Christie Barlow - A Home at Honeysuckle Farm - A gorgeous and heartwarming summer read

‘What do you mean?’

I blinked back the tears and swallowed down the lump in my throat. ‘The view was spectacular, and in all the time I’ve lived here, in New York, I’ve never seen anything like it. I stared out across the city … at the million lights sparkling in the night sky, and it was simply breath-taking. And it might be the most beautiful place in the world, Mol … but,’ I prepared myself as the words left my mouth, ‘I’m not happy.’

Almost immediately, Molly reached over the table and grasped both my hands.

‘Oh, Alice,’ she said softly, ‘what can I do to help?’

I could tell by the look on her face she’d no clue to how I was feeling. Of course, living in New York had its good moments, but there was something inside me telling me I just didn’t belong here anymore, I didn’t fit in – and I never really had. Even at school, I was the girl with the pale freckled face, the English girl with the funny accent who always stood out.

Mum would never talk about the reason we moved to New York, and as time went on it became even more difficult to broach the subject with her.

My voice quivered, ‘I’m not sure there is anything you can do … I must have been standing at the top of the Empire State Building for ages, lost in my own thoughts, staring out over the city. And then, all around me, applause erupted. I looked round to see a crowd of people had gathered around this couple. There was a man bending down on one knee looking up at a woman grasping a burgundy box. You could see how much he loved her and right there and then, he proposed! What a proposal, Molly! It was so romantic, all hearts and flowers, something out of a fairy-tale but … it just made me think, what have I got here?’

‘You’re not too shabby,’ she gave me a half-hearted smile, trying to lighten the mood. ‘I know loads of men who’d give their right arm for a date with you … except maybe I would lose the eighties rock make-up first.’

‘I’m lonely Mol, sat here in this dingy flat with hardly any money, working any job I can to make ends meet. Surely there’s got to be more to life than this?’

Over time I’d begun to resent this flat more and more. In the last week alone my sleep had been disturbed nearly every night. Music pounded through the wafer-thin walls from the flat above, the lampshade shaking from the vibrating drum and bass. Often, I’d spend my nights shouting expletives and banging on the ceiling with the handle of the broom, and when that didn’t work I’d bury my head under the pillow in an attempt to block out the sound.

‘I’d never realised things had got this bad,’ said Molly, her attention unwavering. ‘Let me see if there’s anything at the radio station.’

‘It’s too late,’ I said softly, ‘it’s too late.’ Casually leaning both my hands on the table, I sighed.

Molly gave an infinitesimal nod, taking in what I was saying, and we sat there in silence for a moment.

‘In time, you’ll meet the right man,’ she offered.

I managed a smile. ‘It’s not just that.’ There had been something on my mind for a while, a niggle, an itch that needed scratching, but I just hadn’t said the words out loud.

I took a deep breath. This was the time to clear my conscience and confess all while I had Molly’s full attention. She was my best friend and I’d no idea how she was going to react to my next bit of news. But I managed to splutter the words out: ‘I’m thinking of going back to England.’

I watched as the words registered on Molly’s face. Her expression changed then she sprang upright in her seat like a jack-in-the-box being unleashed for the very first time.

‘Alice, England’s over 3,000 miles away,’ she finally said, breaking the silence. It was difficult for her to keep her voice steady.

‘I know, but it’s been playing on my mind for a while,’ I answered truthfully.

Molly’s bottom lip wobbled. ‘How long is a while? And why didn’t I have any idea about any of this?’ She fiddled with the strap of her Garmin with a grief-stricken look on her face.

‘Maybe the last six months or so, but even more so since I received this,’ I admitted, exhaling slowly and turning my laptop towards her so she could read the message I’d received at the beginning of the week via Facebook from Grace.

Grace Anderson and I had known each other from the year dot. Our mums had been the best of friends and as children, we’d gone everywhere together. Not only were we in the same class at school but we’d shared a passion for dance and drama, and every Saturday, dressed in all things pinkish, Grace’s mum Connie had dropped her off at Grandie’s ballet school, where my mum had worked as a dance teacher. Everyone thought we were sisters as we twirled with our identical long plaited coffee-coloured hair, blue eyes and a string of freckles across our noses. Back then, we had been inseparable, the best of friends until the day I left.

When I’d left, I remembered Grace clinging to me on the step, making me promise to write to her as soon as I could. I never broke that promise and never lost touch. Over the years, staying in touch had become easier. We’d followed each other’s lives on social media and I’d been thrilled to see that she was living her dream, starring in the theatre in Birmingham, even though I had to admit I was a tiny bit jealous that her career had worked out much better than mine.

I felt my pulse quicken as Molly began to read Grace’s message:

Dear Alice

I hope you’re behaving in that big old city and it’s treating you well.

Please forgive me for the late-night message, I’ve toyed for the past twenty-four hours about whether to say anything at all but decided that if I were you, I’d want to know. I’m afraid your grandfather isn’t well. His health has been deteriorating over the last couple of months and he’s been admitted to the local hospital. Mum is still cleaning and acting as general housekeeper up at Honeysuckle Farm. He’s mentioned to her he would like to see you one last time, which I know may be difficult in the current circumstances, but I feel you needed to know.

If you decide you want to come back, there’s always a spare bed at mine. I would love to see you too!

Grace xx

‘Does your mom know about this?’ Molly’s eyes were wide as saucers as she tucked her feet back underneath her.

I swallowed hard and shook my head.

‘You’ll have to tell her you are going back to England. You can’t just up and leave without saying a word.’ Molly managed a glimmer of a smile, ‘You need to go, Alice.’ Her voice faltered as she handed the laptop back to me and I slowly closed the lid. ‘You need to see your grandfather. They don’t live forever, and time is precious.’

I knew Molly was right, I didn’t have any intention of just upping and leaving but I didn’t relish the idea of telling Mum either. I’d no clue how she was going to react. Grandie’s name had not been mentioned for years, in fact it was never mentioned again after the day we left. My stomach was churning just thinking about it.

‘Don’t worry, you have me to help you through it,’ Molly said, giving me a reassuring smile.

‘Thanks, Mol, it means a lot.’

‘Are you definitely sure about this?’

I nodded, ‘Definitely sure. I need to see him again. It might be my last time.’

‘I know,’ Molly’s voice was barely a whisper.

‘Grace wouldn’t message me if it wasn’t serious and something inside me is telling me I need to try and put this situation right.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked tentatively.

‘I loved Grandie, I still love Grandie, but at the time we left, I didn’t have any choice, I was ten-years-old. But I do have a choice now. I’m my own person and whatever went on between him and Mum is not my argument.’