Eleanor glanced up from her phone and realised with a jolt that the taxi was nearly in Cranley village.
She had spent the majority of the long journey refreshing her emails and recruitment websites, all to no avail. There were no job offers. Nothing but lots of text messages from her friends on the magazine, asking if she was going to the new Tom Hanks film premiere in Leicester Square that evening. They all loved sneaking in on the back of her press pass to the best of the parties. She had reluctantly replied that she had been made redundant. Now the messages were full of sympathy for her situation.
Eleanor sighed and automatically reached up to touch the sore spot on her neck. The eczema patch was worse than ever. Sometimes she scratched it without even realising she was doing so.
She forced her hand down away from her neck and looked out of the window instead. Everywhere was bright green with the fresh growth of spring. As June had nearly arrived, there was finally some real warmth in the sun and the days were getting longer. Summer was just around the corner. She recognised the hill they were driving up and quickly looked out of the other window towards the view that she adored. There was always a glimpse of Cranley as you headed over the last rolling hill towards the village. Seeing it through the trees, Eleanor couldn’t help but feel a little proud of her pretty home.
There it was, nestled in a green valley amongst the hills. A tiny English hamlet. In the centre was the ancient church of St Barnabus, its wobbly spire high above anything else in the village. Along the main street was the infants’ school, a couple of shops and The Rose and Crown pub. In the surrounding avenues were rows of cottages of sand-coloured stone, all tiny with chimneys. Most of the houses were built in the same bricks that matched the main property of the estate, Willow Tree Hall, which could just be seen peeping through the trees, surrounded by lush green fields and, out of view, the river. It was all very pretty and completely rural. Lovely, in a Jane Austen adaptation for a television series kind of way. Not so great if you craved catching a convenient Tube into Covent Garden before covering a movie premiere in Leicester Square.
A few minutes later, Eleanor got out of the taxi, pleased to be able to stretch her legs at last after the long journey.
It had been very generous of Lucas to pay for a taxi from London all the way to her home village of Cranley. Maybe it was too generous, she wondered. Perhaps he really had been desperate to get her out of his pristine flat after all this time. But at least it meant she had been able to pack up all her many clothes and possessions and bring them all with her. It would have been a total nightmare on the train and buses, trying to travel with everything.
Her last conversation that morning with Lucas had been to decide that their relationship should be left as ‘open-ended’ until she returned to London. Eleanor had no idea what that actually meant in reality but was relieved just to leave all her troubles behind her for a while until she had the strength to face them.
As the taxi driver dumped her suitcases and bags on the pavement, she checked her phone once more, but there were no new messages apart from the ones from her friends Annie and Megan, who were delighted that she was coming back to Cranley, even temporarily. She couldn’t wait to see them both.
Once alone, she turned to stare up at the tiny detached cottage in front of her. The Forge. She was home. Truly home.
It was the familiarity that touched her deep inside and she was surprised to feel the tears welling up. All she wanted, all she needed right at that moment, was a hug from her mum. Then surely everything would be all right in her world again.
She hadn’t been back since Christmas but almost six months on, nothing had changed except the passing of the seasons. Nothing ever changed at The Forge. The gate still needed fixing. The front door still needed a coat of fresh paint. With a pang, she reminded herself that she should make the effort to do a few more things around the house now that she had the time. Her mum had always struggled with keeping the place tidy on her own and it seemed in more need of repair than ever before.
She lifted and pushed the rotten wooden gate open and dragged the heavy suitcases over the bumpy paving stones towards the faded blue front door. Her arms were aching from the effort and she was grateful again for not having carried them all the way from London. The bags were even heavier, bulging full of make-up and beauty lotions.
She drew out her key and slid it into the lock with the slight wiggle that it had always required in order to work. Using her shoulder to push the stuck door wide open, she called out, ‘Hi, Mum! I’m home!’
She was immediately enveloped in the familiar aroma of home baking and, she grimaced, animals. As if on cue, a tabby cat rushed out of the kitchen at the end of the hallway, closely followed by a black and white spaniel she had never seen before. They were headed straight for her. Eleanor braced herself for impact.
‘Don’t let the dog out!’ shouted her mum from the kitchen.
The cat rushed out of the front door, leaping over her suitcases as it went. Eleanor just managed to close the door before the dog could get out too.
‘Not so fast,’ she told him, leaning against the door. He barked at her in protest and then drooled down her leg.
‘Ewww,’ she said, trying to wipe off the white foam on her designer black jeans.
In addition to the spaniel, a Great Dane sauntered out of the kitchen to stroll up and sit on her feet. ‘Geroff,’ she muttered, pushing the huge beast off her squished toes. Somewhere above the barking and panting there was the sound of some kind of exotic bird.
Ah yes, she thought with a sigh. The animals.
Most wives whose husbands leave them for a woman twenty years their junior either hide themselves in a vat of wine or lose fifty pounds and gain a toy boy. Sadly her mum, June McCartney, had done neither. Instead, June had taken refuge in the animal kingdom and made the ex-marital home a sanctuary for all creatures great and small.
For the last twenty or so years, if you lived near Cranley and found a stray animal, this had always been the place to come. Her grandfather had been a farrier, using the very place where they lived to shoe his horses. Eleanor had always presumed that her mum had inherited his love of animals, as well as The Forge itself.
In addition to the strays, cats and dogs of all sizes would arrive for a short holiday, thanks to her mother’s pet-sitting service. This was presumably where the spaniel and Great Dane came in.
‘Mum, where are you?’ she shouted.
‘In the kitchen, love,’ came the reply.
Eleanor picked her way over the piles of knocked-over books, newspapers, scratched floorboards, dogs and all-round chaos of the tiny hallway. She walked past the small front room and went through to the large kitchen. At one time, it had been the workshop and was therefore a large, airy room with wooden beams and generous windows.
June was sitting at the wooden table in the middle of the room, her foot in plaster and propped up on a stool. Her face was pale and she was obviously in pain.
‘Oh, Mum!’ said Eleanor, rushing over to give her a hug.
‘I’m okay,’ said her mother, holding her tight. ‘Just a stupid accident.’
Eleanor leant back to search her mum’s face. ‘Does it hurt?’
‘A little. They’ve given me some pills to take if it gets too much. Anyway, let me have a look at my beautiful, glamorous daughter.’
Eleanor breathed in her mum’s soft perfume and had to bite back the tears as she could see the pain in her eyes.
They shared the same emerald-coloured eyes. Same dark hair, except her bob was always immaculate and her mother’s hair was always worn too long and wavy. June had never seen the inside of a professional hairdressers when the kitchen scissors could do the job for free. Eleanor’s love of stylish clothes was also in stark contrast to her mother’s throw it on and make-do style.
Her mum had never been a money person. Nor a glamorous one. She had always declared that she didn’t have time to concentrate on herself. All her time and effort had been taken up raising her daughter single-handedly after Eleanor’s philandering father had left them both, to chase after some yet-to-be-discovered actress.
‘What happened?’ asked Eleanor, sitting down at the table.
‘It was on Monday,’ said her mum, shifting in her seat as if trying to get comfortable. ‘I tripped over a tree root in the garden as I was trying to get one of the chickens back in the coop.’
Eleanor automatically glanced out of the window to the messy corner plot beyond. ‘Chickens? You told me it was one of the kittens.’
‘Oh. Did I?’ Her mum looked sheepish.
Eleanor raised her eyebrows. ‘Since when did we have chickens?’
‘Ben found me some that needed a good home.’
Ben was her mother’s best friend. A gentle giant of a man who ran the veterinary clinic a few miles away. They had known each other since childhood and he was an honorary uncle as far as Eleanor was concerned.
‘And the fresh eggs are lovely,’ said her mother quickly. ‘Ever so good for you.’
A soft mewling drew Eleanor’s attention back indoors and she spotted the metal crate holding five kittens who were curled up in tight furry balls asleep. ‘I thought we talked about this at Christmas,’ she said, trying to keep her nagging tone soft. ‘Where did this lot come from?’
‘That awful pet shop,’ said her mum, looking stern. ‘Horrid man. Thankfully I heard he was going bankrupt and bought the lot before he could do his worst. You know what kind of man he was. They would have ended up in the river.’ June shuddered and gave the kittens a soft smile. ‘Aren’t they cute?’
‘Very.’ Eleanor sighed. There was no denying that the kittens were gorgeous but she had been here so many times before with her mother who just didn’t know when to stop. ‘So you’re looking after a couple of dogs and the kittens. Is that it? Apart from the chickens, which we’ll talk about in a minute.’
‘Yes.’ Her mum avoided eye contact with her. ‘Maybe a cockatoo.’
That explained the cawing bird somewhere in the house.
Something moving extremely slowly across the kitchen counter caught Eleanor’s eye. ‘And the tortoise?’ she asked.
‘Oh, he’s no bother,’ her mum said, waving a dismissive hand.
‘I should think not at that speed,’ said Eleanor.
There was a short silence filled only by an unexpected and loud hee-haw from the garden.
Mother and daughter locked green eyes.
‘We might have a donkey now,’ muttered her mum.
‘A donkey!’ Eleanor sprang up and looked out into the garden. Yes, there amongst the messy vegetable patch, the overgrown flower borders and the chicken coop was a shaggy brown donkey standing in the middle of the ruined lawn.
‘Oh Mum!’ Eleanor rolled her eyes in despair. ‘This is too much! We don’t live on a farm. We live in a tiny cottage next to the high street. What are you going to do with a donkey when winter arrives? What kind of shelter will it get and don’t say the garden shed!’
‘Oh Ellie! I couldn’t say no,’ said her mum, with teary eyes. ‘Where else would they go?’
‘They?’
Eleanor spun back around to look outside once more and, sure enough, a white goat had appeared from somewhere else in the garden.
‘Is that it?’ she asked, staring in disbelief for a moment before turning away. ‘No giraffes in the bathroom? Polar bears in the front room?’
‘No. That’s it,’ said her mum, holding up her hand. ‘I know! I know. I thought I’d get on top of them all this week, but then this!’ She gestured at her leg.
Eleanor took a deep breath. She couldn’t be mad with her mother for long, no matter how much she despaired. ‘Well, I’m here to help now,’ she said in a resigned tone. ‘How about I make us a nice cup of tea?’
‘That would be lovely.’
Eleanor rinsed out the mugs twice on account of the dust and other flecks in the china that she didn’t want to think about. She glanced at the tortoise that was making slow progress along the kitchen counter. Lucas had only visited her mother’s house just the once in the whole of their two-year relationship and she had seen the horrified look in his eyes, despite his polite manners. He had refused to come back after that.
‘Are you even allowed to keep a donkey in your back garden?’ she wondered aloud.
‘It’s only temporary and I’m sure Arthur won’t mind.’
Arthur Harris, Earl of Cranley, was the owner of Willow Tree Hall and the estate, which included all the cottages in the village which were rented to local families. The McCartneys had rented The Forge from the Cranley estate since before Eleanor was born.
‘How are you going to cope at work with your foot?’ she asked, as the tea stewed in the pot.
Her mum shrugged. ‘I’ll survive. Mr Pennyworth says I can sit down at the till. And he’s given me until next week to get used to the crutches.’
Her mother worked at the local farm shop. Yet another worrying source of additional animals to add to their home.
‘And that nice Sam, you know Annie’s fiancé, has said that I’m not to fret about the rent.’
Sam Harris was Arthur’s grandson, heir to the earldom and now living at Willow Tree Hall. With Sam helping out his grandfather Arthur, Lord Cranley, Eleanor realised that her mum would now be one of Annie’s tenants in the future when she became the countess. The thought of Annie as a future countess made her smile.
After pouring out the tea and giving her mum a cup, Eleanor brought in her suitcases and bags from the front door and dumped them in the hall.
Her mum craned her neck around the corner. ‘What have you got all that with you for?’
Eleanor deliberately made her voice casual. ‘I thought I might sort out a few things whilst I’m here. I’ve got far too much stuff these days.’
‘You won’t have time for that by the time you’ve caught up with Annie and Megan. And then they’ll be desperate for you back at your job in a few days.’
Eleanor gulped and braced herself. Once her mum had recovered from the devastation caused by her husband walking out, she had channelled all her hopes and dreams onto her daughter. Sacrificing everything for Eleanor, June had encouraged her to go to university and then to follow her dream career in journalism. ‘You’re so talented,’ she repeatedly told Eleanor. ‘You mustn’t let it go to waste.’
But despite the two of them being so close, Eleanor had never revealed the truth about her job. She had lied and told her mum that she worked for the financial magazine. She never wanted to tell the truth about which particular magazine she worked for. Used to work for, she reminded herself. She hadn’t wanted to embarrass her mum with her gossip and mindless stories, she had told herself at the beginning. Especially when they had been the subject of all that gossip a very long time ago. Some wounds would never heal.
She opened her mouth to finally tell the truth. But then she saw her mum wince in pain as she flexed her foot and Eleanor quickly decided that there was already had too much to cope with. She would tell her at a later date.
Instead she found herself saying, ‘Look, as it happens, I’m actually owed some holiday. How about I stay and help out for a couple of weeks. You can’t possibly cope with this zoo whilst you’re on crutches.’
‘Oh that would be lovely!’ said her mum, smiling but teary. ‘But I don’t want you getting into trouble at work.’
‘The markets are very stable and quiet at the minute. I’m sure I can arrange something with my editor whilst you’re recuperating over the next few weeks,’ said Eleanor, the lies flowing quite easily now.
In reality, she had no idea what on earth she was going to do once she had finished taking care of her mum.
She sat down and drank her tea, glancing around the messy kitchen. What a stark contrast to her lovely glamorous life back in London. She would normally have been picking out her outfit to wear that evening. A new film premiere. Then she would have gone onto a new nightclub owned by that controversial rapper. Then home to Lucas.
Eleanor frowned as she scratched at her neck. Except there was no West End premiere, no glitzy nightclub, not even Lucas for the time being either.
‘How’s that nice boyfriend of yours?’ asked her mum.
Eleanor gulped. This was one truth that she could actually say out loud. ‘We’re taking a break,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure if it’s going to end up being a permanent one or not.’
‘Oh, love! I’m so sorry,’ said her mum, reaching out to squeeze her hand. ‘You must be so upset.’
Eleanor made a sad face, even though she knew that deep down she wasn’t exactly heartbroken over the break-up. Shouldn’t she be swilling vodka and sobbing into a massive bar of chocolate?
But no. All she felt was relief that she wouldn’t have to hide the evidence when she broke another one of his expensive but actually quite hideous plates. Lucas was the type that would likely invoice his girlfriend for the breakage.
Perhaps she wasn’t meant to have true love in her life. Maybe that was for the best. She had seen the damage that loving her dad had inflicted onto her mum’s kind heart.
‘So how are things in the romance department around here?’ asked Eleanor, her tone deliberately bright. ‘Have you got any hunky bachelors wining and dining you on a nightly basis?’
Her mother blushed as she moved her hand back to clasp her cup of tea. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, her cheeks bright pink. ‘Who’s going to want me?’
Her mum had never had any confidence in herself, especially after her husband had left her for a much younger woman. He had destroyed any self-worth that she had had. ‘You can only trust animals,’ June had frequently reminded her daughter. ‘They can’t hurt you.’
Eleanor could still remember every moment of that ghastly day because it had been such a huge bolt of shock for both mother and daughter. They had had a lovely family day out. First of all they had gone shopping and then ice-skating at the rink in Aldwych. They had just finished tea when her dad stood up at the kitchen table and announced that he was leaving.
‘You’re going out?’ she remembered her Mum saying. ‘I thought we were having a quiet night in?’
‘I’m sick of quiet nights in,’ he replied, his face hardening. ‘I can’t do this anymore. I’m still young. I need to live. To feel free. You’ve clipped my wings, June. So I’m leaving. For good.’
The shocked silence had stretched out. Eleanor, at twelve years of age, couldn’t believe it.
‘But you can’t go, Dad,’ she said, jumping up from the table. ‘Please stay. I love you. We both do.’
But her dad had just shaken his head. ‘It’s not enough, love. Not for me. You’ll understand when you’re older.’
‘But we’ve had such a nice day,’ stammered Eleanor.
Her Dad smiled then. ‘I wanted our last one together to be a good one,’ he told her.
Then he had gone upstairs to fetch the suitcase that he had already packed and hidden in his wardrobe the night before.
It was only once the front door had clicked shut behind him that mother and daughter burst into tears.
It was the last time she had said ‘I love you’ to anyone.
It had been the worst of times for both of them, but somehow they had just about managed to hold things together and come out the other side. Although the hurt still lingered on.
‘Anyway, there’s enough romance up at the hall at the minute,’ said her mother. ‘Can you believe it? Sweet Annie Rogers becoming a countess when she gets married!’
‘At least one of us made it,’ said Eleanor with a wry smile.
‘The girls are desperate to meet up with you,’ her mum carried on. ‘Megan popped by for a cuppa this morning. They’re so excited to have you back in the village.’
‘Me too.’ Eleanor cleared her throat. ‘But it’s not forever, Mum.’
‘I know. But let us enjoy having you here whilst we can, eh?’
Eleanor grabbed her phone. ‘I’ll text Megan and find out when they’re both free.’
‘You’ll have such fun catching up,’ said her mum. ‘Megan says Sam’s lovely. Just right for our Annie.’
Eleanor had tried to remember Sam from when they were younger. Because Sam and his younger brother Will had gone to boarding school, they had only been around in the summer holidays to visit their grandparents. Once they were older, they had both left the village, as she had done. It was only once Sam had returned to take care of Willow Tree Hall the previous winter that she knew more about him. According to Annie, he had been travelling abroad a lot before he had come back after Arthur had suffered an accident and needed help with the estate.
‘Oh and Megan said she can’t wait for you to meet Hazy Memory!’
Eleanor looked up from her phone. ‘Who?’
‘You know, that band with the awful Christmas song,’ said her mum. ‘They’ve been around for years.’
Eleanor frowned. ‘I know who they are, but why would they be coming here of all places?’
‘Didn’t you know? Sam is some kind of, what did Annie call it, a rock band manager.’ Her mum shrugged her shoulders. ‘Whatever that is.’
Eleanor abruptly stopped texting and googled Sam Harris instead. She couldn’t believe it. How had she managed to forget what Annie’s fiancé did for a living? Of course, they hadn’t had a proper catch-up for ages which didn’t help. But she had only been thinking of his life at Willow Tree Hall and not his actual day job.
She stared down at the Google results in wonder. It turned out that Sam managed a whole load of famous bands, the most popular of all was Tommy King.
She looked up at her mum and broke into her first genuine smile that day.
This was it! This was her chance! She felt a lightning bolt of excitement surge through her. Who would have thought that there could be a story here in sleepy Cranley, after all? With a connection to so many music stars, surely she could dig something up, even here in the middle of the countryside?
The relief inside was immense. Perhaps she would discover such an amazing scoop that she would blaze a trail back to London, arriving in glory. She would even have scary Theresa begging her to come back.
In fact, all of the print press in London would be desperate to hire her if they found about her scoop. But finally it would be on her terms. With this one last story, she could leave the celebrity world far behind her once and for all and become a serious journalist.
Then nobody back home would ever need to know how close she had been to revealing her perfect life was a sham.