Page 8 of Hope and Happiness in Bluebell Wood
The man is still watching us, so I have no choice but to encourage Merlin to cross the road with me.
‘Thank you,’ I say to the man, who doesn’t seem in any hurry to go anywhere.
‘My pleasure, duck,’ he says, doffing his cap at me. ‘You just passing through, are ya?’
I hesitate. I really don’t want anyone to know where I’m staying or for how long. But I’ve never been good at lying, however harmless it might seem, especially when under pressure.
‘I’m just visiting . . . for a while,’ I reply cautiously. ‘I’m renting one of the cottages.’
‘Which one?’ the man asks with interest.
Inwardly I chastise myself. I’d left myself right open for that follow-up question.
‘Bluebird Cottage?’ I say, hoping he doesn’t know it.
‘Oh, Evelyn’s cottage,’ he says knowingly. ‘Lovely little place that is. Such a shame she had to leave so suddenly. But her daughter was very ill, I understand.’
‘Yes, apparently.’
‘Good to know it’s in safe hands. The birds will be pleased, too.’
‘The birds?’ I can’t help but ask.
‘Yes, Evelyn loved her wild birds. Fed them every day, doted on them, she did, and they showed her their appreciation in return.’
‘Right. . . ’
‘You’ll have to make sure you get some food in for them if Evelyn didn’t leave you any.’
‘I’m not really sure . . . ’
‘Scraps’ll do them for now, though – you know: bacon rinds, that kind of thing.’
‘Okay . . . ’
‘Anyway, duck, I must be getting back,’ he says, replacing his cap on his head. ‘I got a plumber coming round this morning – me bath isn’t draining right. Took me ages to get him to come out – like gold dust they are around here.’
I just nod this time.
‘Enjoy your stay,’ he says, touching the brim of his cap before shuffling away along the pavement. ‘I’m Bran, by the way,’ he calls back. ‘I’m sure we’ll bump into each other again.’
I watch him go, then I turn back to the shop, and I feel my hand grip the handle of the basket extra tightly again.
Right, let’s get this over with before anyone else comes along.
‘Good morning!’ a cheery-looking woman, who I guess must be Jenny, calls from behind the counter as I make my way tentatively through the door.
‘Are you Jenny?’ I ask.
‘Yes, that’s me, dear. What can I do for you?’
‘The man outside . . . er, Bran I think he said his name was? He said it would be okay to bring my dog in,’ I gesture to Merlin. ‘He’s very well behaved.’
‘Ah, of course it is. Hello, lovey, and what’s your name?’ she asks, smiling down at Merlin.
Merlin wags his tail on cue.
‘It’s Merlin,’ I say. I feel like I should say my name too, but I resist.
