Page 30 of A Forever Home at Honey Bee Croft

He glared at me for a moment then barged past and left the kitchen.

‘Because I’ve lost my job,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘The garage has gone bust. Nice of you to be so concerned.’

I winced and cursed myself. ‘Chez! I’m sorry,’ I called, racing after him.

He gave me another filthy look, snatched up his boots and stormed out the house with them, slamming the door behind him.

I sank down onto the stairs, feeling weary from yet another run-in with my brother. I shouldn’t have jumped on him like that, although he shouldn’t have helped himself to my food without asking. He’d be turning twenty in October and it was time I stopped making excuses for his behaviour. He was an adult and he had to take ownership for himself. My shoulders slumped and I shook my head. The food wasn’t the issue here. Chez had lost the job he loved and that was going to wreak havoc with his mental health, especially when he must already be struggling after falling out with Harry.

‘I hope you find another job quickly, Chez,’ I murmured, heaving myself up and returning to the kitchen. With no income coming in, his plans to move in with Lorna would have to go on hold and he’d need to stay here indefinitely, which wasn’t ideal with the way we were clashing at the moment, although at least it meant I could watch out for him. I really hoped depression didn’t take hold or, if it did, Lorna didn’t react in her usual way and dump him. I dreaded to think what no job, no best mate and no girlfriend would do to him. I couldn’t bear the thought of my brother spiralling like that again and, with my own work worries and the ongoing issues with Tilly to contend with, would I have enough headspace to support Chez if he did? I’d have to somehow.

10

POPPY

I slept exceptionally well my first night in Whisperwood Farmhouse and woke up feeling more refreshed than I had in months, helped by a combination of fatigue after the long drive and an incredibly comfortable bed.

Mary had kindly left me some provisions including a fresh loaf of bread, some homemade soup, a home-baked apple pie and a pot of custard which saved me from going back out and hunting for a takeaway in the dark and rain. I’d had a lovely relaxing evening curled up on the comfy sofa under Mum’s throw with a delicious meal and the first few episodes ofDarrington Detects.

This morning it was clear and bright with no sign of rain so, after toasting some of Mary’s bread for breakfast, I decided to take a walk before settling down to work. Stepping out of the front door, I breathed in deeply. There was something so delicious about the air after a downpour, so clean and fresh.

Whisperwood Farmhouse was lovely. The stone cottage was painted white with a slate roof, a sage-green door and matching window frames, and it oozed with character inside and out. A single-storey extension had been added to the side to create alarge kitchen-diner with a cosy snug in what must have been the original kitchen and a double-storey extension had been added to the back to create a fourth double bedroom and extended lounge. There was a small lawn out the front with a picnic bench on it, enclosed by a stone wall and, out the back, was a larger lawn and further seating. There wasn’t a garage but there was enough space to easily park three cars on the driveway.

I stepped back and snapped a few photos on my phone to show Dad. Even though he’d probably wonder why a ‘stranger’ was sharing her holiday snaps with him, I knew he’d love both the building and the beautiful setting, and it would give us something other than the birds to talk about. I paused, frowning as I scrolled through the photos. The man I’d known would have been interested but I wasn’t so sure about the boy he’d become. Feeling sad about that, but determined to shake it off, I slipped my phone back in my pocket and set off walking along a narrow track, which ran round the back of the farmhouse and alongside the fields.

The farmhouse was surrounded by gently rolling fields. In the distance was another white house flanked by various outbuildings, which had to be Bumblebee Barn – the family farm which Mary’s grandson ran. The nearest fields were arable and there appeared to mainly be crops on the far side of Bumblebee Barn, but there were animals in the fields in between. They were a bit far away for me to be sure but it looked like they had sheep and pigs.

My phone rang and I smiled at Phil’s name on the screen with a FaceTime request.

‘I hear you’re finally taking a holiday,’ he said after we’d exchanged greetings.

‘Your mum told you?’

He nodded. ‘She’s been worried about you. We all have. And I bet you’ve got some work with you.’

I smiled at him. ‘Guilty. I can’t afford to take a week off, but I promise Iamhaving some relaxation time. I watched TV last night and I’m out for a walk right now although I’m not sure whether I’ll lose signal if I walk too far so I’d better stop here. It’s very pretty.’

‘Show me your view.’

I turned the phone round and panned 360 degrees.

‘Very nice,’ Phil said when I turned the phone back to me. ‘Mum says you’re staying till Sunday. Any chance you could make it Monday instead? I’m going to be in the area and I’m free on Sunday night if you fancy a catch-up. It’s been too long.’

I hesitated. It was another day away from Dad, but Marnie’s words came back to me. He would be none the wiser and I needed to accept that. And it would be so good to catch up with Phil in person.

‘Ithasbeen too long,’ I agreed, smiling at him. ‘Mary’s stopping by tonight so I’ll check it’s okay with her and let you know.’

‘Brilliant. You stay out of mischief, and I’ll hopefully see you on Sunday.’

I continued on my walk with a smile. It would be a lovely, unexpected gift to catch up with Phil while I was here.

Looking back, Phil and I had married too young, me being twenty-one and fresh from university, and Phil being a year older. Although both sets of parents had supported our marriage, Mum had urged us to wait a while, saying that the twenties was a decade in which people grew and changed and not necessarily in the same direction. Phil and I had appreciated the advice but were convinced that wouldn’t be the case for us.

A couple of years into our marriage, I was blissfully happy. I loved my job, my beekeeping and living in a small house near my parents, and I was ready for the next stage in our relationship – starting a family. Phil was not so settled. He wanted to movefrom sound engineering into music production, was keen to relocate to London and wanted to wait until our thirties before we considered children. I agreed to put a pause on having a family – we needed to both be ready and fully committed to that – and was happy to support Phil’s career plans, but I had zero interest in moving to London. So we spent a lot of time apart while he worked in London and travelled to Europe. That time apart took its toll on our relationship in a way that the time apart at university hadn’t.

A fortnight before Christmas, after we’d been married a little over four years, Phil returned to the UK for a month and it was obvious to me over the next few days that something had shifted between us. It usually took a day or so to get used to being around each other once more, but this was different. I thought about what Mum had said about changing in our twenties, I thought about her favourite quote, and I knew what the scary thing was that I had to do that day.

It was one of the scariest conversations I’d ever had but also the best thing I could have done because Phil felt the same as me and we were able to navigate our concerns together and emerge unscathed as friends. We agreed to one last happy family Christmas before announcing our plans to divorce in the New Year.

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