Page 6 of Starting Over at Halesmere House
‘That sounds very nice. An’ you know where me an’ Stan are if you need us, Alice. He’s dead set on getting that shed straight for you.’ The shopping was flying through the till as Pearl scanned it faster than Alice could pack it into the extra bag she’d requested. ‘Come down an’ have a meal with us one night, when you’re ready. You can message me on Instagram; I’m following your new account for the meadow.’
Alice knew that Pearl managed the social media for the shop and Halesmere brilliantly, and also kept everyone at the house supplied with goodies that Stan brought in fresh every morning.
‘I will, thanks. And that’s lovely of you, Pearl, the follow. There’s not much to see in the meadow yet but I want to show it through the seasons.’ Alice gulped back the emotion clutching at her voice. For all that she’d loved Sheffield, she already felt part of Halesmere, and that was down to Sandy, Ella and Max, as well as Pearl and Stan. ‘And then you must come to me. I promise not to give Stan a latte, chai or otherwise.’
Pearl’s laugh was merry as Alice tapped her card against the machine and the bell tinkled again as she left the shop. This place was her home now and she was going to make a real, happy life here. She wasn’t alone, not totally. Alone was only a feeling lodged in her heart and she would keep the fears about how she would cope to herself.
She hurried back to the barn and settled at the breakfast bar with the latte and the mince pie. Underfloor heating was welcome, and one foot dangled from her stool to reach it, toasting her toes as she ate, the crumbly shortcrust pastry and chunky fruit every bit as delicious as she’d anticipated. Behind her a door led to the second bedroom, across the kitchen from the other two, and one she planned to use as a guest room.
Alice knew she really shouldn’t be eating breakfast like this, not after porridge at her desk for so long. She’d always preferred to be at the haulage yard first thing as drivers set out on long runs or returned from overnight trips. She’d loved those times then, sharing banter with colleagues she’d known for years, and she missed it. Hopefully in time she would learn not to, and maybe the guilt she still felt about selling the company would ease as well.
Staring through the window, she focussed on the view instead of her thoughts. There wasn’t an awful lot of her new garden to see from here; most of it lay on the south side of the barn. The lawn would have benefitted from a final cut, but it was too late now, with the temperature dropping and the weather wet. A green wooden shed stood beyond the patio, a row of bedraggled and dying conifers further on disguising a view of fell ponies on the farm next door she’d seen from the sitting room upstairs.
The conifers had to go. They were turning brown, and a couple were leaning at an alarming angle over the boundary wall, ready to topple over in a stiff breeze, never mind a rough storm. And once Alice had seen to that job, then she could plant another hedge. Maybe hawthorn that would blossom in spring and berry in autumn. Just the thought of new plants and the wildlife they would attract was enough to make her smile.
Her garden could use some attention and probably a redesign but that was work she’d put on hold until next year. She would nurture it and fill her home with colour and scent, and the healthy, delicious produce she planned to grow. This new life was a long-term project, not something she’d have boxed off for Christmas. And the business needed her time before the garden did, and for that she needed to be at Halesmere.
Alice finished the latte, left the cup in the utility room to recycle and put her shopping away. Rain was due later and she went in search of her new waterproofs. She had a feeling they were going to be her constant companions, and she laughed, the soft sound floating through the silence of the barn. One of the joys of working outside was returning indoors when jobs were done, and tonight she’d light the stove in the sitting room and stay cosy. Wintering was also a time of retreat and repair, and Alice planned to be good to herself when she needed it.
‘Welcome back, lass. I’m very ’appy you’ve taken on T’Shed. It’ll be just right for what you want.’
‘Stan, hi!’ Alice was unlocking her new studio, trying to dodge the rain, when she heard Stan’s voice call out. She backed through the door, peering beneath a hood pulled low. ‘I’ve got something for you. Are you coming in?’
‘That makes two of us, then, cos I’ve got summat for you.’ Stan was strolling across the courtyard, hands pushed into the pockets of a dark donkey jacket, shoulders outlined in a shade of orange that clashed with his bright pink bobble hat. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him without a hat and his collection was famous, knitted by Pearl, who was an expert in all things wool and sold her creations in the shop almost faster than she could produce them. He was stocky, a couple of tattoos inked on his hands, and one of the kindest people Alice knew.
‘Oh?’ She hadn’t got any outstanding orders for the business yet and Amazon already knew she’d moved for the personal ones. ‘Have you got time for a cuppa?’
‘Thought you’d never ask.’
‘Tea?’ For a second she was tempted to offer chai instead until she remembered she hadn’t got any supplies here, of anything. ‘Please can I borrow some stuff? Sorry, I’m not very organised yet. That’s my plan for today, to make The Shed a bit more homely.’
‘Get that fire lit an’ I’ll fetch us a brew over.’ He nodded at the black stove at the far end of the room. ‘It’s turnin’ proper nasty out there.’
‘On it. Oh, and by the way’ – Alice gave him a beam when she noticed the kindling and logs he had no doubt left ready for her – ‘it looks amazing in here, thank you. You’re a superstar; I can’t believe the difference now all the rubbish has gone, and the walls have been painted.’
‘You’re very welcome, an’ I ‘ad some ’elp.’ Stan’s chest seemed to broaden just a smidge and he coughed. ‘An’ before we get started, proper like, I’m just gonna say that you’ll be all right ’ere, Alice. We look after each other an’ my door’s always open.’
‘Thanks.’ Her eyes were threatening to water, and she wasn’t sure she trusted herself to say much more without her voice cracking. ‘So’s mine.’
‘Back in a minute.’ He stomped out and she blinked the dampness away so she could see to light the stove.
The Shed was bigger than the other studios, apart from the forge at the far end of the courtyard, where local blacksmith Cal Sutherland was based. Alice had met him and his fiancée, Lizzie, on a previous visit. Lizzie was an events planner and photographer, and she managed all the retreats and events at Halesmere for Ella and Max. They’d recently moved out of a flat above the old dairy opposite The Shed and were busy renovating a cottage they’d bought. Sandy had mentioned that they were having a party to celebrate their engagement soon, and Alice was already invited.
L-shaped, The Shed had a tiny kitchen and larger sitting area to the right of the door, and two squashy sofas that Alice had ordered, one green, one copper, were already in place. Exposed beams met in the apex of the roof, making the room feel large and airy, and the long line of the L formed a practical space where guests could take part in the courses she was planning to offer. So far, she had arranged several wreath-making days leading up to Christmas as a trial run and to learn how she might improve for next year. She was busy with the stove, coaxing kindling into life, when Stan returned.
‘’Ere you go.’ He held out a mug and Alice stood up to accept it, glancing warily at the contents, which appeared suspiciously dark even though it smelled like tea.
‘It’s not Bovril?’
‘No, just a proper brew.’ He plonked himself on a sofa and sighed contentedly. ‘I can see I’ll ’ave to try again to induct you into the benefits of drinkin’ Bovril, lass. Sets me up for t’day.’
Alice settled on the other sofa to his right. ‘I wanted to thank you for the shelves, too.’ She glanced at neat rows of oak lining the walls above the kitchen. ‘They’re so beautiful and practical – I can’t wait to fill them up. I thought I’d search out a few local antique shops for inspiration.’
‘You’re welcome, lass; I was ’appy to ’elp. Oh, there’s this too.’ He reached into a carrier bag at his feet and brought out a flat piece of wood, passing it to Alice.
‘What is it?’ She turned it over and a thrill of surprise and pleasure quickly followed. Carved into the varnished oak were the wordsThe Flower Shed, outlined in pale grey. ‘Oh Stan, it’s gorgeous, thank you! You made this for me?’
‘Aye. Call it a welcome present. This place ’as bin The Shed for as long as ever I can remember, an’ I thought a new sign would be useful for remindin’ folk what you’re callin’ it now. “Flower Shed” sounds a bit smarter than some old glory ’ole used for dumpin’ stuff.’
