Chapter 37 #2
To be fair, everyone seemed happy enough.
Couples, families and groups of friends occupied tables and were eating cake off pretty porcelain plates, or lounging on walls enjoying the blissful British sunshine, drinking pints of beer from plastic cups.
Some were crowded around the hog roast, others wandering up and down the road peering into the neat allotment or gawking at the blooming front gardens of the quaint thatched cottages.
The noise level and sheer busyness were overwhelming, and Tori was visibly nervous at the heaving crowds, but snuggled into Ethan’s side, his arm around her shoulders.
Albie shook his head in wonder at the bustling village.
Rustic bunting hung off every available surface, fairy lights were entwined in tree branches and floral hoops on small stands decorated the cake table.
Better yet, the sun was beaming in the sky hanging blue and vast above them.
‘I’ve never seen Little Beaubrook look so beautiful.
It’s been brought back to life, even with the half-finished and vacant buildings.
’ He gulped. ‘Whatever happens, Rose would’ve been blown away by all this.
I wish she could be here. She’d have loved it. ’
Clover arrived clutching a piece of carrot cake in a napkin, overhearing the tail end of his sentence. ‘She is here,’ she declared, gently touching the middle of Albie’s chest before looking up at the manor.
‘I think so too,’ Tori agreed, ‘right, Ethan?’
‘Absolutely.’
Albie was about to reply, but there was a commotion, a ripple of whispers running through the crowd. People craned their heads, and a few pointed toward the stage area.
‘Hey, isn’t that whatshisname?’ a woman with pink hair standing nearby, said to her dungareed friend. ‘The famous tennis player?’
‘Tennis player?’ Tori repeated. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Let’s find out,’ Albie replied, towing Clover through the mass of bodies, pleased he’d dropped Colin home for a nap.
Fighting their way to the front took effort.
By the time they’d arrived, the rest of the association had joined them from various points around the village.
Frowning at each other, they exchanged puzzled glances.
A bulky man ahead of them moved to the left, and they saw Harley on stage in jeans and a button-down shirt accompanied by a female presenter from the local TV station, a cameraman filming them.
‘What on earth—?’ Albie started, but Kirsten shushed him, watching Harley with a proud expression.
‘So, why now?’ the blonde woman was asking curiously, ‘When your privacy has been so closely guarded for the last six months?’
‘My privacy’s still important, but after careful consideration and some risk to the life I’ve built, I feel this topic’s worth talking about.
’ Taking a deep breath, he stared down the camera lens.
‘I want to raise awareness about heart disease and encourage people to donate organs, because that’s what saved me.
Not long ago, I suffered heart failure due to an undiagnosed genetic condition.
I survived only because a young woman who died tragically young, was a registered organ donor.
She improved the lives of many others because of her generosity. ’
His voice dropped, deep and full of gratitude.
‘Her heart was too small for an outright transplant, so they did piggyback surgery and now it beats in my chest, supporting mine. Having her good heart and moving to a place,’ he gestured to the manor perched gracefully on the hill, its honey facade looking cheerful in the sunshine, ‘and living in a community where kindness is the overwhelming force,’ he smiled at his neighbours, ‘has given me a meaningful life and made me a better man. So now I’m asking people to commit the ultimate altruistic act and help others by becoming organ donors. ’
‘Well, that’s quite a story.’ The presenter was visibly moved, blinking away moisture from her eyes as the audience listening with rapt attention.
‘You just talked about kindness being an overwhelming force in your community. Isn’t today about raising money to save the village? Tell us more about that.’
‘That’s right, Anna.’ He gave her a brief, charming smile.
‘It started with contractual stipulations, and something we originally called the Roseto plan, along with daily rules for living. But really, it began with the promise that a man I’ve grown to hugely admire made to his late wife.
Her family originally built the manor in 1798, and it’s an interesting tale.
The village was built in the 1930s and during the Second World War… ’
Later, as the band played their famous hits and whipped the crowd into a frenzy by asking them to jump around and sing with them, the association congregated on the small patch of lawn adjoining the village allotment.
Albie regarded them with fondness as he sat with Clover on a picnic blanket she’d provided.
Ezra was chomping on a teething ring while Kit sprawled on the grass beside him, laughing at something Theo was sharing on his phone.
Tori had remarked earlier their bromance was going strong, whatever that meant.
Now, she was lying on her stomach next to Ethan, nodding along to the music as he tucked one of her black spiral curls behind her ear.
Gilly was staring into the distance after sharing that Ariel wouldn’t be coming back, but had deposited five thousand pounds from her art show into the restoration fund, and wished everyone well.
They’d murmured their sympathy and offered support as Kirsten had wrapped a comforting arm around her friend’s rigid shoulders.
She was obviously sad, but somehow lighter. Albie was certain she’d be all right.
Kirsten was sitting between Harley’s upraised thighs, resting back against his chest looking content while keeping an eye on Rosie and Laurie playing in the kids’ area.
Meanwhile, Vanessa was furiously tapping away on her mobile, attempting to keep up with the furore on social media Harley’s interview and the band’s appearance were causing.
As Albie opened his mouth to thank everybody, the estate agent marched over, expression livid.
‘Well, I hope you’re all happy. What the bloody hell did you do?’ The man’s complexion matched his rumpled grey suit.
Rising to his feet, Albie frowned. ‘Sorry, what do you mean?’
‘The offer that developer made on some cottages has been withdrawn, along with the train station sale. All that new business, gone.’
‘Are you sure?’ Albie held his breath
Vanessa glanced up sharply and tucked her phone in her bag.
‘Yes!’ He rubbed a hand across his sweaty forehead, ‘My office called, and I’ve seen the email myself. Apparently, some meddling government minister put pressure on them and has proposed greenfield land in Kent for their scheme instead.’
‘Yes!’ Tori crowed.
Vanessa’s mouth twitched, before broadening into a dazed smile. ‘Well, well. The bastard came through.’
The estate agent’s expression darkened. ‘This is outrageous—’
‘I understand why you’re upset, young man.
’ Standing, Clover smoothed down her dress, as serene as Helen Mirren playing the late Queen as everyone gathered around.
‘But look at what’s going on here.’ As he perked up at being called young, she gestured to the people traipsing into cottage gardens, singing along to the band’s tune about skipping heartbeats, or feasting on cakes at the prettily set tables.
‘I think you’ll have many viewings today, and more to follow.
This village is beautiful and will be even more so when it’s finished. People will want to live here.’
Calming, he glanced at the milling crowds, rose-festooned cottages and up at the sunlight streaming through the branches of a nearby oak tree.
‘Yes, I can see that,’ he said grudgingly, ‘and it would’ve been a shame to knock it to the ground to build a car park.
’ When they all looked surprised, he continued, ‘It’s not all about profit.
Not the whole time, anyway.’ Peering over Albie’s shoulder, ‘I’d better go.
That family are trying to get my attention.
Let’s hope they want a viewing.’ He departed swiftly, without a proper goodbye.
The group switched their attention to Vanessa as Albie touched her arm. ‘My dear, whatever you did, thank you so much. I’ll never be able to—’
‘Stop.’ As she shook her head, her glossy blonde hair bounced on her shoulders.
‘My son’s unreliable father might’ve folded under the pressure I put on him, but we did this together.
And if it wasn’t for all of you, if I hadn’t come here, I’d still be miserable and struggling.
This place saved me, so it’s the least I can do. ’
Gilly held up a hand. ‘Speaking of saving, with what Ariel and Harley donated and the profit we’ve likely made today, we’ll be able to finish the work on at least two other cottages.’
Kirsten gave a little squeal. ‘Oh, my god! The developer is backing off, and the funds we need are coming. We’re going to save the village! Little Beaubrook is going to not just survive, but thrive.’
‘Did you mean to rhyme?’ Harley teased.
‘No, it came naturally. Now, kiss me, and tell me you love me,’ she ordered, eyes shining.
‘Gladly.’ Bending her over his arm, Harley did just that – not even checking who might be watching or taking photos – as the association cheered, clapped, and hugged each other around them.
When the whooping faded, Albie wiped a tear away.
‘Thank you so much for your energy, time and kindness over the past months. Vanessa is right, it was a group effort.’ Gripping Clover’s hand, he went on, ‘I have other good news. I had a check-up recently, and my GP’s confirmed my heart failure’s regressed.
’ He thinks of the morning walks over sun-dappled fields with Theo and Tori, working on cottages and having a purpose, healthier eating, the companionship of living at the manor, a puppy, lower stress levels and Clover.
Most importantly, the kindness of these people, which has shone through every day, offering hope and friendship.
‘I should be around for a few years yet. And now I’m looking forward to the time I have left rather than dreading it because it’s too long to suffer without Rose. ’
‘The manor has worked it’s magic then. I’m so happy for you,’ Tori kissed him on the cheek, before stepping back. ‘And I was wrong.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When we first met, and you were bugging me all the time, I used to think of you as Gandalf the Grey,’ she joked. ‘Now I think of you as Gandalf the White, wiser and even more formidable.’
‘Are you sure you’re not just referring to his hair?’ Kit scoffed, making everyone groan with laughter.
Clover turned to Albie. ‘Al, that day in the ballroom, you wondered if kindness resides in the walls of the manor, seeping into everyone who lives here. I suggested the kindness of the people seeped into the walls first, imbuing them for future generations. Have you come up with an answer? Is it the place, or the people?’
He put his arm around her, an affection given without guilt or shame, and with hope for a burgeoning new love.
‘I’d like to think it’s a bit of both,’ he said with a satisfied air, studying the Georgian manor that watched over them and held such mystery.
It’s grand, historic, honey-stone beauty gleamed golden in the afternoon sunshine, and as his little found family gazed at the home his late wife’s family had built more than two hundred years before, the glass in the windows twinkled and sparkled.
‘I’d like to think,’ he whispered, ‘that it’s magic is powered by kindness, and that everything we put into it, we get back. ’
At his words, the manor’s foundations shimmered, and any lingering particles of the glimmering haze it once used to hide from the world evaporated in silent agreement.