Page 1 of Merrily Ever After
Chapter One
Merry
1 NOVEMBER
There was no mistaking that autumn was making way for winter, I thought, as Cole and I, plus his children, set off for a walk after our Sunday lunch. Mornings were frosty, sometimes eveninsidethe old-fashioned windows in Holly Cottage. Our double bed was piled high with cosy blankets, and hot chocolate with whipped cream had become my daily winter warmer after work – a treat which Harley and Freya had particularly enjoyed this week while they’d been staying with us during the school holidays.
Outside, most of the trees were bare now, except the holly bush in the front garden, which was rosy with berries, and like ours, the other homes along World’s End Lane had daily twists of smoke spiralling from their chimneys. In the small Derbyshire town of Wetherley, where we lived, the council had erected the lights which would be officially switched on next week and this morning I’d heard my first Christmas song on the radio: Michael Bublé’s velvety voice singing about a white Christmas.
It was a bit early to be thinking of Christmas, even for me, an avid festive fan. But the temperature was hoveringabove freezing and only my thick layers were preventingmefrom hovering just above freezing too.
I shivered and Cole squeezed my gloved hand.
‘Chilly,’ he asked, and then added with a grin, ‘or was that a shiver of relief that the kids are going back to Lydia’s tonight?’
Cole and I had only been living together since September, and this was the longest time they’d spent with us at the cottage. Yesterday, we’d carved pumpkins and then taken Freya trick or treating, while Harley met up with his friends. It was all very new to me, and I was loving every minute.
‘Absolutely not!’ I retorted. ‘It has been great fun and I’ve enjoyed spending time with them. It has felt like …’ I faltered, not sure whether to say what was on my mind.
‘Go on,’ he said, his eyes bright with encouragement.
‘Like we’re a family,’ I admitted. ‘It has been really fun.’
‘Good.’ He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it, smiling to himself. ‘That’s great.’
After leaving home via the gate Cole had installed in the back fence, we’d tramped through the woods separating Holly Cottage from the new houses, which his company had finished building in the spring. They were all occupied now and looking more lived-in as each season passed by.
Now, we’d emerged from the trees and the four of us were following the footpath along the river into town: nine-year-old Freya was skipping ahead, in a world of her own, and Harley was behind her, his gaze fixed on his phone. At thirteen, he was almost as tall as me; he’d had a growth spurt since the summer, when he’d relocated back to the UK from Canada with his mum and sister.
The plan for the afternoon was to burn off some energy and make room for a slice of freshly bakedapfel strudel, which, according to my friend Astrid, would be out of theoven and cooling by the time we arrived at her flat in the Rosebridge retirement village.
Astrid was my old art teacher from school, she had always been like family to me, but now our bond was even stronger because she and Cole’s dad, Fred, were ‘courting’, as Fred put it. He lived at Rosebridge too, but although they spent most of their time together, each had their own flats for a bit of space now and then.
‘Merry?’ Freya stopped in her tracks and whirled around, causing Harley to tut and elbow past her. Her cheeks were pink with cold, and the ends of her plaits were sticking out from under her woolly hat. She couldn’t have looked more adorable if she tried.
‘Yes, sweetheart?’ I said, catching hold of her hand.
‘Did you have a pet when you were growing up?’ she asked.
I shook my head. ‘My mum and I didn’t have room because we lived in a very small flat.’
‘Astrid lives in a flat,’ Freya replied, ‘and she has Otto the dog.’
‘She does, but it’s bigger than our flat was,’ I said, not adding that, regardless of space, my mum didn’t have the spare money to spend on a pet. ‘Mind you, there was a snake at one of my foster homes,’ I added, pulling a face at the memory. ‘They used to feed it whole frozen chicks and mice.’
‘Cool.’ Harley looked at me over his shoulder. ‘Maybe I’ll ask for a snake. The boys at school would like that.’
‘I don’t think your mother would,’ said Cole dryly.
I winced, imagining the look on Lydia’s face when Harley suggested they got a snake, particularly when he told her where he’d got the idea from.
‘They grow very big,’ I said hurriedly. ‘And live for years.’
‘Even better,’ replied Harley, nodding enthusiastically. He tapped his screen, mumbling under his breath as he typed, ‘UK, pet snakes …’
‘Daddy, did you have a pet?’ Freya asked innocently.
Cole caught my eye before answering and we both suppressed a smile; this was well-trodden ground and all part of his daughter’s campaign to get an animal of some description.
