Page 16 of The Village Inn of Secret Dream

Amber looked across her shoulder at Belle. ‘Are you sure?’ she mouthed.

Belle nodded. ‘Absolutely,’ she told her, despite her reservations at what would no doubt be a colourful, long bridesmaid’s dress and totally out of her comfort zone of dark clothing.

But as the excited chatter continued about all things wedding related, Belle was left wondering whether she would even be living in the village at that point if the inn was sold. A fact she didn’t bring up as she didn’t want to ruin the happy mood.

She should try to be optimistic, she supposed. But despite her name, she knew that her very own happy ever after was never going to happen. After all, true love was for fairy tales, not for real life.

7

After she had finished chatting with her friends, Belle bought a loaf of bread from the shop and was just about to head back to the inn when she heard someone calling out her name.

She turned to find Grandma Tilly rushing out of the community hub towards her.

‘Good morning,’ said Belle. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine, fine,’ said Grandma Tilly, looking a little distracted. She took Belle’s arm and led her off towards one of the three bridges that crossed the river.

‘Is everything okay?’ asked Belle.

Grandma Tilly glanced behind her once more, but Riverside Lane was temporarily quiet, with no one to be seen.

She gave a nod to herself and then turned to find Belle studying her with a worried look.

‘Oh, everything’s fine,’ said Grandma Tilly quickly. ‘I just need a favour from you.’

‘Of course,’ said Belle, still a little concerned about the pensioner’s secretive behaviour. ‘How can I help?’

‘Do you still have your grandmother’s old sewing machine?’ asked Grandma Tilly, in a low voice.

Belle nodded. ‘Oh yes, I could never get rid of it,’ she said, with a smile.

Her grandmother had been a source of great comfort when Belle had moved to Cranbridge. A kind-hearted, gentle woman, she was in stark contrast to Angie, her brightly coloured, loud and brash daughter and Belle’s own mother. Her grandmother’s peace and calm had been just what Belle had craved for so many years and it turned out that they had a shared interest in sewing. Starved of close friendship in those days, Belle had always enjoyed dressing up her dolls in various pieces of material which she had then sewn to fit.

Her grandmother had taught Belle how to use her 1930s Singer sewing machine to make clothes and quilts. They had spent many happy hours sewing together, matching pieces of leftover materials to make quilts for all their beds.

Grandma Tilly sighed. ‘Oh yes, I remember how close you and your grandmother were.’

Belle nodded. ‘I do miss her.’

‘Me too, dear,’ said Grandma Tilly, squeezing Belle’s arm.

Grandma Tilly had been close friends with Belle’s grandmother as they had grown up in the village together.

When her grandmother had passed away a few years after Belle had arrived, she had inherited both the sewing machine and leftover rolls of materials. But Belle had never had the heart to do anything with them. It wasn’t as much fun as when she had been spending time with her grandmother.

‘So what do you need the sewing machine for?’ asked Belle.

Grandma Tilly checked over her shoulder once more to make sure nobody was nearby.

‘I stupidly said that I would make some quilts for one of the stalls for the Christmas fete,’ she said.

Grandma Tilly had always been good with sewing and knitting.

Belle nodded. ‘Well, that’s a few months away yet. Plenty of time.’

‘Yes, but I’m not as quick as I was,’ said Grandma Tilly with a grimace. ‘So I wondered if I could borrow the machine. Just for a short while to move things along a bit.’

‘Of course,’ said Belle.