Chapter 2

2

‘Argh!’ Laura groaned as she unfolded herself from the dusty sofa in the guest sitting room. Every single bone and muscle in her lower back and legs ached, and she immediately regretted her decision to camp out here instead of staying up late and washing the bedding from the small owners’ suite upstairs.

Sitting up, she reached her arms above her head and stretched to one side. Did her back just crack? She wouldn’t be surprised, but whatever had just made that noise, she now felt marginally better, so it couldn’t have been anything too bad.

She looked across at the large stone fireplace and the oak mantelpiece above. The previous owner really had left everything. A golden carriage clock stood centre stage, flanked by two photo frames holding small sketches of the inn. She hadn’t noticed those before. Judging by the lack of foliage and how small the willow tree in the front garden was in the drawings, they must have been created years ago. Perhaps when the previous owner had moved in.

Being new to all of this – owning and running an inn – the fact that Pennycress Inn had been a combined house and contents sale had really been what had swung it for her. The other two properties in the running had been offered unfurnished and she’d felt so out of her depth, facing the prospect of having to buy everything – from the beds the guests would sleep in to the salt and pepper shakers for the tables – that the fact Pennycress was ready to go really had been an opportunity too good to pass up.

After slowly straightening her back, Laura gingerly took a step forward. Yep, washing the bedding had to be first on her list of tasks to do today. After that, she’d take a proper look at the wall in the hallway and assess the situation before making a start at cleaning.

Maybe later she’d even have the chance to sort through the reception desk and see what supplies she needed to buy, as well as taking a look at how the books had been kept. Of course, she’d been given the chance at the viewing to take a cursory look over them, but she hadn’t really quite understood what she should have been focusing on. Now, after weeks of research, she thought she’d stand a better chance of truly comprehending them.

Although sinking all her money from the divorce and the sale of their marital home into buying an inn had been a somewhat snap decision, during the time it had taken for the estate agent and solicitors to do their thing, she’d researched the heck out of running a place like this and she was looking forward to putting all of her research into practice. All being well, she’d be welcoming her very own guests to Pennycress Inn by this time next month, giving her the spring months to ease into her new role before the busier summer months, when she’d hopefully have each of the four guest rooms filled continuously, if the information she’d gleaned from the inn’s records of the previous years’ bookings was anything to go by.

The ringtone of her mobile pierced the silence in the room. Please don’t let it be her parents checking in on her again. Picking it up, she slumped her shoulders in relief. It wasn’t her parents; it was Richie, her older brother. ‘Have Mum and Dad told you to ring me?’

‘What? No, of course not. Hi yourself too.’ Richie’s voice was laced with amusement.

‘Sorry. Morning. You can’t blame me for assuming. You know what they’re like.’ Laura relaxed.

‘I do. And I suppose I should admit that, yes, they asked me to check how things are going, but I was going to ring to congratulate you on the big move, regardless.’

‘Ha, knew it!’ Walking through to the hallway, Laura averted her eyes from the problem wall and instead began climbing the stairs, running her hand across the beautiful oak banister as she did. She’d never tire of seeing the intricately carved roses and vines. It reminded her of something out of the fairy-tale castles of her childhood.

‘You sound all echoey.’

She grinned as she turned and looked down at the hallway below. ‘It’s this hallway. It’s huge! And beautiful.’ Apart from the small pile of crumbled plaster on the floor.

‘When do I get my invite, then? It’s all been very secretive.’

‘Not secretive. Just quick. I needed to get out of my post-divorce rut and change my life, you know that.’

‘I do. I’m only teasing you. And I’m happy for you that you’re moving on, even if it is in a completely different direction than anything you’ve ever done before.’

Feeling herself automatically tense, Laura let out a slow, long breath. Richie had always been the perfect image of the big brother. Fiercely protective, always there for her – and also always thinking he knew best. ‘I know it is, but I’ve got this.’

‘I know you have. I just want to help, that’s all. I…’ Richie wavered, obviously trying to decide whether to say what was on the tip of his tongue or not.

Laura walked across the old-fashioned but classic red and gold patterned carpet and pushed open the door to the owners’ suite. Here, the luxurious carpet was quickly replaced by a plain cream one, a little threadbare and with intermittent brown and red stains. Coffee and red wine, that’s what the previous owner must have been partial to, or that’s what she’d tell herself. ‘What?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Uh-huh. Just get on with it. I can take it, Richie. Tell me what you really want to say.’ She blew a loose strand of hair from her face as she eyed up the small queen-sized bed by the window. The whole suite – bedroom area, sitting area and the tiny kitchen to the left – was painted a very boring magnolia and in contrast to the classic and tasteful furniture in the guest bedrooms and downstairs, here the furniture was unmistakably flatpack. And old – not in a good way like the other furniture was, but in the marked and slightly wobbly fashion. Which was fine. Of course it was. She’d be the only person who would see inside this suite, and she could decorate it and update the furniture, in time, once the inn itself was perfect.

‘It’s nothing bad. All I was going to say was that since you split with Harry, I’ve been worried about you. We all have. And now you’ve taken on this enormous project! Well, I just wish you’d have let me and Dad come round to check it out before you’d put an offer in, that’s all.’

Yep, just what she thought he was going to spout. ‘I’m thirty-eight. I’m more than capable of running my own life and making my own decisions. Besides, you didn’t go and view Jenny and Rob’s house before they put an offer down.’ Standing in front of the window next to the bed, which looked out over the overgrown front garden, Laura braced herself for what was to come.

‘Well, Jenny has Rob to look out for her, you don’t have…’ She could hear him clearing his throat, possibly realising what he’d been about to say.

Quickly walking out of the room, she closed the door to the owners’ suite and made her way across the landing to the guest bedroom opposite before looking out of the window towards the large willow tree which grew slap-bang in the middle of the vast back garden. It was bigger than the willow in the front garden, its branches reaching metres across the lawn. A couple of birds flittered from branch to branch before making their way to the hedge hugging the edge of the patio area. She made a mental note to brush up on her wildlife identification skills. She’d need to sound knowledgeable if any of her future guests asked her something about the local flora and fauna.

‘Laura? You’re not mad at me for worrying about you, are you?’

‘Not for worrying, no, but for not trusting my instincts, my decisions, you bet I am.’ She exhaled sharply. None of her family believed in her. Everyone else had their lives completely sorted. Jenny had her business, husband, and the gorgeous twins. Richie worked in the City doing some important job in finance – not that she’d ever been able to fully understand what it was he did, but he brought in enough money to support his wife, Jane, and their equally gorgeous children. They’d had their third baby only a couple of months earlier.

Whereas she, Laura, what did she have? She was thirty-eight, the middle child, newly divorced and until recently working in a dead-end, mind-numbing job she’d hated with a passion but had stuck with just to give her parents a pittance for rent and cover her mobile bill. Perching on the edge of the four-poster bed, she coughed as a plume of dust filled the air. When she thought about it like that, who could really blame her family for not trusting her choices?

‘I do trust you. We all do…’ Richie tailed off, his voice becoming distant before he addressed her again. ‘Look, sis, I’ve got to run, I’ve got a meeting I need to be in, but believe me, I trust you. It’s the other people I don’t trust.’

‘Bye.’ Speaking quietly into the phone, she ended the call. It meant the same thing, didn’t it? He’d just admitted he didn’t trust her ability to see through people. She hadn’t with Harry. She’d married him, believed all the promises he’d made, fallen for the plans he said he had for the two of them, and where had that led? Her having to make the decision to leave him, that’s where.

But then, maybe that was where her family’s concerns stemmed from. After all, they all still had a soft spot for Harry. Of course, they wouldn’t admit it. Not now. They all told her they supported her decision to end the marriage, but whenever his name was brought up or her failed marriage referenced in passing, their unspoken words hung in the air, the confusion as to why she’d walked out.

And it had been Richie, her own brother, who, whilst she’d been on the phone with him in tears at the side of the road after her car had started to smoke because she’d forgotten to refill the leaky water tank, had uttered those words. ‘If you’d still been with Harry…’ She knew it had been a slip of the tongue, something he’d taken back milliseconds after saying them, but it had given her more than a little insight into how her family felt about her situation – her ‘self-imposed’ situation.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she stood up, pocketed her mobile and walked back into the owners’ suite to begin stripping the bedclothes off the bed. The best thing she could do to avoid wallowing in self-pity was to get back to her tasks, to focus on building her perfect future running this place.

She grimaced as she bundled the bedding into her arms, the thick dust covering her white T-shirt. How long had Ms Taunton said the inn had been empty for? She couldn’t remember, but she hadn’t thought it had been long enough for the dust to build up this much.