Page 29 of The Secret House of Honey and Hope

“So, when are you coming home?”

“I don’t know.”

There’s an almost audible gasp on her end of the phone. So, I explain the news about the house and the dilemma about the renovation.

“But you would have to stay there?” she finally asks in a small voice, and I hate how hurt she sounds.

“I haven’t decided yet. But whatever price Low Catch sells for would only be a fraction of what a holiday rental could make. Mum and Haneen could have an annual income from the holiday rents. On the other hand, renovating the house myself is a lot of hassle. And very expensive.”

It would also be a huge risk and if I’m wrong and it doesn’t pay off … I scratch my jaw with the backs of my fingers trying to think of the consequences. If I fail, then I can kiss my dreams goodbye. I’ll be tied to my job for a long, long time.

As if reading my thoughts, Lynsey asks “Can you afford to stay off work for three months while you do the building?”

“I can do some of my job remotely. If the renovation is finished in two months, the holiday lets can start at the end of Easter, maybe first May Bank Holiday.”

“Do you want me to join you?” she asks in a small voice.

Oh hell, we are here after all. We’re having this conversation even though I haven’t any answers yet.

“I mean, if you decide to stay and do this, I can put the flat on Airbnb and come over, I might be able to work online too.”

“I can’t afford to stay at the hotel, it’s far too expensive and I’d need every spare penny for the building. I’ll have to live at Low Catch which pretty soon will become a building site. I might have to camp out in a sleeping bag and hope not to freeze to death.” And even though my words make perfect sense, they sound like excuses even to my own ears.

They must sound the same to her because she starts to cry on the other end of the phone.

Fuck! The last thing I wanted was to have a break-up conversation on the phone.

“Oh Lynsey, this has been coming for a while, you must have felt it too.”

“No, I thought we were happy.”

Happy? Yes, like friends, not like lovers. As soon as we moved in together, Lynsey became a domestic goddess, and our relationship slowly turned into a passionless, very well organized institution.

“I thought I was a good girlfriend.” She sniffs

“You’re wonderful.”

“I really did everything I could to take care of you.”

“Oh, Lyns, you didn’t need to take care of me. To cook and clean and write my Christmas cards and do my shopping. Shouldn’t you focus on your career?”

When I met Lynsey, she’d been starting out as a stand-up comedian, doing gigs at local pubs and festivals.

“I can’t,” she says. “I lost my funny bone.”

“Only because you were too busy. Without me in your life, you’ll find your mojo again and you could be really successful.”

“And who’s going to look after you?” She tries one more time, but we both know this is the end.

It takes another ten minutes with both of us saying kind sensitive things to make this goodbye easier. We agree to stay in touch; I promise to come and see her next comedy gig, hoping with all my heart she will stretch her wings and find success.

But the thing I feel when I finally slip the phone back in my pocket is peace. And resolution. Half an hour ago, I’d been wrestling with my choices, afraid of making the wrong decision. Now, I let my eyes scan the landscape and think about knocking down our old house and building something new. And even though my mother is going to hate my plan and beg me to sell and come back, there is a new excitement within me, something I haven’t felt in years.

Chapter Fifteen

Elodie

We reach a small flat plateau, about half-way down the hill. Doris stops to zip up her overalls, so I do the same. I’m glad of the protective material or my jumper would have been torn to shreds on the way. The hill is one impenetrable thicket of thorny bushes. Doris and Grandad must have cut this narrow twisting path down to the beehives. Even so, the gap is barely narrow enough for one person, so I’ve been walking behind Doris, sometimes sideways, to avoid being stabbed by the deadly looking spikes.

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