Page 31 of A Forever Home at Honey Bee Croft

Phil had since remarried. His wife, Reina, was Spanish and they’d met when he’d been producing an album in Ibiza on which she was a backing singer. He spent most of his time between London and Spain and I usually saw him and Reina at Saltersbeck Farm over Christmas. I adored her. Whenever I spent time with her, I felt like I’d been bathed in human sunshine. She and Phil were so well suited and it made me happy to know that he’d found someone who was part of his lifestyle, who loved moving around, who found bright lights and big cities exhilarating. She understood and supported my friendship withPhil and always encouraged us to meet up whenever he was in the UK.

I hadn’t seen them last Christmas because their first child, Eliana, had been born in Spain just a few days earlier. The Maynards had gone over there for Christmas instead. I’d been invited to join them, but I’d gone to The Larks for Christmas Day with Dad.

Continuing on my walk, I spotted a quad bike travelling across one of Bumblebee Barn’s fields. When I was little, Ian had often taken me out on his bike and it had been so much fun, bouncing over the tracks and fields, but I hadn’t been on one for years. I wasn’t sure I’d be brave enough to ride one now. I used to be carefree and daring but now I just craved a quiet, simple life with my bees. I wouldn’t say no to finding love again, but now wasn’t the time.

I rested against a metal barred gate, taking in the beautiful countryside surrounding me. My parents would have loved it here. I could just imagine Dad marching across the fields and asking the farmer if he’d like some beehives on his land. Picturing a field full of hives made me feel warm inside. Some might say that beekeeping was brave but bees weren’t a threat if you had the right equipment and knew what you were doing which I absolutely did. Learning all about beekeeping from my dad had been the best thing I’d ever done with my life.

It was so tranquil here, just like at Honey Bee Croft, and I felt like I’d found somewhere I could finally relax and breathe. Extending my stay by another day would be an absolute pleasure.

At noon, I broke off from my work briefly to have the rest of the soup and bread which Mary had left for me. Mid-afternoon, I stopped again to go food shopping. There was a binder of information in the kitchen with details of local shops, eateries and places to visit, which I’d flicked through last night. I’d hoped to find a farm shop, but there didn’t appear to be any in the area although there’d been details of a garden centre called Bloomsberry’s which had a food section, so I’d decided to give that a try.

Bloomsberry’s was on the outskirts of a pretty village called Cherry Brompton and it was huge. As I made my way through each section of the garden centre, I smiled thinking about how much my parents would have loved it. Dad had been the green-fingered one but they’d always shopped for plants together as Mum had a great eye for colour and what would work well together. Conscious I could easily lose an hour or two browsing – time I didn’t have to spare – I tore myself away from the plants in search of food.

The produce section was packed with delicious-looking biscuits, cakes and chocolates and carried a wide range of locally made soft drinks and beers. There was a section for fresh bread, but it was obviously popular as there was nothing left. I popped a packet of cheese scones and a jar of chutney advertised as working well with them into a wicker basket, as well as a small packet of cherry tomatoes and some celery for my lunch tomorrow. Standing by an open fridge full of fresh ready meals, the basket on the floor by my side, I was trying to decide which I fancied for dinner tonight. They all sounded delicious. I reached out for one, then retracted my hand as I spotted another so I went for that, but changed my mind. Moments later, a man joined me so I moved aside to give him access to the fridge. He grabbed four meals and placed them in his basket and I admiredhis decisiveness as my eyes darted across all the tempting choices.

‘Struggling to decide?’ he asked.

I glanced up at him. He was tall – over six feet at a guess – and broad-shouldered like a rugby player. He was also incredibly attractive with short dirty-blond hair, a square jawline and a friendly smile, making my stomach do an unexpected loop-the-loop.

‘Every time I think I’ve decided, I spot something else.’

‘The smoked salmon and asparagus pasta’s my personal favourite. The chicken teriyaki’s really good too.’ He tilted his basket and I laughed as he had two of each in there.

‘Thanks for the recommendations.’

‘Enjoy!’ he said, with another smile before walking towards the tills.

I watched him for a moment, admiring those strong shoulders and imagining what it would be like to be hugged by someone with a physique like that. Must take all your worries away. Surprised at where my train of thought was heading, I turned back to the fridge and selected the two meals he’d recommended.

After adding a bottle of sparkling elderflower to my basket, I made my way towards the tills, pausing by a beautiful display of cut flowers. Mary was coming round tonight and I could give her a bouquet to thank her for letting me stay at such short notice and for charging me a ridiculously low amount which she claimed was because of the redecoration needed. Yes, there were some chips and scuffs but nothing I wouldn’t expect from a holiday cottage, and it certainly didn’t detract from the charm and comfort so there was no need for her to charge so little.

I studied the bouquets for a while and was drawn to a beautiful spring one bursting with yellow, purple and white flowers. There was only one left in the bucket and, as I wrappedmy hands round it, so did somebody else from the other side and our fingers touched. We both let go and I looked up into the eyes of Mr Rugby Physique from earlier, my stomach doing another backflip.

‘Looks like we have the same taste in flowers as well as meals,’ I said, laughing.

He had such a lovely smile, his eyes twinkling. ‘You went for the salmon and the teriyaki?’

‘I did. I’m putting the success of my next two evening meals in the hands of a stranger.’

He mock-grimaced. ‘Risky! I’m sure you won’t be disappointed, but you’d better take the flowers, just in case. I’ll pick a different bunch.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘They’re not for anything special – just for a friend to say thanks for a favour.’ He picked a bouquet of pinks and purples and held them up to me, as though seeking my approval.

‘Good choice. If I was a friend who’d done you a favour, I’d be happy with them.’

We went to the tills and, as I was served, I was very aware of Mr Rugby Physique being served directly opposite me. We kept looking up and smiling at each other. He didn’t have as much to buy as me so he left with another smile and a nod of his head and I felt strangely disappointed, which was crazy. What had I expected him to do? Suggest we go for a drink to compare opinions on the teriyaki? And what would I do if he had? He was obviously local and I lived nearly four hours away – absolute non-starter. But, as I drove home, I couldn’t help drifting into a little fantasy world where he’d been waiting for me in the car park and did ask if I fancied that drink. It would have been nice.

11

JOEL

With the flowers and ready meals on the back seat, I placed my keys in the ignition, but I didn’t start the car. Glancing at the flowers in the rearview mirror, I muttered in a sarcastic voice, ‘They’re not for anything special – just for a friend to say thanks for a favour.’

I raked my hands through my hair, shaking my head. What the hell was that? My clumsy code forThey’re not for my wife or girlfriendin the hope that the woman in Bloomsberry’s would respond with,In that case, how about a drink?As if something like that was ever going to happen. I’d come here to get a couple of fresh ready meals as I couldn’t be bothered to remake the chilli Chez had eaten, and some flowers for Chloe to thank her for taking in Imogen’s dress which I was collecting from Crafty Hollow shortly. I hadn’t expected to meet someone. Not that you could call that little episodemeeting.

A shaft of light from who knows where had been shining on her hair as I approached the fridge and I’d stopped, momentarily captivated. I’d been reading Amber’s book on manifesting. I couldn’t send out positive thoughts for the future until I was clear about what I wanted. That was straightforward for Imogen,but I was still struggling with the work thing. I knew what Ididn’twant – which was still helpful – but what Ididwant remained a mystery. As for meeting someone, I was more interested in personality and the type of relationship we had than appearance, but I thought it might be easier if I had a vague image in my mind. All I could think of was somebody who didn’t remind me of Tilly or Marley. They were both blonde with blue eyes so a brunette with brown eyes would be great. Neither of them ever left the house without wearing make-up so perhaps someone who embraced the more natural look. I’d stood by my bedroom window, feeling like an idiot, as I channelled my positive thoughts into the universe. I believed in the power of positive thinking – my interview had been evidence of that – but I wasn’t convinced by the whole manifesting malarky. And yet there she was – a naturally beautiful brunette with shoulder-length wavy hair, pink cheeks and full lips standing where I was heading with a shaft of light pointing her out. So did I say hello, introduce myself, flirt a little? Nope. I interrupted her thoughts, recommended some food and walked away. And then when our paths crossed again by the flowers… I tutted at myself. I was no good at this sort of stuff.

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