Christie Barlow - Love Heart Lane

‘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.’

The wide-eyed little girl nodded and gulped back a sob.

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