Chapter Eight
As I parked on the driveway of Starlight Cottage, I felt a rush of mixed emotions. Anticipation. Longing. But also fear.
Fear of the unknown. Of knowing that buying a house on my own really did mean my marriage was well and truly over. That there was no going back. Well, I’d known that for ages. Robin had replaced me with a younger model. Such a cliché.
A part of me wished I could do the same. Although, I couldn’t quite see myself hooking up with a twenty-nine-year-old. In my book, that was a bit… bleurgh . Way too young. But if a nice forty-something guy were to enter my life – preferably with eyebags to match mine and a dash of grey hair – well, that might be rather splendid. And if he happened to be more attractive than Robin, with more hair than Robin, and less paunch than Robin, even better.
It would be so good to parade such a man in front of my ex, then toss him a defiant look. One that said, Yeah, buddy, I’m not on the scrap heap yet!
I took a shuddering breath and opened Octavia’s door. Visits to divorce lawyers aside, this moment was a defining one. Another step in the direction of Moving On .
Cindy jumped out of the car and hugged my heels, just as a knot of anxiety landed in my stomach. Perversely, a part of me was also bubbling with excitement. My heart was reflecting this unalignment of emotions. It was knocking hard on the underside of my ribcage, as if I’d exerted myself.
I gave myself a swift pep talk. Keep calm. Take some deep breaths. Stand still with Cindy and, for the next minute or two, just quietly observe Starlight Cottage.
What are we doing, Mum?
‘Observing.’
Oooh, look! Cindy let out a squeak of excitement. I observe a squirrel. Quick. Let’s chase it!
‘Heel!’ I squawked, as Cindy lunged forward, yanking my arm painfully. ‘We’re not chasing squirrels.’
‘It’s a good day for it,’ said an amused voice.
I swung round to see a very striking lady. She was around eighty with piercing ice-blue eyes, a halo of white hair, and the aura of an angel. Her back was ramrod straight and her complexion bore testament to a strong relationship with the Great Outdoors.
Despite her age, she gave off a vibrant energy, and even though there were deep creases in her cheeks, she was still very attractive. It was obvious she’d once been a stunner.
‘I’m Hetty Cartwright,’ she said, coming towards me, one hand extended. ‘I live at Fern Farm.’
‘Tilly Thomas,’ I said, shaking her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
Our dogs were now doing the canine equivalent of introducing themselves. Tail wagging and bum sniffing.
‘Are you buying the cottage?’ Hetty asked.
‘Hoping to,’ I said, giving her a nervous smile.
‘What will be will be,’ she nodded. ‘But that said, I can see you here.’ She put her head on one side, as if considering. ‘Yes, definitely. One day it will be your home.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ I said with feeling. ‘So, if you live at Fern Farm, you must own all these cows and sheep.’ I made a sweeping gesture with one hand, indicating the surrounding arable land.
‘Once,’ she smiled. ‘Nowadays my son and daughter-in-law run the farm. You see, I lost my husband a couple of years ago and-’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I interjected.
She flapped a hand dismissively.
‘George was eighty-five. Even so, it was time to let Hugo and Linda fully take over. They now live in the farmhouse with my grandchildren, while me and Shep’ – she nodded at her collie – ‘reside in the annexe. It’s the perfect set up. My family keep an eye on me, but we’re not in each other’s pockets. And that’s how it should be,’ she declared. ‘If there’s anything you want to know about Starlight Cottage, do ask. I was born and bred at Fern Farm, as was my father.’
‘How wonderful,’ I said, genuinely enthralled by this lovely old lady.
‘It was Linda who broke the mould,’ Hetty declared. ‘No home birth for her. She insisted on a hospital delivery. All mod cons around her. Just as well because she needed an emergency caesarean.’ Hetty blew out her cheeks as she recalled a moment that had clearly been dramatic. ‘And what about you, my dear? Do you have kiddies?’
For a moment my heart missed a beat, and my stomach contracted unpleasantly.
‘No,’ I said.
‘Ah, I detect sadness,’ said Hetty. ‘I’m a bit of an intuitive,’ she confided. ‘You don’t have to tell me your story, but I’m being shown some of it.’
‘Shown?’ I frowned.
‘By my guides. Yours too.’ She smiled mysteriously.
I wasn’t a believer in mumbo jumbo, but it would have been rude to have said so. Instead, I cleared my throat, mentally preparing an explanation.
‘I’m newly separated,’ I explained. ‘And my husband and I never had children – despite trying for years. And now it’s too late.’
‘Do you think?’ she smiled.
‘Oh, definitely,’ I nodded. ‘My next birthday is the Big Five Oh. I’ll be a fully-fledged hot-flushing lunatic.’
‘You don’t look it,’ she said.
‘What, a lunatic?’ I grinned. ‘And before you answer that question, I will confide that me and Cindy here have whole conversations, which surely makes me ever-so-slightly certifiable.’
‘I meant you don’t look your age,’ Hetty laughed. ‘And as for talking to your dog, I believe that’s perfectly normal. I’ve confided in Shep many a time.’
‘That’s good to know,’ I said, feigning relief and giving a mini swoon. ‘Same here. My girl knows all my darkest secrets.’
‘Not so dark, surely, dear?’
I paused, momentarily taken aback.
‘Dark in my books,’ I said sadly.
‘Well, you know what they say,’ she said brightly. ‘Dark clouds have silver linings. And I see lots of silver linings coming your way, Tilly. You mark my words.’
‘That would be wonderful,’ I said wistfully, deciding that Hetty was lovely but also a tiny bit bonkers.
‘I’m always right, dear,’ she said cosily. ‘Although you’d do well to remember that secrets always out.’
I didn’t tell Hetty that my secrets – well, it was just the one – would never out. Only my parents knew of it, and the three of us hadn’t discussed it in decades. Figuratively speaking, it had been put in a box, tied up with string, and placed in the loft of our respective minds, never to be revisited. And unless some clever clog invented a translator app for dogs, then no way could Cindy ever spill the beans.
‘Anyway’ – Hetty patted my hand – ‘there’s not much I don’t know about this place, or the people in it. Starlight Croft is in my DNA.’
‘Ha!’ I laughed. ‘I once did one of those tests. My ex-husband bought me a kit as a gift. I was really hoping to see something exotic in my results. It was rather disappointing to discover I was ninety percent English with a bit of Celtic in the mix.’
‘Likewise,’ Hetty agreed. ‘Although apparently one per cent of me is Chinese. Possibly my tastebuds. I do love a bit of sweet and sour,’ she chuckled. ‘As I said, feel free to look me up if you have any questions about the village.’
‘Thanks,’ I smiled. ‘It’s been lovely chatting, Hetty. And who knows. Maybe I’ll see you around.’
‘Of that you will,’ she assured, before setting off with a cheerful wave, Shep beside her.
I watched the old lady walk along the lane towards Fern Farm before disappearing out of sight. I turned to Cindy.
‘Did you hear that? Hetty thinks we’re going to live here.’
I hope she’s right.
‘Me too,’ I said fervently.
And with hope in my heart and a spring in my step, I removed the cottage’s housekey from my pocket. Seconds later, Cindy and I were inside Starlight Cottage.