Page 1
CHAPTER 1
Lucie Brown shifted on her bus seat, trying to catch a glimpse of Winterbourne Hall over the estate wall. A sudden gap in the tree line drew her eye up the hill to a stately Elizabethan house, with its tall turrets, glimmering windows, and sandstone façade.
The bus ambled alongside the old, red-brick wall, passing the entrance to the hall’s busy car park. Visitors to the impressive building poured from their cars — no doubt for a Halloween event.
Lucie stood, pulled on her trapper hat, and zipped her scarf inside her coat. Swinging her large, khaki rucksack onto her back, she grabbed an even larger, black holdall from the floor. Both bags had seen better days, with broken zips and torn pockets, but they had served her well during her time in Southern Africa.
She made her way down the aisle, pressing the stop button. The bus pulled up at the kerb, and the doors slid open.
“Thanks,” she said, giving a nod to the driver.
The driver nodded back, her hand already moving to close the doors.
As the bus disappeared from view, Lucie took in the large, rectangular green of the village she called home. To the right were the impressive wrought-iron gates to Winterbourne Hall. Straight ahead lay the small church and beside it the old village hall, which even at this distance she could see was looking worse for wear. Dotted between lay old, thatched cottages which never lost their charm. It was as if she had never been away.
She headed left, toward The Royal Oak, where she had come into the world thirty-five years ago. Smoke billowed from the pub’s chimney, and the familiar wooden sign creaked in the breeze. Its thatched roof dipped low like a woolly cap, shielding the building from the biting winter air.
“Lucie!” a voice shouted, making her knees and heart jump.
She turned to see Mandy emerging from the neighbouring property, Croft Cottage. Its front door was now painted olive green, a colour that suited the little thatched cottage far better than the old black one from the time her gran had lived there.
“Hi,” Lucie said, voice muffled as the older woman’s hug swallowed her whole.
She lost her grip on the holdall, and it thudded to the ground.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Mandy exclaimed, pulling back and finally letting Lucie breathe. She tucked a few loose strands of white-blonde hair back into place and added, “You didn’t say you were coming home the last time we spoke. Does your dad know?”
“It was all a bit last-minute, so I thought I’d surprise him.”
“You’ll do more than that — you’ll give him a heart attack,” Mandy said, amusement flickering across her face as she picked up the holdall. She slung her free arm around Lucie’s shoulders and led her forward. “Come on. My shift is about to start.”
As they reached the pub’s heavy oak door, Mandy went ahead in her trademark short, black leather skirt, loose white blouse, and leather jacket. She was just missing the motorcycle to complete the look.
Extracting her long, chestnut-brown hair from under her rucksack’s strap, Lucie drew in a breath and followed. The pub was exactly how she remembered it. Her dad had never mentioned redecorating, so she wasn’t sure why she expected it to look different. Black beams intersected its white plaster ceilings, and oak panelling lined the walls. The same red-patterned carpet, a little more worn than she remembered, greeted her tired feet. The only thing that seemed altered were the ale clips on the pumps.
“Look who I found outside, Pete,” Mandy said.
“Who?” her dad’s familiar voice echoed through the empty pub.
“Hi, Dad,” Lucie said, stepping around Mandy and dropping her rucksack to the floor. She froze as his gaze found her and widened.
“Lucie,” tumbled breathlessly from his mouth. He stumbled around the bar and scooped her up, squeezing the air from her. She clung to him, the bristles of his long beard tingling against her skin. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?”
She shrugged as they parted. “I wanted to surprise you.”
"Well, consider me surprised! You never come home for Christmas.” His gaze dropped as his voice lowered. “You never come home.”
“I’m not back for Christmas, Dad.”
His head lifted back up, moisture glistening in his eyes.
“I’m back back,” she said, adding quickly, “in the UK, I mean.”
She didn’t want to get his hopes up that she would be staying in the village for the long term. For now, she had no idea what her future held or where it would take her.
Mandy’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re back for good?”
“I’ve nowhere else to go,” Lucie said, removing her winter wear.
