He closed them and I took a deep breath as I removed the item and held it out in front of me. ‘You can open them now.’
He stared at the item then at me. ‘Is that…? You’re…’
‘There must be something in the water round here,’ I said, smiling at him. ‘First Samantha, then Amber, and now me.’
He pressed his steepled hands to his lips, blinking back tears. ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’
‘Me neither. Scary, right?’
‘Scary, but absolutely bloody fantastic. Oh, my God! Poppy! We’re having a baby!’ He looked up at the sky. ‘Did you hearthat, Stanley and Joy? Your first grandchild. Pretty amazing, eh?’
He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me as though nobody was watching. I’d found my tribe the day I said yes to a much-needed break in East Yorkshire and my new friends weren’t the only ones expanding that tribe. I was too. This year had been a sad one but, my goodness, had it been a happy one too and every day just got better and better.
EPILOGUE
JOEL
One year later
‘Good evening, everyone!’ Cole Crawford called, smiling at the gathering of friends, family and influential locals. ‘It’s wonderful to see so many of you here tonight to celebrate with us. The past fourteen months have been an incredible time for my family. Last March, my amazing daughter Amber married my wonderful son-in-law Barney and in December they welcomed their first child and mine and Jules’s first grandchild, Hayden.’
Everyone looked towards Amber, Barney and Hayden – now five months old – who wriggled in Amber’s arms as though aware that all eyes were on him. I glanced down at Imogen standing beside me. Since the arrival of her twin half-brothers – Caleb and Heath – she’d become infatuated with babies, which was just as well because she was surrounded by them. Imogen had been dying to meet Samantha and Josh’s son Brody and, later, Hayden, but was a little put out that all four babies were boys. Poppy and I had chosen not to find out the gender of our baby and we’d both been extra delighted to announce to Imogenthat she’d got her wish with the arrival of Martha Joy Grainger on 6 February.
‘As well as a new addition to their family,’ Cole continued, ‘Amber and Barney have been busy working on a new addition to their business. Tonight might well be a sneak preview before we open to the public tomorrow but the tills are operational and our team are poised to use them, so feel very welcome to spend, spend, spend!’
Cole paused for laughter and raised a pair of shiny scissors. ‘I’m delighted to declare Bumblebee Farm Shop open!’
To applause and cheers, he cut the bright yellow ribbon across the open door and the guests made their way inside. Imogen hung back with me to wait for Poppy.
‘I recorded it for you,’ I said holding up my phone as Poppy wheeled a sleeping Martha towards us in her pram a few minutes later. She’d been due a feed around ribbon-cutting time and we’d been hoping she’d hold out, but no such luck, so Poppy had taken her into the farmhouse.
‘You sweetheart,’ she said, kissing me lightly before turning to Imogen. ‘Isn’t your dad the best?’
Imogen grinned at her, nodding enthusiastically, before peering into the pram and lightly stroking Martha’s cheek. Poppy and I smiled at each other and I felt immense gratitude that, despite my troubled history with Tilly, between us we’d somehow managed to raise a kind girl who was so eager to help with her siblings.
Darcie and Harrison appeared at the doorway, spotted Imogen, and beckoned her to join them. She hugged us both and ran towards the farm shop.
‘Are you ready to go in?’ I asked.
‘Let’s stay out here for a moment and drink it all in.’
Together we turned towards the next barn over and I slipped my arm round her waist as she rested her head against my shoulder.
‘It’s looking great,’ she said.
The building work on Bumblebee Bistro had started a couple of months ago and we were aiming for an early autumn opening. Behind the bistro was an enormous vegetable garden and it gave me such a buzz to know that I’d be preparing meals using produce I’d grown on my best mate’s land. When I’d been scrabbling around last year wondering what the hell to do with my life if I left the factory, I’d never have imagined I’d end up coming full circle and cooking again. Poppy’s genius idea and Tilly’s surprising comment that I had a gift for cooking had led me here and I couldn’t imagine a role more perfect. I got to work outdoors, I got to experiment with food and, when the bistro opened, I’d have most evenings free to spend with Poppy, Imogen and Martha.
In his speech just now, Cole had described fourteen incredible months for his family but it had also been fourteen incredible months for mine. Chez was still in Portugal and thriving. He was fluent in the language, loved his job and for the past eight months had been dating a Portuguese nurse called Calista. He’d been back to the UK a few times, visiting Harry and Deana the first time to apologise to them for giving them a scare last March and for being so hostile towards Deana when she moved in. Their friendship had gradually got back on track and Harry had asked Chez to be his best man next year after proposing to Deana.
Mum and Dad were still living the dream in Portugal. They’d stayed with us in Honey Bee Croft after Poppy and I had settled in and had visited again after Martha was born, although they’d booked themselves into one of the holiday cottages at Hedgehog Hollow, wanting to give us time and space on our own withour newborn. We’d also visited them in Portugal and had even had Tilly’s approval to take Imogen with us. What an amazing moment it had been to see her board her first aeroplane, take off for the first time, and arrive in a foreign country.
My relationship with Tilly was barely recognisable these days and I put that down to a combination of two things – Poppy’s soothing influence and Tilly being run ragged with so many children. It was rare now that Tilly objected to Imogen staying an extra night if she wanted to.
And, of course, I’d been to seven rather than six weddings in the past fourteen months and one of them had been my own – something I’d thought would never happen until Amber got me into thinking positively and manifesting.
Poppy had loved my proposal. The weekend before Fizz and Phoebe’s wedding, we’d been looking into getting a kitten but, when we’d visited a rescue centre just outside Whitsborough Bay, we’d both fallen in love with a beautiful black four-year-old moggy called Moby whose owner had passed away suddenly. He’d been wearing a turquoise collar and we’d been told that he identified more as a dog than a cat as he mewed to be let out the house to do his business and loved going for walks on a lead.
We collected him the Saturday after the wedding and, as neither of us had ever walked a cat, I suggested we take Moby for a walk early that evening. It was warm and sunny as we wandered along the track between Honey Bee Croft and Barney’s farm with Moby trotting alongside us. As we approached a gate into what Barney called Spring Field, I stopped, frowning.