Zara Stoneley - Blackberry Picking at Jasmine Cottage

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Harper Impulse an imprint of

HarperColl‌insPublishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017

Copyright © Zara Stoneley 2017

Cover design by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2017

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Zara Stoneley asserts the moral right

to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International

and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

By payment of the required fees, you have been granted

the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access

and read the text of this e-book on screen.

No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or

stored in or introduced into any information storage and

retrieval system, in any form or by any means,

whether electronic or mechanical, now known or

hereinafter invented, without the express

written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008241087

Ebook Edition © November 2017 ISBN: 9780008237981

Version 2017-09-05

For Hilda, my nana, who loved animals, people and life.

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page A division of HarperCollins Publishers www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright Harper Impulse an imprint of HarperColl‌insPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017 Copyright © Zara Stoneley 2017 Cover design by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2017 Cover images © Shutterstock.com Zara Stoneley asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780008241087 Ebook Edition © November 2017 ISBN: 9780008237981 Version 2017-09-05

Dedication For Hilda, my nana, who loved animals, people and life.

Map

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Acknowledgements

A Note From the Author

Also by Zara Stoneley

About the Author

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

Lucy Jacobs stared out of the window, and tried to ignore the little shiver of excitement that had sent a rash of goosebumps down her arms.

Could she do this? Was she brave enough to cut the last tie, change her life for ever?

The words danced about in her head in much the same way as the chickens in the garden were doing.

Yesterday they’d flounced in indignantly when the first spots of rain had fallen. They hated the damp, and had spent most of the day sulking and shivering, but this morning after poking their sharp little beaks out, and craning their necks, they’d discovered sunshine. She’d had to laugh as they’d jostled their way out, like a group of pointy-elbowed bargain hunters in the January sales.

Today the good weather had put a skip in their step – they were scratching around in the soil, with an occasional dash across the garden if they suspected one of their group had found something worth fighting over. And the news had brought a secret smile to her lips, she couldn’t help it. This could be the start of a massive adventure.

‘Are you still there? Miss Jacobs?’

She was still here. And she knew it was time to stop behaving like a hen and to make a decision. If she did this she was shutting a door for good. Moving on. Which was exciting. But scary.

‘Miss Jacobs?’ The tetchy tones scratched their way over the airwaves.

‘Yes, sorry.’ She tried to concentrate on what the estate agent was saying, and block out all the conflicting thoughts that were bouncing around in her head.

She much preferred talking to the young, jolly Simon Proofit who made everything sound like a good idea, than to Mr Bannister who had never told her his first name, and insisted on calling her Miss Jacobs and making her sound like some old spinster.

It was strange really, Mr Bannister had lived in the village of Langtry Meadows all his life, but his whole manner suggested a brusque, efficient city type. Whereas Simon, who had over an hour’s commute from a suburb of the closest city, always made it seem like working in this tiny village was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

‘I suppose you need time to think about it?’ The sharp words were followed by a resigned sigh that rolled towards her in large waves of disappointment. Mr Bannister really wasn’t the man you wanted to start your weekend with. He was enough to rain on anybody’s parade, as her gran would have said.

The hen that she’d not-so-originally nicknamed Squeak darted forward and tried to wrestle a long worm from Bubble’s beak. They looked like lovers sharing a strand of spaghetti. Bubble flapped with indignation, and Squeak, well squeaked before bustling off in a huff to scratch under the apple tree. She kept cocking her head to one side though, keeping a beady eye on the other hen. Just in case.

Lucy smiled to herself. Who’d have thought she, Lucy Jacobs, would become an expert on poultry? Well maybe not an expert, but her life had changed beyond recognition in the last twelve months. She’d swapped the hustle and bustle of a city centre school, nestled next to the M6 motorway, for a tiny primary school overlooking a village green, and somehow found time to look after a pig, goose, chickens, cat and fat, naughty pony.

Taking on a teaching position in the village of Langtry Meadows had, it was fair to say, changed her life. Renting Annie’s cute home, with its overflowing cottage garden and menagerie of animals had, at first, seemed a step too far from her clean and tidy semi-detached house – the only reminder of her old life she’d hung on to.

She’d rented her home out, fully intending to go back there one day – after her cover position at Langtry Meadows Primary School came to an end. But she’d accepted a permanent position now, and whilst the rent was handy she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever go back there.

And one day, in the not too distant future, Annie would return from her travels, which could leave her in a bit of a mess if she wasn’t careful. She really did need a plan.