Page 8 of The Sunshine Sisters: Aurora

In fact, Saul Goodrich was one of the calmest, most unobtrusive, most likeable men I’d ever met. I hardly knew he was there when he was busy, and his work was first class. Whenever I made coffee for myself, I’d suggest he might want abreak and he’d smile and give me the thumbs-up. He was into nature, liked Pre-Raphaelite art and read all sorts in his spare time, from the classics to popular thrillers. I always came away from one of our fascinating chats rejuvenated and feeling that being alive would be a whole lot more peaceful and enjoyable if everyone went around ‘being a Saul’.

He told me he liked working with his hands. He’d built a cabin in the woods from materials he’d rescued over the years from tips and skips, and I had a feeling that he’d be out there far more often than just weekends – communing with nature, among the trees and the wildlife – if it wasn’t for this pesky thing in life called ‘earning a living’. Saul wasn’t working to make his fortune, like so many people were. He wasn’t interested in the trappings of wealth – house, expensive car, holidays abroad. He didn’t even have a car. He cycled everywhere and used a rusty old van for work, and he took on jobs that he wanted to do, mainly for people he liked. He had a lot of respect for Ellie and she for him.

When Saul met an obstacle in his work, he didn’t get angry. He just shrugged and made some wry comment about the unpredictability of life, then calmly went about finding a solution to the challenge. He was handsome, too, in a rugged sort of a way, with striking pale grey eyes, strong, rather chapped workman’s hands and a head of thick, wheat-coloured hair. When he smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkled into lovely craggy lines. I guessed he must be about forty.

He was interested in my passion for painting watercolours and told me about a class in the village that was starting up.

‘I haven’t painted for ages.’ I glanced down ruefully, thinking that painting was just one of the many things I’d given up to spend more time with Nash. What had I beenthinking? I’d been in love, of course, and love was addictive and could skew your entire view of life and fool you into thinking a relationship was worth fighting for...

‘Why not?’ Saul asked.

I’d shrugged. ‘I suppose... life got in the way,’ I’d told him sadly.

‘A relationship?’

‘Yup. Abadrelationship.’

‘But he’s out of your life now?’

‘Oh, yes. Yes, definitely.’ I swallowed and looked away, wishing rather than knowing that this was true.

‘So maybe now’s the time to get back to the watercolours? This one here is lovely... the detail is incredible.’ I followed him into the hall and looked where he was pointing.

‘You like my hellebores?’ I smiled, delighted.

He nodded slowly. ‘I do. You’ve got talent, Rori. You shouldn’t waste it being bogged down by the past.’

After he left for the day, I thought about what he’d said. Then later, screwing up my courage, I phoned the village hall and booked a place on the watercolour painting course. I celebrated by opening the bottle of house-warming prosecco Sylvia had given me. A little thrill zipped through me as the chilled bubbles hit my throat, making me laugh. My old life was over and my new life had just begun. Saul was right. I’d allowed myself to get completely bogged down by the past. Well, this was my chance to make up for all the time I’d wasted.

It was time to start living life to the full once more!

*****

I was full of hope, finally motivated enough to move forward with the painting classes.

But then a few days later, something happened that sent me hurtling back in time, forcing me to confront the past and those deeply entrenched fears all over again.

CHAPTER SIX

A freezing January had slipped into an even colder February.

I’d arranged to meet Milo in the Little Duck Pond Café at four-thirty that afternoon to talk interior design touches for the magnificent Bedouin-style tent. Ellie would join us once business was starting to wind down for the day.

Milo was in high spirits. His new branch of Roastery in Manchester was finally finished and he was heading to the city the following morning for the official opening, taking his daughter Mabel, and Jaz and Emma with him.

After a quick chat about their trip over mugs of warming hot chocolate, we got down to business, discussing the sleeping accommodation in the Bedouin tent. It would have a beautifully dressed double bed in situ, but with the option to install more beds depending on the size of the party. Ellie joined us with a coffee and together we decided on a stylish wrought-iron bed frame, which I said I would order the following day. Then I realised I’d forgotten to bring down the brochure showing details of the bed linen I’d thought would look beautiful and yet be practical at the same time.

‘I’ll go and get it.’ I stood up. ‘It’s so nice being able to just nip upstairs.’

‘I remember it well,’ groaned Ellie. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the new house. There’s so muchspace. But I do miss being able to roll out of bed and come down to the café in my dressing gown to check lists and things in the morning. It was so blissfully handy.’

Smiling, I left by the door marked ‘private’ which led upstairs to the flat.

The brochure wasn’t where I thought it was. Then I remembered I was reading it in bed that morning, so I dashedthrough to the bedroom, retrieved it and ran back down the stairs, entering the café just as a young woman was coming in. She smiled and looked round at the door as it jangled behind her, and I caught her profile.

My heart nearly lurched out of my chest.

Janey?

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