I used to feel happy all of the time.
That’s not quite true, of course. Being human means thereare always going to be ups and downs. You dispense with one challenge and uppops another one to test you. That’s just life.
I suppose I mean that for a long time, living in Torminster,I was more contented than I’d ever been in my life.
I grew up on the island of St Mary’s in the Scilly Isles,where Mum and Dad still live, but after landing a place on a media studiesdegree course, I made the move to London. I lived in the capital for almost tenyears, but having grown up with the slower pace of island life, I found myself startingto hanker after the fresh air and open spaces of the countryside.
It was my best friend, Rachel, who suggested a move out ofLondon might be good for me, and it turned out she was right.
I’d always loved the little town of Torminster, where Rachellived with her lovable, high-spirited daughter, Poppy, and I’d often visitthem, staying over on the Saturday night, much to little Poppy’s delight. (Sheliked ‘Auntie Enzie’ reading to her. I guess because Auntie Enzie tended to bea bit of a pushover and could usually be persuaded to read three bedtimestories in a row, instead of just one!)
So when a house came up for sale just along the road fromher, Rachel – knowing I was looking to buy my first property – phoned me excitedlyto tell me it was in my price range. Torminster was little more than an hour’strain journey from London, so I could commute to my job while living so nearthe country.
‘You have to go and see it. Before it’s snapped up!’ shesaid.
So I did, taking Rachel and Poppy with me for a secondopinion.
And it was love at first sight.
I put in an offer on the cute, three-bedroom semi-detachedhouse with its pretty little garden, and it was immediately accepted. Thepurchase went through without a single hitch, which made me think it wasdefinitely meant to be, and when I moved in, I felt instantly at home because Ihad Rachel and Poppy living over the road from me, on the opposite side of theclose.
I’d reached a place of peace and contentment in my lovelife, too. (I was happily single.)
My twenties had been dominated by an exhausting on-offromance. Lennox, who was good-looking, wickedly charming and made me laugh tillI cried, earned his living as an ‘apron-only bartender’ and a stripper atraucous hen nights. But it was when I arrived to pick him up from a gig andfound him getting blow jobs in a back room from a couple of women old enough tobe his great-grandma that I finally saw the light and dumped him. I can stillpicture his dismayed face as he called after me, ‘Babe, it meant nothing. Iwanted to feel what it was like when they took their false teeth out.’ Like Ishould understand he couldn’t pass up such a marvellous opportunity...
My life was much simpler now. I felt good in my own skin forthe very first time. My hectic working life was now balanced by weekends at amuch slower pace, painting feature walls (not always with a great deal ofsuccess), laying new carpet and hunting for the perfect little garden shed tohouse my beloved potter’s wheel. (It had sat neglected in a corner of thekitchen at my tiny rented London flat because I was too busy to use it.)
Being in easy reach of the country inspired me to take uppottery again and I spent many happy weekends working in my garden shed. Mywork-life balance was so much better, and I loved waking up to birdsong and thetranquil view over my little back garden instead of a busy London street. Ididn’t have anyone special in my life, but that didn’t seem to matter. After myrelationship disaster, I was thoroughly enjoying being free and single again.
I remember the day I moved in, three years ago. It was allso exciting.
Poppy was five by then and cute as a button. Rachel had onlybeen with Tommy, Poppy’s biological father, a matter of weeks before shediscovered she was pregnant. After talking it over with him, she made thedecision to have the baby and bring her up on her own, which I thought wasreally brave.
I was Rachel’s birthing partner and it was a reallyemotional time, especially when the baby decided to make her entrance six weeksearly. I’d never had any maternal stirrings myself, but when baby Poppy wasborn, my heart melted.
Poppy was small for her age and as she grew up, it was clearher cherubic face hid a sparky, mischievous nature. She loved being tickled,and once she started giggling, she couldn’t stop. She called me ‘Auntie Enzie’and after I moved to Torminster, she had a sleepover at my house every Fridaynight so that Rachel could have a night on her own and recharge her batteries, aftera hectic week running her online business selling vintage clothes from home andlooking after Poppy.
We’d bake biscuits and she’d be covered in flour, her stickyfingers stealing into the mixture when I wasn’t looking. We’d watch herfavourite movies so many times, I could recite whole passages. And I’d read herbedtime stories as she curled up, her thumb in her mouth, under the specialFrozenduvet cover I’d bought for the spare room. Sometimes, I felt relieved thatshe was sleepy at last, the giggles and the chaos having made me almost asexhausted as she was. But I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.
We felt like a little family – Rachel, Poppy and me – and Iwas so glad I’d moved to Torminster. Working long hours in London, I didn’thave much time for going out and socialising. So weekends were for Poppy’ssleepovers on Friday, catching up on jobs around the house on Saturdays, thenhaving a long lie-in the next morning. Taking Poppy to the park with Rachel onSunday afternoons was the most exciting thing I did, but it didn’t matter. I’dhad enough excitement in my life for now. I was happy living life in the slowlane for a while.
My first couple of years in Torminster were such a happy,sunny time for all three of us.
But that was before Rachel met Darren...
CHAPTERFOUR
‘I don’twantto go to school.’
‘Maisie, get up those stairs and clean your teethnow,’orders Ellie, who’s rushing around on Monday morning trying to get the caféready for opening in ten minutes. ‘You’ll already be in trouble for notfinishing your homework. You’d better not add being late for school to thelist.’
Maisie folds her arms, a petulant look on her face. ‘I hateschool. The teachers are horrible. I want to leave.’
Ellie sighs. ‘You can’t leave school at the age of eight,silly. They’d put me in jail. Would you like that?’
Her stepdaughter shrugs. ‘I’d visit you.’
Madison snorts then turns it into a cough, and Ellie turnsand glares at her.
