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Pastures New
Julia Williams


Take one sleepy Suffolk villageAdd a young widowThrow in a local vamp and a harassed mumStir it up with a sexy, secretive doctorAnd watch feuds grow, tempers fray and love blossom…Amy Nicholson never expected to leave London for the Suffolk countryside. But she also never expected to be a 33-year-old widow, left alone with a young son. Fleeing her memories, she swaps her heels for wellies and embarks on a new rural life.The big-hearted community of Nevermorewell welcome them with open arms. There's old Harry, offering pearls of advice (fuelled by whisky from his hip flask), Saffron, juggling motherhood with business (whilst searching for her lost libido), and Caroline, the scheming local vamp, who tramples over lives as easily as the allotments backing onto Amy's cottage.But just when Amy thinks she's finally leaving the past behind, Ben Martin crashes into her life. Sexy and enigmatic, Ben is haunted by his own secrets. Will love blossom on the allotments? Or will it be once bitten, twice shy?








JULIA WILLIAMS




Pastures New








Copyright Page (#ucbc138ca-5a91-5c68-9048-283e0ab6e0cf)

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

AVON

A division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

A Paperback Original 2007

Copyright © Julia Williams 2007

Julia Williams asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks.

HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.

Source ISBN: 9781847563613

Ebook Edition © September 2008 ISBN: 9780007278954

Version: 2018-05-23


For Joseph Henry Moffatt and John Douglas (Roger) Williams, for sharing their wisdom




Contents


Title Page (#u245627fb-0333-54d0-98e0-d79074ce0675) Copyright Dedication (#u89ca9b03-5912-574d-9b19-1719bca3f2f3)Part One: Forever Autumn (#ucf7db2e9-6e47-5839-a336-624038080eac)Chapter One (#ue4987fc9-5534-5d4b-9ccd-4d5047f4d815)Chapter Two (#ub7496382-a7b2-517f-b324-5b25a4ea61d4)Chapter Three (#u045df6df-f7fd-531b-bd6c-6f6cb3aebf69)Chapter Four (#ufe784403-decb-54d3-9830-ca8f4957f7c5)Chapter Five (#u0f89b1dc-85c7-5637-b885-5b13934c2e6a)Chapter Six (#uf237b594-9a99-5a68-a08a-bb1b5e830fe1)Chapter Seven (#u7655e7bc-1c99-572a-a0ef-ea365da97461)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Part Two: Lighten Up (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)Part Three: Here Comes The Summer Sun (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Part Four: Fix You (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twenty-Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twenty-Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Thirty-One (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Thirty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Thirty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Thirty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Thirty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Thirty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo)About the Author (#litres_trial_promo) About the Publisher



PART ONE (#ucbc138ca-5a91-5c68-9048-283e0ab6e0cf)




Forever Autumn


In the allotment:Harvest the crops, dig over the soil, and prepare the ground for winter.

State of the heart:Barren, cold, dead.


CHAPTER ONE (#ucbc138ca-5a91-5c68-9048-283e0ab6e0cf)

‘There’s a fire on the anti-clockwise section of the M25, just before the junction with the M1, and the traffic’s backingup to junction 26, so do avoid that if you can …’

Hopefully that will have cleared by the time I get back, thought Amy, as Sally Traffic made way for a debate about gun crime. She’d always hated driving on the motorway, and never more so than now, when she had to do it alone.

Oh Jamie, I miss you so much …

The thought came unbidden and unprompted, and she blinked back the sudden tears.

This would never do.

Pull yourself together, girl, Amy admonished herself sternly, straightening her slight shoulders and gripping the steering wheel tighter. If she really was going to make this move, she had to be strong. She had to. Hold on to that thought …

At least it was a gloriously sunny day, and the soft undulating Essex countryside was looking its best. Field after field of sun-drenched corn. Thanks to the rotten summer, the harvest was late, but here and there bales of hay indicated that it was finally underway. And the smell of burning stubble was a reminder that summer really was drawing in. Constable country, Amy thought to herself. She wouldn’t be surprised to find a haywain round the next corner.

The journey from North London had taken much longer than she had envisaged, but eventually Amy found herself driving over the little humpbacked bridge that, according to her map, marked the boundary between the Essex and Suffolk sides of the pretty market town of Nevermorewell. A feeling of excitement grew in her as she pulled the car into the picturesque high street, dwarfed by a large Norman church, and flanked on either side by tiny quaint shops with mock Tudor cladding. It was perfect. Just what she was looking for.

Amy pulled into a parking place – amazingly there were several empty ones. So different from Barnet, where she would have been driving around fruitlessly for hours before finding a spot miles away from home. That had to be a good omen.

She took a deep breath and stared at herself in the rear-view mirror. She teased out her fair curls so they didn’t look quite so tangled, and put on a bit of lippy – bright red to boost her confidence. She rarely wore makeup – Jamie had always said her light natural complexion didn’t need any, and now she didn’t see the point. But lippy was good. Lippy was part of the mask she needed to face each day. The mask she needed right now to persuade Josh of the wisdom of this move. It didn’t help that she was so racked with guilt about it, that she wasn’t one hundred per cent convinced herself.

‘Right, Josh,’ she smiled brightly at her five-year-old son, who was sucking his thumb and looking out of the window. ‘We’re here. And we’re going to look at some new houses for us. Isn’t that fun?’

‘Is Granny coming too?’ asked Josh.

‘No, sweetheart,’ said Amy. ‘You remember, I told you. Granny’s staying in her house, and we’re going to have a new house. Won’t that be nice?’

‘Oh,’ said Josh, his face puckering a little. ‘But we won’t see Granny very much, will we?’

‘No, but she can come and visit any time she likes,’ said Amy, more brightly than she felt. Damn. She thought she’d squared that with him. But then, he was very close to Mary, it was only natural he would feel the loss of her.

And she of him. Amy’s stomach went into spasm as she recalled the conversation she’d had with her mother-in-law a few weeks earlier.

‘So you’re serious about this move then?’

As Amy was in the middle of packing up a pile of books at the time, it was hard to resist a sarcastic remark, but she bit her lip and said, ‘Yes, Mary, I am.’

‘What about Josh?’ Mary had sniffed. ‘He’s not going to know anyone in the country.’

‘Children are very adaptable,’ Amy had snapped back. Mary had touched a nerve, as it was what Amy herself had agonised about over and over again.

‘That may be so,’ Mary had replied flatly, ‘but it’s such a long way.’

‘I know,’ Amy had said. ‘And I’m sorry.’

‘But that’s not going to stop you, is it?’ The comment had been barbed, and hit home as it was intended to. Amy had flinched, but held firm.

‘No, Mary, it’s not,’ she’d replied, wishing beyond all measure that there was an easy way of doing this, an easy way of creating some distance from her memories.

Sighing, she got Josh out of the car, and peered down at the map the estate agents had given her. According to it, their office should be on the corner.

‘Come on, Josh,’ she said, taking his hand, ‘it’s this way.’

They were just coming up to a little cartway when Josh let go of Amy’s hand.

‘Hey, cool!’ he said, running towards the toy shop on the other side to look at the Spiderman poster in the window.

‘Josh! Come back!’ shouted Amy.

At that moment a motorbike came roaring up the cartway.

‘Josh!’ screamed Amy.

The motorbike braked and swerved, the rider just about avoiding Josh and retaining control.

‘Josh, are you okay?’ Amy ran to her son and took him in her arms, trembling violently. ‘You never, ever run off like that again, do you hear?’

Josh burst into tears – whether because of the telling-off or the fright he had had, Amy wasn’t sure. But he was all right. She took a deep breath. That was all that mattered.

‘Just what the hell did you think you were doing?’ she screamed at the rider, fear turning to fury.

‘I could say the same thing about you,’ spat out the rider, taking off his helmet to reveal dark hair, brown eyes and a strong, chiselled face, which would have been stern if it were not lightened by a ready smile. ‘Your son ran across the road.’

‘You were going too fast.’ Amy’s tone was accusing.

‘I was doing less than twenty,’ replied the rider. ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to stop.’

They glared at each other.

‘Is your son okay?’ The rider glanced at Josh, who was squirming out of Amy’s grasp.

‘No thanks to you,’ snapped Amy.

‘I’m sorry to have given you a fright,’ said the rider. ‘And I’m glad your son is all right, really I am. But you shouldn’t let him run off like that.’

Amy couldn’t speak. This stranger was right. Her moment of inattention had nearly got her son killed. She nodded mutely. Tears pricked her eyes. What if the bike had been going faster? She would have lost Josh as well as Jamie.

As if sensing her change of mood, the rider gently said, ‘Look, no harm done, eh?’ He squatted down next to Josh, and added, ‘Hey, tiger, you make sure you hold your mum’s hand really tight when you cross the road next time. You promise?’

‘I promise,’ mumbled Josh.

The rider got up, climbed back on his bike, and roared off up the road.

‘Who was that man, Mummy?’ Josh asked.

‘No one,’ said Amy, as she watched the departing bike, wondering why a stranger’s moment of kindness had made her feel so lonely. ‘Come on,’ she said, rallying herself. ‘Let’s go and find our new home.’






‘And this is the garden …’ The estate agent motioned Amy towards the rickety wooden door leading from the kitchen. Josh, who had been trailing behind them, immediately perked up and pushed his way forwards. Amy took a deep breath. It was still going to be a tough call selling Josh this move, and so far he had been deeply unimpressed, but a garden might just swing it. The shared patch of earth that passed for a garden in their two-bedroom flat in Barnet didn’t amount to much, and Josh was desperate to have somewhere to kick a ball.

‘It’s stuck,’ Josh said, disappointed. The door seemed to have swollen from the recent rain and was rather stiff.

‘Here, let me.’ The estate agent, whom Amy had silently christened Smarmy Simon, had a go. He really had to tug it, but eventually, with a rather worrying rattle, the door opened and they all trooped outside.

Amy knew she should be concerned about details like that. Jamie would have been making a list by now of all the things that were wrong with the place. But she couldn’t – not with the tingling feeling of excitement that had been growing inside her as Smarmy Simon showed her round. It was a long time since she had felt that mixture of hope and anticipation.

The house was perfect. It could have been made for her and Josh. A Victorian terrace, full of character as requested. Three bedrooms, so more than enough room for the pair of them. The downstairs wasn’t huge, and the bathroom was inconveniently next door to the kitchen, as was the case in all these old terraces, but it didn’t matter. There were marble fireplaces, and real wood floors. The kitchen was oak throughout. It was quaint. Even the little archway that joined the house onto its neighbour was attractive. Like the rest of the house, it had charm. It was the house she and Jamie had always dreamed of.

Don’t go there, she admonished herself, reciting the mantra that she had long since perfected to retain her sanity as she emerged into the sunlit garden. It was a bit overgrown, but someone had evidently tended it well in the past. Amy spotted lobelia tumbling out of a couple of cracked earthenware pots, and down one side of a whitewashed wall the honeysuckle was going wild, though beginning to look a little past its sell-by date. There were marigolds in the flowerbeds – self-sown, probably, as it didn’t look as though anyone had planted bedding plants there for a while. They were nestled with wild poppies and nasturtiums. It was beautiful, and Amy longed to start work on it immediately.

‘If you’ll notice, at the end of the garden,’ Smarmy Simon was saying, ‘there’s a gate that leads onto the allotments. I believe the owner still pays rent on hers, and if you were interested she probably wouldn’t have any objection to you using it.’

‘May I?’ Amy asked, pointing at the gate.

‘Oh, yes, of course,’ said Smarmy Simon. ‘It’s open. No one bothers to lock things much around here.’ His phone started to ring. ‘Will you excuse me for a minute?’ He answered it while waving her on down the path.

As Amy opened the gate, she had to restrain herself from letting rip to whoops of delight. Josh ran round and round in excited circles, shouting loudly. Amy tried to shush him – there didn’t appear to be any other children on the allotments, and she didn’t want to irritate people – but his enthusiasm was infectious. It was perfect, absolutely perfect.

From the road, she would have had no idea this was here. The allotments spread out before her, a tiny green oasis in the middle of a small but busy market town. They were alive with the sound of birdsong, and looked well cared for. Presently, being the middle of the day, they were mainly empty. She heard the sound of a mower in the distance, and was startled by the appearance of a rather hairy-looking man, dressed in black leather, who appeared to be talking to something in a bucket.

‘There you are, me beauties,’ he was muttering, ‘have I got a treat for you.’

Passing by his plot, a ramshackle affair with gnarled fruit trees protected by netting, and strange wooden contraptions that Amy supposed were homemade compost heaps, she and Josh wandered down a wide path. This was glorious, quite glorious.

She could see another man pausing from digging up vegetables on one of the other plots. A black Labrador sat at his side, panting in the midday sun. The man had obviously been exerting himself – he had taken his shirt off, and was swigging some water. There was something vaguely familiar about him. He leaned on his spade for a moment, before returning to his digging. Amy turned away.

This place, it was wonderful. When she had seen the details of the house Amy had had no idea it backed onto allotments, and it was the icing on the cake. She squinted in the sun, taking in the beauty of her surroundings. There were blackberries ripening in the late August sunshine, and beans, tomatoes and potatoes all coming into fruition. The odd hut was dotted about, and some plots seemed to consist of fruit trees. It had been a poor summer – today was one of the few hot days they’d had – but the trees seemed laden with fruit anyway. There was a sense of abundance, and ripeness – the time for harvesting near. Amy couldn’t help the catch in her throat, as she thought about how much Jamie would have loved this. Autumn had always been his favourite time of year – a golden time to catch his golden girl he had used to tease her. They had met in the autumn, nearly fourteen years ago, the early days of their courtship punctuated with long country walks crunching their way through leaf-strewn fields. If they had only been able to do this together.

Together. They would never do anything together again. A hard, familiar knot tightened in her stomach. It was nearly two years ago now, but the thought of never seeing Jamie again was still enough to take her breath away. She had promised herself she would be strong for Josh, but it took all her self-control not to let out the raw pain, which she concealed so well these days. She was determined to leave all that behind her. This was a new start for her and Josh. A new beginning, a way forward to slough off the pain of the past.

She took a deep breath and stared around her once again. She and Jamie had always dreamed of decamping to the countryside and living in an old farmhouse. A memory forced its way into her mind – a snapshot of a perfect day on a long weekend, not far from here, a sunny day in late summer, much like this, visiting Amy’s Auntie Grace in Aldeburgh.






Jamie strode ahead of her through fields of golden corn, with Josh on his back. The sun shone, but the air wascrisp and bracing, a fresh wind coming from the sea.

‘Isn’t this perfect?’ Jamie shouted into the wind as itwhipped his hair, his eyes alight with laughter.

‘We should come and live here,’ Amy said from behinda camera, taking a photo to capture the moment.

‘We’d need a big house,’ Jamie said. ‘For all of Josh’sbrothers and sisters.’

‘And a big garden,’ Amy laughed. ‘With a vegetable patch.’

‘And we’d have to have a dog.’

‘We could keep chickens,’ offered Amy.

‘I’d rather have a goat,’ replied Jamie with a smile.

‘Now you’re just being silly.’ Amy punched him on theshoulder, and he grabbed her hands and pulled her tohim.

‘Still, it would be nice,’ she said.

‘Wouldn’t it just,’ said Jamie, kissing her. ‘One day, Ipromise you, one day …’






It was the photo from that day, which she still kept beside the bed, that had made her determined to make this move. In the early days, when she had cried herself to sleep every night, she could hardly bear to look at it. But of late, she had found the picture comforting. As if he were still with her, somehow. She couldn’t live the dream with Jamie, but maybe she could do it for him.

Amy had havered for months before taking the plunge. It was Auntie Grace who finally proved the catalyst. Actually a great-aunt, Auntie Grace had lived grumpily alone for many years in the depths of Suffolk. She wasn’t an easy person, but Amy didn’t have much family, so she had dutifully visited from time to time, though admittedly after Jamie had died, when every day had been such a trial, just getting up was difficult on some days, so the visits had tailed off. On the last occasion, a year ago, Grace had fixed her with a beady eye, and said, ‘It seems tough now, you know, but it will get better. Remember my motto: Always look forward. Never back.’

Amy had taken no notice of her at the time, but when, after Grace’s not unexpected demise at the age of eighty-nine several months earlier, she learned that her aunt had left her a considerable sum of money, it seemed like a sign. Jamie had died so suddenly, so young, he had left no will, and Amy had struggled to keep up with the mortgage payments ever since. Mary had been fantastic, prepared to babysit Josh at the drop of a hat, helping out so Amy didn’t have to pay childcare fees for the whole week, pushing Amy to carry on with the gardening course she had started before Jamie’s death, coming to the rescue when money was especially tight. Amy owed her a huge debt, both financial and emotional. Guilt flared in her chest once more at depriving Mary of Josh.

But now, fortunately, she had enough money to pay off the debts Jamie had left behind and even have some left over. Amy had finished her course, and she could actually afford to stop teaching and forge out a new career as she had always planned to do when Jamie was alive. Maybe it was time to look forward and not back. Living round the corner from Mary, whose grief had taken the form of a kind of suffocating blanket covering both Amy and Josh, she’d never be able to do that. Besides, she and Jamie had always talked of coming out this way. If only she could persuade Mary it was the right thing for them to do.

Apart from her brother Danny, who lived in Surrey, and Auntie Grace, Jamie and Mary had been her only family for years now. Her own mother had moved to the States when Amy was at college, and she and Danny had no idea where their father was. Amy’s parents had split up when she was fourteen. Her dad had just walked out one day, and though she and Danny had tried over the years to contact him, their efforts had been in vain. They’d both given up now. Although Amy and her mother Jennifer had never been close they had always stayed in touch, but Jennifer had remarried. Amy had long held the suspicion that her mum’s demanding new husband, who had several children of his own, allowed her little room for her own offspring. It hadn’t seemed to matter when Amy had had Jamie. He’d been all the family she needed.

Mary had been like a second mother to her – particularly since she had lost Jamie. Leaving her was going to be much harder than Amy had thought, and not just because of Josh.

Mary had made her displeasure so blatant that Amy still felt churned up about the decision she was making. What if she had got it wrong? But then again, what if she stayed and did nothing? Amy knew she was stifled where she was. She was frightened if she didn’t seize this moment to make some changes in her life, she never would.

‘And I’m doing it for you, Jamie,’ she vowed silently. ‘Josh and I will do this for you.’

Josh. A minute ago, he was playing at her side, and now he was nowhere to be seen. Where was he? Amy knew she could be neurotic about Josh, but after the fright he’d given her that morning she wasn’t taking any chances. What if the hairy man she’d seen as she entered the allotments was some kind of weirdo? Then Amy heard the sound of a child yelling, followed by a dog barking. She started to run.






Ben was digging up spuds on the allotment. He always came here after surgery on a Friday, when he had the afternoon off. Particularly if it had been a bad morning. And today had been one hell of a morning. He had been running late for the whole of the session, and there seemed to be more than the usual number of timewasters bemoaning their lot. Sometimes he wondered if he was really cut out for this job. Doling out Prozac like Smarties and treating little old ladies’ verrucas hadn’t really been what he was thinking of when he’d decided to be a doctor all those years ago. And the only important thing he had had to do all day – find someone at his local Primary Care Trust prepared to give one of his MS patients a brand-new drug that was meant to work wonders – had met with a blank wall. If Ben’s patient, a seventy-year-old man, had lived in Essex, there wouldn’t have been a problem. But the postcode lottery of living in Suffolk meant that the patient’s particular PCT weren’t yet giving the drug out. Ben had had the unpleasant task of explaining the inexplicable to the poor man’s wife, who kept saying, ‘But Jane Merchant’s husband gets it, I don’t understand.’ Ben didn’t either. Sometimes this job made you want to weep.

Not only that, he had nearly run over a kid on the way home from work. He hadn’t been going fast, and the kid had run out in front of him – but still. Inevitably, he thought about Sarah, and as a result he had been more angry with the kid’s mum than he should have been. But then – there had been something about her that touched him. An air of vulnerability that had made him want to protect her. He shook his head. He’d clearly been on his own too long. Perhaps Caroline was right, and he should have chucked it all in for a while and gone travelling with her.

Caroline. Despite his best intentions his thoughts still strayed back to Caroline. Enchanting, infuriating, mercurial Caroline. Why had he let himself get involved with her again? He’d known it would lead to trouble. But it had been hard letting go of the only person he’d ever really talked to about Sarah. Harder than he’d let on to anyone. It was the sympathetic way Caroline had listened when he’d first opened up to her about Sarah that blinded him to her faults in the first place. Caroline seemed to show such intuitive understanding, and when she’d cried about the day her father had left, it seemed their shared pain had given them a lasting bond. However, it hadn’t taken Ben long to realise that although Caroline did genuinely believe herself to be caring and thoughtful, in reality she was too selfish and spoilt to think too hard about anyone but herself.

To a degree, Ben didn’t blame her – her mother had remarried a rich banker, and while Caroline had never wanted for anything materially, her mother and step-father’s lack of emotional support meant she was appallingly needy. Caroline’s response, when she and Ben had split up, had been to flaunt a variety of different men in Ben’s face. To his eternal shame, the ploy had worked, and when she’d announced that she was leaving, he’d found himself back at her place on more than one occasion. He always regretted it, but Caroline just had a way of getting to him.

It had been a great relief when she’d finally gone off travelling, presuming he would follow her. But Ben had just taken up a temporary contract working in practice, and after spending too long kidding himself he was going to be a surgeon he couldn’t afford to lose time now if he was going to make partner in the next few years.

Ben had thought that would be the last he’d hear of Caroline, but a succession of emails meant he was fully apprised of her doings. He had received one this morning, which annoyingly had caused a reaction he really thought he’d got beyond by now.

She was working in a bar in California, having a great time. Too busy to write much, she said. Mustdash, C U! And then a casual PS: Attached are somephotos of me and Dave behind the bar. There were some jpeg attachments, and he opened them to see photo after photo of Caroline with a tall, brawny bloke who had a deep tan – presumably Dave Behind the Bar.

He knew why she’d sent them. It was to make him jealous. She had always flirted with other people when they’d been together. It was one of the many things about her that had made Ben realise he had to walk away. DBtB was probably nothing to Caroline, and she had only sent the picture to get a reaction. He hated himself for having it.

He dug furiously, trying to shake off unwanted images. He didn’t want Caroline any more. If she were here now, she would drive him mad. The trouble was that Caroline, for all her faults, her selfishness and her ego, was also bewitching and dazzling by degrees. And pathetic as he was, he couldn’t quite get her out from under his skin.

Ben vented his frustration on the ground and dug even harder, while Meg, his black Labrador, sat beside him, panting softly in the late summer heat. It was one of the hottest days of the year so far. Ben stripped off his shirt, and used it to mop his brow. He took a swig of water, and glanced, out of habit as much as anything else, towards Caroline’s garden gate. How many times had he seen her emerge from there, spade in hand, wearing her old gumboots and dressed casually in jeans and T-shirt, effortlessly managing to combine a wild sensuality with an earthy practicality? It was an image that was never far from his thoughts when he came out here.

He was about to turn back to his digging again when the garden gate opened. For a moment his heart leapt – maybe? – before his head kicked in. Caroline was unpredictable, it was true, but even she couldn’t make it back from California in under twenty-four hours. Maybe her rather useless letting agents had rented the place at last.

It wasn’t her. But it was a woman. And an attractive one at that. Her long fair curls tumbled casually over her shoulders. She was slim and wore a plain strappy summer dress and flat sandals. She had a little boy with her. It was the woman from this morning; the woman whose son he had nearly knocked over. Perhaps they were going to move in. He shook his head. He returned to his digging and dismissed them from his mind.

About ten minutes later, he became aware of a rather insistent and annoying buzzing sound. He turned round and suddenly he heard a shout of, ‘Wheee! I’m an aeroplane!’ and a small bundle came flying over, stamping on his carrots and crashing into his runner-bean frame. Meg leapt up and started barking wildly, and the bundle burst into tears.

‘Bloody hell! Can’t you control your son?’

Really! This kid had got in his way twice in one morning. His mother clearly had no authority.

‘He’s only a kid!’ The woman came flying up in a fury. She knelt down and took the bundle of child into her arms, making soothing noises.

‘Then I suggest you take better care of him!’ Ben was still cross, but also a little embarrassed that he might have overreacted.

‘And I suggest you keep your animal under control,’ the woman shouted back, pointing at Meg, who was jumping up and down, still barking excitedly. ‘Josh is terrified of dogs.’

‘If your son hadn’t been trampling over my allotment Meg wouldn’t have barked at all. This isn’t a playground!’

‘I am aware of that,’ the woman retorted in stiff tones. She looked pretty when she was cross, Ben casually thought. ‘I’m sorry that my son trampled on your allotment. He was just playing.’

‘Is he okay?’ Ben felt guilty. The little boy couldn’t be more than five.

The woman looked at him in disgust. ‘He’ll be fine, no thanks to your dog.’

They glared at each other angrily for a moment, Ben furious with her for not taking the olive branch he’d offered.

‘’I think we’ve seen quite enough of each other today. It’s all right, we won’t trouble you any further,’ she said, and walked away.

‘Good!’ retorted Ben, sticking his spade into the ground in disgust, watching her walk back towards Caroline’s house.

Just at that moment, Harry Hartswood emerged from the garden next door, pushing a wheelbarrow containing a spade, a fork and some potato sacks. Harry’s allotment was next-but-one to Ben’s, and they were old friends, their friendship forged by a shared love of growing things, an interest in history and a fascination on Ben’s part with Harry’s plethora of war stories.

‘I see you’re getting a new neighbour,’ said Ben, nodding towards Caroline’s gate.

‘So it would appear,’ said Harry. ‘I heard her telling the estate agent she wanted to take it. I thought she was rather pretty myself.’ There was a familiar twinkle in his eye.

‘She may be pretty, but she’s got a foul temper. Her horrible little son has just trampled over my allotment and she had the cheek to blame me for not keeping Meg under control. So what if she comes to live here? I won’t be getting to know her, that’s for sure.’






Amy was still fuming when she reached the garden gate. If everyone was as rude as her unknown biker, then perhaps she shouldn’t move in here. It was a shame, as in every other way it was perfect. As she went to open the door, an elderly man passed her pushing a wheelbarrow and smiled, which immediately made her feel better. On the other hand, it would be foolish to throw up such a good opportunity for the sake of one grumpy man, whom she could avoid quite easily. And Josh seemed to have quickly recovered from his trauma. Amy had to admit that she had perhaps overreacted a little herself. All the worry about Mary had made her a little edgy, and she was always overprotective as far as Josh was concerned. Mary was right about that.

She and Josh made their way back up the garden path. Mary or no Mary, her mind was made up. Smarmy Simon was just coming off the phone when she walked up to him.

‘Well?’ he said.

‘I love it,’ she replied. ‘When can we move in?’


CHAPTER TWO (#ucbc138ca-5a91-5c68-9048-283e0ab6e0cf)

‘It’s okay, it doesn’t matter, really it doesn’t.’

Pete’s words should have been reassuring to Saffron, but somehow they weren’t. She lay in the darkness, listening to his breathing and the snuffles of Ellie next to her in the baby basket, and fretted. She should be trying to sleep, but judging by the way she was leaking like an old milk cow (an unsavoury aspect to breastfeeding, which she particularly hated), Ellie was probably on the verge of waking up. Which would have put paid to any extracurricular activity anyway, even if she could have risen to the occasion.

Pete had been lovely about it, as usual, but she couldn’t help the gnawing anxiety which ate into her after yet another aborted attempt at sex. After all, that was what had done for her and Gerry in the end. And they had managed it a lot more often after Becky and Matt were born than she and Pete had done so far.

Pete’s not Gerry.

Now that was a better thought. Saffron smiled. Gerry had done her a favour really. Having dumped her for a blonde floozie, Gerry had floored Saffron completely for a while. With Becky only two and Matt a baby, life had been tough. Without the amiable and supportive friendship of Pete, whose allotment bordered hers, Saffron doubted whether she would have hung on to her sanity. She had always got on well with him, but during that dark period she came to value his steadiness and depend upon his gentle humour to lighten up her day.

Saffron hadn’t been looking for love. Her heart had been so shattered by Gerry’s infidelity she had thought she could never trust anyone again. But one day, looking across at Pete planting his runner beans, it suddenly dawned on her that love had snuck up on her when she wasn’t looking. After that, everything was simple. They moved in together and within months Pete had proposed. And when Ellie was born, Saffron’s happiness was complete. And here they were. Simple.

Saffron sighed. Things didn’t feel simple now.

She could probably count on one hand the number of times that she and Pete had made love since Ellie’s arrival. Despite Gerry’s taunts, being with Pete had proved to her that she wasn’t frigid. But now, for the first time since they’d been together, Saffron felt they were struggling. She was struggling.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. It was just – well, she felt betrayed by her body. For a start, she had forgotten how much she hated breastfeeding. She resented the fact that her nipples, previously portals of pleasure, were now so engorged with milk, cracked and swollen that they resembled an ageing cow’s udders. Anything less sexy she couldn’t imagine.

And the rest of her body wasn’t much better. Her stomach flopped and flapped about, lined with purple veins that seemed to have arrived from nowhere. From experience she knew they would fade in time and leave faint silver lines to go with the ones she already had from Becky and Matt. But now, she felt like a beached whale.

‘It doesn’t matter what you look like,’ Pete had declared the first time she had tried and failed to seduce him after Ellie was born. ‘You’ll always be a sex goddess to me.’

But it wasn’t enough. Her libido was practically nonexistent. Somewhere between getting pregnant, giving birth and coping with those enormously painful stitches (sitting on shards of glass might have been marginally more comfortable), it had gone AWOL. And with the added complications of sleepless nights, an ex-husband who kept causing her childcare headaches, and a business partner who had scooted off halfway round the world, it was showing no sign of returning in the immediate future.

The snuffles in the Moses basket got louder, indicating that Ellie was getting ready for a full-scale roaring attack. Saffron got out of bed, determined to pre-empt events – at least one of them could have a good night’s sleep. She picked the baby up, sorted her pillows out, and plonked Ellie on her breast. She didn’t even attempt to try and read, as she used to when Becky and Matt were small. This time around she had perfected the art of breastfeeding in a semi-doze, and, despite a slight anxiety that she might drop the baby, so far it seemed to have worked.

As she sat in a state of numbed stupefaction, trying not to wince when Ellie suckled too hard, Saffron thought about how different this week was supposed to have been.

Gerry had whisked the kids off to Florida. She hadn’t been too happy about it, particularly as it meant Becky missing the first week at junior school, but at least it had given her and Pete some much-needed time together. Pete had taken a week off work, and the idea was that they would relax and enjoy their new baby without the demands of the older two. But somehow it hadn’t quite worked out like that.

For a start, thanks to Caroline’s decision to bugger off round the world earlier in the summer, the business was in a huge mess. Saffron had been relying on Caroline to cover her for at least some of the early weeks with Ellie. As it was, because of Caroline’s departure, Saffron had ended up doing some minor jobs up until a week before Ellie was born. Now, eight weeks later, she realised that clients were haemorrhaging away from them at a rate of three or four per week. Their fledgling gardening business, Green Fingers, couldn’t afford to lose customers at such a rate. And given that summer should have been a time for gaining new business, Saffron was going to have her work cut out this autumn to make up the lost ground.

Bugger Caroline! she thought grumpily, quickly followed by the thought that she should have known better. When they had first met on the gardening course they had taken together three years earlier, Saffron had been dazzled by Caroline’s enthusiasm and creativity. But then, it was easy to be taken in by Caroline. She talked the talk so well. The reality, which Saffron had only realised once they became business partners, was that although Caroline was a great saleswoman, and had a genius for planning people’s gardens, she was also incredibly lazy, and most of the work had fallen onto Saffron’s shoulders.

And then, just when Saffron needed her the most, Caroline had decided to do her moonlit flit. Something to do with a bloke, no doubt, knowing Caroline, but she hadn’t thought it necessary to furnish Saffron with the details.

So instead of lazy days in the sun with Pete and Ellie (not that there had been much sun, but still …), Saffron had spent the week poring over figures and ringing disgruntled clients, to reassure them that yes, gardens would be weeded, hedges would be trimmed and lawns would be mowed – eventually. Pete had been a great help, going out on a couple of occasions to tackle some particularly difficult jobs in between his work as a marketing manager for a computer firm, but at best his help was a sop to the real problem. There was simply too much work for Saffron alone. Added to which, Caroline might be flaky as hell, but she had a good eye for design and the clients liked her. Her loss to the business was incalculable. And even supposing Saffron was to find a new partner who matched up, she probably didn’t have the funds to pay for the help anyway.

A contented sigh indicated that Ellie had had enough. Saffron picked her up, burped her, checked her nappy and popped her back into her basket. Then she climbed back into bed and snuggled up to Pete, who cuddled reassuringly back. There would be other nights for sex. There was no point staying awake brooding on her problems – she was getting little enough sleep as it was. Maybe tomorrow everything would look different. And maybe pigs would grow wings.






‘That’s the lot then.’ The removal man poked his head round the door, where Mary and Amy were sipping a final cup of tea, sitting on the last few boxes, which Amy was planning to shove in the back of the car. Josh was running round in circles, impersonating an aeroplane, and Amy was doing her best not to let it get under her skin. She could tell Mary was thinking the same thing.

‘Right.’ Amy took a deep breath and gave a bright smile. ‘Well. See you in Suffolk then.’

The removal man nodded and left the room.

‘Come on, Josh,’ said Amy, ‘we’d best get going.’

She staggered out to the car with the remaining boxes, while Mary washed the teacups up. She’d brought her own kettle and cups, as Amy had already packed hers. Amy hadn’t wanted Mary to come over, but Mary had insisted. As Mary in full flow had the unstoppable force of an erupting volcano, Amy knew better than to try to dissuade her.

The trouble was, now it was finally time to go, last-minute doubts were beginning to creep in, and Amy didn’t want Mary witnessing her weakness. Only this morning, Amy had folded up the sheets on her bed, packed away the photo of Jamie that always sat by her bedside, and burst into tears at the thought of leaving the flat. She remembered the first night they had moved in: Jamie mucking about, insisting he carry her over the threshold.

‘But we’re not married yet,’ Amy had laughed.

‘Doesn’t matter, we’re as good as,’ was Jamie’s response, before picking her up and swinging her through into the lounge, mock-complaining all the while that she’d put on weight.

He wouldn’t be saying that now. Amy was aware of how painfully thin she had become since Jamie had died. Stick insect, he’d be calling her, if he were still here. He had welcomed the extra curves that came with Josh, but they’d all fallen away in the months since he’d gone.

And what would he make of her face? He’d always teased her about her long corkscrew curls and called her his pre-Raphaelite beauty. It was true her long fair curls could still be classed as such, but she knew there was a slightly haunted look in her face now – actually, haggard would probably be a better word for it. Would he find her beautiful any more? Amy didn’t think so. She felt pale and wan; a shadow of her former self.

Amy made her way back into the flat. The empty flat. Shorn of all its homeliness. Every last vestige of her life with Jamie had been removed. She felt as though she had ripped out its soul. And, with it, hers. Oh God, what was she doing?

Amy shut the door with a decisive bang. This was no good. Mary had spent the morning making polite conversation with barely suppressed fury. If Amy lost it now, it would give her mother-in-law the perfect opportunity to say ‘I told you so’.

Josh ran towards her. ‘Is it time to go yet?’ he said. ‘I’m bored.’

‘Yup, sweetheart, it is,’ Amy replied. ‘Have you been to the loo?’

Josh pulled a face. ‘Granny made me,’ he grumbled.

‘Well, it’s a long journey,’ said Amy. ‘Granny was right.’

Mary was ostentatiously clattering around in the kitchen. Her heels echoed on the bare floor. Amy was aware once again of the emptiness of the flat. Of the emptiness of Mary’s life now she was taking Josh out of it.

‘So, this is it.’ Mary finished what she was doing and came and stood, stiffly and formally, holding out her hand. As if they meant no more to each other than polite strangers. As if they hadn’t shared all that grief, all that heartache.

‘Yes.’ Amy swallowed. She wanted to give Mary a long hug, but the negative vibes that were bristling off Jamie’s mother gave her little choice.

‘Josh, come and say goodbye to the flat.’

Josh ran in and out of the bedrooms, the small lounge and the tiny kitchen diner.

‘Goodbye-goodbye-goodbye,’ he called, not appreciating the enormity of what he was saying before descending once more into aeroplane territory.

‘Josh, do be quiet!’ Mary snapped.

Unused to Mary telling him off, Josh stopped short and his little face puckered up with tears.

‘Was that strictly necessary?’ Amy couldn’t help but rise to her son’s defence.

‘He needed to be told,’ said Mary. ‘You’re too soft on him.’

‘And you’re being too hard.’ Amy regretted the comment as soon as it was out. Mary was a doting granny, and without her Amy wouldn’t have coped over the last two years.

‘I see,’ said Mary. ‘I was too hard all the times I cuddled him while he cried when you went out to work. I was too hard the times I took him to the doctor when you couldn’t. I’m not the one taking him away from everything he knows and loves. I wouldn’t say I was the hard one, would you?’

Amy looked at Mary aghast. ‘That’s not what I meant,’ she said shakily.

Mary shrugged her shoulders and turned to give Josh a cuddle. Josh had stopped crying now and started being an aeroplane again. Oh to have the resilience of a child, thought Amy in silent dismay. She couldn’t leave Mary like this. For Jamie’s sake, she couldn’t. A sudden memory of Jamie laughing at her one day when she had been fuming about his mother’s interference took her breath away.

‘Come on, Ames,’ he had said. ‘She means well. And we’re all she’s got. Give her a break.’

Jamie would never have wanted this.

‘Mary, I’m sorry,’ said Amy. ‘Please don’t let’s fall out.’

Mary said nothing and looked away. If Amy hadn’t known better she could have sworn that a tear trickled down Mary’s face. But Amy had never seen Mary cry. Not even at Jamie’s funeral. She was the strong silent type – whatever crying she may have done over her son, she had done it alone.

‘Please, Mary,’ said Amy. ‘For Jamie’s sake. And Josh’s. We’ve been through so much together. Don’t let’s spoil it.’

Mary turned around, her eyes glittering bright, her back ramrod-straight, and for the first time Amy caught a fleeting glimpse of the emotion she was struggling to contain.

‘Apology accepted,’ she said stiffly. ‘Now, I think it’s time you were both going.’

She shooed them out of the flat into the car as if the previous exchange hadn’t happened.

‘You will visit, won’t you?’ Amy said.

‘Of course,’ Mary replied, but there was a wariness about her. Amy doubted very much if she would come anytime soon.

‘Damn.’ Amy hunted around for her handbag.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘I think I’ve left my handbag inside. Can you just keep an eye on Josh while I go and get it?’

She ran up the path, and opened the front door to the flat. She was eager to get off now. Hanging around was only prolonging the agony. She raced into the flat and found her bag on the kitchen worktop where she had left it. Then she paused and looked around her.

Memories crowded in. Of her and Jamie putting the new kitchen in together; of Jamie coming home with a huge bouquet of flowers the day she told him she was pregnant; the strangeness of leaving the flat as two and coming back with Josh as a family … So many memories. And she was leaving them all behind. She was saying goodbye to her old life. She was saying goodbye to Jamie. A stab of guilt shot through her, and a sense of loss so overwhelming she was stunned by the force of it. Jamie was gone. It was just her and Josh now. She doubted she’d ever get used to it.

Eyes full, she turned her back on the home where she had been happy for so long, and mechanically went back to the car, saying her goodbyes while hoping that Mary couldn’t detect the tears she was trying to hide. She started the car and sped off round the corner, Josh still waving and shouting goodbye till Mary was long gone. Then she allowed the silent tears to fall.






Amy closed the door behind the last removal man. It banged shut with a horrible finality. Well, she’d done it. She and Josh were on their own, properly on their own for the first time since Jamie had died – in a new town, where they knew no one.

‘Can I go in the garden?’ Josh had just twigged that there was more to his new home than just four walls.

‘Of course,’ said Amy, smiling to banish her gloomy thoughts. ‘Let’s get our coats and have an explore.’

Despite it being only early September, there was already an autumnal chill in the air, and the impression of summer being over was further enhanced by the smell of bonfires. The leaves weren’t quite turning yellow, but it wouldn’t be long. Amy shivered as she watched Josh running wild in their new garden. A pang of longing shot unexpectedly through her, and tears came to her eyes.

‘Why are you crying, Mummy?’ A little hand came and found hers.

‘I was just thinking about how much Daddy would have liked it here,’ Amy said. She had always been open with Josh about everything, despite Mary’s feeling that children should be protected from too much heartache.

Josh looked at her thoughtfully.

‘But if Daddy’s in heaven, he can see where we are, and he’ll like it too,’ he replied.

‘Out of the mouths of babes,’ said Amy, laughing through her tears.

Josh looked at her puzzled, but Amy just smiled at him.

‘It’s all right, Josh, you’ve just managed to cheer me up. Come on, let’s go and get some tea.’






The next morning, Amy wasn’t feeling quite so sanguine. She had had a lousy night’s sleep on her landlady’s rather lumpy double bed. Josh had had a nightmare, and ended up in bed with her. It was a while since he’d done that. When he had been very little, just after Jamie had died, he’d come in with her every night, but she had gradually weaned him off it. Maybe the move had unsettled him again. Oh lord, was she doing the right thing?

Amy had lain in bed worrying about that – and whether she had irrevocably offended Mary. She didn’t want to cut the ties completely – just loosen them a little. Was that so very wrong? What would Jamie have done in her shoes? She was still learning to appreciate that one of the worst aspects of her situation was making decisions alone, and realising there was no way she could truly know what Jamie would have thought.

She turned over, determined to get some sleep, but then her mind went into overdrive about money. Her demons were back and running amok. Money. Her overriding preoccupation since Jamie’s death. She had thought they were reasonably well off. She had thought they’d made adequate provision. But the idea of either of them dying had seemed so remote that they had never got round to doing the obvious stuff. It had always felt as though there would be plenty of time for that.

If only she and Jamie had got married, or written a will, as they always intended. Everything would have been so much more straightforward. But they hadn’t, so the taxman had come to claim both his share of the computer business Jamie had run with his partner, Giles, and their property. Added to which, Amy hadn’t appreciated how much debt the business itself was in – or how difficult it would be to sell Jamie’s share of it. It had taken all this time to sort it out.

Amy had survived by carrying on teaching, until Grace’s money had solved her problems. And now that she had sold the flat as well, things would be easier. She planned to settle in before buying somewhere, but at least she could think about buying a house in Suffolk. Although maybe she should have consolidated a bit, before taking the plunge to move and start a new career. She had enough to tide her over for the next few months, and supply-teaching at schools would help … but would it be enough?

The thoughts swirled round in her head. Nights were always a bad time for Amy. The demons couldn’t be as easily dispatched as during the day. And the suffocating blackness of her new room, with its thick velvet curtains, didn’t help either. She was used to having a neon streetlight outside her window and found total darkness oppressive.

She turned on the light. Grabbing a book usually helped – something light and funny, like Terry Pratchett, was a must. Gradually the feelings of panic subsided, and her heart stopped racing at a rate of knots. She read, and eventually fell asleep, head propped against her pillow, the light still on.






Amy spent the morning unpacking. She felt as if she had been hit over the head with a brick. As usual after a bad night, her thoughts were muzzy and unfocused. She had managed to find Josh’s train set and set it up in the front room, along with snacks and a pile of DVDs, just to keep him occupied while she got on with trying to create some semblance of normality.

She dug out a radio, which she switched on in the kitchen. It was pre-tuned to Radio 2. Amy had grown up thinking Radio 2 was the preserve of sad middle-aged people far removed from the cutting edge of life, until Jamie had made her listen to it one Saturday lunchtime. ‘Honestly, they play really good music on Radio 2,’ he had promised her. And to Amy’s surprise, he was right. Not only were the DJs highly entertaining, the music was great, and after that she and Jamie had often tuned in together. After he had died, she had listened to the radio obsessively – as if in some strange way it still linked them. She woke up to Wogan’s gentle warblings, and dipped in and out all day. Radio 2 was an essential part of her now – a soundtrack to her life, now she no longer had one.

Sunday-morning love songs was on. Sometimes Amy found all the people ringing in with messages for their loved ones too painful for words, but of late she’d found it comforting to know that not everyone was as lonely as she was, and it was easy listening as she started shoving books onto shelves. As the room slowly got cleared up, and things began to fall into place, Amy started to feel better again, and she gradually felt that she was getting things under control.

‘And this is for Bev Peters, who’s away at uni, and missing her boyfriend Colin very much,’ Steve Wright was saying, before Amy heard the first haunting bars of a familiar tune.

She paused in the middle of her new living room. She felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. That song – how many years ago was it? In the early days of their relationship, Amy had still been at teacher-training college, and they had spent a year apart. Jamie had compiled a tape of ‘their’ songs, which she had played endlessly, missing him so much it had hurt. Her favourite track on it had been ‘Forever Autumn’ – at the time it seemed to sum up the way she felt. How could she have known that her feelings then would be a pale shadow of the real thing – of what it was like knowing that she would never see Jamie again? The song could have been written for her, and seemed cruelly apposite now. It was all gone. Everything. The only good thing left was Josh. All the rest was dust.

‘Anyone home?’ There was a knock at the side door that led to the garden, and Amy pulled herself together. Her life might be over, but she still had Josh, and she had to make a go of this, for his sake.

A tall elderly man was standing on the doorstep bearing a pot with a geranium in it and holding a plastic bag with some shopping in. She remembered him as the man she had seen pushing the wheelbarrow on the day she had come to look round.

‘Hello,’ said Amy, with something like relief. In the early days she had found any social interaction excruciatingly difficult, but now, having to put on a show of politeness was a welcome distraction from her misery. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Good morning,’ the man said. ‘I’m Harry Hartswood, your neighbour. I just popped over to see if you needed anything, and to bring you this.’ He proffered the geranium.

‘Thanks,’ said Amy, taking it. ‘I’m Amy Nicolson. Can I make you a cup of tea?’

‘That would be lovely, my dear,’ said Harry. ‘I don’t suppose you have had time to get to the shops yet. I’ve brought a few provisions.’

‘That is extremely kind of you,’ said Amy, touched at his thoughtfulness. ‘It’s on my “to do” list. Sorry about the mess, I’m still unpacking.’

‘Mummy, who is it?’ Josh flew out to see what was going on, then hid behind Amy’s legs when he realised it was a stranger.

‘This is Mr Hartswood,’ said Amy. ‘He lives next door.’

‘He’s very old,’ said Josh, peeking out from behind her.

‘Josh!’ Amy was scandalised, but Harry just laughed.

‘Yes, I am,’ he said. ‘But then, you are very young. So everyone must be old to you.’

Josh looked at him quizzically for a minute, then shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ve got a train set,’ he announced. ‘Would you like to see it?’

‘I’m sure Mr Hartswood doesn’t want to be bothered with your train set,’ began Amy, but her neighbour would hear none of it.

‘That sounds wonderful, Josh, I’d love to,’ he said, letting himself be led by the hand into the front room, ‘and everyone calls me Harry.’

When Amy returned with the tea, she discovered the pair of them playing happily on the floor.

‘I can see you’re going to be a favoured guest,’ she said. ‘Mummy is normally too busy to play trains.’

‘Ah, well, that’s Mummy’s prerogative,’ said Harry. ‘And my pleasure.’

‘You’re very good with him,’ Amy said, watching how naturally Josh played. Josh didn’t warm to everyone, and it was rare for him to latch on to a stranger like this. ‘Do you have grandchildren?’

‘No.’ Harry’s smile was tinged with sadness. ‘Unfortunately, my wife and I weren’t able to have children.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Amy.

‘No need to be, my dear,’ said Harry. ‘We had a happy and full life together.’

Amy, who had acquired an instinct for picking up on these things since Jamie’s death, asked, ‘Had?’

‘My wife died a few years ago,’ said Harry, a shadow passing across his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Amy again, and meant it. She felt an immediate kinship with this man, stranger though he was, and yet, even though she shared his grief, it was still hard to know what to say. ‘You must get very lonely.’

‘Well, sometimes,’ said Harry. ‘But I have my army reunions, and lots of friends here. And there’s a great deal of support to be found on the allotments, as I’m sure you will discover. I survive somewhat better than everyone had predicted.’

‘I shall have to take lessons from you in being positive,’ replied Amy. ‘Jamie, my …’ – she was going to say partner, and then paused, wondering whether Harry would approve of her unmarried status – ‘Josh’s dad died two and a half years ago, and this is a big move for me.’

‘Oh my dear, how very sad for you,’ sympathised Harry.

Amy felt herself dissolve into floods of tears. She couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t. It was a dreadful mistake. There was no way she was going to manage on her own. That song was right. Her life would always be autumn now – because Jamie wasn’t there, and however much she longed for him, he never could be again.


CHAPTER THREE (#ucbc138ca-5a91-5c68-9048-283e0ab6e0cf)

Amy took a deep breath, and tried to get a grip. This was mortifying. Here she was blubbing in front of a total stranger. Luckily, once she and Harry had got chatting, Josh pronounced the conversation ‘Grown up, boring’, and disappeared upstairs.

‘Oh I am sorry.’ Harry patted Amy awkwardly on the back. ‘I didn’t mean to distress you.’

He proffered a hankie, which Amy accepted gratefully.

‘You haven’t,’ said Amy. ‘I’m just being silly.’

‘It’s not silly at all,’ answered Harry, ‘but quite natural.’ His gentle concern brought fresh tears to Amy’s eyes, but she managed a watery smile.

‘I’m not usually like this,’ Amy said. ‘I think it’s just with the move and everything … I suddenly feel so alone.’

‘And however many friends you have, once you shut that door at night, you’re on your own.’ Harry nodded sympathetically. ‘It is very hard, but it will get better, in time.’

‘Will it? I keep thinking it’s going to, but then, like now, I feel I’ve gone back to square one again. I feel I’m never going to stop wanting him back.’

‘You probably won’t.’ Harry’s response was simple. ‘I think about my Mavis every day, but I am still alive, and although it isn’t the life we had, it is the life I have now. You’re still young, Amy, you have Josh. You have a lot to live for. Do you think Jamie would want you to be mourning him forever?’

‘No, definitely not,’ said Amy. ‘But I don’t know. It sounds so corny. What we had was amazing. I doubt I’ll ever find it again.’

‘You might not,’ said Harry. ‘But you must make it your business to learn to be happy again. You won’t ever stop missing him, but that doesn’t mean you can’t smile sometimes.’

Amy felt her spirits lift a little. It was so wonderful to have someone who understood – so often people she knew were embarrassed and awkward and shied away from talking about how she was. Or they assumed that after all this time, she would be over it – like you got over the flu. Or, worse still, some of their so-called friends had dropped her altogether. It was as if she had some nasty disease that might be catching. There was even the faint suggestion from one or two girlfriends, to whom she had thought she was close, that somehow she was now likely to make a play for their husbands.

They had no idea of what was really going through her head – or, more importantly, her heart. So Amy had learned to smile and hide her pain so that no one knew it was there any longer. It was a relief to talk to someone who was so refreshingly direct about it.

‘You’re absolutely right, of course,’ said Amy. ‘It’s not always easy to be so positive, though.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ said Harry. ‘And believe you me, I still have my dark nights of the soul. But I just grit my teeth and try to get through them. There is always another dawn. Now, I’m afraid I really must be going, as I’m off to lunch with some friends. Please feel free to pop in at any time. I’m usually about.’

‘Thanks, Harry, I might just do that,’ said Amy. ‘You’ve been very kind.’

‘Ah well, I just like to be neighbourly,’ said Harry. ‘Mavis would have had my guts for garters if I wasn’t.’

Amy laughed and saw Harry to the door, just as Josh came flying down demanding to be fed. One thing about children was their needs always had to come first. And sometimes, when life threatened to become overwhelming, that was a very good thing.






Saffron was running late, as usual. Matt and Becky were being so slow this morning, and Ellie had kept her up all night. Added to which, she had made the mistake of stopping to listen to Wogan’s musings on the subject of mums driving 4x4s. She had been laughing so much she had forgotten the time. It was only Monday, and they were going to be late. Bugger, how did she always manage that?

‘Kids, hurry up,’ she called as she loaded Ellie into the buggy.

The trouble was that the children were still exhausted from Florida, so getting them up this morning had been a complete nightmare. She had so much on her plate at the moment, the last thing she needed was the kids being late for school.

Her other major headache – how to regain the trust of her clients and rebuild the business – was also not going away, despite her and Pete’s best efforts. But he was right to point out that she couldn’t do it alone, and while he was immensely supportive, he couldn’t run the business for her. But who on earth was she going to find to help her out? None of her mum friends were into gardening. Perhaps she should do as Pete had suggested and advertise. Thank God, at least, for Pete. He had been so fantastic, she had to hold on to that. Gerry would have given her no encouragement at all.

What were the children doing? She had sent them upstairs ten minutes ago, to brush their teeth, and they had disappeared.

‘Children, come downstairs NOW! We’re going to be late,’ Saffron yelled up the stairs, picking up assorted PE kits and book bags as she did so.

‘Do you really need to shout that loud first thing?’ Pete was halfway down the stairs still doing his tie. Their relationship was still new enough for Saffron’s heart to skip a beat when she saw him. Pete looked gorgeous even though his hair was all mussed up and he looked half-asleep. Still adjusting to this parenting lark, he hadn’t quite got to grips with sleepless nights.

‘If I didn’t shout, we’d never get anywhere,’ said Saffron, giving him a kiss. After the misery of her marriage to Gerry, she still had to pinch herself to believe that she could have been so lucky as to have found Pete, even with the permanent weight lodged in the pit of her stomach about their lack of sex life.

As if by magic, two pairs of feet thundered down the stairs, and Becky and Matt presented themselves to her, both blaming the other for their tardiness.

‘Not interested,’ grumbled Saffron. ‘Come on, we’ve got to go – now!’ Kissing Pete goodbye again, she hauled coats on and shoved the children out of the door. If they ran, there was an outside chance they could make it.

As she approached the corner of her road, opposite the little country churchyard she cut through every day on the way to school, she spotted another pair of latecomers hurrying up the road that ran at right-angles to her own. It was a woman she didn’t recognise and a little boy about Matt’s age. The woman looked a bit perplexed, as if she weren’t quite sure of the way.

Saffron smiled as they met at the corner to cross over – in the three years she had been walking to school with Becky she had discovered that the children didn’t moan so much if they had a friend to walk with. As she had only recently managed to prise Matt from the buggy (the arrival of Ellie had been the key turning point, and four months later he was still sore about it), Saffron hoped that finding a friend on the walk to school might prove to be a help.

‘Hi,’ said Saffron as they waited to cross the road. ‘This your first day?’

‘Yup.’ The stranger smiled. ‘Josh and I only moved here on Saturday. And despite poring over maps all weekend, I think I’m a bit lost.’

‘Follow me,’ said Saffron. ‘We cut through the graveyard every day. The school’s at the bottom of the hill on the other side, about five minutes from the high street.’

‘Great,’ said the stranger with a grateful smile. She was pretty, thought Saffron – and also, she noted jealously, incredibly thin.

‘I’m Saffron Cairns, by the way, and this is Becky and Matt. Matt’s starting in Miss Burrows’ class today.’

‘Amy Nicolson,’ said Amy. ‘Josh is in Miss Burrows’ class too.’

‘Matt, that’s nice,’ said Saffron. ‘Josh is going to be in your class.’

Matt and Josh both appeared completely uninterested in this stunning piece of news, although they quickly bonded by running in and out of the gravestones. Amy laughed and said, ‘Oh well, I’m very pleased to meet you at any rate. I don’t know a soul around here. Apart from my neighbour, Harry.’

‘Harry Hartswood?’ Understanding dawned in Saffron’s eyes. Harry had mentioned someone had just moved in next door.

‘Yes, do you know him?’ Amy was surprised. In her busy street in North London no one knew anyone else much. Not one of her neighbours had called round after Jamie had died, and whenever she needed help round the house she’d always had to resort to the Yellow Pages.

‘Oh yes, everyone knows Harry. He’s an institution, particularly on the allotments. Though I’d avoid his elderberry wine if I were you – it’s lethal. You must be Caroline’s new tenant.’

‘If she’s the Caroline whose name is plastered all over my tenancy agreements, then yes,’ said Amy. ‘Blimey, does everyone know everyone else round here?’

‘Sure do,’ said Saffron with a grin. ‘Actually, I should know Caroline. She’s my business partner. You’re never more well than when you’re in Nevermorewell, so they say, but it’s the kind of place where if you sneeze at the top of the high street you’re dying of pneumonia by the time you reach the bottom.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ said Amy, laughing, and finding to her surprise that they were nearly at the school gates.

‘I’ll have to love you and leave you here, I’m afraid,’ said Saffron. ‘Becky’s starting in the Juniors today, and I’ve just got to find out where she needs to go. All change this year. Do you know your way round?’

‘I think so. I’ll be fine,’ said Amy. ‘It’s been lovely to meet you.’

‘Well I’m sure we’ll catch up again,’ said Saffron. ‘Particularly if the boys are in the same class. Perhaps when you’re more settled we can do coffee?’

‘Coffee sounds great,’ said Amy, and headed off with Josh. Maybe making friends around here wouldn’t be so difficult, she thought.






Saturday morning found Amy playing plumbers. It had been a very busy week, and she had barely paused for breath. She had had several forays into the centre of Nevermorewell, where she had discovered a fine butcher’s and baker’s, a greengrocer’s, a couple of takeaways, an Italian restaurant, and a few of the usual high-street shops. On her trip on Thursday, Amy had been delighted to see the whole high street was shut to traffic for the farmers’ market. There were two rows of stalls running the entire length of the street, selling everything from organic veg to homemade honey. The market had been so well-attended, Amy had counted herself lucky to make it back with bags of fresh produce, a free-range chicken and some homemade bread.

Nevermorewell boasted two decent-looking pubs – the Plough at one end of the high street, and the Magpie at the other. Not that Amy had much time or inclination to go into pubs, but they might be worth investigating for Sunday lunches. According to Saffron, whom she had seen a couple of times that week on the way to school, the Magpie was quite family friendly.

Amy had also discovered the library and the town hall, where she had managed to find the number of the local education authority and register for supply teaching. Luckily she wasn’t desperate, so she could afford a couple of weeks off to sort herself out. She had also signed up at the doctor’s and the dentist’s, which were in the same location, a smart new purpose-built building, just off the high street. All in all, despite a couple of terse conversations with Mary on the phone, and a niggling angst about Josh, who had cried every morning when leaving for school, she had been too busy so far to feel gloomy.

Her only real headache was that ever since they’d arrived in the house the bathroom tap had been dripping and driving her mad. So today, with Josh safely ensconced in front of the TV watching Thunderbirds, and armed with a spanner and some washers, she had decided to take the bull by the horns and reseat the taps. She had seen Jamie doing it a dozen times. It couldn’t be too difficult, could it?

Apparently, it could. For a start, the taps were so corroded it took ages to unscrew them, and then when she applied the spanner to the original washer it just sheared off and pinged in the sink, promptly followed by a jet of water.

‘Sod! Sod and double sod!’ Amy shrieked as water spewed everywhere. She had forgotten to turn the water off at the mains.

‘It’s a bit wet, Mummy.’ The lure of the TV was evidently not enough to prevent Josh from finding out why Mummy was standing knee-deep in water and wailing like a banshee.

‘I know, darling,’ said Amy between gritted teeth. ‘Could you just pass me that bucket, please?’

Josh passed it to her and she placed it under the flood while she frantically looked around for something to plug up the hole. Ignoring Josh’s pleas to be allowed to play with the water, she eventually found a flannel, which she stuffed down as far as it would go. It seemed to work as a temporary fix. She ran into the kitchen, and after a few false starts managed to locate the mains tap and turn the water off, and then returned to survey the damage.

The reward for her labours was one sodden bathroom, a tap to which she couldn’t fit a new washer and a feeling of absolute failure.

‘You should have got a plumber,’ observed Josh, with all the sensitivity of a five-year-old. He was right of course, which didn’t help. It was at times like this that Amy missed Jamie the most. There was only her to do the job, and she had made a hash of it. She hated feeling like a useless girl, and yet here she was acting like one. Even her five-year-old son knew it.

‘We’d better go and see Harry,’ she said to Josh with a rueful smile.

But Harry was out, and Amy was at a bit of a loss.

‘Maybe he’s on the allotments,’ Amy mused. ‘Shall we go and look for him, Josh?’

Josh agreed with alacrity, particularly when Amy said he could take his ball with him. They hadn’t had a chance to go out there properly yet, and it would be a good excuse to go and have a look at Caroline’s patch. Harry had told her that there was stuff growing on it, and that some of Caroline’s friends had been trying to keep it tidy, but it needed, in his words, ‘a good going over’. Amy had been resisting the siren call of the allotments ever since, as she had been too busy with essential stuff, but here was a reason to go.

As she stepped out onto the allotments, Amy gave a deep sigh of contentment. The sound of cattle lowing in the distance reminded her how far she was from the city. However alone and useless she felt, this had been a good decision. Josh immediately ran off, kicking his ball and whooping wildly. And the allotments were as wonderful as she remembered them; even more so at this turn of the seasons. The leaves were starting to go yellow now, and some were already falling from the trees. There was a distinct whiff of autumn in the air, several of the plots were already being dug over, and a sharp chill presaged the frosts to come.

Following Josh, Amy struggled down the path outside her garden gate, which was rather more overgrown than on her last visit, and gazed ahead of her. Harry had said Caroline’s plot was across the main path that ran through the allotments and slightly to the left, which made it roughly next to the one where she had seen the bike rider. Oh lord, she hoped he wouldn’t be out there. Remembering what had happened last time, she called Josh to come back to her. Much as she had disliked the man, it wouldn’t do to go round upsetting the neighbours so soon.

As she approached the plot, there was a strong smell of manure. The bike rider’s plot still had vegetables growing, but he was evidently getting ready to turn over the ground for the autumn. And ah, yes, the plot next door did look quite overgrown. It must be Caroline’s. Though in among the weeds Amy could see plenty of potatoes, and at the far end were a couple of fruit trees, so she might get something from this year’s crop.

She and Josh were just crossing the corner of the plot, when she heard a barking and something like a speeding bullet came flying towards her. That damned dog again. Josh screamed, and before she knew what was happening she was on her back in the pile of manure, with a black dog leaping all over her, licking her face.

Squinting up at the sun, in a mixture of fury and embarrassment, she saw the figure of a man.

‘Down, Meg! Bad dog!’ The man offered a hand towards her, saying, ‘I am so, so sorry. Are you all right?’

Amy stumbled to her feet and grabbed hold of Josh. She glared at the man standing before her.

‘I might have known it would be you,’ she said.


CHAPTER FOUR (#ucbc138ca-5a91-5c68-9048-283e0ab6e0cf)

‘I don’t suppose it would help if I told you that I don’t know what came over Meg. Really, she isn’t usually like that.’ Her biker looked suitably discomfited.

‘No?’ Amy tried to muster what dignity she could, excruciatingly aware that she was covered in manure and must smell terrible. ‘First your wretched dog frightens my son, and then she knocks me flying into a pile of manure. She should be locked up!’

Ben bristled. ‘Well, your son doesn’t seem too traumatised, does he?’

Amy turned to look behind her, to discover that Josh was playing happily with Meg, who was licking his fingers.

‘Pooh, Mummy, you stink,’ he said.

It was no good. Irritated as she was with this man and his damned dog, it was incredibly hard to stay on your high horse when an infant had just pointed out the obvious. Amy did indeed stink. And there was the slight matter of how she was going to clean herself up.

‘Oh God, he is so right,’ she said, unable to prevent the small grin that was forcing its way across her face.

There was an awkward pause for a moment, neither of them quite knowing what to say next, then Ben, feeling that he was being rather ungallant, asked, ‘Can I do anything to help?’

‘You could let her have a bath,’ Josh declared. ‘We’ve got no water. Mummy isn’t a very good plumber.’

‘Is that so?’ Ben was grinning now too, while Amy tried to shut Josh up. Honestly. Children could really be the limit sometimes.

‘Yes, well,’ said Amy squirming, ‘I had a small fight with the taps and the taps won. So now I’ve got no water.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Ben, trying and failing to suppress laughter.

‘It’s not funny,’ protested Amy, in a rather feeble manner. ‘I was coming out here to see if I could find my neighbour, Harry, and ask him if he knew a plumber.’

‘You won’t find Harry today,’ said Ben, ‘he’s gone to one of his army reunions. Oh lord, now you’ve made me feel really guilty. We’ve only just met and already I’ve nearly run over your son, my dog’s scared him and knocked you into my manure. Next time we meet, I’ll probably burn your house down. Please, please let me make amends. Come over to mine and use my bath. And then I’ll see if I can sort out your taps.’

Amy hesitated. This was a perfect stranger, after all. But if he was a friend of Harry’s it probably meant he wasn’t a serial killer.

‘It’s okay,’ said Ben. ‘You can trust me. I’m a doctor.’

‘Are you, really?’ Amy burst out laughing.

‘Really,’ said Ben with a smile. ‘I work at the Riverview Practice if you don’t believe me. The name’s Ben Martin.’

‘Okay, I believe you,’ said Amy. ‘I just signed up there yesterday, and I remember seeing your name. Luckily you don’t appear to be my doctor. Which is probably just as well, given our recent history.’

Ben was impressed with the way she seemed to be taking this all in her stride. Despite her enjoyment of gardening, Caroline always managed to keep immaculate while doing it. He hated to think how she would have reacted if she’d ended up in a pile of manure. Not as well as this attractive stranger, that was for sure.

‘It probably is,’ he replied, grinning. ‘And you are?’

‘Amy Nicolson,’ said Amy. ‘Come on, Josh, Ben’s going to find Mummy some clean clothes.’

Together, they followed Ben towards his house. Amy still felt an idiot but Ben’s manner was so easy and open that it didn’t seem to matter somehow. Perhaps her initial impression of a bad-tempered lout had been wrong.

‘Bathroom’s in there,’ said Ben when they entered the house. ‘Here, have a towel. I’ll get you some clean clothes. Will Josh be okay watching TV?’

Josh was more than okay watching TV, particularly once he discovered that Ben had Spiderman in his DVD collection.

Ten minutes later, Amy emerged from the bathroom, drying her hair with a towel, and wearing a rugby shirt of Ben’s and some leggings he’d found, which presumably must have belonged to a previous girlfriend. She wondered idly what sort of woman was his type. Obviously a tall one if the leggings were anything to go by.

Ben gave a sharp intake of breath. He was taken aback by the sudden pull of attraction he felt for Amy. It had been a long time since he had looked at a woman other than Caroline.

‘Tea?’ he asked quickly, moving to the kitchen and switching on the radio, where Jonathan Ross was entertaining a female singer well known for her risqué behaviour in a way only he knew how.

‘Oh, great, you like Radio 2 too,’ said Amy.

‘I listen to nothing else,’ declared Ben. ‘I’m sadly obsessed with that chap who does the allotment bit on the Jeremy Vine programme.’

‘What, Terry, the Adopted Allotmenteer?’ said Amy. ‘He’s brill, isn’t he? Last time I heard him he was talking about runner beans. I couldn’t believe he could make it so interesting.’

They paused and smiled shyly at one another.

‘I know,’ said Amy. ‘I used to think Radio 2 was really old hat, but thanks to my –’ Oh God, here I go again, she thought. Was there ever going to be an easy way to say ‘my dead partner’? Today she couldn’t face the questions, or the sympathy, so she fudged it instead. ‘– to Jamie – my boyfriend –’

Damn! thought Ben, she had a boyfriend. He was startled to find that bothered him.

‘– I started listening and discovered they play loads of music I like. So I listen all the time now. This is probably going to sound barking but I’m on my own such a lot, I find it’s like having a friend in the kitchen.’ She paused, feeling that she was rambling. ‘You probably have no idea what I’m even talking about.’

‘Oh, I think I do,’ said Ben, wondering why she was alone so much. He had heard the hesitation in her voice when she mentioned her boyfriend – maybe Jamie was off the scene. ‘Lots of my patients, especially the elderly ones, say the same thing. And my surgery has such tissue-thin walls I often have the radio on in the background so that people outside my room don’t hear what I’m saying. I find Radio 2 is usually inoffensive enough not to upset anyone too much.’ He paused. ‘So, what does Jamie do?’

Amy took a deep breath. The question had come after all. She should have just faced it dead on, rather than hedging her bets.

‘Jamie’s – oh, I didn’t explain myself very well. Jamie died two years ago. I’ve moved here on my own, with my son, Josh.’

Oh God. Ben had imagined a parting of the ways, but Amy seemed too young to have faced that kind of pain. But then, age didn’t always come into bereavement, as he knew himself, all too well. Cursing himself for putting his foot in it, Ben wondered what he could say, and finding nothing adequate, left it at a simple, ‘I’m so sorry, I just assumed.’

‘It’s okay, people generally do.’ Amy waved him away. Harry evidently hadn’t said anything to Ben about her, which pleased her somehow. She liked the fact that her neighbour hadn’t gossiped. ‘You weren’t to know, and anyway, nowadays I cope pretty well.’

Amy smiled as she said this, but there was a sadness in her eyes and her demeanour became closed and wary. Ben took this as a hint to change the subject.

‘Right, I don’t know about you, but I have a fair bit to do today, so shall we head straight over to yours?’

‘Thanks, that would be great,’ said Amy, grateful that he hadn’t pursued the subject of Jamie. ‘Come on, Josh, time we were off.’

‘Oh, but I wanted to see what happens next,’ Josh protested.

‘It’s all right, you can see it another time,’ said Amy, then paused. It seemed presumptuous to assume they would see Ben again.

‘Or I could lend it to you,’ said Ben quickly.

‘Well – if you’re sure …’ began Amy.

‘Positive,’ said Ben. ‘I’ve seen it loads of times. Come on then, this plumbing isn’t going to sort itself out.’

It just showed how first impressions could be so wrong. In fact, as they ambled companionably back across the allotments, Amy reflected that it was a long, long time since she had met anyone who had put her so much at her ease.






Ben followed Amy and Josh up the garden path with a growing feeling of awkwardness. It had seemed like a good idea to suggest he mended her taps, but now he was here he began to question the wisdom of his offer. The last time he had been in this house, a couple of nights before Caroline left, she’d ended up seducing him again, despite his best intentions. After a night of lust and tangled passion, Ben had woken up and wondered just what the hell he was doing. He’d told her then that it was over, and the memory of her tears made him wince. He couldn’t bear to hurt anyone, and they had been very close for a while. He still felt guilty that he had made her cry. Thankfully, no one else knew about it.

And now he was following another woman into Caroline’s house. A woman he found very attractive, he had to admit. But even Amy’s merits couldn’t quite eclipse the vision of Caroline that hit him the minute he walked through the door. She was in every room – cooking in the kitchen, laughing in the lounge, dancing in the dining room, and – where he could hardly bear to picture her – sensual in the bedroom. Amy had already made her mark on the house, it was true – she had changed around some of the furniture, and got rid of Caroline’s wind-chimes and aromatherapy candles – but the whisper of Caroline remained everywhere.

Trying to shake off the feeling of melancholy made Ben matter-of-fact, his manner brisk. It had been a big mistake coming back here. He just wanted to get the taps done and go.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘The bathroom’s through here, isn’t it?’

Amy was surprised. ‘You seem to know your way around pretty well,’ she said.

‘I’m often in and out of these houses, seeing patients,’ said Ben shortly. ‘All these houses have the same layout.’

Ben was aware his terseness sounded rude, but he couldn’t bring himself to mention how he knew this house, or how intimately.

Amy was slightly taken aback by the change in Ben’s manner. He had already found the offending taps and was starting work, but he seemed to have withdrawn into himself. She wondered whether she had upset him somehow, so decided to change the subject instead.

‘Have you had an allotment long?’ she asked. ‘I can’t wait to get out there and sort mine out.’

‘Are you a gardener as well?’ Ben was interested despite his resolve to get out of there as soon as possible. He had a soft spot for anyone who was prepared to discuss the merits of growing things. It wasn’t Amy’s fault she lived in his ex’s house.

‘I love gardening,’ Amy replied. ‘We always wanted to live in the country and grow our own vegetables. I’m dying to get onto the allotments. I just haven’t had time yet. And when I’m a bit more settled I’d like to go into gardening properly. Actually, I’ve just finished doing a course.’

‘Have you met Saffron yet?’ said Ben. ‘She runs her own gardening business, with Caroline, but with Caroline gone I think she might be after some help.’

‘Is she?’ said Amy, her eyes lighting up with interest. ‘I might just get in touch then. Thanks.’

‘Right, that’s all done for you,’ said Ben, wiping his hands on his jeans.

‘Thanks so much,’ said Amy. ‘That was really good of you. Would you like to stay for a cup of tea?’

‘No thanks,’ said Ben. ‘I’d better go. I’ve got lots to do on the allotment.’

‘And I wouldn’t dream of keeping a man away from his digging,’ said Amy, disappointed but trying to sound cheerful.

When she smiled, Ben noticed, her eyes lit up her whole face. There was something about her that he instantly warmed to, and he realised, as he strolled back home, that it was a very pleasant feeling indeed.






‘What’s this I hear that you run a gardening business?’

Amy greeted Saffron as they stood outside the school gates. Ellie was asleep in the buggy, and Saffron looked quite relaxed for a change.

Saffron pulled a face.

‘Well, I’m not entirely sure it merits the term business. “Disaster” might be more apt at the moment,’ she said. ‘How did you know?’

‘I met Ben Martin on the allotments the other day,’ said Amy. ‘Or rather, his dog knocked me into a pile of manure. I felt like such a prat. But he was very nice about it.’

‘So he should be,’ said Saffron. ‘That dog’s a liability sometimes. Mind you, I can think of worse people whose feet you could fall at. He’s gorgeous. If I wasn’t married already …’

‘Does he have a girlfriend?’ asked Amy.

‘Not that I know of,’ said Saffron, ‘but I’m not one to listen to gossip, and I’ve been so busy this year with work and a new baby that I don’t tend to know what’s going on anyway. Why do you ask? Are you on the lookout?’

‘As if! I was curious, that’s all,’ said Amy. ‘So come on, tell me all about this business of yours.’

‘Not much to tell, since Caroline left me in the lurch,’ said Saffron.

‘What’s Caroline like?’ Amy asked. ‘Her name keeps popping up everywhere.’

Saffron grimaced. ‘I’m probably not the best person to ask, as she’s made my life a nightmare. We met on a gardening course in Sudbury three years back, and when we found out we lived so near to one another it seemed like a good idea to set up a business together. And at first it was great – she’s good at self-promotion and got us loads of clients to begin with, plus she is really good at garden design. But out of the blue she decided she had to go travelling to find herself, just before Ellie was born, and left me to pick up the pieces.’

‘Bummer,’ said Amy. ‘What a pain.’

‘She can be,’ said Saffron. ‘I think her main problem is that her parents are loaded, so she’s really spoilt and has never had to take responsibility for anything in her entire life. Plus she has a rather irritating tendency to flutter her eyelashes and get men to do her dirty work for her – she was always getting the blokes on the allotment to do her digging and stuff. She’s a terrible flirt. She even tried it on with Pete once, when I was pregnant with Ellie. I was furious, I can tell you. But Pete just laughed it off, and said it was just the way she was.’

‘Ouch,’ said Amy.

‘Ouch indeed,’ said Saffron. ‘Anyway, enough of her. Why did you want to know about my gardening business?’

‘Well, I was just wondering if you had any openings? I’m itching to get my green fingers dirty.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Absolutely,’ said Amy. ‘I’ve arranged with the school to do some supply teaching, but I need another income, and the idea was always to try and make money from gardening.’

‘I could really, really use the help,’ said Saffron. ‘I’m drowning on my own. Though I warn you, the finances are a bit dicey at the moment, so I can’t pay much.’

‘That’s okay,’ said Amy. ‘I’ve got a bit of a cushion to tide me over for the next few months.’

‘Great,’ said Saffron. ‘That’s such a weight off my mind.’

‘Then it’s a deal,’ said Amy, grinning. ‘When do I start?’


CHAPTER FIVE (#ucbc138ca-5a91-5c68-9048-283e0ab6e0cf)

Amy was cooking lunch for herself and Josh – or, rather, for Josh. She had a terrible habit of finishing up his leftovers, and eating on the run. She couldn’t remember the last time she had made a proper meal for herself. She really ought to bring herself in hand. The radio was on, and it being Saturday she was listening to Jonathan Ross, who always made her laugh. And today he was making her laugh more than ever. For the first time in months she was feeling positive and cheerful about the future.

After Saffron had discovered her interest in gardening, she had insisted on dragging Amy back home and showing her the latest plans for Green Fingers. Saffron had nearly cleared the backlog left by Caroline, but she still had clients who were urgently demanding their gardens be tidied up for the autumn, as well as several who were after table decorations for Christmas.

‘Mind you,’ Saffron admitted ruefully, ‘I am in something of a fix. Because although I have too much work at the moment, once I’ve caught up, I don’t have any new clients. I’ve lost a lot over the summer, and, to be honest, with the baby and everything I’ve been too exhausted to think about marketing.’

‘Have you got a website?’ Amy said.

‘God no,’ Saffron replied. ‘I’m way too computer illiterate for that.’

‘Actually, it’s quite easy,’ Amy told her. ‘It’s simply a question of buying a domain name and a package from a company that’s into website-building.’

‘Oh right,’ said Saffron, surprised. ‘How do you know all this stuff?’

‘You’d be amazed what you pick up teaching IT to seven-year-olds,’ Amy replied vaguely. It was actually Jamie who had taught her about computing, and when he and Giles had set up in business together she’d ended up getting involved in creating their website. Neither of them had been much good with design, but Amy loved playing about with typefaces and graphics and she had been happy to help.

‘Sounds great,’ said Saffron. ‘Got any other good ideas? Caroline was always great at that kind of stuff. I haven’t got a clue.’

‘Well, I could design you a leaflet if you like,’ said Amy. ‘And then you could do a drop with the local paper. Or leave them in shops – the local hairdressers would be a good place to start. You could offer a ten per cent discount on your first job or something. How does that sound?’

‘It sounds fantastic,’ said Saffron eagerly. ‘You are sent from heaven to solve all my problems. I would never have thought of that on my own.’

‘Aaah,’ said Amy. ‘I have been wanting to set up my own business for ages, so I’ve done a lot of planning over the years. And I’ve got a couple of weeks till my supply teaching starts, so I’ve got time at the moment.’

Before she knew it, Amy was also agreeing to go and price a job with Saffron the following Tuesday, once the kids were at school. It was just what she needed to move her life forward. She couldn’t wait to get started.

So, a little later, humming to the tune playing on the radio, she was cheerfully busying herself in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Puzzled, she went to answer it. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and although Harry had taken to popping in from time to time to borrow some milk or play a game with Josh, she knew he had gone out to see friends today. She had been enjoying his avuncular concern. He was an easy person to be around, and it did Josh good to have a grandfatherly figure about. They often spent time with Harry at the weekends, taking the odd walk, going for pub lunches. Despite her differences with Mary, Amy recognised she had lost a useful support system, and Harry was doing a good job of plugging the gap.

She opened the door, and nearly passed out.

‘Mary! What a surprise!’ She hoped the shock in her face wasn’t too obvious. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Mary, but it would have been nice to have had some prior warning.

‘Well, I was coming to visit my sister in Romford,’ said Mary, in rather stiff tones, ‘so I thought I’d pop in to see how you were both doing. I hope you don’t mind.’ Romford to Nevermorewell was a good hour and a half. Something told Amy this wasn’t a spontaneous visit.

‘Mind? Of course I don’t mind,’ lied Amy, hoping the house wasn’t too untidy. ‘It’s lovely to see you. Josh, look who’s here!’

Josh, who had been playing with his train set in the front room, came diving out when he heard Mary’s voice.

‘Granneeee!’ he shrieked in delight, and flung himself at her.

Amy was relieved to see the pleasure in Mary’s face when she hugged her grandson. After all, it wasn’t really Amy she had come to see. And whether or not Amy cared to admit it, by moving away from Mary, she had taken away from her mother-in-law all that was left of Jamie. Josh, too, seemed ecstatic to see his grandmother. Amy had been fretting that he had seemed very quiet since the move. Now, seeing him so natural with Mary, she realised he hadn’t been his normal self. The old guilt welled up inside her, threatening to engulf the good feelings and bring her right back to square one. Mary’s next comment didn’t help much either.

‘Oh, I have missed you both!’ she said. ‘The house seems so quiet without you. No chance that you’ll change your mind, I suppose?’

‘We’ve only just got here,’ said Amy, trying to laugh it off and ignore the feelings of resentment the remark engendered.

‘Granny could come and live here,’ suggested Josh.

‘I don’t think that’s going to be possible, Josh,’ said Mary. She glanced at Amy, as if to say, is it?

Amy tried to ignore that comment too. The last thing she wanted right now was to have Mary round the corner again, even if she wanted to move out this way. And as they sat politely sipping their tea, Amy was suddenly struck by the gulf that had grown between them. It had only been a few weeks, but already she and Mary were strangers in this new environment; and yet, after Jamie’s death they had seemed so close. Irritated as she was by Mary, Amy couldn’t bear to lose that, and for Josh’s sake it wasn’t fair. So she asked suitable questions about Mary’s life and filled her in on their own doings. And then Josh mentioned Ben.

‘And who’s Ben?’ asked Mary. ‘One of your little play-mates?’

‘Oh no,’ said Josh in disgusted tones. ‘Ben’s well old. As old as Mummy.’

‘And?’ Mary looked askance at Amy.

‘And what?’ said Amy. ‘Ben’s someone I met on the allotments.’

‘Yes, and Mummy borrowed his clothes and he lent me his Spiderman DVD when we were at his house. He’s really cool.’

‘I see,’ said Mary testily.

No, you don’t, Amy wanted to reply, but restrained herself.

‘Yes, it was a bit embarrassing really,’ said Amy, wondering why she felt the need to justify herself. ‘I had a problem with the plumbing and then I got a bit mucky on the allotments so he lent me some clothes. I barely know him.’ She was aware she was gabbling. She was further aware that the more she gabbled, the more sceptically Mary looked at her.

‘Well, I suppose it was inevitable that you would find a new man one day,’ said Mary, ‘but I have to say I’m surprised that you’re rushing things.’

Amy blushed, immediately furious with herself for doing so. She had nothing to be embarrassed about or apologise for.

‘Mary, I don’t have a new man,’ she said. ‘He’s just someone who helped me out.’

‘If you say so,’ said Mary.

‘No, really,’ said Amy. ‘There is absolutely nothing going on between us, and even if there were, I don’t really see that it’s any of your business.’

The words were out before she could stop them, and she cursed herself when she saw the look on Mary’s face. It was as though Amy had punched her in the stomach.

‘Mary, I didn’t mean – that came out wrong,’ Amy began.

‘Your meaning was perfectly clear,’ said Mary. ‘It’s all right, I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.’

‘Mary!’ cried Amy, but Mary didn’t reply. Giving Josh a brief hug, she picked up her things, then was out of the door and gone.

‘Why didn’t Granny stay?’ Josh wanted to know.

‘She was in a bit of a hurry,’ said Amy miserably. ‘She’ll come back another day.’ She desperately hoped that was true.

‘I want Granny! I want Granny!’ Josh started to wail.

‘Oh sweetheart, we’ll see her soon.’ Amy tried to cuddle Josh, but he kicked her and ran off screaming, ‘I hate you! I hate it here! I want Granny!’

‘Josh!’ Amy was shocked. He’d never behaved like this before.

There was a twenty-minute standoff, during which Josh screamed and flung himself on the floor, before eventually retreating to hide under the table in the lounge. Amy managed to wheedle him out with the promise of chocolate – a bribe she knew she would later regret – and when he’d finally calmed down, she said, ‘Come on, let’s go on the allotments, the fresh air will do us both good.’

The tantrum now over, Josh seemed happy enough to come out with her, but if Amy had hoped for some kind of redemption from the allotments, it wasn’t forth-coming. Mary’s visit had left her feeling unsettled and miserable. It was a grey, dull day, and the smell of burning fires made her feel melancholy. The sound of leaves crunching underfoot reminded Amy that winter was on its way. Winter, and another Christmas to face without Jamie.

Several people she knew by sight nodded at her, but no one stopped for a chat. The strange man she’d seen on her first day here sidled up to her as she passed his allotment. ‘It’s a war zone out there,’ he said, his soft Suffolk burr making a surreal contrast with the writhing bucket he thrust under her nose. It contained a wriggling mass of slugs. Amy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

‘Bastard slugs get everywhere,’ he added, ‘but they’re no match for old Jeremy.’ He cackled in an alarming way before setting the bucket on the ground and pouring a brown liquid into it.

‘Beer,’ he said by way of explanation, cracking his fingers. ‘Gets bastard slugs every time.’

‘Right,’ said Amy. ‘Well, I’d best get on.’

The encounter unsettled her, and despite Josh’s presence she felt desperately alone. She threw herself into her digging as a way of venting her emotion, but it was no good – seeing Mary again had pulled her back to the life she had left behind. Pictures of Jamie, which she had started to hold at bay here, in her new home, came flooding back.






Amy was on a boat. The sun was shining, and a band was playing on the quayside as the boat pulled out tosea. She could see Jamie up ahead with Josh in his arms, striding towards the outside decks. Why wasn’t she with them? It didn’t make sense. She was glad that Jamie was there. She had a strange feeling, as if something bad had happened to him. But of course it hadn’t. There he was ahead of her. She called his name. But Jamie didn’t turnround.

She hurried to follow them, calling Jamie’s name again. Why couldn’t he hear her? But when she got outside, he and Josh had vanished. Frantically she asked her fellow passengers if they had seen a man carrying a boy, but everyone looked at her blankly and passed on their way.

A feeling of panic was rising inside her. Something was terribly wrong, but by now the boat was docking at a harbour, and Amy was standing on dry land again. The sun burned hot in the sky, and the band was playingan old music-hall tune, louder and louder, faster andfaster. People were swirling past her, laughing and joking, having a wonderful time completely oblivious to her.

Up on the boat, she noticed flags waving, and people cheering. Where were Jamie and Josh? Then she spotted them high up on the top deck of the boat. Jamie had his back to her and was bouncing Josh in the air. She called to him again. But he didn’t turn around. Why wouldn’t he turn around?

Up and down. Up and down. Jamie kept throwing Josh, higher and higher. He didn’t hear her shout of warning, and suddenly Josh was falling, falling out of his father’s hands over the side of the boat. Amy screamed and called for help. And finally, Jamie turned to look at her. It wasn’t Jamie at all, but a hideous grinning corpse. Amy screamed and screamed, but no sound came out …






Amy sat bolt upright in bed, sweating profusely. Her heart was beating wildly and her breathing was erratic. She turned the light on and looked at the alarm clock. It was 2 a.m. Beside her in the bed, Josh muttered and moaned. Damn. When had he come in? Amy would have taken him back to bed, but the dream had unsettled her. She felt like company tonight. And the sight of Josh lying safe next to her did a lot to dispel the awful dream picture of him falling, falling, falling. Amy shivered. The thought of losing Josh as well was too much to bear. She couldn’t face trying to sleep again, so she got out a book and read until she could read no more, and the book slid out of her hands.

The morning dawned grey and miserable. Amy felt tired and listless, and Josh, seeming to pick up on her mood, was crabby and badly behaved. She let him watch Spiderman again while she cooked lunch, and then decided they both needed to get out of the house. In her wanderings the previous week, Amy had discovered a little park just before you hit the high street. And as Josh had gone into Spidey overdrive, attacking her at every opportunity, she also decided that it was time she gave Ben his DVD back. If they cut up through the graveyard, Ben’s house was on the way back. So, putting the DVD in her pocket and making a resolute decision to try to be cheerful, Amy and Josh set off.

Ben had just come in from the allotments and was in the shower, when the doorbell rang.

Damn, who could that be? he wondered. He wasn’t really in the mood for visitors. Caroline had just emailed to invite him to spend Christmas skiing with her in Colorado. Dave behind the Bar will B there 2! she had said. It will b great! He was sorely tempted by the skiing. But the idea of being used in one of Caroline’s silly games really didn’t appeal. He was probably on call anyway.

The doorbell rang again. It was most likely Harry, who was about the only person besides Pete who ever came to see him. Ben hadn’t lived in Nevermorewell long, and his job meant he was always slightly wary about making new friends too close to home. Harry tended to pop over sometimes on Sunday evenings, often to ask him to come for a pint. Ben knew Harry was lonely, and found his war stories fascinating, so he never said no. Besides, Ben rarely went to the pub with his own dad, and going out with Harry fulfilled some deep need.

Despite his inclination to leave whoever it was out there, Ben felt he’d better answer it. He shouted, ‘Hang on a sec’, flung a towel around his waist and raced down the stairs to the door.

‘What can I do for you today, Harry?’ he was halfway through saying, when he realised it wasn’t Harry.

There on the doorstep stood a very disconcerted Amy and Josh.

‘Er – we’ll come back another time,’ said Amy, blushing. Up close and personal it was a sudden shock to discover that Ben was, well … sexy. She hadn’t noticed before quite how firm his chest was, or how strong his arms … It must be all that digging.

‘No, it’s fine,’ said Ben, thinking how pretty she looked when she blushed. ‘I’ll – just throw some clothes on. Why don’t you make yourself at home? I’ll bung the kettle on.’

‘Well, if you’re sure …’ Amy sounded doubtful. ‘I was just bringing the DVD back. We can come back another time.’ She seemed destined to always meet this man in the most awkward of circumstances.

‘Why, have you got any better offers?’ he said.

Amy laughed. ‘Hardly,’ she replied. ‘Go on then, where do you keep your teabags?’

While Amy hunted for mugs, Josh was getting bored.

‘Can I go in the garden?’ he asked.

‘Yes, so long as you don’t get into mischief,’ said Amy, ‘and remember, it’s not our lawn so don’t scuff it up.’

Two minutes later, Ben appeared just as Amy was taking two cups of tea into the lounge. Casually dressed in blue shirt and jeans, with his hair still slightly damp from the shower, Amy was totally unprepared for the effect he had on her. Maybe it was the thought of having seen that body so recently unclothed, but Amy was coming out in a cold sweat. She must have been blind not to have noticed how gorgeous he was.

His dark hair was slightly mussed up, and his brown eyes were lively and curious, while his mouth – which seemed to be shaping words that for some reason Amy wasn’t hearing – his mouth was eminently kissable. Her heart beat a little faster and she felt faintly sick. She hadn’t felt like this – well, since she’d met Jamie. Jamie’s face shot into her head. And she felt a sudden lurch of guilt.

They reached the doorway of the lounge at the same time, and Ben stood aside to let her pass. The guilty tension she felt was churned up with a desire she couldn’t repress. She felt dizzy. Then the words he was forming seemed to make sense.

‘Ladies first,’ he said, his smile illuminating his face.

Squeezing past him, a sudden vision hit her of being held by those arms, kissed by that mouth, pressed close to that chest. What was going on?

Understanding for perhaps the first time in her life what was meant by going weak at the knees, Amy mumbled something about tea being ready, before collapsing thankfully on the sofa.

Ben perched on a chair opposite her. There was a long silence, neither of them knowing quite what to say.

‘So, did you enjoy the film?’

‘Have you been on the allotments?’

They spoke simultaneously, and then laughed.

‘You first,’ said Ben.

‘No, you,’ said Amy.

‘After you,’ said Ben. ‘I insist.’

‘I was just making small talk,’ said Amy, feeling faintly silly. ‘But yes, we did. Well, Josh did.’

‘Me too,’ said Ben. ‘But as it happens, I have been on the allotments.’

They sat for a moment, saying nothing and sipping their tea. After a few moments the silence between them grew in magnitude. Amy felt paralysed by the strangeness of her new feelings, and totally unable to say another word. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t a teenager any more. And she had no interest in Ben. None at all.

‘So what do we talk about when we run out of small talk?’ asked Ben eventually.

‘Ooh, I don’t know,’ said Amy. ‘The weather?’

‘Whatever turns you on,’ said Ben, laughing. Then thought, damn, that was a crass thing to say.

Luckily, Amy didn’t seem offended.

‘We-e-ell, I can’t say that the weather is a topic that really gets me going,’ she said, ‘but now you’ve made me curious. What does interest you?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, all sorts,’ said Ben. ‘Formula One.’ Amy pulled a face. ‘Okay, we won’t talk about cars. I’m interested in health issues, which we won’t discuss because that’s work. I like politics, but if we think differently we might fall out. Books are usually a safe bet. Oh, and I’m also keen on local history –’

‘Ah, now there you have found a subject close to my heart,’ said Amy. ‘I find local history fascinating. I had to research a lot about Barnet for school trips with Year5. It was really interesting. The kids always laughed when I told them the origin of the phrase “a barnet” for a haircut.’

‘Which is?’

‘Cockney rhyming slang – Barnet Fair, hair,’ said Amy.

‘Right,’ said Ben, laughing. ‘If you’re interested, I’ve got lots of books on Nevermorewell. They reckon there was a hamlet here as far back as Anglo-Saxon times, but the town didn’t really get going till Norman times. They built on a river for obvious reasons, but in olden days it was reckoned to be a healthy sort of place to live. “You’re Never More Well than when you’re in Nevermorewell”, is the saying around here.’

‘Saffron mentioned that,’ said Amy. ‘I’ll have to come back and borrow a few books sometime.’

They smiled at one another, pleased to have found some common ground. Amy glanced at her watch.

‘Sheesh! Is that the time? I’d better get going,’ she said. ‘I need to sort Josh’s tea out.’

‘You could both eat here if you like? I can rustle up a mean stir-fry.’

‘No, thanks, it’s very kind of you,’ Amy said, sorely tempted at the prospect of company as well as someone cooking for her, ‘but he’s got school tomorrow and needs an early night. I really ought to drag him in from the garden.’

They both got up and had another moment’s awkwardness while they nearly fell over each other trying to negotiate round Ben’s tiny table.

Amy’s confusion made her slightly jumpy. Once outside, when they couldn’t find Josh, she started to panic, until Ben laughed and said, ‘I see you’ve found my prized possession.’

At the bottom of Ben’s garden in the far corner was a small garage. With a gleaming black and silver motorbike in it. Amy hadn’t thought about the bike since their first meeting. And there was Josh, sitting triumphantly on the seat, his legs dangling down at the sides. Amy took a deep breath. She should be over this paranoia about motorbikes. Really she should. But she wasn’t. What was it with men and motorbikes? It was Jamie’s obsession with his that had led to his death.

‘Look Mummy, isn’t it cool?’ Josh said. ‘Brmmm, brmm.’

It felt as though he and Ben were laughing at her. Amy screamed, ‘Get off there at once!’

‘It’s all right,’ said Ben. ‘He’s only playing. He won’t come to any harm.’

‘No it is not all right,’ said Amy. ‘Motorbikes are lethal machines used by stupid blokes whose dicks are too small. It is so not all right for my son to play on one. Come on, Josh, we’re going home.’

She grabbed Josh and tore past Ben, hoping he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes, slamming the garden gate shut.

Ben stood watching her go, his mouth wide open. ‘Now what have I done?’ he said.


CHAPTER SIX (#ucbc138ca-5a91-5c68-9048-283e0ab6e0cf)

Saffron peeked left and right, making sure there was no one to watch her, before diving into Nevermorewell’s answer to Ann Summers: a discreet ‘lingerie’ shop that sold sex toys to make your mother blush. She had the pram with her. Oh lord, how dumb was that? Did other women take their babies out to buy sexy underwear? Was it some kind of bad parenting to take your newborn into an atmosphere rife with passion; a place that boasted Licked Up Love Juice and Pump Up Your Volume Potion? What if someone had seen her? She hadn’t even looked at anything yet and already paroxysms of embarrassment were screwing her up. Two cheerful French girls were chattering away, fingering lacy garments Saffron could barely look at, let alone touch, and she envied their insouciance.

‘Can I help you?’ Saffron nearly jumped out of her skin.

The slim, twenty-something shop assistant appeared friendly enough, but to Saffron it seemed that there was a sneer in her smile: a sneer that seemed to say, What on earth is some fat middle-aged frump like you doing in a place like this? Who do you think you’re kidding?

Who indeed? Saffron already knew this was a big mistake. But, happening to have heard a slot on the Jeremy Vine show about spicing up your sex life, she’d discovered that all she really needed to get her libido going again was to buy some sexy underwear. ‘You willfeel sexy, he will feel sexy, and before you know it you’ll be falling all over each other,’ the cheery doctor chatting to Jeremy had promised, and heaven knows there’d been precious little of that in the Cairns household of late. So Saffron had decided that sexy underwear was a must.

After a first nervous flit into the lingerie department in M&S, where she had spotted three mums from school, Saffron had lost her nerve and nearly called it a day. But the lingerie shop was on her way home, and even the sexy underwear in M&S seemed somewhat on the chaste side. Instinctively, Saffron felt chaste wasn’t what she was after.

Which was how she’d found herself feeling like a total prat in front of a sneering girl nearly young enough to be her daughter, whose waistline was invisible, although her thong was not, and who oozed sexuality from every pore. Being the age she was, she probably took it for granted. You just wait, Saffron wanted to say, one day you too will turn to blubber.

‘Well?’ The girl was not just sneering, but impatient. Jeez, didn’t they send them on customer-care courses – Remember, ninety-five per cent of your customers are going to be embarrassed, so do try to put them at their ease (the other five per cent will be so uninhibited you will be hiding under the table).

‘Erm – well, er, canitrythatonplease?’ Saffron pointed to a busty black basque, complete with lacy bits and suspender belt. She hadn’t worn anything like it in years.

‘What size are you?’ The girl, who was all of a size eight, looked Saffron up and down in the certain knowledge that she must be at least an eighteen.

‘Er – fourteen, I think,’ said Saffron. Once upon a time she would have said ten, and after Becky and Matt she had trimmed back down to size twelve. At the moment she was nearer sixteen, but she was damned if she was going to admit that to this jumped-up ten-year-old.

‘Here you are.’ The girl handed over the basque. ‘Do you want anything else?’

‘No, that will be all,’ said Saffron, practically pulling the offending item out of the woman’s grasp. She pushed the pram to the changing rooms, and squeezed into a cubicle. She undressed, wincing a little at the sight of her naked body. Why were changing-room mirrors always so unflattering? She blobbed and sagged in places she didn’t know she had.

She placed the basque over her head, and immediately got entangled in bits of lace and ribbon. She tried to pull it off and realised to her horror it was stuck. She pulled it this way and that, just making out a vision of herself in the mirror, a big fat blob with a bright red face incarcerated in a mesh of black lace. Tugging just that bit harder, she heard a ping, and a button popped off, but it was enough to give her the leeway she needed. She pulled the basque over her head, and panting in disgust she looked at it more closely. On a second glance, she realised she could actually undo the basque at the front, so she duly popped it round her, and tried to do it up again. It was tight going round her tummy, but by the time she had got to her boobs she could barely breathe. It looked like every blobby bit of her was straining to jump out of the bloody thing. Sexy it was not.

‘Are you all right in there?’ the ten-year-old called. ‘I can get you a size sixteen if you want.’

‘Over my dead body,’ muttered Saffron, before calling, ‘Fine, thanks.’

Size sixteen? Size sixteen? She was buggered if she was going to buy size sixteen. What did it matter what she looked like anyway? Pete was only going to take the wretched thing off. Well, with any luck he was – that was unless he’d died laughing first. With the last remaining shreds of her dignity just about intact, Saffron swept out of the changing room, saying, ‘I’ll take it’, and in a totally unwarranted spirit of bravado she grabbed two pairs of silk stockings, some Licked Up Love Juice and a bottle of Pump Up Your Volume Potion, while staring the ten-year-old out. The ten-year-old, sensing the change in temperature, sensibly demurred, and if she had been going to point out the missing button, she was quickly stilled by Saffron’s icy look. Saffron grabbed the bag, and shoved it under the pram, before walking out of the shop with her head high. It was only when she rounded the corner that she glanced at the receipt. Christ, she’d spent a fortune. She just hoped Pete would think it was worth it.






‘So, you’ve no idea what caused Amy to run off?’ Harry and Ben were sitting in Harry’s shed on the allotments sharing a cup of tea, staring out onto the plots, which were bathed in the cold bright light of a low winter sun. Ben had had a late surgery that morning and had sought Harry out.

‘None whatsoever,’ said Ben. ‘One minute we were getting on like a house on fire, the next she’d run off. She seemed to be upset about Josh going on my motorbike.’

‘There must be some reason,’ said Harry. ‘Amy doesn’t strike me as the hysterical type. But she has been through a lot. Maybe there are things we don’t know.’

‘You might be right,’ Ben conceded. ‘She tore my head off the first time we met because I nearly ran Josh over on the bike.’

‘Amy’s very vulnerable,’ said Harry. ‘She could do with the support of a fine young man.’

‘Harry, if I didn’t know you better, I’d suspect you of matchmaking,’ said Ben.

‘Now would I do a thing like that?’ replied Harry, his eyes twinkling. ‘Mind you, now you come to mention it, you’re a good-looking young chap. She’s a beautiful young woman …’

‘A beautiful young woman who is also still grieving,’ said Ben. ‘I doubt very much she’s even thought of me like that.’

‘There’s always time,’ Harry reassured him.

‘As I haven’t heard from her since Sunday, I think it’s unlikely she’ll be speaking to me again in a hurry,’ said Ben.

‘Hmm, that is a pity,’ said Harry. ‘Joking aside, I do think Amy needs help. Maybe you should make the first move?’

Ben, who had been thinking exactly the same thing, but who had been too anxious about Amy’s reaction if he had called round, shook his head.

‘Harry, you’re incorrigible,’ he said. ‘You’re probably right. I’ve got to go and walk Meg before work, but I’ll try and catch her later.’

‘Good man,’ Harry replied. ‘Ah, Bill, have you got some elderberries for me?’

One of Harry’s winemaking buddies was poking his nose round the door, so Ben made his excuses and left. Harry was right. Amy was vulnerable. Something had set her off like that. It wouldn’t do any harm to discover what.






Amy sat on the bench in the graveyard overlooking town. It was a peaceful spot, high on the only hill in the area, and from her vantage point she could see the River Bourne gleaming brightly in the bright winter sunlight. The graveyard itself was ramshackle and meandering, with old paths winding their way between moss-stained graves. The bench she was sitting on was under an ancient yew. Amy found it restful here, so different from the sterile modern cemetery where Jamie’s urn was interred in a wall, with just a simple plaque to remember him by. She wished she’d stood firm against Mary and buried Jamie somewhere like this, but like so many things she and Jamie had never discussed their preferred method of interment and Mary had insisted cremation was more practical and what Jamie would have wanted. At the time, Amy hadn’t thought it mattered.

Amy had been sitting here for an hour already, but she seemed unable to move from the spot. She’d had a fairly useless start to the day. Josh’s teacher had called her in to tell her that Josh didn’t appear to be settling very well, and, worse still, seemed to be hitting a lot of the smaller children. Amy was shocked and upset. Josh had never behaved like that at nursery. The move must have unsettled him more than she had thought. Promising to have a word with him, Amy had gone home to start work on Saffron’s leaflet, only to discover her printer had run out of ink. So now she was ostensibly on the way into town to get some more, but the need to sit still and think had become overwhelming.

So she had sat down and stared at Nevermorewell below her, wondering again if she had made the right decision to come here. Josh was unsettled. She was unsettled. Her reaction to Josh sitting on Ben’s bike now seemed over-the-top and hysterical. Was she losing it completely? Meeting the first person she had even liked since Jamie’s death had set her out of kilter somehow. Ben was a magnetic presence, and despite her embarrassment at the thought of seeing him again, she knew that she did want to see him again. And that inevitably created a conflict. Could she allow herself to be attracted to Ben? She’d never thought there would be anyone but Jamie. And now suddenly there was. And Jamie wasn’t here …






Ben was walking Meg through the graveyard, as he normally did, when he stopped short. Sitting with her back to him, on the bench, below the tall yew tree that dwarfed the graveyard, was Amy. Ben paused. She might not want to see him. He should turn round and go before she noticed he was there. Then she turned to look at him, and the look pierced him so completely that it no longer mattered whether she wanted to see him. He wanted to make things right between them more badly than he had wanted anything in a long time.

‘Sorry, I’m disturbing you,’ he said.

‘It’s okay,’ Amy replied. ‘I was just thinking I owed you an apology.’

‘What for?’

‘The other day,’ said Amy. ‘I’m really sorry I overreacted.’

‘I suppose you did a little,’ said Ben.

‘A little is very kind,’ said Amy. ‘But I think I owe you an explanation.’

‘Explain away,’ said Ben, hovering awkwardly, before Amy motioned for him to sit down.

‘I never told you how Jamie died, did I?’ Amy said.

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘Jamie was always keen on bikes, you see,’ said Amy, dreamily remembering her first meeting with him, when he’d roared up to the pub she was sitting outside, astride a Suzuki, a vision of unrepentant bad-boy glory. She was pretty much smitten from that moment, and when the bad-boy bit turned out to be an act, it made her like him all the more. ‘He’d always ridden them. The bigger the better. I used to get a buzz out of it when I was younger, but I don’t know, as time went on I got more nervous about the bike, and kept hoping he would grow out of it – especially when Josh came along.’

‘But he didn’t?’ prompted Ben.

‘No, he didn’t,’ said Amy. ‘More’s the pity. If he had, he’d still be here …’ She trailed off. Was it ever going to be easy to tell this story?

‘… Anyway, to cut to the chase. He came off it one day. They said he died instantly, which was something of a comfort. I haven’t gone near a motorbike since. And I certainly won’t let Josh near one.’

‘So when I let him climb on my bike …’ began Ben.

‘… I went off at the deep end,’ finished Amy. ‘Oh God, I feel such a fool. You weren’t to know.’

‘Don’t even think about it for a second,’ said Ben. ‘I was cross because I thought you didn’t trust me with Josh.’

‘Oh God, no,’ said Amy. ‘Of course I do. Despite being the most neurotic mother in the universe, I do recognise it’s good for him to have male role models.’

‘I think you’re more entitled than most to be a neurotic mum,’ said Ben. ‘And you’re not that bad. You should see some of my patients. I’ve got one woman who comes in every week with her baby. So far it’s had asthma, peanut allergies and a haematoma. I keep telling her the baby is fine. And still she comes.’

‘That makes me feels so much better,’ laughed Amy. ‘I didn’t want you thinking I was the madwoman on the allotments.’

‘Far from it,’ Ben assured her. ‘You’ve had a rough time. I don’t want to intrude, but have you ever had counselling or anything? It can help sometimes.’

Amy pulled a face.

‘I did go and see someone for a while, but, well, I don’t know … It helped to talk about Jamie. And you get to the point when you think you’re boring people, so it was nice to offload on a total stranger. But then it seemed a bit pointless, after a while. No amount of talking will ever bring him back.’

She looked so sad as she said this that Ben had to resist an overwhelming urge to take her in his arms. But he knew that resist he must. It was clear Amy was a long way from getting over Jamie.

‘Sorry,’ Amy said. ‘I shouldn’t go on about it so much. Really, it’s fine. And things are much better since I’ve been here.’

‘I don’t think you should be sorry about anything,’ said Ben. ‘Grieving isn’t a finite process. And however hard you bury it, it has a habit of resurfacing. I should know.’

He paused, as if he were about to say something else, and Amy looked at him expectantly.

‘Oh?’ she said.

‘Oh, I’ve seen it happen to many of my patients,’ said Ben. He had been on the verge of confiding in her about Sarah, but thought better of it. Amy had enough troubles of her own. She didn’t need to be burdened with his problems. ‘All the clichés are true, you know: time is a great healer, things do get better. But any time you want to talk, you know where I am.’

‘That’s really kind of you,’ said Amy. ‘You don’t know how much better that makes me feel.’

‘My pleasure,’ said Ben, smiling. ‘I’d best be off now. I’ve got surgery in a minute.’

‘Go on,’ said Amy. ‘We don’t want to keep the good folk of Nevermorewell waiting.’

Ben laughed and, whistling to Meg, who had wandered off and was rooting about in the bushes, he left Amy sitting there. He cast a look back as he made his way out of the graveyard. She seemed so lonely and fragile. He just wished there was a way of making her happy once and for all.






Saffron was fuming. Sodding Gerry had been supposed to have the kids the previous weekend, and he had let them down again. Something to do with his mum, he said, but Saffron suspected it was more to do with her replacement in Gerry’s bed – the third leggy blonde he had been with since leaving Saffron, who was definitely not the childrearing type. The net result was that Becky had sobbed herself to sleep for the previous two nights and Matt had wet the bed again – something he always did at the slightest introduction of emotional stress.

All of which had put paid to Saffron’s best-laid plans in the bedroom department, which hadn’t been helped by her attempt to introduce Pump Up Your Volume Potion. She had managed to spill it all over a towel, and discovering that it stained everything a rather delicate shade of pink, Saffron had ended up chucking it away. She hadn’t dared try the Licked Up Love Juice. Lord alone knew what that would do.

Gerry really was the limit, and he had just rung up to say airily that he couldn’t have them for the next two weekends either because of work commitments, and did she mind explaining. When she had told him he could tell them himself, he had just got cross and said that as usual she was being unreasonable. Unable to cope with his idiotic intransigence any longer, she had simply put the phone down on him. The guy was a total moron. She couldn’t imagine now what she had ever seen in him.

A ring at the door heralded Amy, swiftly followed by Saffron’s mum, Elizabeth (after whom Ellie was named), who had come to babysit. Elizabeth had high Gerry Alert Antennae, and promptly asked what That Man had done now. When Saffron told them both, trying to make it appear funnier than it was, they spent the next ten minutes devising ways of punishing Gerry, mostly involving his genitalia and lots of boiling oil. As a result, when she and Amy finally left the house, Saffron was feeling much better.

‘Sorry about that,’ she said. ‘Gerry always has that effect on me. Does your ex do the same to you?’

With a shock, Amy realised that she hadn’t got round to telling Saffron the true state of affairs in her home. She had kind of been relying on Josh to do it for her. He had a tendency to announce rather matter-of-factly to perfect strangers that his daddy was in heaven with baby Jesus.

‘Oh, I thought Harry or Ben might have told you,’ she said. ‘I don’t have an ex. Jamie – that’s Josh’s dad – died two years ago.’

‘Oh lord, I am so sorry,’ said Saffron, her hand going to her mouth. ‘And there’s me ranting on about my little worries – I’m always putting my foot in it.’

‘Please don’t worry,’ said Amy. ‘I should have told you sooner. It’s just not a very easy thing to say sometimes.’

‘I’m sure it isn’t,’ said Saffron. ‘Bloody hell, Amy. That’s awful. How on earth do you cope? You always seem so incredibly together.’

‘I’m better since I’ve been here,’ said Amy. ‘But there are times when I think I’ll never get over it. I always felt like Jamie was my soul mate. I was only nineteen when we met. He was older – twenty-four. Neither of us had dads – mine left years ago, and his died when he was young – so it brought us together. And apart from my brother, I have no family here, so we became everything to each other. Jamie and Amy – “the rhyming couple” was what my mother-in-law always called us. I thought we’d be together forever …’

Saffron shivered, thinking of how she would feel if something happened to Pete. She couldn’t imagine life without him. It didn’t bear thinking about.

‘Have you ever thought you might meet someone else?’ she asked gently.

Amy shook her head. ‘I really couldn’t imagine it,’ she said simply. ‘I just can’t see how anyone else would match up. Maybe I’ll feel differently one day, but not now.’

‘Oh Amy, that’s so sad!’ said Saffron. ‘I wish I could do something to make it better.’

‘You already have,’ said Amy, taking her arm. ‘You’ve given me a chance of a new start, and been a good friend to me already. It’s all right really, I am so much better than I was even six months ago. Now come on, we have a job to do.’






‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’

Ben and Harry were outside Amy’s house, carrying plastic bags, flowers (Ben) and a bottle of wine (Harry). Ben felt stupidly nervous about this impromptu visit. Harry, on the other hand, had been very insistent, saying that he felt Amy needed company. Ben again had the sneaking suspicion that Harry was trying to manoeuvre him and Amy together, and he had to admit that the idea pleased him.

Amy had just put Josh to bed, and was sitting down with a glass of wine, when she heard the doorbell go.

‘Hi,’ said Ben as she opened the door.

‘Hi,’ said Amy.

‘Here, have these.’ Ben thrust the flowers into her hand. ‘By way of apology for the other day.’

‘Thanks, but really, you shouldn’t have,’ said Amy, a little overwhelmed.

‘We’ve also got a surplus of stuff from our allotments,’ Ben said, holding up his plastic bags. ‘Would you like some marrows? I’ve got a surfeit, and there’re only so many ways you can cook a marrow.’

‘And I thought you might like to try some of my elderberry wine,’ said Harry, peeking out from behind Ben.

‘Be warned, it’s lethal,’ said Ben, laughing.

‘We thought that as you can’t get out much with young Josh, you might like some company,’ said Harry.

‘But this is too much,’ protested Amy.

‘Of course, if you’d rather be on your own …’ Harry said, but the concern in his eyes spoke for itself. Sensing an ambush, and feeling that neither of them would give in without a fight, Amy let them in. She was touched by their thoughtfulness – she was often lonely in the evenings once Josh was in bed, particularly as the nights were starting to draw in. It would be nice to have some adults around for a change.

‘Have either of you eaten?’ Amy asked. ‘I do a great spag bol.’

‘That sounds delicious,’ said Harry. ‘Here, let me open the wine.’

‘I hope you don’t mind the invasion,’ Ben said, following her into the kitchen, ‘but after we talked the other day, Harry and I, well, we both figured you might be lonely sometimes.’

‘Well, you figured right,’ said Amy. ‘Thanks for your concern.’

There was a warm glowing feeling somewhere in the pit of her stomach. She was being looked after and cosseted by these two unlikely friends. It was a long time since she had felt so cared for.

‘And go easy on Harry’s wine, if you don’t want a sore head,’ added Ben, while Amy carried glasses through to the lounge.

‘Nonsense, old boy,’ said Harry, who already seemed half-cut. ‘Nectar of the gods, even though I say it myself.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with the taste,’ said Ben. ‘It’s just the morning after that isn’t so pleasant. And you know you should be careful with your blood pressure the way it is.’

‘Oh, tosh,’ said Harry, waving Ben away. ‘You worry too much. And after all, I only have myself to please. If I overindulge it serves me right.’

The warm glow crept over the whole of Amy. Looking at the pair of them laughing and joking in her lounge was like having a breath of fresh air blowing into her life. She might never learn to love again, but Harry and Ben were both right: she could learn to live again. And a little chink of light had just wormed its way into her cold and barren heart. It was a start.


CHAPTER SEVEN (#ucbc138ca-5a91-5c68-9048-283e0ab6e0cf)

The Mamas & the Papas were crooning from Ben’s car stereo as he headed up the motorway from his parents’ house. The leaves were less brown than non-existent, but Mama Cass had one thing right: the sky was an irredeemably awful muted grey. The colour of which fitted his mood right now – a sort of sad and subdued melancholy that always lingered with him after a visit home.

He hated this annual pilgrimage down to his parents – the purpose of which was ostensibly to celebrate their wedding anniversary, instead of the act of commemoration and remembrance that it really was. It had been so many years that they had played out this godawful charade that Ben could scarcely remember a time when they had actually mentioned Sarah by name. It must have been a long time ago. But not mentioning her now made it worse. His father’s forced jollity as he held his mother’s hand and toasted another happy year of marriage, and his mother’s cheery smile, couldn’t quite hide the pain in their eyes. The pain that he had put there; the pain that he could never talk to them about. They had both tried so hard to eradicate the past, and yet the more they forced it away, the more it seemed to come back to haunt them.

Still, who was he to criticise? Would he have done anything differently in their place? And as his dad had said on many occasions, ‘We still had you two boys, you know. You needed us too.’ But Ben’s brother was older, and now lived up north, busy with his own family. So it was left up to Ben, year after year, to face this increasingly hollow and empty ritual. How he wished he could cut through the flannel and talk to them about what had happened, but to do that would be to really open a can of worms. He still wasn’t sure he would ever be ready for that.

Before he left for good, though, he had to perform one last ritual. His own annual act of remembrance and penance. The church of St Barnabas had been a feature of his childhood, from the days when he and Sarah had spent Sunday mornings scribbling on bits of paper at their mother’s feet. As he walked through the familiar door, went to the front of the church, and sat down in a pew, memories crowded in on him. He had been nearly three, and Sarah a baby, but he could still recall with clarity the moment the vicar poured water on her head, and she had squawked loudly. He remembered too how proud he had been watching David, his senior by five years, marching down the aisle at Harvest Festival, holding the banner for the Scouts, and how he had longed for it to be his turn. But by the time his turn came, the world had changed, the church had become a place of mourning, and his memories were spoilt by the horror of Sarah’s funeral, and the awful pitiful wail of anguish that had come unbidden and uncontrolled from his mother’s lips, and the weird and unsettling sight of his father crying. By the time that Ben had held the banner for the Scouts, such things didn’t seem to matter any more.

Ben stared up at the high altar, a welter of emotions swirling around him. Why did he put himself through this annual torture? The rest of the year he could hold all this at bay quite easily – and he didn’t have to come here, his parents probably never even knew he came. But somehow, he felt he owed it to Sarah – a mark of atonement almost.

He went to light the candle he lit every year, and remade the promise he had first made all those years ago so that Sarah’s death would mean something. He couldn’t save her, but he could and would save others. Ben wasn’t particularly religious, but this simple act of remembrance, while immensely painful, always did him good. And his heart was somewhat lighter when he emerged into the grey wintry day.

When he got back in the car, he realised he had missed the end of the song, and so he replayed it. On second hearing it didn’t seem quite so gloomy – offering more hope than sadness. Caroline had emailed him again to ask if he would come out at Christmas. He thought fleetingly of Amy. It might be nice to see more of her during the holidays, but her reaction to the bike incident had only served to remind him how vulnerable she was. Did he really want to get involved? And what was he to her anyway? Nothing, probably. And what was there here for him at Christmas? His parents always went to David’s and Ben tended to work through. Maybe skiing in Colorado was a good idea. Perhaps he would take Caroline up on her offer after all.






‘Well, that’s the lot then.’ Amy sat back and looked in satisfaction at the winter table displays piled up on Saffron’s kitchen table. Fronds of leaves and bits of green littered the floor, along with the odd discarded red and white chrysanthemum, a couple of bunches of red roses, several poinsettia and copious amounts of ribbon. There were two empty cans of gold paint spray heading for the bin, and one half-full can of silver paint left. It had been a good morning’s work, and Amy was about to set off for the neighbouring town of Upper Langley to hand them out to the rich and pampered good ladies of the parish, who seemed to have oodles of time to visit the local nail bar, but rather less for tedious things like flower displays. Thanks to Amy’s bright idea to put her leaflet into beauty salons as well as hairdressers the phone hadn’t stopped ringing.

‘I don’t think I want to see another pine cone ever again,’ said Saffron with a groan. ‘Remind me, who wants this lot?’

‘It’s for Linda Lovelace.’

Saffron snorted. ‘That’s not her real name, surely?’




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