CHAPTERONE
I stare in mild surprise at the six slender porcelainmugs, lined up on the bench in my little garden workshop. I can’t quite believeI made them myself. They look so... professional!
It’s even more of a stretch to believe that soon they’ll begracing the shelves of a gift shop. (Whether anyone will actually buy them, ofcourse, is another matter entirely.)
The mugs are as identical as hand-thrown pots can be, two ofeach colour: lilac, dusty pink, and my mum’s favourite, the pretty pastel blue,which she says reminds her of summer days every time she drinks her tea.
I reach for the first sheet of wrap to start boxing them up.
Then I stop, my eye caught by a ray of feeble wintersunlight – filtering through the little window behind me – picking up theglassy lustre of the glaze that I applied extra carefully, knowing that thesemugs were special.
My first creations destined for a gift shop shelf!
I sink down on my stool with a sigh. It feels like a greatachievement but really, it’s just the start of an uncertain future...a future that was never even on my radar – until my old life in Torminsterspiralled down into devastation and heartbreak...
Some would say I was mad to have given up my job as aresearcher in local TV. Hundreds of people had applied for the post but theychose me. It was a dream come true and I loved the work.
But mad or not, I had no choice, really. I had to resign.
Leaving my old life behind was something I needed to do. Andwhen I managed to land a part-time job at the Little Duck Pond Café, here inSunnybrook, the decision about where to run to was made for me. The job at thecafé would keep me going financially, while I tried to set up a potterybusiness.
A cloud sails over the sun, the glaze on the mugs dims, andI slip off the stool.
It’s time to get on the road and deliver these mugs toHannah.
In the car, I lay the flowers I bought yesterday on the seat– I’ll take them to Maggie later on – and I place the box of mugs carefully inthe passenger seat well, before setting off for Hannah’s gift shop, atwenty-minute drive away. Her shop is in Torminster, a place I didn’t seemyself returning to after I left – but I ran into Hannah a few weeks ago and wegot talking about my pottery, I took in some samples of my work, and here weare! I couldn’t turn down the chance to get my business off the ground, howevermuch I might dread running into people I knew from the old days.
I glance nervously at my reflection in the rear-view mirror.Green eyes stare at me through a hedge of wayward blonde curls. I push my hairaway from my face, wishing I’d had time to straighten it, and I take a deepbreath before setting off.
I can do this!
Arriving in Torminster, I park in the little town square andretrieve my precious cargo of mugs, balancing the box in one hand as I lock thecar. Someone peeps their horn behind me, making me jump, and I almost drop thebox. Heart hammering at the near miss – the porcelain is so delicate – I graspit tightly in both hands as I hurry over to the gift shop on the other side ofthe square.
I’m so focused on crossing the road, I don’t notice theperson heading for the same location until we almost bump into each other atthe door.
‘Ooh, sorry.’ Clasping my box more tightly to my chest, Ifind myself staring up at a tall man with dark, close-cropped hair.
‘After you.’ He steps back, brilliant blue eyes glintingwith amusement, and ushers me through the door with a flourish.
‘Oh... thank you.’ Knocked off course bythe unexpected near-collision, I step inside, feeling oddly flustered. So muchso, that it takes my brain a good few seconds to remember why I’m actuallythere...
‘Mackenzie!’
Giving myself a little shake, I walk over to the counter.‘Hi, Hannah! I’ve got the mugs for you.’
‘I was hoping you would have. And I know just where I’mgoing to display them for full effect.’
I take a quick, self-conscious glance behind me, imaginingthe mystery man standing there, waiting to be served. But he’s looking at adisplay of vases on a shelf nearby.
I smile nervously at Hannah as I place the box on thecounter. ‘You haven’t seen them yet. You might not like them.’
She wags her finger at me. ‘No, no, no. You’re in businessnow, Mackenzie. You need to beconfidentwhen you visit customers.’ Shesmiles. ‘And anyway, if they’re anything like the samples you showed me theother week, I know they’re going to be gorgeous. Did you do some of the amazingblue glazed ones?’
‘Oh, yes. And lilac? And dusty pink?’ Feeling more relaxednow, I bring them out, unwrapping them carefully to show her, and she takesone, murmuring her approval as she moulds her hands around the gleaming sky-bluemug.
‘These are beautiful.’ She looks up with a smile and myheart performs a little skip of relief.
She truly likes them!
