Page 60

Chapter 34

Alyssa turned the corner into Apple Blossom Lane, nearly jumping out of her skin when she saw the impressive crowd that had amassed outside Hartglove Hall.

‘Oh.’ She paused to lean against an apple tree, unable to take it all in.

When the idea to bring the old town hall back to life had first sparked in her mind, she’d dismissed it as foolish, bordering on reckless. As much as the space had once been alive and buzzing with everything from spring balls to summer fetes, and cosy Christmas markets – it had also been the scene of her humiliating demise. The place where she’d stood on a stage, in front of everyone, and sang her heart out in a slightly drunken grand gesture of love – to the tune of a certain annoying song, wearing a frankly preposterous costume. It might as well be stamped with the words rejection, public humiliation and wow, that was dumb.

Why would she want to open up the dusty doors on something that was easier left padlocked?

And yet as she stood with the keys in her clammy, slightly shaking hands, she knew it was something she had to conquer. So much of her past had left ugly scrapes on her present. Since she’d been back, she’d learned the gut-wrenching truth that if she’d faced things instead of fled, if she’d talked instead of blocking people out, things may have been different. She might have saved herself – and others – twelve years of hurt.

Perhaps this gesture was a small way to do something good. And if there was a way to help bring more togetherness and sense of community back to Hartglove, she wasn’t going to hide in her Cow Shed and avoid it, like a big baby calf.

‘Well, this is a snazzy idea,’ said Mrs Halfpenny, barging to the front of the crowd and flashing her ‘Save Hartglove – Everything’s Gonna Be Hall-Right’ T-shirt from under her coat. ‘I love a good project. You’ve even got me started on a quest of my own.’ She winked.

Alyssa dreaded to think.

‘She’s just here for my butties,’ Sausage Sandra mock-whispered, pointing at Mrs H.

In the couple of weeks since Alyssa had come up with the hall-themed brainwave, she’d shouted about it on social media, popped her head in at local shops and businesses, and had even handed out flyers – even though she hadn’t made a poster since she’d been approximately nine years old. Though she hadn’t dared to believe many people would come.

But this. This was like an extreme version of that day the locals had turned up at The Cow Shed with everything from teabags to a clothes horse. Only today, there were people with ladders and paint pots, buckets of cleaning items, great swathes of material, a sewing machine … and of course, food. Because you could always rely on the residents of Hartglove to feed people.

‘I think it’s brilliant,’ said Anna, who was clutching a large box of what looked like torta di mele, which Alyssa had come to learn was Italian apple cake, made from the town’s own apples, with a fresh lemon twist.

Horace was standing next to her with two large terracotta pots on his other side. They contained what Alyssa guessed were small apple trees, though their blossom was a much brighter pink than the blossom trees in the lane – almost the shade of her hair.

‘I bought these to go either side of the hall’s doors.’ Horace tipped his head in a small bow. ‘As a thank you for this magnificent idea. They bloom a bit later than the town’s early-flowering hybrids. But who doesn’t love a late bloomer?’

He beamed at Alyssa. It took all of her inner strength not to start blubbing before she’d begun.

‘Thank you,’ she managed to whisper. ‘Although I don’t deserve so much credit.’ Too choked to say much more, she nodded her own thanks to the group of residents.

Anna came to the rescue with a few more words. ‘I didn’t live here when the hall was the beating heart of things, but I’ve heard great stories.’

Alyssa remembered that many of the town’s older couples had met and dated at the hall – including her own parents. Not that she would rate their free-for-all love story, even if her mum swore they were better now.

‘So many good times,’ said a familiar voice through the crowd.

And there Alyssa had been, trying to hold it together.

It was Devan’s mum, Dawn. Alyssa felt tears spring to her eyes. With Devan’s parents’ long romantic trip, she hadn’t seen Dawn since she’d been back in Hartglove. Dawn had always exuded love and warmth in a way that not even Alyssa could deny, and growing up, she’d always felt so close to her.

‘Come here, love.’ Dawn opened her arms and Alyssa gravitated into them.

Devan’s mum smelt of rose tea and shea butter, like she always had, and her jumper felt soft against Alyssa’s cheek, even though she hadn’t meant to nestle into her quite so weirdly.

Dawn stroked the back of Alyssa’s hair. ‘We’ve missed you around here. Welcome home.’

Alyssa tried to stifle a sob, because she hadn’t come here to blubber into her boyfriend’s mum’s mohair. And home? That word was nearly as terror-inducing as love.

‘Where do you want us with these ladders?’ somebody shouted.

‘And who’s letting us in?’

Right, yes. Alyssa had been grateful for the distraction, but it was time to stop procrastinating.

She jangled the keys to signify she was on it. Which she sort of, probably was. It was strange she hadn’t yet spied Devan, but she could surely brave this herself. Turning to the flaking doors, she took a deep breath and inserted the largest rusty key.