Love Heart Lane. Christie Barlow
up to see a cold, red-faced Rory staring back at them.
‘Good morning, how are the troops?’
Hamish smiled. ‘Just preparing ourselves mentally and physically to begin the deliveries.’
‘Mrs Hughes from the care home has just logged a call at the surgery. Remy the cat is a little under the weather so I’m off up there to take a look at him.’
‘Does that mean what I think it means?’ chipped in Felicity with her fingers firmly crossed behind her back.
Rory grinned. ‘I’ll take with me whatever you have.’
‘You, my good friend, are a life saver,’ said Hamish. ‘Can you manage three carrier bags and this box?’ Hamish looked hopeful while Rory began to juggle the food. ‘If you get the door I should be okay.’
Hamish couldn’t thank Rory enough as he set off towards the care home through nine inches of snow, with more flakes still falling.
‘Are you okay delivering those bags to the residents of Love Heart Lane and I’ll start at the opposite end of the village?’
‘Of course,’ answered Felicity, glancing at the clock. ‘But can I use the landline before I go, I need to ring the plumber to arrange for Mum’s boiler to be fixed.’
Hamish nodded towards the phone and while he bundled himself up in numerous layers Felicity made the call. As soon as she hung up, he noticed Felicity looked a little deflated. ‘You all right?’
‘I never thought, the plumber lives over the bridge in Glensheil, there’s no way he’s getting his van across the bridge and up the hill in this snow, but he’s promised as soon as he can he will.’
‘That’s all you can ask for at times like this.’
Once Hamish and Felicity were ready, they each grabbed a handful of carrier bags and stepped outside into the freezing cold.
Hamish gave Felicity a nod of his appreciation and then they both battled through the snow. Hamish had stapled the names and addresses of the deliveries on to each bag. Felicity looked at the first one labelled Mr and Mrs Smith, an elderly couple she knew had been married for nearly fifty years. From what Felicity could remember they had numerous grandchildren.
The streets were silent and still in darkness as Felicity’s feet crunched through the snow. No doubt by lunchtime the children would be out in full force sledging and building snowmen, enjoying the freedom from school.
As she approached the first house Felicity was relieved to see the light was on in Mr and Mrs Smith’s living room and the second she knocked on the front door she heard a dog bark followed by the sound of keys being jangled. When the door swung open Felicity was met by Mrs Smith’s rosy cheeks and beaming smile.
‘Come on in, out of the cold.’
She wiped her hands down on her pinny and ushered Felicity into the warmth of the kitchen. She was amazed to find six pair of eyes sitting around the table staring back at her.
‘It’s lovely to see you back in Heartcross.’ Mrs Smith patted Felicity’s arm. ‘We are so sorry to hear about Bonnie.’
‘Thank you,’ replied Felicity, touched by Mrs Smith’s kindness. ‘And look at all these little people. You’ve got your hands full today,’ she said, changing the subject in an attempt to stop the tears instantly welling in her eyes at the mention of her grandmother.
‘School’s shut, which means Grandma here gets to look after all these bundles of joy today and believe me it’s like a military operation to get them all fed. It’s like my own little café,’ she chuckled. ‘But I’m not complaining, they keep me young.’
‘This may help, a few supplies from Hamish – eggs, bread and a few essentials.’ Felicity held up the carrier bag.
‘He’s a good one, that man.’ Mrs Smith smiled, taking a quick peep inside the bag before laying it on top of the worktop. ‘Please do thank him from us. Where are you off to next?’
Felicity looked at the name attached to the next carrier bag. ‘Aggie’s,’ she said with a double take. She was sure that was one of Hamish’s deliveries; she must have picked up the wrong bag by mistake. Felicity felt her heart beat a little faster. After Aggie’s outburst in the pub last night she was sure the last person she’d want to see was Felicity, who felt the same.
‘That poor woman hasn’t been well,’ Mrs Smith chipped in without noticing that Felicity’s mood had suddenly slumped.
‘Who, Aggie?’ Felicity had noticed the cough in the pub and her wheezy chest.
‘Terrible chest infection, I think it’s the asthma, you see. She’s not been able to shake it off for a while.’
‘This weather won’t help either,’ said Felicity, making her way to the door after saying farewell to all the children who’d now finished their breakfasts and were busily putting their dirty bowls in the dishwasher.
‘What’s your plan of action for the rest of the day?’ asked Felicity, watching the children pile in front of the log fire with a board game in hand.
‘Keep warm.’ Mrs Smith smiled. ‘But I’m sure there will be an army of snowmen standing proud in the front garden by the end of the day, followed by a heap of soggy gloves and hats drying out on the Aga.’
Felicity said goodbye and after stepping back into the cold she took a deep breath and made her way towards Fox Hollow Cottage. Aggie and her husband Glen had lived in the cottage for all their married life but sadly he’d passed away nearly ten years ago after a short battle with cancer. Aggie had never remarried and as far as Felicity knew, Fergus still lived at the cottage with his new family.
As she trudged through the snow she saw a warm ribbon of smoke rising from the old chimney of the cottage which meant the fire was lit and someone was up. Felicity’s heart pounded a little but, knowing that Fergus would have been up and out at the crack of dawn working at the farm, she knew it was unlikely she’d see him. It would just be Aggie’s sharp tongue she’d have to deal with if last night was anything to go by. All she had to do was be polite, hand the bag over, and get on with the next delivery. She juggled the carrier bags in her hands before opening the garden gate. The way had been cleared and gritted and as Felicity carefully manoeuvred herself up the path, she noticed a pair of bright red wellington boots abandoned under the oak beam porch. She assumed they were Esme’s.
Feeling a little apprehensive, she blew out a breath. Last night in the pub Aggie hadn’t welcomed her home with open arms and Felicity didn’t relish seeing her again so soon, but this was in in aid of the community and she’d offered to help Hamish. Felicity rapped on the lion door knocker and waited, but there was no reply. She tried once more before bowing her head and peering through the front window of the cottage. The fire was roaring and stretched out on the rug in front was Martha, the Campbells’ black and white cat. There was no one else around but Felicity noticed the TV flickering away in the corner. Just at that second, movement caught her eye, and Felicity noticed Esme curled up on the old chesterfield. The little girl was crying, tears running down her cheeks. For a second, Felicity didn’t know what to do. In spite of the past, Felicity couldn’t leave the little girl crying. And where was Aggie? Without hesitation she turned the knob of the front door and immediately it clicked and opened.
Felicity stood in the hallway. The last time she’d been standing in this very spot was over eight years ago and she was surprised to see that everything seemed exactly the same. The wooden beams ran the length of the ceiling, the coat stand in the corner housed numerous jackets and hats and the antique dresser was jam-packed with family photographs.
‘Hello,’ Felicity shouted up the hallway towards the open door of the living room. She stayed rooted to the spot and called out again, then saw two startled, teary eyes peering around the doorway at her.
‘Hello. It’s Esme, isn’t it? I’m Felicity.’
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