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

The man fell silent momentarily, his jaw dropped, he stared with a fleeting glimmer of admiration in his eyes, he closed his mouth, and then it registered.

‘Then why the bloody hell didn’t you say so?’ And he jumped into action. April instantly felt two large hands cupping her bottom, propelling her forward like a bowling ball hurtling towards a row of skittles, and she was immediately able to fling her right knee up on to the window-sill. Balancing carefully, she gripped the window frame with both hands and managed to hoist herself through the gap and on to the top of the tall, old-fashioned boiler directly in front of her. Crouching in the confined space – the beamed cottage ceiling was so low she could barely lift her head, let alone stand up – April contemplated just letting herself tumble on to the quarry tiles, but her great aunt’s surgical stocking-clad legs were right there in front of her on the tiny patch of empty kitchen floor, so she couldn’t risk doing that. What if she misjudged and landed splat on top of Edie and hurt her?

April managed to shuffle sideways on to the draining board and was just about to crawl on all fours towards the end of the counter, where she could see a tiny gap next to the pantry door that she could easily slip her body down on to, when the man with the shotgun appeared in the kitchen doorway with the cake tin in his arms and the peonies perched on top. He dumped his load on the table and after taking one long stride towards Great Aunt Edie, he bent down to place two fingers at the side of her neck to check her pulse.

‘Still going!’ he pronounced, as if checking on a snared rabbit in the woods. ‘And the oven isn’t even on, not that it matters, no gas around here if that’s what you were panicking about! Plus you can’t even gas yourself in an oven these days anyway – we might be out in the sticks in Tindledale, but this isn’t the 1920s.’

April’s mouth fell open as she sagged a little in relief at this news – thank God her aunt was still alive and hadn’t deliberately tried to kill herself. But that still didn’t explain why she was sprawled like this in her kitchen in the middle of the afternoon.

‘Um, well … I knew that!’ April said, her cheeks flaming.

‘No you didn’t.’

‘Yes I did.’

‘Why did you panic then?’

‘I didn’t panic! Anyway, I don’t have time for an interrogation; I need to see to my aunt. How did you even get in here?’ April asked as she scanned the scene and tried to work it all out. To the left of Edie was a dustpan and brush on the floor alongside a cloth.

‘Through the front door!’ he replied, glancing up at her and casually raising an eyebrow. April could see the corners of his mouth resisting the urge to smirk.

‘But how?’ she asked as he swiftly sprang up and swung her from the draining board before plonking her into a standing position on the tiles next to him.

‘Er, the usual way. You know, I pushed it open with my hand.’ And he actually laughed and waggled his hand in air as if to demonstrate the action before giving April a big wink. Cheeky.

‘So it was open all along?’ April shook her head as she bent down to tend to her aunt.

‘Of course! Old Edith never locks her front door … nor do I, come to think of it. Not sure anyone does here in the valley. Apart from the ones moved down from London.’ He paused to shake his head, clearly not enamoured by newcomers. ‘No need. This is Tindledale,’ he explained, as if the village was some kind of crime-free oasis leftover from bygone times.

‘Hmm, well, you could have mentioned it before I broke the glass and hauled myself in through the window,’ April bristled, carefully unbuttoning Edie’s crocheted waistcoat so she could push it back over her shoulders and loosen the collar of her blouse.

‘You never asked! You were too busy breaking in.’

April opened her mouth to reply, but thought better of it. He was clearly enjoying winding her up, and besides, Edie let out an extremely loud snore at that precise moment. The old lady then fluttered her eyelids and tried to move, seemingly having forgotten that part of her body was still inside the Aga, so she ended up nudging the top of her head on the roof of the oven.

‘Ewwwwwwww,’ Aunt Edie groaned.

‘It’s OK. I’m here,’ April started in a soothing voice, and the busybody coughed. ‘Um, we are here,’ she corrected, flashing him a look. ‘What happened, Aunty?’ She stroked Edie’s forehead as she contemplated the best way to get her aunt out of the oven and up and on to a chair.

‘Oh hello dear. There you are. No need to fuss, I was just having a lovely little nap.’ Aunt Edie smiled like it was the most normal thing in the world to have forty winks while cleaning the oven.

‘A nap? Inside the oven?’ April stuttered, her mind boggling. And then saw her aunt had a tea towel folded up like a little makeshift pillow underneath her cheek, but still … and how on earth had she got down on to the floor in the first place?

‘I’m very nimble,’ Edie stated as if reading April’s mind. ‘I keep my joints well oiled. It’s the dancing. And the stout, dear – a bottle a day! But the cleaning takes it out of me sometimes, although it’s important to keep the Aga nice. My mother was a stickler for it and I see no reason to let standards slip. Will you help me up please? I usually use the chair but someone has moved it,’ she said, giving the man a disparaging glance.

‘Um, yes, of course,’ April replied, quickly trying to get her head around all that her aunt was telling her, and regretting all over again that she hadn’t made more of an effort to visit more frequently. A ninety-year-old lady really shouldn’t be cleaning the oven, even if she did think she was nimble! ‘Here, lean on me.’ April swiftly manoeuvred herself into position to properly lift her aunt, as she had first been trained to do back when she was a fledging nurse, and placed her hands around the old lady’s body. And then up and under her armpits so she could clasp them together to form a sturdy support.

‘No need for all that carry on, my love.’ Edie shook her head and April smiled. Her great aunt always had been a fiercely independent woman, which might explain the state of the garden – she couldn’t imagine Edie would willingly ask for help even when it was so obviously needed. ‘Just give me your arm,’ Edie said, and gently lifted April’s hands away from her chest. ‘There we go. Bob’s your uncle!’ April tried not to look concerned as her elderly great aunt deftly pulled herself up into a standing position with a very determined look on her face. But then her papery skin crumpled into a frown.

‘What’s he doing here?’ Edie pointed a bony finger towards the guy with the shotgun. April turned to look at him.

‘Hello Edie,’ the man said pleasantly enough, but the old lady looked confused, so he swiftly added, ‘It’s me, Harvey from the fruit farm. Your neighbour. You remember me.’ But Edie still looked blank, and April wondered what on earth was going on.

‘He, um … Harvey.’ April glanced at the man and he nodded and shrugged as if he was quite used to Edie being forgetful. ‘He helped me get into the kitchen, Aunty. I was worried about you—’

‘What for? I’m fine,’ Edie immediately admonished, looking even more puzzled now. April spotted a dart of fear flicker in her aunt’s eyes. ‘And you better get going before my father returns from the orchards! He’ll have your guts for garters coming in here with flowers before you’ve been introduced.’ The old lady looked at the bunch of peonies and then lifted a gnarled index finger and remonstrated in Harvey’s direction. But before April or Harvey could say any more, a police officer burst into the tiny cottage kitchen with a baton at the ready, followed by an exuberantly plump woman muscling her way to the front with, April was astonished to see, a ferret wearing a little high-visibility vest nestled in the crook of her elbow. And April felt as though she had been plunged into a parallel universe where nobody really knew what was going on.