It Started at Sunset Cottage Read online

  It Started at Sunset Cottage

  BELLA OSBORNE

  A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

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  HarperImpulse an imprint of

  HarperCollinsPublishers

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  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2015

  Copyright © Bella Osborne 2015

  Cover images © Shutterstock.com

  Cover layout design © HarperColl‌insPublishers Ltd 2015

  Cover design by Jane Harwood

  Bella Osborne asserts the moral right

  to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue record for this book is

  available from the British Library

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

  The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

  the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

  actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

  entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International

  and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

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  written permission of HarperCollins.

  Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

  Ebook Edition © January 2015 ISBN: 9780008122881

  Version 2015-07-14

  For all those that said I could do it, this is your one and only opportunity to say ‘I told you so’ so please feel free to take it! This book is dedicated to all of you which is my way of saying a big ginormous thank you!

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Bella Osborne

  About HarperImpulse

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  The small group watched as Sebastian entered his final resting place and all those gathered bowed their heads respectfully; it was a truly great send-off.

  “We have entrusted our brother, Sebastian, to God’s mercy,” Andy’s voice intoned, “and we now commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died, was buried and rose again for us”.

  “Amen,” came the chorus.

  A cool breeze caressed the bushes and its whispers politely interrupted the silence. Clouds drifted by, scattering shadows on the ground and letting light through from the spaces between to dance on the grass. Five-year-old Amy stood on the edge of the grave, her curly brown hair, under control for once, fastened in a neat ponytail. Her usually beaming smile was missing from her solemn little face. She wiped away a tear with the sleeve of her best dress and turned to the three adults.

  “We will now sing ‘Morning Has Broken’,” she announced with supreme composure, took a deep breath, filled her lungs and…

  “Sweetie, we’ve sung it once already for Sebastian.” Amy fixed her mother with a hard stare. Unperturbed, Sarah continued, “I think Sebastian has had a pretty good send-off for a hamster, don’t you?”

  Amy thought for a moment then nodded her agreement.

  “We’ve been out here for 20 minutes and he’s all buried now. Time to go back inside.” Sarah took out a clean tissue from her jeans pocket and wiped the tears from Amy’s face. She handed her the tissue and instructed her to blow. “How about we celebrate Sebastian’s life and toast him with some milk and custard creams?” she suggested, willing her daughter to oblige.

  Amy’s face screwed up in horror. “Toast him!”

  Sarah stifled the impulse to laugh. “Toast also means having a drink in his honour.”

  Amy’s face cleared as the understanding of the other meaning of the word “toast” and the words “custard cream” hit home. “Okay, Mummy. Can I show Kate my new hamster?” she asked.

  Kate had been Sarah’s best friend since Brownies and was also Amy’s godmother, so had been summoned to Sebastian’s funeral when he’d been found dead that morning. Her face was pale and looked more so against the dark colour of her winter coat. Her still- beautiful, pale blue-grey eyes had lost a little of their old sparkle. Her light-brown hair fell around her shoulders and strands blew across her face in the breeze. A cursory sweep of lipstick showed she’d attempted to make an effort before leaving her house. She stood, shivering slightly, staring at the tiny grave, her hands thrust deep into her coat pockets as though reaching for warmth.

  Amy tugged one of Kate’s hands free. “Don’t look sad. Mummy bought me a new hamster. Come and see.”

  The little girl marched towards the house, giving her godmother no opportunity to protest. Kate, thankful for the intrusion, forced a smile onto her face and allowed herself to be towed up the thin garden. The remaining two adults exchanged smiles.

  “Great job as vicar, Andy, nice sermon,” said Sarah, wrapping her fleece tighter around her tiny frame, as a cloud moved overhead and left a chilly shadow across them both.

  “My pleasure. I’ve been to too many funerals, but this is one of the nicer ones.” Andy gestured at the small back garden. A strip of grass took up most of it, with a border on one side filled with plants and flowers and an old fence that looked as if it was only being held up by the wayward clematis and honeysuckle sprawling over its rickety surface.

  “Shall I do the final honours?”

  When Sarah nodded, he picked up the spade and nudged the earth into the tiny grave. He managed not to disturb too much of the flower bed as he tamped soil over the Jaffa Cake box that had taken on the role of hamster coffin so well. A strand of wayward hair fell over his eyes and he pushed it off his face. Andy was what his mother called a strapping young fellow. He was six foot four, lean and muscular, his tousled, unstyled light-brown hair had fair streaks running through it.

  “Kate looks pale,” Andy said, patting the soil into place. “It’s James’s birthday tomorrow…would have been,” He concentrated on the patting. Sarah bit her lip; she was rubbish with dates.

  “Maybe she was just cold – it’d freeze the arse off a polar bear out here.”

  Without looking up, Andy said, “Cold weather apart, how do you think Kate really is?”
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  “Oh, I don’t know.” Sarah shrugged. “I know how much I miss James and it’s been, what, 18 months since the accident? And I know it’s a million times worse for Kate… and for you.”

  Sarah could have kicked herself; Andy’s pain at losing his brother had to be as deep as Kate’s at losing her partner. She reached out to touch Andy’s arm. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He gave a half-smile, gestured for her to continue, then carried on levelling off the earth.

  “Sometimes I think she’s amazing and really getting on with her life and then other days I can see that lost look in her eyes and I don’t like to leave her alone.”

  Andy stopped patting the earth down on Sebastian’s grave.

  “You don’t honestly think she’d…” he didn’t finish the sentence; he just looked at Sarah and frowned as he tilted his head.

  “No! Sorry, don’t think that. She’s not that bad. Well, it is bad, because she’s lost her partner. I mean. Bad, but not top-yourself bad. Oh bugger! I’m so crap at this,” said Sarah as she started marching on the spot, for no apparent reason other than to mask her embarrassment. Andy laughed at her.

  “Go on, carry on,” he said,

  “No, she wouldn’t do anything stupid. Deep down I know she still loves life. She spends time making everyone else’s life better. In fact, she probably spends too much time caring for others. Look at that voluntary-helper job she does at the convalescent home,” Sarah found it hard sometimes to understand how Kate could work just for the fun of it, when she herself was trying, not very successfully, to hold down two jobs and was barely making ends meet. “She spends hours there talking to people, making tea and tidying up. Funny really, because she doesn’t even tidy up at home, she has help from that Concetta woman.

  “Maybe Concetta is company for her” said Andy.

  “Have you ever met the woman?”

  “Only a couple of times, but I know James thought a lot of her,”

  “She is the Devil in an apron,” said Sarah emphatically, pushing her two index fingers up through her short, dyed-blonde hair to indicate horns.

  “She can’t be that bad,”

  “I’m serious, Andy. I never really understood what the word ‘glower’ meant until I met Concetta. One look from her and you could be lying on a slab with a tag on your toe!” Sarah scrunched up her shoulders as if physically hit by the horror of her faux pas “Sorry! Again.”

  “Sarah, it is okay. Don’t feel you have to apologise every time you say something about death. Trust me, it’s okay. Honest.” His smile was sincere. This wasn’t the first time Andy had tried to put Sarah at ease over her slight lack of tact and, given Sarah’s ability to put her feet in it at any, and every, given opportunity, it most likely wouldn’t be the last. “Anyway, you were saying about Concetta?” Andy prompted.

  Sarah relaxed her shoulders and retraced her thoughts “Yes, Concetta just mumbles at you in Spanish, and I bet it’s not nice things she’s mumbling.”

  “But she is Spanish, Sarah, so it’s not that much of a surprise,” chuckled Andy. “James seemed to like her. He said they often talked about her life in Spain.”

  “That’s because James spoke fluent Spanish, he employed her and he talked to her. Now that he’s gone, Kate and Concetta just nod and point at things and that’s about it. So, to answer your question of about an hour ago, no I doubt when she’s there that she’s company for Kate. Personally, I’d rather share a cell with Hannibal Lecter.”

  “I’m glad she didn’t give up the convalescence home tea round, I think she gets a lot out of helping others. She’s also probably trying to keep herself occupied, give her a purpose aside from the writing.” Andy said leaning on the spade.

  “Slave labour, if you ask me, making cups of tea for old, sick people. Most of them are asleep, so I don’t think she is exactly getting scintillating conversation out of them, either.” pondered Sarah.

  “There you go, one finished grave,” said Andy admiring his handiwork. “Do you have a cross or something?”

  “No, it’s okay. I’ll remember where Sebastian is. Come on, let’s get a coffee and warm up, I’m colder than a…”

  “Polar bear’s arse?”

  “Exactly!”

  Sarah opened the door to the small kitchen and was welcomed by the waft of warm air. She flicked the switch on the kettle and took three random mugs from the mug tree. Andy took off his muddied boots and went to the sink to wash his hands. Kate was sitting rigid at the kitchen table with a very anxious Amy hovering over her.

  “What’s going on here, then?” asked Sarah as she gently pulled her daughter’s ponytail.

  “Kate is holding my new hamster, but I don’t think he’s very happy.”

  The small honey-coloured creature was sitting stock-still, its pretty, unblinking eyes looked as though they had been swept round with a dark kohl pencil. Not a muscle was moving.

  Sarah intervened and picked the hamster out of Kate’s sweaty palm.

  “Let’s rescue the poor terrified creature and put the hamster back in his cage, too,” said Sarah, as what little colour Kate had started to come back to her face. “Better?” Sarah added.

  “Thanks, I’m not good with animals. Actually, I am good with animals, I guess I’m just not good with rodents,” said Kate, joining Andy at the sink to wash her hands free of the sensation of miniature clawed feet.

  “Don’t take it personally, Curry hasn’t had much handling so he’s not too good with humans yet,” Sarah said, setting him down on the floor of his sawdust-lined cage and carefully shutting the door. Curry scampered off into his plastic house to recover from his ordeal.

  “Curry?” questioned Kate

  “Ask my genius of a daughter.” Amy grinned from ear to ear.

  “So why have you called him Curry?”

  Amy looked a little disappointed. “You need to say his name and then say what he is. Like Amy, the little girl,” she explained.

  “So that would be Curry, the hamster,” Kate dutifully replied. At this Amy collapsed into fits of uncontrollable giggles. Sarah brought the mugs to the table and Kate followed her as her hands now felt cleansed of eau de hamster.

  “I know she’s going to do that every time someone new meets him. She thinks it’s hysterical. Go on, strange child, go and hang your coat up, wash your hands and then come and choose a biscuit.” Amy skipped off, still chuckling to herself.

  “You know, that’s really quite clever,” said Andy, joining them at the table.

  “I agree. It’s inspired. I’m just glad she didn’t call him Roger!” said Sarah.

  They all laughed, but the laughter dwindled quickly. In the pause that followed, they all took a swig of their drinks in a synchronised motion. The hamster funeral had left the three of them feeling a little odd. Their normal, easy air and chatter was lost today, replaced by unwanted silences. Sarah was the first to crack and break the peace.

  “Amy’s a smart cookie, she’s running rings around her father already; outgrew him academically about a year ago.”

  “How is Shaun?” asked Kate out of habit, rather than out of any genuine interest.

  “Still an arsehole.” said Sarah, taking a swig of coffee. Kate nodded her understanding.

  Andy leapt to defend his friend, “He’s not so bad really. You can’t deny that he loves Amy and he’s a good plumber.” Okay, the last point was not a terribly imaginative one, but he liked Shaun and he had seemed really cut up when he and Sarah had separated. He knew that Shaun was lacking in sensitivity and was sometimes a bit of a borderline bully, but only because he took things too far. Andy had welcomed his support since James had died, but had felt it would betray his friendship with Sarah if he admitted that they were still regular drinking buddies, so this he kept to himself.

  “Andy, I know you’re trying to be nice, but Shaun is a bastard. He lets Amy down on a regular basis, he’s behind with the maintenance again and he’s a low-life,” Sarah resolved to end her
diatribe.

  “Couldn’t be lower if he was limbo-ing under a slug,” said Kate and I loathe him, she thought.

  “Let’s change the subject. Any news?” Sarah said, turning the attention to Kate. Kate stopped sipping her tea, put her mug down and waved her hands in a bit of a jazz-hands way, which grabbed their attention. This was just the opportunity Kate had been waiting for now that she was with her two closest friends.

  “Yes, I have news,” Kate said, her face changing as her smile spread.

  “Ooh, exciting. Let’s guess,” said Sarah.

  “Okay, but only two guesses each, otherwise we’ll be here till Christmas,” said Kate. “Andy, go on, you guess first.”

  “Err, well, err…”

  “I’ll have to hurry you, time is running out,” said Kate.

  “Okay, okay, you’re going away on holiday?”

  “Uh, er, wrong answer. Sarah, your chance to steal the lead.”

  “You’ve finished book number five?”

  “Uh, er, wrong answer. I really do need to get a wiggle on with that, my editor’s patience is wearing thin. Back to you, Andy,” Kate had produced a wonderful plan for book five; it was colour-coded with arrows linking key characters and important events. She was very proud of her plan; she just needed to muster the same enthusiasm for writing the story.

  “You’ve met someone else?” said Andy cautiously.

  Kate was a little surprised by this one, “Er, no, wrong answer,” she said, trying not to react, although she wasn’t sure if she was meant to give a long speech about James. Kate was never sure how people expected her to respond to things like that, so she just ignored it. “Sarah, last guess,”

  “Oh, God, you’re not buggering off to live in Australia with your parents are you?” her face looking dismayed at the thought.