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She smiled back, but the silence continued.
‘What?’ she blurted out.
Seb got up and went to sit next to her. He took both her hands into his. ‘Mum has left her house here in Cranbury to me and Dom.’
Sophie nodded, smiling into Seb’s kind brown eyes which reminded her so much of his mother that she had to inhale a quick breath to quash the rising panic in her chest. Mr Braithwaite didn’t look like the type of lawyer who would appreciate people sobbing onto his smoked-glass conference table.
‘And she left Gingerberry Yarns to you, Soph.’
‘She… I beg your pardon?’
‘Dom and I knew she wanted you to have it. It was half your mum’s before she and your dad…well… And you did love the place, didn’t you, before you left to chase your fortune in London? You know, one of my earliest memories is of youdesigning and sewing your own clothes for your Barbie doll from remnants of fabric and ribbon. You even knitted jumpers for our teddy bears, remember? We’re not interested in the shop. Mum made the right decision.’
Sophie knew her jaw had slackened. She flicked her eyes from Seb to Dominic and back again. The brothers nodded at her in unison.
‘Seb’s right, Soph. You adore that place. Whenever I go there it feels weird not to see you sitting at that huge table doing your homework. You spent every spare second there. Well, when you weren’t out gallivanting with Noah or watching his band crucify some of my favourite rock anthems,’ added Dominic.
‘Gingerberry Yarns is mine now?’
Her cousins nodded. The solicitor shuffled his papers back into the buff file in front of him, tied it with a green ribbon and rose from his chair.
‘I’ll leave you to your discussions. Please take your time and help yourself to coffee. If you need any advice about the disposal of either the property here in Cranbury or the shop over in Somersby, then it goes without saying that my firm’s services are at your disposal.’
The door swung closed behind him.
‘But I can’t run a haberdashery shop in the Cotswolds. I live in London. I have a business that devours every second of my time, perhaps even more if my prayers are answered.’
‘Mum was so excited about the wedding gown competition, you know. She told everyone who came into the shop about it.’ Seb’s eyes sparkled with tears but he managed to hang on to his emotions. ‘Dom and I have already decided to sell Mum’s house. If you want to sell Gingerberry, you have our blessing. Lives move on, things change. We know that. Just promise to comeand visit us up here in Gloucestershire once in a while. We miss you.’
Sophie couldn’t hold on to her emotions any longer. She’d thought she had no tears left to shed yet a deluge burst from within.
‘I promise,’ she managed.
‘Oh, and before you go back down to London, why don’t you make your peace with Noah? Remember what Mum always used to say? Life’s too short to carry grudges. You know, I don’t have a single childhood memory that doesn’t feature you and Noah together in supporting roles.’
‘Seb…’
‘And perhaps, before you make any decisions, you should take a good look around the shop. Maybe take a few photos? It’ll bring back memories you thought you’d forgotten. It did for me and Dom.’
‘I will, yes. Thanks, Seb. Thanks, Dom. But, really, I can’t see any other alternative but to sell up.’
‘Whatever you decide, Soph, you have our full support.’
She would do as Seb had suggested. She’d drive over to Somersby and spend an afternoon in the shop. It was the least she could do after such a generous gift from her Aunt Claire. It would also be an ideal opportunity to check out the stock, to box up anything suitable for Sophie-Louise.
Seb was right. She had left her life in the Cotswolds behind and carved out a new one in the capital, although it was career-orientated with very little social life. She found herself yearning for the anonymity of London where the streets were filled with dull, grey office workers unconcerned about their fellow humans’ difficulties – in fact she had become one of them, a fellow member of that overworked, harried tribe. Onthe other hand, in Cranbury and Somersby, everyone knew their neighbours’ business, happy or sad, and had a ready word of congratulation or solace to offer.
However, she did have a plethora of happy memories wrapped up in Gingerberry Yarns and it would be tough to leave them behind for good. Yet a stab of regret needled her conscience – there was one thing that pained her above all else.
If she did sell Gingerberry, what would happen to Delia?
Chapter Six
Sophie paused in Somersby High Street to look up at the sign, fashioned from bronze in the shape of a ball of wool stabbed through with a pair of knitting needles. Gingerberry Yarns, it announced. She smiled despite her sadness as she recalled the day it had been delivered; first the shock, then the burst of hilarity her mum and Aunt Claire had shared.
In a certain light, the signage looked just like a skull and crossbones. Would customers think they were pirates, Claire had asked. Delia had been summonsed for her valued opinion, but after much deliberation over the big brown teapot, they had all declared they loved it and hung it outside the shop with tongue-in-cheek pride. It would be a talking point if nothing else. They’d christened its erection with a bottle of Prosecco rosé and a Victoria sponge cake filled with oodles of jam and cream made by old Tom Wallington’s bakery.
Gingerberry Yarns had been closed for a week as a mark of respect after the passing of her aunt. Shading her eyes, she peered through the grime-coated window. The little shop still held a hint of magic for Sophie – once inside the door, the visitor would be enveloped in a warm comfort blanket, safe, just for a few moments, from all the traumas life tossed in their path.
