Julia Williams 3 Book Bundle. Julia Williams

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      ‘I don’t think she does,’ said Joel. ‘It was her ex.’

      Kezzie whistled, ‘What, the one who left her in the labour ward?’

      ‘The very same,’ said Joel, unsure why he felt quite so uneasy about the sudden reappearance of Troy, or why the sight of Lauren’s naked body was making him feel all hot and bothered. From everything Joel had heard about Troy from Lauren, it seemed he could only be bad news, and the thought of him hurting Lauren again made Joel feel strangely uncomfortable.

      ‘Ouch,’ said Kezzie. ‘I hope she’s careful.’

      ‘Me too,’ said Joel, with feeling. ‘I went round to apologize for yesterday. You were right, I was out of order – and there he was in front of me. I could see I wasn’t wanted, so I thought I’d better scarper over here. Hope you don’t mind.’

      ‘No worries,’ said Kezzie. ‘I was just having breakfast. Coffee?’

      ‘That would be nice,’ said Joel.

      He followed her into the small kitchen at the back of the house. It looked out onto a pretty garden with a patio, a small lawn and a greenhouse at the end. Though autumn was turning into winter, the pots were still overflowing with petunias, busy lizzies and pansies.

      ‘The garden looks great,’ he exclaimed, feeling really pleased that he’d got Kezzie involved in restoring Edward’s. ‘Your handiwork, I presume?’

      ‘Well, my aunt had the basics here. I’ve just had a go at making it a bit more homely. I’d take you out there, but these autumn mornings are a bit too chilly for sitting out.’

      Sam was tottering about in the kitchen, and picked up a bottle of beer.

      ‘Oops,’ said Kezzie. ‘My house isn’t very toddler proof, sorry.’

      ‘It doesn’t need to be,’ said Joel, scooping Sam up as his son made a bid for the door and the tantalizing but lethal-looking stairs. ‘Sorry, we’re not going to get much peace and quiet. Sam is a bit too much of a wrigglepot.’

      As if to prove his point, Sam wriggled out of Joel’s arms and headed for the vegetable rack. He proceeded to cause chaos by throwing all Kezzie’s weekly veg on the floor. Joel picked him up and took him away and he started to howl loudly. Joel shrugged his shoulders helplessly. He felt that sometimes with toddlers it was just easier to stay at home.

      ‘I see what you mean,’ said Kezzie. ‘Why don’t we go out for a bit? I’d like to see the Memorial Gardens again. Eileen’s got me involved in their restoration too, and I need to have a look at them again before I get going.’

      ‘That sounds a great idea,’ said Joel, feeling hugely relieved. ‘I’m sorry, Sam can be a one toddler destruction machine in a small space.’

      ‘Don’t worry,’ said Kezzie. ‘I’m not used to being around small children, and I keep forgetting the cottage isn’t really geared up for kids.’

      Joel went to his car to pick up the buggy, and they walked down the hill, chatting away about the garden and the difficulties of dealing with toddlers. It was a cold, clear day, and Heartsease, with its pretty little shops, redbrick buildings and lovely nooks and crannies, spread before them looking so attractive, Joel had a sudden shot of pleasure that he’d chosen to make this his home. When they got to the park, Joel got Sam out of his buggy and he went toddling down the paths, while Kezzie looked around at the scrubby flowers and tried to work out what would be best for the borders.

      ‘Dadda, Dadda,’ Sam was shouting and laughing with his arms outstretched towards Joel, who ran towards him and swung him up into his arms. His son. His gorgeous son. The best present Claire could have given him.

      ‘Has no one tried to do anything about this before?’ Kezzie said to Joel as they surveyed the sad ruin of Edward Handford’s vision. The gardens were small, comprising a gated green enclave at the end of the High Street. From her research, Kezzie had learnt that it had originally been intended for the people of Heartsease for recreational purposes, and was only renamed the Memorial Gardens after the First World War. The presence of paths, laid-out borders and lawn were evidence of a previously well-tended garden. Now it looked abandoned and derelict, the empty plinth in the middle standing in lonely defiance.

      ‘That’s where the war memorial should be,’ said Kezzie. ‘Isn’t it a shame people always feel they have to graffiti things?’

      ‘I would have thought you’d be into graffiti,’ said Joel, ‘isn’t it art?’

      ‘Some of it is,’ said Kezzie, ‘but writing rude things about people you don’t like isn’t. And it seems disrespectful too. My granddad was in the war, so I always wear a poppy for him.’

      ‘I agree with you on that one,’ said Joel. ‘Do you know, I hadn’t even realized there was a war memorial till you mentioned it. I don’t come here that often.’

      ‘Not even to take Sam to the swings?’ said Kezzie.

      Joel shrugged. ‘Have you seen them?’

      Kezzie followed him down the furthest path, that led from behind the plinth towards some overgrown bushes. Behind the bushes there was a tatty play area, with an ancient rusty roundabout, two creaky swings and a slide that looked as though it might topple over if anyone actually tried to use it.

      ‘This is ridiculous,’ said Kezzie. ‘Don’t you guys want somewhere for the kids to come and play?’

      ‘I hadn’t really given it much thought,’ said Joel. ‘Until recently, Sam’s been a bit small to take to the playground, and I’ve got plenty of room at home. I think Lauren comes down here, though.’

      ‘I bet she’d like a clean, safe place for the twins to play,’ said Kezzie. ‘Right. That’s it. I’m going to get on to Eileen about this the minute I get back. It’s time we shook this village up.’

      Good as her word, once Kezzie was home, had said goodbye to Joel and grabbed a bite to eat, she was straight round to Eileen’s.

      ‘You’re absolutely right,’ she said, sweeping in. ‘Oh, you’ve got company.’

      ‘Just my son and family, and you’ve met Tony,’ said Eileen, smiling. ‘You can come and join us if you like.’

      Kezzie felt wrongfooted. Until last night, when she’d seen Eileen out with Tony, Kezzie had pictured Eileen as a sad singleton. Here she was having a much livelier time than Kezzie, who spent Sunday evenings on her own.

      ‘Oh I couldn’t—’

      ‘Of course you could,’ said Eileen. ‘Pull up a chair, grab a glass of wine. This is my new neighbour, Kezzie. Kezzie, meet my son Niall, his wife, Jan, and my two scamps of grandsons: Harry and Freddy.’

      Before long, Kezzie found herself telling them all everything she’d discovered about Edward Handford.

      ‘That’s fascinating,’ said Eileen. ‘I’ve not been able to find out a lot about Edward’s family, though I do know his son died in the war.’

      ‘Maybe that’s why Edward paid for the memorial,’ said Kezzie.

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