The Little Clock House on the Green. Eve Devon

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СКАЧАТЬ because you could erect a stage at one end and still have space for at least twenty rows of seating for the audience.

      Kate’s gaze wandered from the soothing eau de nil paint on the walls, up to the high white painted ceiling with its ornate coving and now-naked ceiling-rose. At one time there’d been a Phantom-of-the-Opera-worthy chandelier hanging from the rose. Kate had seen photographs of it from when the building had belonged to Old Man Isaac’s great-grandfather – a famous clockmaker who’d settled in the village and built this place. If she did get to open this place as a spa she was determined to bring back a little of that opulence for customers to appreciate.

      It was sad Old Man Isaac didn’t have anyone left in his family to pass the building on to, but given the chance, she’d make him proud with what she wanted to turn it into.

      With the memories she’d been so worried about facing starting to fade, Kate walked back through the large open foyer and into the next main room. This room was slightly smaller because of the kitchenette. Kate knew that contained within the Formica cabinets were topsy-turvy towers of teacups with matching saucers and plates in what she was fairly certain Farrow and Ball would name ‘Catering Crockery in Hospital Blue’.

      In the far corner of the room there was a lonely spinner of leaflets, their print faded with time and the sunlight that poured in through the floor-to-ceiling double doors. Soft-play mats in primary colours were stacked in the corner. Evidence that the local nursery still used the room.

      Kate was going to need to work out how to zone the areas so that there was still plenty of space for village functions. Her mind drifted to thoughts of building regulations. What if there was some sort of covenant on the land that meant you couldn’t use the building for a commercial enterprise?

      She thought of Bea’s box files. Ever since Kate had come up with the hare-brained scheme to open a day spa one day, Bea had got fixated on opening it in The Clock House. Not that they ever envisaged having the funds to buy the building. But still. The dreams had had to be corralled somehow and so Bea had collated files of research and made business plan after business plan.

      If Kate was going to do this, she’d need to ask Oscar if he’d kept all of Bea’s files.

       If she did this?

      It hit her then how big a thing this was to do. And who was she, with her zero experience, to have a go?

      The doubt she’d managed to bat away the moment she’d put that pebble in her pocket gathered and swooped, to peck at her.

      What on earth had she been thinking? Had she even been thinking? If she really wanted to resurrect past dreams, she should do it in a place that didn’t know her. Somewhere where if she failed, that failure wouldn’t strike at the heart of those she loved.

      Needing air, she unlocked one of the patio doors and stepped out into the walled garden. She walked towards the intricately carved wrought-iron moon-gate in the wall, overwhelmed with feeling.

      She hadn’t realised how much she yearned for the opportunity to settle and build something. Something that would end all the regret and the running.

      She’d toyed with this future like a cat toys with a mouse too many times to count and now she wasn’t sure she’d ever believe she deserved it.

      How had she managed to convince herself that Old Man Isaac selling and Juliet sending her the postcards were signs from Bea? Now that she was actually here, standing in front of the moon-gate, and faced with the reality of what running a business would entail…

      She should let it go.

      It would find lovely owners. Old Man Isaac would make certain of that, she was sure.

      And maybe whoever owned it next would turn it back into a house.

      A home.

      And on her visits back to Whispers Wood, she’d be able to walk past it without feeling so divided.

      Without feeling.

      With her heart heavy in her chest she opened the moon-gate and walked through, thinking she’d take one last look and then explain to Juliet that she was very sorry, but she wasn’t the right person to take over the place.

      She stopped to take in the scene before her.

      Oh my.

      So ironic that here time had absolutely stood still, she thought, as she looked around.

      It always looked best in spring and summer. The wild meadow on the other side of the moon-gate. Where tall grass vied for space with poppies, cornflowers and buttercups.

      And there, tucked away amongst the large shrubs of buddleia, was what Kate had been unconsciously looking for since opening the main door of the building.

      As she stared at the roofs of the white painted hives, the tears finally spilled from Kate’s brown eyes.

      She’d found Bea’s bees.

       Chapter 7

       Then I Saw Her Face, Now I’m A Belieber!

       Daniel

      Daniel was finishing his cool-down when the lady with the crazy energy from the exercise class approached.

      Impish blue eyes, fire-engine-red lips and dressed from head to toe in a pink so bright it hurt his eyes, she bounced up and greeted him with a ‘Cooee,’ and a hand-wave.

      ‘Morning,’ he replied cautiously.

      ‘I don’t think we’ve seen you around here before, have we, sweetie? I’m guessing it’s you that owns that beautiful car that Ted is working on?’

      Daniel tried to remember that outside London it was perfectly acceptable to talk to complete strangers. ‘That’s right.’

      ‘So, I suppose you’ll be with us until Ted fixes you up?’

      ‘I guess so,’ Daniel agreed, although, truth to tell, he’d enjoyed the last couple of days enough to have thought about staying on. He hadn’t had a holiday in years and the change of pace had reminded him that not everyone in the world was caught up in that ‘concrete jungle where dreams are made of’, mentality.

      When Ted had intimated that Daniel would rather be in a five-star hotel than the local village B&B, he hadn’t been that far off the mark. He’d hot-footed it out of London with his only thought being to get away, but if Monroe hadn’t broken down, it wouldn’t have occurred to Daniel to stop in a village, or even small town. He’d have carried on driving until he’d hit the next major city and paid a lot of money to stay in an impersonal hotel.

      He’d really lucked out at the B&B, though, because in addition to the fabulous breakfasts and scrumptious cream teas, he would swear his host had instantly picked up on his need for anonymity. Other than some quiet and polite greetings, he’d been left to his own devices. Kicking back and mulling things over had been something СКАЧАТЬ