Chapter 10
To Iris springtime had arrived in January, thanks to how thoughtful Rocco had been to her after their kiss.
She couldn’t help but smile all morning, and not just because the electricity was back on.
She was quite sure she had a boyfriend, of sorts, but she didn’t want to put any pressure on herself so decided not to give her relationship with Rocco a proper label.
Although, it was worth the chat with him to see if he wanted any labels.
Pottering around in the kitchen, Iris debated over making him breakfast and taking it to the cabin, but he walked in, taking her by surprise.
‘Magnus let me in.’
She knew her smile was as bright as the sun because her cheeks started to hurt from the stretch. ‘Would you like some breakfast?’ Seemed easier than talking feelings and relationship statuses.
‘Actually, I was wondering if you would come to Reg’s with me.’ He sat, his shoulders sagging a touch. ‘I’ve had a bad feeling since I woke, and now I’m not sure if he’s going to give me bad news or something. I know my gran’s time here was so long ago, but something feels off about this meeting.’
Iris went over to him to take his hand. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Reg probably asked you to go to his because he wants to show you an old photo or something like that.’
‘Maybe. But why not just tell Cookie that?’
‘Reg and Cookie aren’t exactly best friends. They’ve always rubbed each other the wrong way, mostly because my aunt often acts as though she’s in the police force around here.’
Rocco chuckled, and Iris lightly brushed her fingertips over his cheek. They locked eyes for a long moment, then he kissed her hand. ‘I don’t normally need anyone by my side.’
‘But it’s nice to have that option, isn’t it?’
‘It certainly is.’
If Iris stayed there any longer, she was sure another heated kissing session would take place. ‘It’s also nice when someone makes you breakfast. So how about a full English?’
‘Thanks, that would be great.’
‘And then we can get ready to go see Reg.’
‘You’ll come?’
‘Of course.’
Cookie entered the kitchen through the dining room. ‘And you can tell him I want my tulips back.’ Then she left through the doorway leading to the back garden.
Iris could see Rocco looked dumbfounded.
‘A friend of Cookie’s was travelling through Amsterdam and sent some tulip bulbs here as a gift, but somehow they arrived at Reg’s address, and Reg planted them, and, well, Cookie likes to remind him every so often those bulbs in his front garden are hers.
’ She shook her head as she opened a packet of bacon.
‘Do yourself a favour and don’t ask him about that. ’
‘Noted.’
They shared another smile just as Norma came in.
‘Ooh, I think I’ve got a cold, Iris. Josie’s already at the tearoom. Would you be able to help her this week?’ She covered her nose with her sleeve as she sneezed.
‘Of course, now get back to bed. I have some things to do this morning, then I’ll take over from Josie.’
Four more sneezes later, and Norma hurried back to her cottage.
‘You’re needed elsewhere,’ said Rocco, getting up to pass her some eggs. ‘I can manage on my own.’
‘There’s no such thing as managing on your own in Butterbrook. We all help each other. Josie is opening the tearoom, and when it’s time for her shop to open, Jaxson will work there. He’s helped her before. Cookie and Magnus have this place covered, and Norma has other staff anyway.’
Rocco smiled. ‘I can help out where needed. I’m no baker, but I can clean tables.’
It was nice knowing Rocco wanted to be part of their team. ‘Thank you, but for now, get yourself some juice and sit down. Looks like we have a full day ahead.’
He poured some orange juice from a jug into a glass. ‘So, where exactly does Reg live?’
‘The Watermill.’
The three-storey sandstone building with its stationary water wheel, simply known as The Watermill, was quite possibly the prettiest home Rocco had ever seen.
He felt he was walking towards an oil painting.
The gentle trickling sound of River Moon beneath the narrow, cobbled footbridge had him pause just to admire the picturesque setting before his eyes.
Even with the foliage in its winter season, the greenery helped set such a countryside picture of quaintness and tranquillity.
‘Wow!’
Iris nodded. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’
‘Is it still in use?’
‘No, not for some time. It belonged to Reg’s wife’s family for many years.
There used to be a gift shop and small museum here, but after his wife passed away ten years ago, he shut up shop.
’ Iris leaned into his arm. ‘There wasn’t anyone to run it, as Reg preferred the police station, and their daughter is always travelling somewhere.
She’s never been one to stay home, even left her kid with Reg and Greta to raise.
Imogen, his granddaughter, used to help out, but she’s a veterinary assistant over at the clinic on Fiddlesticks Farm, so she has her own thing going on.
Shame, as the tourists love this place.’
‘I can see why.’
‘Reg lives here alone now, as Imogen lives in the cottage where he grew up, Sweet Honey Cottage.’ She pointed across the river. ‘It’s just over there.’
‘Do they have bees?’
‘Used to. Butterbrook Honey has been out of business for years. I think it was Reg’s brother who kept the honey business going after their parents died.’ She turned back to the river. ‘You used to get a lot of family businesses passed down around these parts. More so with the farmers.’
He went to ask some more about the history, as his grandmother had mentioned a watermill and beekeeper in her stories, but Reg appeared in the doorway of The Watermill, one hand stretched up as if they wouldn’t spot him otherwise.
Iris gave Rocco’s hand a light squeeze. ‘Ready?’
He smiled her way. ‘Yep. Let’s go see what he knows about my gran.’
Reg held little in the way of a warm welcome, but he did offer tea and biscuits.
‘Cookie said you wouldn’t tell her anything about Rocco’s grandmother.’ Iris helped serve the tea when the teapot was brought to the cosy living room on a tray.
‘None of her business, that’s why.’ Reg sat in a green tartan wingback chair, and Iris handed him a cup of tea before sitting by Rocco.
‘So, you knew my gran?’
Reg glanced at a beige folder on the side table close to his chair. ‘I did, son.’
‘She told me a lot of stories about Butterbrook. Very fond of the place, she was.’
Reg grumbled, his lips pursing a touch. ‘Fell in love with my brother.’
Iris dunked a biscuit as she smiled. ‘Aww, I guess it was young love.’
Reg didn’t seem happy, which caused concern for Rocco, as he could clearly see there was more to the holiday fling.
‘What is it, Reg?’ Rocco always did prefer it when people got to the point.
Reg inhaled deeply, a raspy sound flowing from his chest. ‘Bertie came for a visit, fell for our Henry, then decided she’d put down roots, but Henry died in a motorbike accident shortly after that decision, so she left.’
‘I’m so sorry, Reg,’ said Iris, placing her tea on the table. ‘I never knew that about your brother.’
‘Long time ago now. We were young.’ He reached for the folder and opened the flap. ‘Here, thought you might like to see this.’ He passed Rocco an old black-and-white photograph of Bertie and Henry on the footbridge. They were holding each other and smiling.
‘Aww, that’s lovely,’ said Iris quietly, peering over.
Reg’s beady eyes scanned Rocco. ‘So, you’re her grandson, eh?’
Rocco stared at his beautiful grandmother for a while longer, remembering her affectionately, before he went to hand back the picture.
‘No, it’s for you.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Rocco.
‘Makes sense you should have it.’ Reg pulled a letter out of the folder, cream and crumpled. ‘This too.’
Rocco took the piece of paper, wondering why someone had obviously scrunched it up at some point. ‘What’s this about?’
‘A year after your granny left, she wrote to me, as I was all that was left of my bloodline at that time.’ He scoffed, waving off the letter close by. ‘Not the best news to receive.’
Rocco started to browse his grandmother’s writing.
‘Told me she left because she couldn’t cope,’ added Reg. ‘Which was fair enough, but to then inform me she had given birth to my brother’s child, met someone new, and this fella was going to raise my niece as his own, was pretty bloody harsh, in my opinion.’
It was all there, the black ink staring Rocco in the face, his grandmother’s explanation.
Iris broke into the silence. ‘Perhaps you both need some time to process.’
Reg huffed. ‘I’ve had years to process the fact that I had family I’d never meet.
My parents died when I was in my early teens, and my big brother helped raise me.
He was everything to me, and when he died, so did part of me.
’ He stabbed a finger at the letter. ‘How do you think I felt reading that? I never even got told the little girl’s name. ’
Rocco swallowed hard, finding his words once more. ‘Henrietta. My mother’s name was Henrietta.’
Reg sniffed as a tear rolled down his cheek.
‘Oh, Reg.’ Iris quickly moved to his side, taking his hand and offering him the tissue from her coat pocket.
‘I’m all right, Iris.’ He patted her hand. ‘I’m all right.’
‘I’m sorry,’ was all Rocco could offer.
Reg composed himself, telling Iris to sit back down, then sipped his tea before meeting Rocco’s eyes once more. ‘Would you let your mum know about me, son?’
A crack tore through Rocco’s heart as he realised Reg was about to receive more pain. ‘I’m sorry to tell you, Reg, but my mum passed away nine years ago. She had cancer.’
Iris placed her hand on Rocco’s arm, and he could see she felt as terrible as him about the news.
Reg seemed to be in his own world. ‘I guess that’s that then.’
‘I’m so sorry you didn’t get to meet your niece,’ said Iris gently, ‘but you’re sitting here with your great-nephew, and had Bertie not spoken so fondly of this place, Rocco wouldn’t have thought to come here.’
For the first time since meeting him, Reg’s features softened. ‘It’s good to meet you, son.’
Rocco willed himself not to cry. ‘It’s good to meet you too.’
‘I won’t lie, I can’t see any family resemblance.’
‘I look like my dad.’ Rocco pulled out his phone to show a photo of Rex. ‘But my brother looks like our mum.’
‘You have a brother?’
‘Yes, Mum had two sons. Here he is. Rex.’
Reg peered at the screen, his eyes widening. ‘Bloody hell, he looks just like my dad.’
That warmed Rocco. ‘I’ll call him later. Let him know all about you. No doubt he’ll want to meet you. Perhaps bring his family for a visit during the school holidays.’
‘School holidays?’ questioned Reg.
‘Rex is a teacher, and his wife, Cassie, is an actress, and they have two daughters, so they try to take trips during the school holidays, if Cassie isn’t working.’
Reg smiled. ‘I have more family?’
‘Yep. And as much as it will shock Rex to know our grandfather wasn’t our bio one, I’m sure he’ll still want to know about Henry.’
‘I’m sorry I had to tell you that news, but I couldn’t hold back once I found out you were Bertie’s grandson.’
Rocco bobbed his head. ‘I understand.’
‘Was he a good grandfather to you?’
‘I don’t really remember him, as he died when I was a nipper, but my mum said he was all right.’
Reg’s eyebrows knitted. ‘Just all right?’
‘He wasn’t cold, but she said he wasn’t warm either. She had a better relationship with her mum.’
‘And Henrietta never knew he wasn’t her real father?’
Rocco shook his head. ‘I think she would have told me if she had known.’ He mulled it over and concluded she definitely didn’t know about Henry.
‘You have family here, son. My Imogen.’
Iris smiled. ‘I told him about your granddaughter. Have you told her your discovery yet?’
‘No. I wanted to speak to Rocco first.’
Iris turned to Rocco. ‘Imogen is lovely, and I just know she’ll be thrilled to know you’re her cousin.’
‘And Imogen’s mother?’ Rocco asked Reg.
He blew out a huff as he flapped a hand.
‘You won’t meet her, son. No mother to our Imogen, and not much of a daughter either.
She’s always gallivanting, ever since Imogen was a baby.
Hattie, she’s called, as I wanted something similar to Henry.
’ He sighed deeply, the rasp in his lungs back.
‘I’m afraid you and Rex won’t get to meet her. ’
Rocco leaned forward, holding out a hand. ‘Well, Reg, I’m glad I got to meet you.’ And he smiled as Reg shook his hand.