Page 1 of Welcome to Pennycress Inn

1

This was it! The first day of the rest of her life. The first page of a new chapter. A new year, a new her. She’d take all of those cringy clichés – all of them.

Laura Price closed the door of her rusty old Focus and half walked, half ran across the broken slabs towards the front door, pausing every few steps to untangle her ankles from the spindly overgrown lavender which grew alongside the cracked pavement through the front garden, the stringy stalks of the dormant plant a silvery, sage green against the blue of her jeans.

‘Afternoon, Miss Price.’ Ms Taunton, the stuffy but stunningly beautiful estate agent, checked her watch.

‘Hi. Sorry I’m late.’ Why had she said that? She knew she wasn’t. She’d been forty-five minutes early and as soon as she’d seen Ms Taunton appear on the decking encircling the right-hand side of the inn, she’d run up here. Habit. That was why.

‘Here are your keys. Spares are in the kitchen drawer.’ Ms Taunton held out the keys dangling from a purple plastic teddy keyring.

‘Wow! Thank you so much.’ Trying hard to suppress the excitement bubbling in her stomach and appear professional,Laura took the keys and fought the urge to give the estate agent a hug.

‘You’re welcome.’ Ms Taunton shook Laura’s hand briefly before turning on her overly high heels and sauntering down the steps and through the front garden to her two-seater BMW, avoiding the long stalks of lavender with much more finesse than Laura had, despite the height of her heels.

The keys! She had the keys to her very own inn! Pennycress Inn! She looked down at the small plastic teddy in her palm. Her new home and her very own business all rolled into one!

Stepping back down to stand on the cracked and uneven, but equally charming, garden path, Laura leaned her head back and peered upwards. This was really hers.

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry as she looked up at the yellow Cotswold stone building, the wooden window frames perfectly matching the lavender-coloured front door, framing the criss-cross of lead-paned glass. The large willow tree growing to the right was almost the same height as the thatched roof, which was adorned with a single straw cat seemingly inching its way across the ridge of the roof – the perfect addition to such an idyllic building.

Laura wrapped her arms around her middle as her stomach gurgled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, the hard plastic of the teddy keyring digging into her side. Could she really do this? Could she really be responsible for a place as beautiful as this?

Of course she could. This was her fresh start, her chance to reinvent herself as the confident, independent businesswoman she wanted to be. Shaking the doubts away, she stepped up to the front door.

After unlocking it, she slowly turned the handle and inched the purple door open, a lasting reminder of the colour thelavender would bloom in the spring. She wanted to savour this moment, to remember it forever.

Stepping into the vast hallway, she spun around slowly, taking in the elaborate oak staircase, the varnished oak floorboards and the rich green, pheasant-print wallpaper. It was hers. All hers!

She’d been dreaming of this moment since she had been a little girl. Every time her family had visited Cockleshell Inn in Whitby for their holidays, she’d told her parents that one day she’d open her own inn. Of course, as she’d grown up, her plans had become a pipe dream and she’d never thought it possible, until she and Harry had divorced and she’d found herself floundering, unsure which direction to take. Well, they said every difficult situation had a silver lining, and this was hers, the opportunity to take a leap of faith.

Two doors opened up from the hallway and she peered into the one on the left, which led into a large sitting room where guests would enjoy the morning papers and a freshly brewed cuppa, filling the time between breakfast and departure, or relax in the evening playing board games with family and friends or reading a novel borrowed from the bookshelf which stretched from one side of the open fireplace to the back wall. The room was even bigger than she remembered, and the large chesterfield sofas arranged in two groups gave guests the choice to mingle or to enjoy a game of Monopoly around one of the oak coffee tables.

Walking across the hallway, she reached the kitchen diner. The dark oak cupboards of the kitchen area complemented the pale yellow walls of the dining area, where four pine tables were positioned. French doors opened onto the decking which surrounded the back of the inn, steps leading down into the vast garden. At the kitchen end, a doorway led into a small utility area equipped with a washing machine, tumble dryer and a short washing line hanging from the ceiling.

As she walked towards the French doors, Laura ran her fingers across one of the pine tables before standing and gazing outside. Yes, she had a lot of work to do, but if she squinted her eyes against the low January sun, she could just about picture how it could look in the summer. She might need to replace the wooden benches and picnic tables which were scattered around the garden, but that would be a worthy investment to allow her guests to enjoy the flowers she would plant, as well as the view of the fields beyond the hedge at the bottom.

As her mobile phone began ringing, its cheerful tone echoing in the large hallway, Laura walked across to the reception… bar? Desk? Counter? – whatever it was called, which filled the space beneath the stairs, and placed the keys down on the dark varnished wooden top before answering. ‘Hi.’

‘Laura, sweetheart. We’ve got you on speaker. How’s it going? Have you got your keys yet? Are you in?’ Her mum, Ruth, fired off a million questions.

Laura smiled. ‘Yes, I’m in. I have the keys and I’m in. I have my own inn!’

‘Congratulations!’

‘Congratulations, Laura!’ Her dad’s voice echoed down the line.

‘Thanks.’ Laura nodded. They’d changed their tune.

Her dad, Phil, cleared his throat. ‘Look, about this morning, we only have your best interests at heart. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes, your dad’s right. We just worry, and as your parents, that’s our job.’ Ruth’s voice softened.

‘I know.’ Laura sighed. She knew it was only because they cared about her, but they never questioned Richie’s or Jenny’s every decision.

‘Good. Just as long as you know that what we were saying was out of love. We’re proud of you for taking on this huge venture all on your own.’

Laura smiled. She couldn’t remember the last time her dad had told her he was proud of her. Probably the morning of her wedding to Harry. Shaking her head, she closed her eyes, pushing all thoughts of Harry from her mind. This was her day, her fresh beginning, and she wasn’t about to tarnish it by giving him a second’s thought. Opening her eyes again, she looked up at the lovingly cross-stitched sign hanging on the wall above the reception desk –Welcome to Pennycress Inn. ‘Thanks.’

---