How Laura Lewis Met Richard Brown

Chapter One

Laura Lewis stood in front of Church View Cottage and, despite the biting cold and the persistent drizzle, smiled. It looked just like those cottages she had read about in fairy tales as a young girl. Those country cottages with two matching lattice windows, a central chimney and a bright-yellow door. Church View Cottage had obviously seen better days, but it looked to have been cared for and loved over the years. Laura hovered by the wooden gate, breathing in the fresh country air, so unlike the thick and dust-polluted air back in the city where she had lived and worked.

Entering the village on the local bus had been like stepping back in time. Fairy lights still glistened along the hedges which ran either side of the road and bunting had been hung up advertising that the January coffee morning would be taking place in the village hall. As the bus circled the village square, the Christmas tree still stood tall and proud, although it was now well into January.

Laura had spied a little shop and a pub, and as the bus had continued on its way she passed a small primary school. The children had been running around the playground, wrapped in scarves and with brightly coloured woolly hats on their heads. Church View Cottage was located on the outskirts of the village it seemed, the last stop before it headed back to the local town. She had been the last person off the bus.

As Laura opened the small gate and wheeled her suitcase down the path, she wondered why it was called Church View as she hadn’t passed a church. She should have asked the estate agent about the name.

Laura propped the suitcase against the small step leading up towards the front door and unzipped her shoulder bag to locate the keys she had been given. This cottage and the village were to be her new home for the next six months. Had she made the right decision in coming here? She didn’t know, not yet, as only time would tell. But she had made the only decision she could. To flee.

There were only two keys on the key ring, so Laura quickly found the one she needed and with a gentle twist, the door groaned open. Stepping into the narrow hallway, she flicked the light switch and was surprised by how bright and welcoming the narrow space was. A picture hung on the wall by the front door, showing the sun beaming down and flowers in full bloom. Laura stepped closer to examine the picture, noticing that it was actually a black-and-white photograph, but there was no date. Below it was a small wooden table and on that sat a telephone, the old-fashioned type with large square digits. She really had stepped back in time. She lifted the receiver and heard a dialling tone, so at least she was connected to the outside world. She wondered if she would get a mobile signal out here. Fumbling in her coat pocket, she retrieved her mobile and noted that there was a weak signal, just one bar, so the landline could come in handy. Laura hadn’t thought much about internet connection, another thing she had forgotten to mention to the estate agent. She didn’t own a laptop and wasn’t on social media, but she would need email and to be able to browse the news on her phone. It didn’t look like there was any 4G signal. She would sort all of that out tomorrow. In the scheme of things, it was relatively unimportant.

Laura peered around the door on the left side of the hallway. She found a small and cosy room, described by the estate agent as the snug. The room was perfect for curling up in with a good book in front of the open fire. She closed the door and headed straight on into the kitchen at the back of the cottage. She had expected to find a small yet functional kitchen, so she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face at the sight of a large scrubbed pine table, and the huge Aga that took up the back wall. She hoped it came with instructions. The cooker in her tiny one-bedroomed flat had been electric. She gazed at the low beams, the worktops free from clutter, and realised that all she could hear was the humming of the fridge. Pure bliss. She would have time to think here. Time to find herself again.

Laura dropped the keys onto the pine table and noticed a handwritten note addressed to her propped up against a large biscuit tin decorated with flowers.

We hope that you enjoy Church View Cottage as much as we did. We’ve left out the instructions on how to use the Aga for cooking and heating. Both are pretty simple when you get to grips with them. We mainly used the wood burner in the snug, though. Keep the door open and the whole cottage heats up.

Jenny and Dave xxx

P.S. We hope you like the biscuits — homemade choc-chip.

Laura picked up the tin — it felt heavy. Prising off the lid, she looked inside to find it full of biscuits. She inhaled the rich chocolate smell. There was no way she could make biscuits like this, although she made a mental note to do the same when it was her time to leave. She could always buy a few packets. Such a simple and kind gesture made all the difference.

She decided to leave her coat on until she’d got the fire going. Hopefully there would be wood. Walking back along the hallway and opening the door to the snug, she found a large basket to the side of the fireplace, and indeed, it was full to the brim with logs and kindling. They must have stocked up before they’d left. She knew that they had only left a week ago. Just before New Year. They were emigrating to New Zealand. The timing could not have been better, seeing as Laura was starting her new job at Cedar House care home in only two days’ time. She could hear her mother’s voice loud and clear in her head: Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t we, Laura? Well, yes, she was, but it had all worked out, hadn’t it?

Laura dragged her suitcase into the kitchen and made a quick plan in her head. Locate cups, tea bags and milk, start a fire, and then unpack. Opening the fridge, she was glad to find a bottle of milk, eggs and some butter, which the estate agent had provided for her. Apparently, she lived not far away and had popped the provisions in for her last night on her way home from work. Also, presumably to check that the cottage was clean and presentable. Now, all Laura had to do was find the tea bags which she had packed in her suitcase.

* * *

An hour later, Laura had successfully lit the fire, thankful that there were firelighters on the mantelpiece. She’d also explored the kitchen, rummaging in cupboards and finding chunky mugs in a range of pretty colours, and had had two cups of tea. The kitchen was surprisingly well-equipped. There was a fridge freezer, a microwave, every utensil she would ever need, dinner plates, bowls, mixing bowls and even cake tins, although Laura wasn’t much of a baker. After her tea she had lugged the suitcase up the narrow rickety stairs. There was only one bedroom, but it was spacious and bright, and the pretty floral duvet cover made her smile. Now kitted out by Jenny and Dave as a holiday let, the house came with bedding and towels, which was a huge bonus. The large window overlooking the back garden meant she wouldn’t hear the traffic rumbling by. But, if the past few hours were anything to go by, not much traffic passed through this sleepy Lancashire village.

With all her strength, Laura managed to lift the suitcase onto the double bed and threw back the lid. Her world lay inside the dull, brown interior. A few pairs of jeans, T-shirts, jumpers, pyjamas, underwear, work shoes, a couple of treasured books, her Kindle, phone and Kindle charger, make-up bag and a few photographs — none of which she could look at right now. She just needed them to be with her, to be a part of her new life. Picking up the envelope of photographs, she shoved it into the top drawer of the bedside cabinet. Her pyjamas were placed under the pillow and the rest of her clothes were folded neatly into the awaiting empty drawers. No need to use the wardrobe.

Laura took a step back from the bed and caught her reflection in the dressing-table mirror. Her long dark-blonde hair seemed even duller than usual and her pale complexion was slightly flushed. There was nothing extraordinary about her. She’d never thought herself pretty, just rather average. Average build, average height and even her blue eyes were nothing to write home about, neither dark and mysterious nor light and pretty. With a sigh, she looked at her meagre belongings. She didn’t seem to have accumulated a lot from her previous life. She wanted no reminders, needing to shrug off that skin in order to wear this new one.

Of course, Lottie, her younger and highly successful sister with the model family, had laughed when Laura had told her about her plans to move to the countryside. Running away, more like , Lottie had said, giving her that annoying knowing look she had perfected over the years. Laura had protested, telling her that she wasn’t running away but that she needed to go somewhere new. Somewhere without memories, somewhere where she wasn’t reminded of Mark everywhere she went. The restaurant they’d gone to for their first date. The first house they’d lived in, and the last. She couldn’t stand it any longer. She’d had to get away. Lottie and their mother, Maureen, just hadn’t understood why. They’d told her she had no reason to run away. That the memories would only follow her like long-lost friends. Laura was determined to prove them wrong.

She had come across the sleepy village of Buttermarsh quite by accident one afternoon while browsing the internet, during a rare day off. She’d wondered what it would be like to simply get away. To just up sticks and move to somewhere where no one would know her past, know what had happened. There was only her to consider. Nothing was stopping her, only herself. So, Laura had started to look for villages in Lancashire, having been on holiday there as a child. It was only a short drive away from the outskirts of Liverpool where she had grown up in a two-bed semi with a backyard. It was only when she’d found out that the village had a care home and an open vacancy that she’d begun to make serious plans, thinking that perhaps she could move to the countryside after all. What had started out as a glimmer of an idea had turned into reality. And here she was. Standing in Church View Cottage with no church in sight.

Making her way downstairs for another pot of tea, she halted in her tracks at a persistent knocking on the front door. Laura wasn’t sure if she could be seen hovering on the stairs through the door’s frosted stained glass, and for a fleeting moment thought about crouching down and ignoring whoever it was. Another knock made her mind up and she scurried down the stairs to find out who it was.

Laura flung open the door to be greeted by an elderly lady wearing a green Barbour jacket, matching green wellies, and holding the lead that belonged to a black-and-white border collie.

The woman, her white hair scraped severely and neatly into a bun, beamed at Laura. Her cheeks were flushed as if she’d been on a brisk walk.

‘Hello, dear. I thought it best to knock and introduce myself. I’m Gwen.’

Laura stood motionless as Gwen thrust out a gloved hand towards her. Slowly, Laura held out her own hand and politely shook it.

Laura forced a smile and then let her hand drop. She had no idea what the country code was for introducing yourself to a complete stranger who knocked on your door. ‘I’m Laura. That’s a beautiful dog,’ she said eventually.

Gwen beamed once more and reached down to pat the dog’s head. ‘Oh, this is my Benji. He’s an old man now.’

Laura wondered whether this woman was one of those people who treated their dog like it was a child.

‘He’s been with us for such a very long time,’ Gwen continued. ‘Don’t know what we’d do without him.’

‘Well, he’s very well behaved,’ Laura said, as she grew more concerned that she had left this woman and her dog on her doorstep for longer than was necessarily good manners. Should she invite them in for tea and biscuits? It was on the very tip of her tongue to do so when Gwen interrupted her thoughts.

‘Well, I’d best be off. I just wanted to say hello. You’ll probably see us around. Me and my husband, Bill, we own the Fox and Hound in the village, so be sure to pop in and have a welcome drink on us.’

Laura smiled, thanked her and then waited for the question that never came.

What are you doing here?

With a thankful sigh of relief, she said goodbye and slowly closed the door.