated café had been easy to find, set on one side of the busy market square, which I had taken a few minutes to properly look around. The market itself was bustling and there were a pleasing number of independent shops set around the edge.
I had known Wynbridge was a gem among small rural towns because the estate agents’ details and an online search when I was looking to move had told me, but I hadn’t before appreciated exactly how lovely it was when I had previously rushed in and out again. It was time I stopped missing out on what the place had to offer and The Cherry Tree Café was as good a place to start my more detailed explorations as any.
I knew I had audibly gasped as I crossed the threshold, but the inside smelt so enticing and was so perfectly pretty, dressed in late summer colours, it would have been impossible not to. The photographs online were appealing, but seeing it with my own eyes, and smelling it, too, was something else. This place was right up my street and I felt rather frustrated not to have called in before.
‘I absolutely do not need a dog in my life,’ Lizzie was now saying firmly to the man standing in front of her and with his back to me. ‘And especially one that requires so much attention. You know I’m here and next door far more than I’m at home, so I’m surprised you’ve even asked me. She wouldn’t get what she needs from me at all.’
‘Nor me,’ said a younger woman, who was wearing a similar wraparound pinny to Lizzie’s. ‘I’ll be leaving the UK to live overseas soon and with so much to sort out for myself, I won’t have time to think about a pooch passport.’
I had wondered if she was Jemma, but Lizzie hadn’t mentioned her friend was leaving the country, so it was more likely that she was Joanne, her assistant.
‘And don’t even think about asking me,’ said a third woman who then appeared from what I guessed was the kitchen area, carrying a tray of drinks. ‘I’ve got more than enough on my plate with this place, a husband and two kids to corral.’
She was most likely Jemma. I moved nimbly out of her way as she stepped around the heavenly looking packed cake counter and flashed me a smile.
‘Take a seat,’ she said. ‘And I’ll be with you in a minute.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, looking around again and thinking the table by the window would give me the loveliest view of the place.
There was a painted dresser with an impressive array of hand-sewn crafts to buy opposite it and I knew I would be hard pushed to resist heading home without something pretty to add to the cottage.
‘Clemmie!’ Lizzie then burst out. ‘Well, hello you!’
My gaze swung back to her and the guy facing her turned around to look at me, too. His eyes widened as they met mine and I felt my cheeks flush. He was rather taller than me, not a stretch as I’m only five foot three, dark haired, blue eyed and wearing a polo shirt with something embroidered on the left-hand side. He opened his mouth and closed it again, which drew my attention to his full lips. He was sporting at least a few days’ stubble, which also made rather more of his expressive mouth than I would have liked.
‘This is who you want,’ said Lizzie, giving him a sharp nudge and I felt my cheeks flame further as they both continued to stare.
‘Is it?’ he croaked, then cleared his throat, his eyes still fixed on mine as he also turned red.
‘Yes.’ Lizzie nodded. ‘Try Clemmie. She could be just the person you’re looking for.’
‘You’re Clemmie?’ the woman, who had now served the drinks, asked. ‘You’re the person who has renovated Rowan Cottage?’
‘Yes,’ I tentatively said, turning to look at her. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘I’m Jemma,’ she beamed. ‘Lizzie has talked of nothing but you since you showed her around the cottage on Sunday.’
I felt my tummy twist when she said that and hoped Lizzie hadn’t said too much.
‘Has she not?’ I nervously asked.
‘She’s gone on and on,’ laughed the third woman. ‘I’m Joanne, by the way.’
‘The assistant I mentioned,’ Lizzie elaborated for my benefit. ‘Who, before long, I’m going to have to try and replace as she’s moving overseas to join her partner.’
‘Well, I’m sorry about that,’ Joanne said with a smile that I didn’t think quite reached her eyes. ‘And I hope you won’t forget me as soon as I’ve gone. I hope I’ve made as much of an impression on you as Clemmie already has.’
‘Have I made an impression?’ I swallowed, as my tummy knotted even tighter.
It suddenly felt like there were a lot more people in the café than there actually was and they all seemed to be staring at me.
‘I’ll say!’ Joanne laughed.
‘Lizzie has completely fallen in love with your place. She’s said the inside is cottagecore perfection.’ Jemma grinned. ‘And now apparently, you’re making the garden look just as lovely, too. I haven’t been that way for a while, but I’m tempted to do a drive-by.’
Given that I knew she was also an AutumnEverything fan, I hoped she wouldn’t ask to come in if she realised I was at home.
‘You live on your own, Clemmie, don’t you?’ Lizzie then asked me to clarify.
‘Er, yes.’ I swallowed, as I started to flail under the bombardment of attention, but also felt grateful that Jemma hadn’t mentioned my Insta account. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘There you are then, Ash,’ Lizzie said, giving him another poke. ‘You can ask Clemmie, can’t you? She’s probably a far more suitable candidate than any of us.’
My eyes flicked to the guy’s face again. He was still staring and looked as red as I felt. He opened his mouth a second time, but no further words came out and I self-consciously shifted from one foot to the other. So much for my low-key trip into town.
