Alex Brown - The Secret of Orchard Cottage - The feel-good number one bestseller

April unfolded the map, thankful to the man in the petrol station situated just outside Market Briar, the nearest big town. After asking where she was heading, he had reminded her that most of the country lanes in and around Tindledale were simply single-track ‘unnamed’ roads so April really needed to ‘do herself a favour and take a good old-fashioned map’. And he had been right. April had done this journey more than once with Gray, but it all looked so different now. Although Great Aunt Edie’s postcode was on the sat nav, it covered such a vast rural area that April had reached her destination point supposedly fifteen minutes ago so was now reliant on reading the map to make her way down to the valley and right through the middle of fields, or so it seemed. At one point, after taking a wrong turn, the Beetle had to go along little more than a dirt track with enormous black-and-white-splodged cows on either side chewing and staring at April, before arriving at a tiny derelict church in the middle of nowhere, which was a bit eerie if she was honest. April had then had to do at least a ten-point turn, being careful not to topple the crumbling gravestones, before making her way back along the dirt track and on to what constituted a proper road around these parts.

Once the last of the chicks had safely made it to the other side of the lane, April tentatively continued on her way, turning another corner, but still not entirely sure that she was going in the right direction as there weren’t any signposts to guide her. A few metres later and she was facing a five-bar gate with an empty field behind it. Although on second glance, April saw a very large black bull eyeing her from under a tree in the far corner. Wasting no time, and remembering as a child the very close encounter she and a friend had experienced when a similarly intimidating bull had charged at them whilst they were picking blackberries on the other side of Tindledale, April quickly and quietly reversed back on to the lane. She had seen first hand how a raging bull could trample a wooden gate, given enough ground to gather enough speed. Even now, the sight of a blackberry brought back that moment when she had hurled her Tupperware box into a bush and legged it over a stile to safety – a well-placed farmer had then grabbed her and her friend and hurled them up on to his hay tractor before dealing with the bull.

After finding a layby, April pulled over, switched off the engine and sat for a while to weigh up her options, wondering if she should head back to the main road and start again in her quest to find Orchard Cottage. It all looked so different somehow, or perhaps it was because she hadn’t really paid attention on any of the previous trips over the years, when her parents had brought her here in the school summer holidays, or Edie had arranged for a taxi to pick her up from the station located down the bottom of the hill, or Gray had driven and she would have been busy chatting and laughing along with him.

Ahh, April spotted a van in the distance. She’d flag it down and ask for directions. Stepping out of the car, she waved an arm and the green van slowed down until it was stationary in front of her. The diesel engine was still chugging away as the window was rolled down. April glanced at the side and saw ‘Only Shoes and Horses. Matt Carter & Daughter – Farrier’ written in white signage. Nice touch mentioning his daughter. And then she saw the man. With curls the colour of treacle, prominent cheekbones, full lips and the greenest eyes that April had ever seen. Wearing a chocolate-brown leather waistcoat over a checked shirt, he had the look of a Romany gypsy about him, or as if he had just stepped out of a Catherine Cookson saga – all windswept and mysterious, moody, brooding angst. And he was definitely ‘hot for an older guy’ as Nancy would say, while most likely elbowing April in the ribs and nodding her head slowly with a cheeky smile set firmly in place like she used to when they went out shopping together, in the carefree, fun days, before Gray got ill . And on second thoughts, was there something vaguely familiar about this man? April wasn’t sure. Had she seen him somewhere before? Hmmm. Maybe in the village on a previous visit. That’ll be it! He is very striking so it’s entirely possible that our paths have crossed and his face and those green eyes have just stuck in my mind. And he’s not that old, but then Nancy is only twenty-two – anyone over thirty-five is practically ancient as far as she is concerned.

‘Um, hello …’ April ventured a few seconds later, after Matt (she assumed) still hadn’t spoken, having busied himself with pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing part of a sleeve tattoo, before taking an enormous swig of water from a plastic bottle which, now empty, he had thrown into the footwell of the passenger seat beside him. ‘Er, sorry to bother you … but, er …’ April was feeling self-conscious; his eyes really were quite mesmerising and they were fixed on her. She hesitated and then managed a somewhat meagre, ‘I’m lost!’

Still silence.

Then Matt gave April an up-and-down glance as if mulling over whether to help her or not, although it was difficult to tell for sure what exactly he was thinking as his face hadn’t moved at all except to drink the water. He stared intently, making April feel a little hot as she wondered what was going on. Why wasn’t he saying anything? It was as if he was in some sort of trance. And then, as if someone had found the cord in the back of his body and given it a good yank, Matt started talking.

‘Where you heading?’

‘Oh, um thanks. I’m trying to find Orchard Cottage, it’s—’

‘I know it. Get in your car and follow me. I’m going past the top of the lane.’ And before April could get another word in, if only to say thank you, Matt wound up the window and drove off, but then waited in front of the Beetle while April raced over to it, leapt in and started the engine up as fast as she could. Ten minutes later, Matt stuck his right arm out of the van window and pointed to a gap in the hedgerow before disappearing around a bend further on. April assumed this meant she should turn right … so she did.

*

Matt watched her go. Glancing again in his wing mirror as the blue Beetle disappeared out of sight, he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter before pulling into a layby and switching off the engine. He couldn’t believe it. Of course, he had recognised her right away. But she had no idea who he was. And why would she? He looked very different now. Unrecognisable, it seemed. April Lovell. Even her name was lovely. And she really had been so lovely back then. When he had first spotted her, cycling along the stream down near the Blackwood Farm Estate, it had been the school holidays and he had been fishing on the other side of the water with Jack, his brother, who had teased him for gawping at the girl down from London. Everyone in the village knew who she was; she came every year in the school holidays to stay with her aunt.

Matt must have been about twelve – bottle-top glasses and crooked teeth – and with typical pre-pubescent boy hormones racing through him, but still, he had never seen a girl like her. A vision she was. With her long curly brown hair flaring out behind her as she sped along, her white cotton skirt puffing up in the breeze, allowing him a glimpse of her suntanned thighs. And to cap it all, she had turned her freckled face and actually grinned at him as she had gone by. He thought he had died and gone to heaven. And he had never forgotten that moment.

It had been a few summers later when he had seen her again, part of the group that met on the village green every morning with their bikes, bags of sweets and clingfilmed sandwiches and instructions to be home by sunset for their tea. More confident by now, thanks to the braces straightening his teeth and the new, decent glasses, he hadn’t wanted to miss his chance a second time around and had plucked up the courage to talk to her. He had made her laugh and in turn she had made him feel on top of the world. They had spent the whole week of her holiday together that summer. Cycling, fishing, swimming in the stream, they had even made a den in the woods together. And that was where it had happened. April Lovell was the first girl Matt kissed. Properly kissed. Pulling her into him, pressing his body against hers in the buttercup field. Soft and curvy, he had been nervous of crushing her. Later, they had lain on the grass in the sunshine together. Him with his arms wrapped around her, his fingers entwined in her hair as she rested her head on his chest and twirled a buttercup underneath his chin, making jokes about liking butter or something. He couldn’t remember the words for sure, but he’d never forgotten the scent of her, like a bunch of lovely fresh flowers it was.