Amanda Brooke - Where I Found You

In memory of Ted and Betty McCulloch

Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.

Helen Keller

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Epigraph

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

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by Amanda Brooke

Author Q&A

Reading Group Question

Copyright

About the Publisher

With a history that spanned more than a century, Victoria Park had changed surprisingly little in the intervening years. The original geometric design, which incorporated manicured lawns, intersecting pathways and ornate flowerbeds had been faithfully preserved within its sandstone walls. It couldn’t compare to the unrestrained Cheshire countryside that circled the town of Sedgefield, but what the park did offer was a consistent link from one generation to the next.

There had, of course, been some changes over the years. The trees lining the main avenue had matured, dirt paths had been paved, cobbles had been replaced by concrete, and the bowling green, bandstand and children’s playground had all undergone various cycles of disrepair and rejuvenation. But for the most part the park’s gentle evolution had gone unnoticed.

In one particular corner, on the north side of the ornamental lake, the passage of time had been noticed least of all. It was here you would find a single wrought iron bench nestled between a steep embankment and the water’s edge. It was one of the park’s originals although it was true to say that visitors were more likely to remember the view they had taken in, the conversations they had shared or the thoughts they had explored rather than the unremarkable seat they had settled back upon.

There was, however, one person who had noticed the bench. She knew each curve of its intricate iron frame and every wooded knot buried beneath the layers of chipped paint. But then Maggie Carter knew Victoria Park better than most. She had grown up in Sedgefield and now lived close enough to hear the creak of the park’s gates from her doorstep. It called to her and she rarely resisted, even in the depths of winter when the wind gathered momentum across the playing fields and sucked the air out of her lungs.

The main avenue which sliced the park in half led directly to Sedgefield High Street where Maggie worked, but given a choice she preferred to meander along its circuitous twisting paths. Only occasionally, if the weather was too awful, was she forced to forgo her usual detour to the lake. Thankfully, today was not one of those days.

Harvey sniffed the air as they made their way through a small coppice where, overhead, branches scraped nervously against each other in the breeze. April was being kind and the sun was shining but its fragile warmth was fractured by the shade of the denuded trees. Maggie hunched her shoulders against the sudden cold. Her short dark hair suited her slight frame and gave her face an elfin look but provided no buffer against the chill.

Their pace quickened and the Labrador’s paws squelched beneath the slimy mulch, swollen from an early morning drizzle. The dog was powerful enough to lift her off her feet but he matched his mistress’s pace perfectly. Rapid footfalls approaching from the opposite direction suggested that they weren’t the only ones eager to escape the spindly shadows.

‘Hi, Maggie,’ Alice called. ‘Off to the lake by any chance?’

Maggie and Harvey came to a stop to say hello to one of the regulars at the beauty salon where she worked. ‘You can join me for lunch if you like,’ Maggie offered, lifting a bag. The air filled with tantalising hints of garlic and sundried tomatoes before the breeze carried them away.

‘Thanks, but I’m out for a slap-up meal later so I’d better save myself.’

‘Ah yes, how could I forget? Happy birthday!’

‘Thanks, Maggie. It’s a lot of fuss about nothing but my family do love to celebrate.’

‘You can’t fool me. I know you’re the one who’s the party animal.’

‘Haven’t you heard? Sixty is the new forty,’ Alice replied with a gentle laugh that quickly degenerated into a coughing fit. The telltale smell of smoke suggested she hadn’t long put out a cigarette.

‘I thought you’d given up,’ Maggie said, although she wasn’t surprised. A forty-year habit was going to be a tough one to break.

‘I’m cutting down,’ Alice replied guiltily.

‘Next time you’re having your hair done you should make an appointment to see me too. I might be able to find something to ease your chest.’

An aromatherapist by trade, Maggie ran her own business from a local beauty salon. Sedgefield was a small town and although the High Street was busy, setting up had been quite a gamble. She only worked part-time but in the last eight years she had built up a loyal clientele, which more than justified her efforts, although Alice was yet to be one of them.

‘The problem is I have a one-track mind when I walk into that place,’ Alice continued. ‘There’s always some new hair colour I want to try and it’ll be even more tempting now I get a pensioners’ discount. My granddaughter wants me to have blue highlights next time!’

‘The discount applies to my treatments too,’ Maggie reminded her. ‘And I’ll be in all afternoon if you’re passing.’

‘Thanks, Maggie, I might just do that,’ Alice said without conviction.

They said their goodbyes and Maggie hurried towards the warm embrace of the sun. She was a familiar face in the park and there followed a rash of hellos on the way to the lake but no more delays.

Lunchtime was quiet during the working week and although Maggie enjoyed the weekend hustle and bustle she was happy to sit and soak up the peace and quiet which was broken only occasionally by the disgruntled quack of a duck looking for food. Memories flooded her mind, as she knew they would. She and her favourite bench shared a long history. Her mum had brought her to this spot often and one of Maggie’s earliest memories was trying to clamber up on to the bench by herself, using its green-painted slats for purchase and pretending not to notice when her mum helped her make that final push.

Harvey, meanwhile, was more interested in the present and pushed his head against her hand. When she began to knead his neck, digging her fingers deep into his vanilla fur, the dog let out a low groan of pleasure followed by a frustrated whine.

‘OK, I get the message,’ she said and began to unpack their picnic. She filled two feeding bowls for Harvey and he duly ignored the water, opting for the dried food which he devoured eagerly as Maggie set about her own lunch.

Halfway through Maggie’s second sandwich, Harvey’s tail began to thump against her leg. She could hear little feet galloping along the path towards them, the source of Harvey’s growing excitement.

‘Harvey! Good boy,’ Josh cried as he wrapped himself around the dog, almost knocking Maggie’s lunch box off her knee.

The three-year-old’s mum arrived huffing and puffing half a minute later. ‘I’ve told you before, don’t go running off like that,’ she said before muttering, ‘bloody kids,’ under her breath.