Chapter 14
Bridie didn’t feel like returning home to her parents straight away.
She wandered through the town thinking about buying her dad a retirement present instead.
She was going to look for some party decorations to decorate the house too, but she presumed her mum and sister had that covered, and besides, they probably wouldn’t like the sort of thing she’d buy.
She glanced at the carrier bag with her dad’s new pup’s treats and toys.
She thought of the new puppy and wondered how she was going to top that retirement present.
He will love anything I buy him because I am his daughter, she thought.
It brought a smile to her lips, although she still had no clue what to get.
She wandered along the high street and stopped by a familiar sign.
It was still there, the old sign saying Cobblers Yard with an arrow pointing down a narrow alleyway between two shops.
Blink and you’d miss it, Bridie thought, stopping at the sign and looking down the darkened alleyway.
A teenage memory resurfaced of the three of them – herself, Oliver and Jack – running down that alleyway, whooping and laughing, their laughter bouncing off the walls and echoing back to them.
She hesitated. What if Cobblers Yard wasn’t how she remembered?
There was a bookshop run by a friendly man called Henry, and a flower shop.
Bridie thought it would be a nice idea to take her mum a bunch of flowers and her dad a book to read now he had free time on his hands although it was Sunday, and she doubted the shops would be open.
But she was getting ahead of herself. Would the bookshop and the flower shop – she recalled its name, The Potting Shed – still be there?
Or the antiques shop run by a man called Joseph?
Despite visiting her parents from time to time, she’d only ventured out of the village occasionally and her visits to Aldeburgh had been rare. In all the years she’d been away in London since leaving home, she had not ventured into the yard.
She was hesitating because she wanted to remember the cobbled yard with its old-fashioned Dickensian store fronts as it had once been – with its thriving little shops.
There was even a charity shop she remembered, run by two widowed sisters.
She recalled that they’d seemed very old even back then.
She doubted they’d still be there. In fact, she imagined most of the shops would be closed, even boarded up, the atmosphere in the little cobbled yard not at all how she remembered it.
Bridie was about to pass by the lane, wanting to keep Cobblers Yard as it was in her teenage memories, when she remembered Reggie’s umbrella.
It had been kind of him to lend it to her when she’d bumped into him outside the old theatre.
She had been surprised by such a kind gesture, although she still had a feeling he wasn’t being wholly altruistic and that he’d wanted an excuse to chat to her again.
Bridie opened her bag and retrieved the umbrella that she’d shaken out and folded away.
She couldn’t just pass by and not look in on Reggie and return his umbrella.
At least she knew there was still one shop open in the yard, even if all the others had folded because of the lack of passing trade.
It sounded as though Reggie’s shop had stayed afloat because he didn’t just rely on the shop customers.
He supplied musical instruments to the local high school and repaired them, as well as tuning pianos.
Still, if all the other shops had gone, it must be lonely sitting all day in his shop.
It was little wonder he was keen for her to visit.
Bridie took a breath, and her memories, and walked down the lane, almost dreading what she was going to find. Most often it just seemed that everything changed – and not for the better. At least it wasn’t raining, but the sun hadn’t broken through the clouds, so it was a damp, grey afternoon.
She wrapped her scarf more tightly around her and adjusted her bobble hat.
If the start of January was anything to go by, they might be in for snow.
It reminded her of a handful of snowy Christmases when she was growing up in Pettistree.
They had been a rarity. There had been two years when they’d had heavy snowfall in the new year.
The village and the surrounding countryside had looked so pretty.
Despite her longing from a very young age to live in London, on those snowy days holed up in her parents’ cottage, looking out at the picture-postcard scene through her bedroom window, she hadn’t been able to think of a place she’d rather be.
A moment later, she emerged into Cobblers Yard and stopped, stunned.
‘No way!’ she said, her eyes taking in the yard for the first time in years.
There were fairy lights she didn’t remember strung from the old streetlamp in the centre of the cobbled yard and adorning each shop front.
They were lit, the soft lights along with the streetlamp casting the yard in a soft, welcoming glow.
She dropped her gaze from the fairy lights to the shop fronts.
She really couldn’t believe her eyes. There were no closed-up, empty or boarded-up shops at all.
Although it was Sunday, and the shops were closed, she could just imagine the yard buzzing with people during opening hours.
She caught sight of two old ladies in the charity shop rearranging the window display while the shop was closed.
Surely Mabel and Marjorie weren’t still working there?
Bridie always liked a good browse around a charity shop.
Her salary had never been huge, but she still loved designer clothes, and often they were only a possibility if she bought second-hand.
Although she would have loved to revisit the charity shop in Cobblers Yard – one of her favourite haunts when she was a teenager – if the two widowed sisters were still there, she hadn’t forgotten their reputation as the town’s gossips.
They were definitely two to avoid just then.
She imagined that if they didn’t already know why she was back, they soon would.
Well, they’re not going to hear it from me, thought Bridie.
She looked over at the flower shop. That hadn’t changed, at least from the outside. However, the old antiques shop had gone, and in its place was an art and craft shop. Next door, was a shop that had once been vacant.
She walked over and peered in the window, which had frosted glass halfway up so she couldn’t see inside.
She spotted the sign outside and realised it wasn’t a shop.
It appeared to offer free legal advice. She wasn’t surprised it was open on a Sunday so that people could drop in at the weekend.
She could hear conversation inside. An older woman passed by the window and must have spotted her loitering outside.
She popped her head out. ‘Hello! I’m Wendy.
I volunteer here. Do you need some help? ’
Only if you can help me sort my mess of a life out, thought Bridie.
But fortunately, she did not need legal advice.
Fleetingly, she thought of the theatre where she had been the star of the show until the previous day.
Could they sue her or something for not completing her contract, even though she’d been effectively fired?
Bridie had enough problems without that thought entering her head. She brushed it aside and looked at the kind older lady. ‘No, I’m fine. I’m just browsing the shop windows.’
‘Make sure to come back when the shops are open tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll find a lovely book in the bookshop or a bargain in the charity shop. There’s an art and craft next door, if you’re into that sort of thing.’
Bridie nodded and turned away.
She passed the bookshop, noting that the window displays had changed.
It had previously been solely a second-hand bookshop with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, but now the window display appeared to tell another story.
There were new books – paperbacks and hardbacks of the latest releases.
Bridie guessed the bookshop must have changed hands.
How sad, she thought. She wondered what had become of Henry, the man who’d run it when she was young.
She glanced over at what had once been Joseph’s antiques shop.
She’d expected that to have gone. She’d heard he’d passed away and wasn’t surprised the shop had changed hands.
Bridie turned to the bookshop window, thinking how sad it was that everything had to change – although looking around the yard, she still thought it was for the better.
The bookshop window had certainly been brought into the present, but she wondered if they’d stock any books on caring for puppies.
She thought she’d buy her dad one, along with a novel to read.
She recognised some of the covers from the new releases displayed in her local supermarket near where she had lived in London.
She turned from the shop window, remembering Reggie’s umbrella.
She walked over to Reggie’s shop, still thinking about the books that lined the shelves in her local supermarket back in London.
Inevitably, it brought thoughts of Julian and the life they’d had together, now all gone.
Bridie stood in front of the music shop, staring at the instruments – guitars, violins, and a handsome cello.
They reminded her of the theatre orchestra, which just made her feel worse.
She wiped tears from her eyes, wondering how she’d face Reggie – she knew he’d want to strike up a conversation again – when she noticed a Closed on the inside of the door, along with a scribbled note: Gone to lunch.
He’d said he was opening for a few hours that day, but she’d missed him.
Bridie felt mean for hanging the umbrella on the doorknob, but what could she do? She turned from the music shop and caught sight of the charity shop. A woman was standing in the window, staring back at her. It was one of the sisters – she was sure of it.
Bridie quickly turned away and was about to hurry out of the yard when something caught her eye; one of the shops looked new, as though it was soon to open.
She could see packing boxes in the window and realised that someone must be in the middle of unpacking the boxes and creating a window display.
She didn’t see anybody in the shop. But what she did see in the window brought unexpected tears to her eyes – it was a beautiful bridal gown.
Bridie touched her finger where her engagement ring had been until she’d pulled it off in a fit of anger when she’d stormed off the stage and had thrown it at Julian.
‘I’m never going to be married,’ she said in between sobs, feeling sorry for herself.
She dragged her eyes away from the beautiful bridal gown and stepped up to the art and craft shop window next door, hoping the woman from the charity shop stopped staring her way.
There was a painting in the art and craft shop window.
Bridie stood there, staring at it in bemusement, the bridal gown she’d just seen all but forgotten.
The oil painting in the window was of the little theatre in Aldeburgh – she was sure of it.
She scratched her head. But the theatre in the painting didn’t look run down, closed, and forgotten, with peeling paint and boarded-up doors.
The theatre was lit up for an evening show, with people gathered outside, presumably waiting to go in, and through the windows could be seen the theatre lobby brightly lit with a chandelier, ushers in blue uniforms with gold braid waiting for the theatregoers to enter.
A head suddenly popped up in the window display, catching Bridie’s eye. She hadn’t noticed that someone – presumably the shop owner – had been there the whole time rearranging things. The young lady smiled and waved, beckoning her inside.
Bridie glanced over her shoulder and saw the older lady opening the charity shop door, looking in her direction.
She hesitated. She knew that if she left Cobblers Yard, it would mean passing the charity shop.
She didn’t want to risk one of the sisters – if it was still them running the place, which she was pretty sure it was – catching her as she passed by.
She would rather go unrecognised for now.
However, there was no look of recognition on the young woman’s face in the window.
And Bridie didn’t recognise her, either.
Bridie decided against leaving Cobblers Yard and dived into the art and craft shop instead, shutting the door a little too forcefully, the bell jangling loudly above her head.
She still couldn’t believe that at the same time the previous day, she had been about to step on stage for the matinee production of a London show.
But there she was, only a day later, revisiting her past. Seeing the bridal gown in the window hadn’t helped one bit; it just reminded her of a future with Julian that would never be.
What a difference a day makes, she thought miserably, wondering what she would have thought the previous day if she’d had a crystal ball.
She could feel her eyes welling up at the thought of the life she’d lost. If only I hadn’t flipped out on stage in front of everyone, I’d at least still have the job I loved.
And I wouldn’t be here, hiding in a shop, away from a gossipy old lady.
She suddenly burst into tears. She quickly wiped her eyes, catching the surprised look on the young woman’s face.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, turning quickly to the door.
She was surprised when the young woman dashed forward, slapping her hand against the door and shoving it closed.
She put the Closed sign in the shop window and pulled down the blind.
‘What are you doing?’ Bridie asked.
She also locked the door. ‘I thought it best nobody else walked in.’
Bridie could still feel the tears streaming down her face.
She couldn’t understand it. She’d held it together in front of her parents, in front of Oliver.
And now she’d broken down in front of a complete stranger.
Through the tears in her eyes, Bridie reached for the door handle.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again, sniffing. She was so embarrassed.
‘I’m Hannah. Please don’t go – not like this.’
Bridie stood at the shop door, unsure what to do.