Ellen Berry - Christmas on Rosemary Lane

‘What is this?’ Ivan asked. ‘A mystery trip?’

‘You’ll see,’ she replied, glimpsing the high garden wall now, weathered and patterned with lichen and moss. There was the cottage’s whitewashed gable end, the thatched roof, and the wrought-iron garden gate that Lucy, Hally and the Linton kids had charged through in a pack. She could almost hear their plimsoled feet slapping onto the gravel path.

Lucy’s heart was quickening now as she stopped the car. She could see the trees they’d climbed and the old wooden shed that they’d hidden behind, like kids in an adventure story. Her strongest childhood memories were here in this semi-wild garden.

And now there was something else too.

A ‘For Sale’ sign, garish red and white against the cloudless sky. Lucy turned to Ivan.

‘What’s this, honey?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘Just a cottage.’ She was beaming now, unable to stop herself as they climbed out of the car.

They weren’t here by chance. Ever since Max had taken over at Claudine, Lucy had been browsing estate agents’ websites, fantasising about a cottage in the country. This usually happened late at night, after Ivan had gone to bed, and it had become quite a hobby of hers. She had searched this whole area of West Yorkshire, then found herself homing in on Burley Bridge, just out of curiosity at first. When she had spotted that Rosemary Cottage was up for sale, she had almost fallen off her chair.

This was the reason she had suggested staying in a hotel fairly close by. She’d suspected that Ivan would have resisted coming to view the cottage; Burley Bridge was too remote for them to consider moving here while he was working in Manchester. But she hoped that, when he saw it for himself, he would at least consider taking a look inside.

Ivan met Lucy’s gaze, clearly registering her shining green eyes and the flush to her cheeks. ‘It’s a beautiful house,’ he conceded.

She pushed back her thick, long dark hair. ‘D’you think we might be able to just – you know … have a look around?’

His mouth twitched into a smile. ‘What for?’

‘Oh, I’m just curious, you know? I remember it really well. Me and a couple of local kids used to sneak into the garden and steal berries …’

‘You never told me you had a criminal past.’ He grinned at her.

‘Just a few handfuls,’ she chuckled.

Ivan turned back to the cottage. ‘Looks like it needs quite a bit of work, darling.’

She nodded. ‘Yes, but imagine us all being here. Wouldn’t it be lovely? You’ve been saying you’ve had enough of the crazy hours, the endless meetings, all the pressures—’

‘Yes, but—’

‘And wouldn’t the kids love it? Look at the size of that garden! They could have a Wendy house and a den, and the house would be perfect for bed and breakfast …’ While she might have lured him here under false pretences, Ivan did know that Lucy had fantasised for years now about running a country B&B.

‘Luce …’ He paused. ‘Are you serious about doing bed and breakfast?’

She nodded. ‘I know we’d be good at it, you and me together.’

Ivan shook his head and exhaled. ‘But how on earth could we do that with the baby coming?’

‘We’d manage,’ she said firmly. ‘We’d only be talking two or three rooms to let out to guests. How hard would that be?’

‘Yes, but newborn babies are up all night and demand attention every second of the day. You remember how it was …’

‘Sam and Marnie were both sleeping through at eight months,’ she reminded him.

‘But what if this one isn’t?’

She exhaled. ‘I just thought we could have a look around.’

Ivan slid an arm around her waist. When they’d found out she was pregnant, he had agreed that perhaps now was the time to reduce his working hours in order to spend more time with their young family. With her redundancy payment, they could manage for a while, and he had agreed – tentatively – that it could be an opportunity to live their lives differently. Ivan worked full-pelt at Brookes, a Manchester-based branding agency. Although he loved his job, when deadlines loomed he was often plagued by insomnia and even the odd panic attack. Lucy worried about him. At times, he seemed so stressed and wrapped up in his work, he could barely interact with her or the children at all. ‘It’s just modern life,’ he’d said flippantly, when she’d tried to address the issue. ‘No, of course I don’t need to see the doctor.’

‘But she could sign you off with stress. You could have a break—’

‘You know what’d happen then. I’d be edged out of the company, wouldn’t I?’

‘Like me, you mean,’ she’d shot back, knowing he hadn’t meant it that way.

He chose to ignore her remark. ‘She’d only prescribe happy pills,’ he’d muttered – which was Ivan all over: stubborn, dedicated, intent on providing for his young family. And who needed ‘happy pills’, as he called them – annoyingly – when he could knock back the best part of a bottle of merlot most nights?

Lucy was desperate to make a change. What was the point of Ivan slogging away if the children rarely saw him and the work was making him ill?

‘So,’ she said now, ‘d’you like it?’

He nodded and turned to the cottage again. ‘Of course I do, Luce. It’s beautiful.’

As she had half-expected a non-committal ‘it’s okay, I suppose’, this was a pleasant surprise. ‘I know it’s a long way from Manchester,’ she conceded, taking his hand in hers.

‘Yeah, of course it is.’ He nodded thoughtfully and they fell into silence for a few moments. ‘But maybe that’s not the be-all and end-all anymore,’ he added.

She bit her lip as her gaze skimmed the garden. ‘You mean—’

‘I’m not against it, darling,’ he said gently.

She nodded, barely able to believe he was being so positive. ‘If we did B&B, I know the baby’d put things on hold for a while …’

‘Well, yes, obviously … but shall we view it anyway?’

It was all Lucy could do not to yelp with delight. ‘I’d love to.’

‘Okay.’ His dark brown eyes met hers, and he rested his hand protectively on her stomach, even though she wasn’t showing yet. ‘Let’s phone the agent and just see, shall we? We could come back another time—’

‘Well, actually, I phoned already.’

‘What?’ he exclaimed.

She cleared her throat. ‘I told him we’d be in the area today, and he said if you liked the look of it we should give him a call. He’s only local. He said he’d pop round with the keys …’

Ivan stared at her, feigning outrage. ‘You tricked me!’

‘I know.’ She winced. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Hmmm.’ He slid his gaze back towards the cottage, then turned and beamed at her. ‘I suppose not. Now you’ve forced me into this …’

They were both laughing now, and Lucy felt as if she could burst with love as she wrapped her arms around his waist. ‘Okay, darling,’ she said. ‘I’ll give him a call right now.’