The Secret of Orchard Cottage: The feel-good number one bestseller. Alex Brown
bowl and carefully set the pie dish down on the kitchen table.
‘I did?’ April asked, keenly eyeing the dish.
‘Steak and ale, just warm it through for your tea, and it’ll be lovely with some runners and mash,’ and Molly rummaged inside a reusable shopping bag looped over her left arm before producing a handful of super-sized runner beans followed by two large Maris Pipers which she placed on the table next to the pie. ‘Freshly pulled from my patch in the garden – thought you could do with a decent meal after your long journey, and then what with all that broken window shenanigans …’ She shook her head as she lifted the towel before instantly getting back to the conversation – leaving April with not even a second to acknowledge the kind gesture (instead she made a mental note to call into the butchers’ to return the dish and say a proper thank you, before she went back to Basingstoke). ‘Oh yes. Mark, he’s the policeman,’ Molly continued, ‘well, he came into the shop to pick up some pork and leek sausages for his tea …’ she paused to catch her breath. April nodded, liking Molly right away. ‘Anyway, I was up to my elbows in chicken giblets when the call came through to Mark on his radio and then, well, I just couldn’t help myself.’ Molly’s cheeks flushed. ‘I can’t remember the last time we had a bona fide emergency in Tindledale and it’s not every day that you get to see a crime unfolding right in front of your eyes so I hot-footed it down here …’ Her voice petered out and silence followed. ‘Blimey, I sound dreadful don’t I?’ Molly added a few seconds later. ‘What must you think of me?’
‘Not at all,’ April replied graciously to spare Molly’s obvious embarrassment – her neck was now covered in a myriad of red blotches. ‘Anyway, I’m glad you’ve come back to the cottage.’
‘You are?’ Molly looked relieved and the redness immediately started to diminish.
‘Sure. Because I can’t remember the last time someone brought me a homemade pie, so thank you.’ April beamed. ‘And I’m curious to know more about Winnie … what else has Edie told you about her?’
‘Oh, it’s my pleasure, I love baking,’ Molly said. ‘It’s so satisfying, and you can’t beat a good pie, don’t you think?’ April nodded. ‘And as for Winnie, um, well I don’t know very much, not in terms of where she lives and stuff. Only that Edie is very fond of her … I get the impression she’s a much younger relative, a niece or daughter perhaps. That’s why I assumed you were Winnie – Edie always says stuff like, “Our Winnie loves a nice rasher of bacon for her breakfast”, you know, when I bring down her order. I always pop in an extra few slices for Old Edie.’ Molly paused and lowered her voice. ‘Poor dear doesn’t have many pleasures in life, and I guess I feel a bit sorry for her … think she gets lonely, probably why she likes to go for a wander,’ she mouthed, indicating with her head towards the sitting room next door, ‘and that’s no way for a lovely old lady to end her days.’
‘A wander?’
‘Yes, you know, it’s happened a few times … I found her once in her slippers at the top of the lane. Driving past I was when I spotted her, and thank God I did as she only had a cotton sundress on and it was perishing outside.’ Molly shook her head. ‘Soon got her warmed up though after I popped her in the car and brought her back home, so disaster averted.’ And Molly chuckled like it really was no big deal … or, and April’s heart sank at the thought … maybe Molly, like Harvey, was just used to Old Edie’s muddled ways and impromptu jaunts around the village in her slippers!
‘Thank you,’ April said quietly.
And now it was her turn to feel embarrassed. It really was no excuse not to have visited her great aunt – since the funeral was fair enough, but that was over eighteen months ago as it was. April felt that she should have mustered up more effort and made herself come to Tindledale before now. Whilst it was wonderfully community-spirited of Harvey and Molly to be looking out for her aunt, it shouldn’t be that way. April flicked her eyes away and then pretended to busy herself by putting the rubber gloves back in the cupboard under the sink. When she had finished, she grabbed her bag from the counter and found a tube of hand cream. She squirted a dollop on to the back of her right hand while Molly continued talking, moving on to another topic.
‘So I see you’re married?’ She gestured to April’s left hand where her wedding band was. ‘Is your husband visiting too?’
April froze.
Silence shrouded in awkwardness hung in the air between the two women.
After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was probably only a few seconds, April managed to shake her head, initially taken aback at the directness of the question, but then quickly came to the realisation that, actually, she felt OK. A bit wobbly, she hadn’t been prepared, that was all, but …
She took a deep breath and replied.
‘Um, no. No he won’t be doing that,’ April started, wondering how to explain … as so far she hadn’t had to. Everyone she had spoken to since Gray died – friends, his colleagues, utility companies, people at his squash club (Gray had loved playing squash before he was no longer able to swing a racket), the library, bank, etc. – already knew. April was suddenly conscious that this would be her first time explaining from scratch to a person who didn’t know Gray and she had no idea where to begin – in fact, she wasn’t sure she wanted to share this information about her husband with someone she had just met. It might seem strange, but by keeping the motor neurone disease and Gray’s death to herself while she was here in Tindledale, April felt as though his memory, indeed his life, could be just hers, and hers alone, and therefore protected. Whole. And not diluted by having to share him. At home, she had no choice but to share him with Nancy and Freddie and, whilst April knew that he was never hers alone, today and tomorrow he could be – selfishly so, and right now, she really wanted that.
So she added, ‘It’s just me,’ and pulled her bottom lip in over her teeth and bit down hard as she worked the cream into her hands, masking the sudden tremble that had engulfed them. Molly studied April momentarily before continuing.
‘Don’t worry, love. Happens to the best of us! My Cooper, and the boys – I’ve got four of the wee bastards, God love them – but they drive me bonkers sometimes and I have to take off to a spa for a day or so just to gather my thoughts and gear up for round two hundred trillion.’ Molly puffed in sheer exasperation. ‘Well, you’ve come to the right place for some R&R, fresh rural air and hearty country food, and you’ll have made up in no time … give him a few days to miss you and see how he likes lying next to a cold section of the bed—’
‘He died!’ April blurted involuntarily, despite her earlier decision to not mention Gray, and then instinctively pressed a hand to the top of her chest. ‘Sorry, I um … er, I shouldn’t have shouted it out like that.’ The hand moved to her earlobe to twiddle a silver stud as she wondered what on earth to say next. Molly was staring at her, her mouth still open in an O shape and her eyebrows furrowing underneath her fringe.
But then, quite unexpectedly, Molly had her arms around April.
‘Oh God love you,’ she said, patting April’s back before letting her go and taking a couple of steps backwards into her own personal space. ‘I am so bloody sorry. Me and my massive mouth … and don’t you dare apologise,’ Molly admonished harshly, although her eyes were soft and full of warmth.
‘It’s OK. It was a year and a half ago now … don’t know why it still gets me like this,’ April fidgeted.
‘Crikey. That’s no time at all. And who said there was a time limit on your feelings in any case? If it gets you, it gets you, and that’s the end of it!’ Molly shook her head and then looked as if she was trying to work out what to do next for the best. April waited, wondering if she should explain, indeed could explain … without breaking down. She had become so accustomed to keeping all her feelings stashed away inside her and was getting pretty good at it to be fair. But then this was big, a first, having to tell someone what had happened to Gray – her wonderful, witty, vibrant husband, best friend and lover – and would Molly really get