Beth hadn’t wanted to stay put. She had wanted to run – drive – gallop away from the place that once was happy and now stuck pins in her soul.
Wait, OK?Diana had never taken no for an answer.
Beth was adrift. She needed to get in her car, drive to Cranley, and draw a line under the life she was leaving.
Instead she wandered into the neglected garden, wishing she had a restorative cup of tea. On a chilly June day, it looked as unloved as she felt.
Beth sat on the weathered wooden bench she’d bought with Luke over a decade ago. She ran a hand over its surface, wincing as a splinter pierced her skin. She welcomed the pain.
At least it meant she was still alive.
The screech of tyres and the slam of a car door signalled Diana’s arrival. Beth’s friend didn’t do quiet. Seconds later she appeared round the corner of the cottage, a wicker basket draped over her arm.
‘I knew it. Wallowing. And why are you out here when it’s colder than a penguin’s arse?’
Beth shrugged. ‘I needed to be outside.’
Diana fixed her with the look that said: ‘You are borderline nuts, but I am here to take charge.’ She shooed Beth into the cottage and emptied the contents of the basket on the kitchen counter. ‘Right. We have brie, grapes, a baguette and some cold sausages. Oh, and a bottle of alcohol-free fizz that may or may not be drinkable.’
‘I don’t have any plates or glasses, or?—’
Diana harrumphed and delved into a handbag that could double up as a small tent at Glastonbury. ‘Paper plates, plastic glasses, a less-than-sharp knife but we can tear the bread apart. We can chew and chat.’
Spreading brie on a chunk of baguette, Beth couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten. Maybe yesterday morning. Her appetite had dwindled to that of a field mouse. Ironic, considering her profession was cooking: serving delicious food to hungry customers. She hoped she’d be up to the new job.
‘Eat.’ Diana tossed a grape in the air and caught it in her mouth.
‘If you ever quit being a physiotherapist, you’d make a great children’s entertainer,’ quipped Beth.
‘Ha, you haven’t seen my balloon-bending skills,’ retorted Diana. ‘Now, tell me more about the job and the delights of Cranley. I know you’ve told me before but my head’s like a sieve.’
Between nibbles of bread, cheese and sausages, Beth explained how a friend of a friend had mentioned the vacancy at The Jekyll and Hyde pub.
‘The landlord Ken McCroarty and his wife have taken an extended break on health grounds. Their son Ed and his partner are running the place, and the couple who did the catering moved south to look after an elderly parent.’
‘And you needed a complete change of scenery, or an escape from your annoying bestie.’ Diana pulled an exaggerated downcast face but her eyes glistened.
‘Do not, under any circumstances, cry.’ Beth’s own eyes filled up. ‘I’ve done enough of that over the years to fill a small Scottish loch.’
Diana nodded. ‘And with very good reason. I just wonder if upping sticks now is the right thing to do. What if Luke comes back?’
Beth had thrashed around for countless sleepless nights wondering the same thing. If he’d appear on the doorstep one day, out of the blue, asking to give things another go.
‘He won’t come back.’ It hurt to say it, but the truth often did. ‘The cottage is in my name, it’s rented out for six months minimum, and I’ve enough in the bank to keep me afloat if the job doesn’t work out.’
Beth had no idea what faced her. She’d visited Cranley once, for the job interview, and clearly impressed them with her resume. Catering college, a spell in London and several positionsin gastropubs. Latterly, she’d taken a break. Partly to spruce up the cottage before renting it out, but mainly because she was running on empty. A tank once filled with love and dreams of a family unit had been drained to fumes and despair.
‘Whatever happens, you know I’m here.’ Diana squeezed Beth’s hand. ‘And not just me. You have friends, Beth. We all know what you’ve been through, and there will always be a comfy bed and ears to bend and shoulders to cry on. Just take it one step at a time.’
‘I told you, I’m done with crying.’ At which point Beth let rip with a snot-filled howl. Diana gingerly gave her a ‘there, there’ hug, mindful of her pristine white blouse, as Beth wondered if she’d gone completely mad.
Chapter Two
‘Prom. Prom!’
Kieran rattled the food dish. Admittedly, the cat food looked as appetising as his solo dinner last night of microwaved cod in a white-wine sauce, but he’d eaten it.
Prom sashayed into the kitchen, took one derisory sniff, and sashayed out again.
