The Secret of Orchard Cottage: The feel-good number one bestseller. Alex Brown

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      April’s blue Beetle bounced around the corner of the pot-holed country lane, the top of her head very nearly making contact with the little lever that opened the sunroof. She slammed her right foot on the brake, just in time! Gripping the steering wheel, April held her breath as a resplendent gingery-brown feathered hen dawdled across in front of the car followed by a row of fluffy yellow chicks.

      ‘Awww, so sweet,’ April said to herself, before picking up the concertinaed paper map nestled next to Gray’s trug of roses on the passenger seat beside her. Nancy had said it would be a shame for April not to bring the flowers with her, as she was on nights for the rest of the week so would most likely forget to water them and they’d end up dying from dehydration. So April had loaded them into the car along with a lovely bunch of late blooming pastel-pink peonies picked earlier this morning from the back garden, and a tin containing a magnificent cherry madeira cake, with the perfect crack running across the top, for Great Aunt Edie. April had remembered that madeira cake was Edie’s favourite so had baked one last night especially, using a recipe from The Great British Bake Off book that Nancy had kindly surprised her with for her birthday. And everyone loved peonies.

      April unfolded the map, thankful to the man in the petrol station situated just outside Market Briar, the nearest big town. After asking where she was heading, he had reminded her that most of the country lanes in and around Tindledale were simply single-track ‘unnamed’ roads so April really needed to ‘do herself a favour and take a good old-fashioned map’. And he had been right. April had done this journey more than once with Gray, but it all looked so different now. Although Great Aunt Edie’s postcode was on the sat nav, it covered such a vast rural area that April had reached her destination point supposedly fifteen minutes ago so was now reliant on reading the map to make her way down to the valley and right through the middle of fields, or so it seemed. At one point, after taking a wrong turn, the Beetle had to go along little more than a dirt track with enormous black-and-white-splodged cows on either side chewing and staring at April, before arriving at a tiny derelict church in the middle of nowhere, which was a bit eerie if she was honest. April had then had to do at least a ten-point turn, being careful not to topple the crumbling gravestones, before making her way back along the dirt track and on to what constituted a proper road around these parts.

      Once the last of the chicks had safely made it to the other side of the lane, April tentatively continued on her way, turning another corner, but still not entirely sure that she was going in the right direction as there weren’t any signposts to guide her. A few metres later and she was facing a five-bar gate with an empty field behind it. Although on second glance, April saw a very large black bull eyeing her from under a tree in the far corner. Wasting no time, and remembering as a child the very close encounter she and a friend had experienced when a similarly intimidating bull had charged at them whilst they were picking blackberries on the other side of Tindledale, April quickly and quietly reversed back on to the lane. She had seen first hand how a raging bull could trample a wooden gate, given enough ground to gather enough speed. Even now, the sight of a blackberry brought back that moment when she had hurled her Tupperware box into a bush and legged it over a stile to safety – a well-placed farmer had then grabbed her and her friend and hurled them up on to his hay tractor before dealing with the bull.

      After finding a layby, April pulled over, switched off the engine and sat for a while to weigh up her options, wondering if she should head back to the main road and start again in her quest to find Orchard Cottage. It all looked so different somehow, or perhaps it was because she hadn’t really paid attention on any of the previous trips over the years, when her parents had brought her here in the school summer holidays, or Edie had arranged for a taxi to pick her up from the station located down the bottom of the hill, or Gray had driven and she would have been busy chatting and laughing along with him.

      Ahh, April spotted a van in the distance. She’d flag it down and ask for directions. Stepping out of the car, she waved an arm and the green van slowed down until it was stationary in front of her. The diesel engine was still chugging away as the window was rolled down. April glanced at the side and saw ‘Only Shoes and Horses. Matt Carter & Daughter – Farrier’ written in white signage. Nice touch mentioning his daughter. And then she saw the man. With curls the colour of treacle, prominent cheekbones, full lips and the greenest eyes that April had ever seen. Wearing a chocolate-brown leather waistcoat over a checked shirt, he had the look of a Romany gypsy about him, or as if he had just stepped out of a Catherine Cookson saga – all windswept and mysterious, moody, brooding angst. And he was definitely ‘hot for an older guy’ as Nancy would say, while most likely elbowing April in the ribs and nodding her head slowly with a cheeky smile set firmly in place like she used to when they went out shopping together, in the carefree, fun days, before Gray got ill. And on second thoughts, was there something vaguely familiar about this man? April wasn’t sure. Had she seen him somewhere before? Hmmm. Maybe in the village on a previous visit. That’ll be it! He is very striking so it’s entirely possible that our paths have crossed and his face and those green eyes have just stuck in my mind. And he’s not that old, but then Nancy is only twenty-two – anyone over thirty-five is practically ancient as far as she is concerned.

      ‘Um, hello …’ April ventured a few seconds later, after Matt (she assumed) still hadn’t spoken, having busied himself with pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing part of a sleeve tattoo, before taking an enormous swig of water from a plastic bottle which, now empty, he had thrown into the footwell of the passenger seat beside him. ‘Er, sorry to bother you … but, er …’ April was feeling self-conscious; his eyes really were quite mesmerising and they were fixed on her. She hesitated and then managed a somewhat meagre, ‘I’m lost!’

      Still silence.

      Then Matt gave April an up-and-down glance as if mulling over whether to help her or not, although it was difficult to tell for sure what exactly he was thinking as his face hadn’t moved at all except to drink the water. He stared intently, making April feel a little hot as she wondered what was going on. Why wasn’t he saying anything? It was as if he was in some sort of trance. And then, as if someone had found the cord in the back of his body and given it a good yank, Matt started talking.

      ‘Where you heading?’

      ‘Oh, um thanks. I’m trying to find Orchard Cottage, it’s—’

      ‘I know it. Get in your car and follow me. I’m going past the top of the lane.’ And before April could get another word in, if only to say thank you, Matt wound up the window and drove off, but then waited in front of the Beetle while April raced over to it, leapt in and started the engine up as fast as she could. Ten minutes later, Matt stuck his right arm out of the van window and pointed to a gap in the hedgerow before disappearing around a bend further on. April assumed this meant she should turn right … so she did.

      *

      Matt watched her go. Glancing again in his wing mirror as the blue Beetle disappeared out of sight, he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter before pulling into a layby and switching off the engine. He couldn’t believe it. Of course, he had recognised her right away. But she had no idea who he was. And why would she? He looked very different now. Unrecognisable, it seemed. April Lovell. Even her name was lovely. And she really had been so lovely back then. When he had first spotted her, cycling along the stream down near the Blackwood Farm Estate, it had been the school holidays and he had been fishing on the other side of the water with Jack, his brother, СКАЧАТЬ