Chapter 84
CHAPTER 84
A ccording to the Sat Nav, the journey to Hay-on-Wye took just under five hours, but Gemma reasoned that was for normal drivers—drivers whose pulse didn’t hit one hundred and twenty the moment a motorway was mentioned. Drivers who knew where they were going and didn’t second guess themselves at every turn and with every signal and manoeuvre. And so, she figured, it was going to take her at least six hours to get there. The time was currently half-past nine, and factoring in a little break, she figured she could be there around four-thirty to start the hunt for Kent. Realistically, how long could it take to find one house in a village of two thousand people?
She took one mile at a time. First out of Maldon, then onto the M25 around London. After that, she was heading north towards Coventry before turning into mid-Wales. She drove up and down rolling hills, through quaint little villages, and past dozens of country pubs with gorgeous beer gardens that, on another occasion, would have been ideal spots to sit outside and have a drink. But she was on a mission. She was going to Hay-on-Wye to stop the man she loved from making a mistake he would regret forever.
The first time she saw “Hay-on-Wye” appear on a street sign, Gemma let out a squeal of delight. She had already rung Sophie from the service station to say that she was doing fine and would check in later. Then, after grabbing herself a cup of coffee, she kept going.
As she drove into the village, she followed the signs to a car park, which happened to be directly in front of the castle. Allowing herself a deep breath in, Gemma stared at the sight.
“Hay-on-Wye,” she whispered.
The building was magnificent. It was partly restored, and one corner looked as if it was barely standing. The slope of the weathered bricks sagged down towards the grass, and bright green ivy crawled upwards, claiming the windows and every other crack and crevice. On the other side of the castle, the windows were filled with leaded glass and there was not a scrap of ivy to be seen.
Gemma knew from her research that they had only opened the castle to the public a couple of years before, and if she’d had the time, she would have loved to wander around. But today was not the day for it. She needed to find where Kent was, and had very little to go on.
Several shops had already closed, but she could see one or two were open until five. Realising time was against her, Gemma picked up the pace and stepped inside her first bookshop in the town.
The style of the shop reminded Gemma of a library, with its wooden floor and bookshelves arranged in parallel on both sides, cutting into the centre of the room and leaving a small aisle down the middle. It was the kind of place where Gemma could easily imagine spending hours slipping into each corner to see what was on the shelves, but she didn’t have time for that.
“Excuse me,” she said, approaching the counter. “I’m looking for a house.”
“Only sell books here, I’m afraid, love,” the man chuckled.
Gemma smiled politely. “Yes, sorry, I know. It’s just—I’m looking for a house in Hay. I’m not sure where it is exactly, but I know it’s got vines on it. Wisteria.”
“Not sure I can help. Plants aren’t exactly my speciality, love.”
“Right, thank you,” she said.
“You could try Maureen at the bookshop a couple of doors down. She might know.”
“Thank you,” Gemma replied, promptly heading in search of her second bookseller.
There was a good chance Maureen knew where the house was, but unfortunately, there was no way Gemma could ask her, given that she was in the middle of a children’s storytelling session. Children sat on scattered cushions and beanbags, watching in rapt awe as Maureen recounted the tale from the pages in front of her. She was a magnificent storyteller, with lilting accents and animated gestures that had Gemma desperate to listen to more, but she knew she didn’t have time to wait for the story to finish. Not when there were plenty of other people who would want her attention, too.
Gemma’s third bookshop had a guest author in for the day, and a queue snaked its way out the door. Once again, Gemma left without speaking to a single person. She was starting to think she had made a terrible mistake when she stepped inside her fourth bookshop.
“Sorry, I wonder if you could help me,” she said.
The man behind the counter was wearing a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. As she spoke, he lifted his head and looked at her. Something about his expression told Gemma she should just keep talking.
“I’m looking for a house. It’s got wisteria growing up the front and a little iron gate. I know it’s here somewhere, but I have no idea how I’m supposed to find it other than walking up and down every street, and I don’t think I have the energy to do that. So I’m really hoping you know where it might be, because if not, I might cry.”
For a moment, the man simply observed her. Then, in a slow and almost thoughtful movement, he sat up straight and pushed his glasses back up his nose.
“Wisteria and a little iron gate? That sounds a bit like Lucy’s old place.”
“Lucy? Yes! Grandma Lulu! That’s it!” Gemma wanted to jump up and hug the man. “Is there any chance you can tell me where it is?”
Rather than replying, the man glanced at his watch and then around the bookshop. Unlike the previous places Gemma had been, there were no big events going on here, and though the shelves were gleaming with books, the shop was thoroughly lacking in people.
“You know what? I can do one better than that,” the man said. “I’ll walk you there myself.”