Page 2 of Sunny Sundays at Primrose Hall

‘Mainly, it will involve setting up, making sure each of the units are clean and ready for the traders. Then dealing with any problems that may crop up, and closing up at the end of the day. It’s not too onerous a job, but it needs someone on site all day.’

‘I’d definitely be up for that.’ Pia noticed the way Tom’s face lit up, his surprise at Jackson’s offer evident.

‘Pia’s been doing a great job of organising and running everything up until now. There’s a great system in place, but with us increasing the timetable to fortnightly, it’s time to pass the reins on to someone else. Pia needs to take the occasional day off, even if she might say otherwise.’

Jackson shared a fond glance with Pia across the table. They were busier than ever, with a full calendar of summer events lined up at the hall, so they’d recently discussed how they could manage the work schedule going forward. Pia would be sad to relinquish control of the craft days at the stables. They had been one of her first responsibilities when she’d arrived at the hall and she was proud of how successful and popular those Sundays had become. Not that she had any intention of letting go completely.

‘The traders are a great bunch of people,’ Pia told Tom. ‘There’s a real community vibe over there and they all help each other out. I’ll introduce you to them and show you around so you’ll know exactly who’s who and what’s what.’

‘Great. I can’t wait to get stuck in.’ Tom’s acceptance came as a huge relief to Pia. She’d promised Rex that she would do her utmost to ensure the brothers would still be on talking terms when Rex and Ronnie returned from their travels. ‘I’ll feel like a proper part of the Primrose Hall family.’ Tom grinned, and Pia could only think that had to be a good thing.

2

Sophie gave one last glance around the room that had been her home for the last few months. It was a perfectly adequate space with a double bed, a small wardrobe and a rickety chair, which she had never quite trusted enough to sit on, but had served as the ideal spot to throw her clothes over at the end of the day. The room, with its faded floral sprig wallpaper and matching curtains, its uninspiring view over some dilapidated garages, represented so much more than a place to lay her head. It had been a lifeline when she needed it most.

‘Are you all packed?’

‘I think so,’ she said, turning to face Greta with a smile.

She would be eternally grateful to her friend. They’d met at the Saturday morning yoga class in the village hall, only exchanging pleasantries over a few weeks until one particular session when ninety minutes of slow and purposeful movements and measured breathing had done nothing to help Sophie’s peace of mind. After the class, Sophie had dashed out of the hall, rushed to her car and closed the door behind her before giving in to the tears that had been brewing inside her all morning. She’d dropped her head on her forearms, resting on the steeringwheel, and had been totally oblivious to the rapping on the driver’s window. It took her several moments before she looked up, mopping her tears away on her sleeve before noticing the blonde lady, who she recognised from the class, peering in at her. Sophie opened the door slightly, plastering on a smile and adopting a jaunty tone.

‘Don’t worry, I’m fine,’ she’d spluttered through her tears, totally unconvincingly.

‘Are you sure?’ The woman’s voice had been filled with concern as she delved into the pocket of her hoodie and pulled out a tissue, handing it to Sophie. ‘Look, do you want me to give you a lift home? I’m not sure you should be driving when you’re like this.’

‘No, there’s no need,’ she’d blurted, rather too quickly. ‘But thank you.’

Sophie’s breath had snagged as she’d tried to get in control of her sobs. It was very kind of the lady to be so concerned, but really Sophie wished she could be left alone. She really didn’t want to inflict her unhappiness onto anyone else.

‘There’s a lovely cafe in Primrose Woods. I don’t know if you’ve ever been there? It’s only five minutes down the road. We could go and grab a drink if you fancy it?’

Sophie was about to refuse when something stopped her. An instinct. What else was she going to do? Sit here becoming ever more miserable by the moment? She certainly didn’t want to go home. The longer she could put off that eventuality, the better, so, on a whim, she’d gratefully accepted the woman’s offer and climbed out of her car, locking it up, before getting into the passenger seat of the other car. As they drove the short distance to the country park, Sophie discovered that her name was Greta and she lived on the new estate with her husband and teenage children. She chatted away gaily, not asking any questions of Sophie, for which she was entirely grateful, and hearing aboutGreta’s family life was exactly the distraction Sophie needed right then.

They found a window seat in the Treetops Cafe, which gave a panoramic view of the surrounding breathtaking landscape, and while they’d waited for their order to arrive, Sophie had been happy to sit and soak up the atmosphere, finding solace in the protective embrace of the tall trees.

‘I suppose this defeats the object of today’s class,’ Greta had said, with a wry smile, when the order arrived and she looked down to survey her creamy cappuccino and bacon roll. The aroma was mouth-watering, but Sophie’s iced bun looked equally as appetising, and she wasn’t going to forgo her pick-me-up coffee for a cup of herbal tea. She shrugged.

‘I’ve never been one of those people who loses their appetite when they’re upset. It’s the opposite for me. I just want to eat everything in sight,’ Sophie had said, tucking in eagerly to her bun. ‘I suppose it’s a comfort thing.’

‘I get that, and I agree, now is no time to deprive yourself. I sometimes think that it’s the simple pleasures in life, a cup of tea, a walk in the woods, or a chat with a friend that can lift your spirits and help you get through the tough times. Although…’ Greta’s gaze scrutinised Sophie’s expression. ‘I’m guessing whatever it is that’s troubling you can’t be easily fixed with a sticky bun.’

‘No.’ Sophie exhaled a big sigh. ‘Unfortunately not.’

‘I’m a great listener if you want to talk about it, but equally,’ she held up her palms to Sophie, ‘I understand if you never want it mentioned again.’

Sophie smiled, more grateful to Greta than she would know, for taking the time to be concerned, showing a kindness that Sophie hadn’t expected from a relative stranger. The problem was she hadn’t spoken to anyone about Kyle, there was no oneshe could confide in and she’d been hugging her unhappiness all to herself for months now.

‘It’s Kyle,’ she said, and it was as if saying his name aloud gave her permission to talk about her situation for the first time. ‘My boyfriend. We’ve been together for eight years now and when we first got together, it was great. I thought I’d found my soulmate. We met at work. It’s his family’s business, an engineering company, and I joined to help out in the office. I quickly got promoted to office manager and I suppose our relationship grew from working so closely together. We were happy. We found a place and moved in together and everything was great. For a while.’

Greta had nodded, without making comment, allowing Sophie to continue after a moment of reflection.

‘Then, well, things changed. He’s always enjoyed a drink. We both did. It was part of our routine. After a busy day at the office, we would call in at the pub and he’d have a beer and I’d have a glass of wine and we looked forward to those times, the opportunity to chat and debrief after the stresses of the day.’ Sophie fell quiet, her gaze wandering out of the window into the woods beyond, her thoughts drifting away with her. ‘Trouble is, it got to the point where one or two drinks would turn into three or four. I would move on to the soft drinks because I was the designated driver, but Kyle would continue to knock back the pints. I guess that was when it all started to go so wrong.’

‘I’m really sorry to hear that.’

‘Yeah.’ Sophie’s gaze had flashed over to Greta’s, gauging her reaction, and then she shrugged. ‘It’s not great.’

‘What will you do?’

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