Escape to the Cotswolds

Can love blossom in the countryside?

Artist Holly Hunter is turning her life upside down! She’s leaving the bright lights of London (and a cheating husband) behind her and hoping for a fresh start as she escapes to the peaceful Cotswolds countryside.

Men are off the cards for Holly. Instead, she’s focusing on her little gallery and adopting an adorable Border Collie puppy named Tubs. Or so she thought …

Because no matter how hard she tries to resist him, local vet Adam Whitney is utterly gorgeous. And in a village as small as this one, Holly can only avoid Adam for so long!

Escape to the Cotswolds this summer with this uplifting romantic comedy. Perfect for fans of Jane Costello, Holly Martin and Carole Matthews.

Escape to the Cotswolds

Natalie Kleinman

ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Title Page

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Endpages

Copyright

NATALIE KLEINMAN

a born and bred Londoner, has a not-so-secret wish to live in the area she so enjoys writing about. While this isn’t practical at the moment, she still allows herself to dream of honey-coloured stone cottages, quaint villages and rippling brooks. Maybe one day.

A late-comer to writing, she has two published novels and many short stories to her name. She attributes her success to a determination to improving her craft, attending any and every writing event she can. All that, and a weekly attendance at The Write Place Creative School in Dartford, where cream cakes are frequently on the agenda.

Natalie lives with her husband, Louis, in Blackheath, south-east London - except when she’s tripping off to the Cotswolds in the name of research. Somebody has to do it!

You can find Natalie on Twitter @NatKleinman or Facebook www.facebook.com/natalie.kleinman

Thank you to Charlotte Mursell and Rayha Rose, my editors at HarperCollins HQ, whose enthusiasm and support have been a beacon lighting my way. To Elaine Everest who runs The Write Place Creative Writing School in Dartford. She has mentored and sometimes bullied me and, even in the midst of her own busy writing life, still always finds time for her students. She has taught me so much. To The Romantic Novelists Association who opened up a whole new world to me – one which continues to expand. My faithful beta readers, Jean, Moya and Bren, willing from the word go to read and reread till a stage was reached when my manuscript was fit to submit. To my daughters Carole and Tracy and my sister Rhona whose faith in me was absolute. And to my husband who cooks and cleans for me, encourages and enthuses, and never ever by hint or word suggests that I am neglecting him, which I know I do.

To my husband, Louis

Who doesn’t seem to mind how many times I ask him to take me to The Cotswolds

Chapter One

‘I’m leaving him, Emma.’

There was determination in her voice but an underlying hesitation as well.

‘And not a moment too soon, if you ask me.’

When Holly pulled the corkscrew out of her strawberry-blonde curls the side bits were just long enough to reach her mouth. It had been a habit since childhood, sucking the ends of her hair when she was agitated.

‘Yeah, well it’s easy for you to say,’ Holly said, the tiniest edge to her voice. She was never short with Emma, her oldest friend and her shoulder to cry on. At the moment though she was understandably distraught and Emma took it in good part.

‘No, of course it isn’t. But it’s time you showed Harry what you’re really made of.’

‘He’s seen what I’m made of. He just doesn’t seem to be interested any more.’

‘Oh, Holly, you have to get yourself out of there and as soon as possible.’

Holly sucked harder on her hair while conjuring up a picture of her best friend on the other end of the phone: willowy and with long thick dark waves that Holly had envied ever since they were nine years old. She still found it hard to believe Emma was the mother of six-year-old twins.

‘So have you decided what you’re going to do?’

‘No, I’ve just been getting through one day at a time. I haven’t even told Harry yet.’

‘And you’re waiting for what exactly?’

‘Courage.’

‘Oh, Holly,’ Emma repeated then paused, as if she didn’t quite know what to say next. ‘Do you want me to come over?’

In spite of her pain Holly smiled. ‘What, like hop on a bus, you mean? Emma, I live in London. You’re in the middle of the country.’

‘Why don’t you come and stay with us then? Just for a while, just till you work out what to do next.’

Holly’s mouth, and her fingers, fell open. and the curl dropped away and sprang back into place.

‘What, just ditch everything? I have a job remember.’

‘You must have holiday time owing. Take extended leave and see what happens. Why not?’

‘You don’t think a husband and two small boys are reason enough?’

‘You don’t have two small boys!’

‘You, you fool,’ Holly said, with a ready smile even in these circumstances.

Emma’s voice, naturally deep, lowered even further.

‘I suppose you’re right.’

It sounded bald. Holly tried to disperse the lump in her throat. ‘You’ve got enough to do without me there as well,’ she said, hoping her token protest hadn’t prompted Emma to change her mind.

There was a long wait when not even a crackle could be heard on the line. And then, with steel in her voice that could have cut paper: ‘For heaven’s sake, Holly, how long have you known me? Since for ever! And Tom since you were eighteen. As for the boys … In any case, don’t think it’s going to be a picnic. You’ll be washing the dishes, scrubbing the floors, helping with Jake and Jamie …’

Holly felt relief flood through her whole body. She realised she’d been holding her breath.

‘In that case I can’t think of anything I’d rather do right now – that is if you really don’t mind.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘I guess I’d better break the news to Harry then. Can I let you know when, just as soon as I’ve sorted things out here?’

‘Whenever you’re ready, but don’t put it off any more. It’s time, Holly.’

Holly swallowed hard. Telling Emma had made it a reality. She was right. It was time to move on.

‘Just out of interest, Hol, what’s the bastard done now? Another woman? Again?’

‘Does a leopard change its spots? I don’t think any of them ever last very long. It’s happened so often he’s become careless. His shirt absolutely reeked of perfume when I took it out of the laundry box this morning, and it definitely wasn’t my perfume. If the smell is anything to go by his latest certainly doesn’t count subtlety among her attributes. Still, I don’t suppose that’s the sort of attribute Harry’s looking for. It’s the last time though. I should have made this decision a long time ago.’

***

It didn’t take Holly long to realise that a distance of almost a hundred miles didn’t mean she’d left her old life behind her. Emma and her family made her as welcome as anyone could but Holly’s heart was in London; at least it was at first.

In spite of a determination to start anew and reminding herself she was after all only in her late twenties she found herself thinking, not of the bad times with Harry, but of the trips to the theatre, the candlelit dinners – at home and in some of the countless wonderful restaurants in the capital. Harry was an attentive and charming host and she had to keep reminding herself that he’d been attentive and charming to several other young women as well. It wasn’t really until she began house-hunting though that she started looking forward instead of back.

***

‘I’ve been checking out the property market,’ Emma said not long after Holly arrived. ‘Do you want me to arrange some viewings for you?’

‘Regretting your impulse already, Em?’ Holly asked, using the nickname her friend hated because she thought it made her sound like someone out of an Ian Fleming novel. Emma swiped her round the head with a tea cloth. ‘No, but I might if you carry on like that.’

‘I’m not sure I’m ready yet. Maybe I’ll just rent somewhere for a while, get out of your hair.’

‘You are not in my hair and you can stay as long as you like; you know that. Don’t even think about renting.’

Holly looked at her friend and swallowed hard. ‘I’m scared.’

Emma’s features softened immediately. She could obviously feel her friend’s pain.

‘Of the commitment? Are you changing your mind? Thinking of going back?’

‘No, not that. Definitely not that. In any case, I’ve already resigned from my job and initiated divorce proceedings. When I first came to stay it was to give me breathing space. But I’ve visited you enough over the years to know now that I want to make my home here permanently. It’s just that it’s such a big thing.’

‘Okay, I won’t push you if you’re really not ready.’

‘No, you’re right. I’ve marked time for long enough. Go ahead, make the call.’

Emma phoned the agent and made a couple of appointments for the next day and more for the one after. Emma left the boys with Tom and the two friends set off in a fever of excitement, but they quickly discovered that judicious use of the camera could disguise tatty décor and exaggerate room sizes. Holly wasn’t after anything palatial but she was hugely disappointed when none anywhere near lived up to its promise. Somehow she’d thought it would be easy.

With the legacy her parents had left her and the proceeds of her half of the home she’d shared with Harry, she had a pretty decent-sized budget, or so she’d thought. The London house had been snapped up quickly and contracts had already been exchanged so finances were in place. Just not enough it would seem.

‘I expected to get so much more for my money here than in London, Emma.’

‘That depends on what you mean by here. Out in the middle of nowhere maybe, maybe not, but in the centre of one of the most sought-after areas in the Cotswolds, no chance.’

After the initial let-down Holly adjusted her expectations and having taken the decision to search in earnest looked forward eagerly to the next viewing. She spent the following two weeks not finding her dream home but learning a lot about the local geography.

Then Emma, who had been surfing the Net, found a house that looked quite interesting. It was a private sale and the photos were amateurish but the description sounded good, so Holly made an appointment to see it the next morning. Emma was at work so she went on her own.

This time she held her excitement in check. Well she tried to anyway, attempting to conquer the expectation of finding her dream home in days, rather than the weeks or months it might realistically take. She was concerned too about how long she could impose on Emma and Tom’s hospitality. They’d given no sign of being fed up with her and she was determined it shouldn’t ever come to that.

Her excitement when she saw the house was all the greater because this time she hadn’t set herself up for a fall. It was perfect! Described as a chocolate-box cottage with a thatched roof, which she suspected added several thousand pounds to the asking price, it was right at the end of the high street, as far away as it was possible to be from Emma and Tom and still be in the village.

There was a huge extension on the side that ran front to back. It didn’t quite blend in with the rest of the cottage. At least it had a sloping roof, but it was tiled and you could see it was begging for a new hairdo. The potential though was enormous. She could use it as a studio. She could even see it as a commercial gallery. In fact, it was so big she could use it as both.

All of a sudden new possibilities were presenting themselves. In spite of Harry not wanting her to work – how old-fashioned was that! – she’d had a job for years at one of the London galleries. Her passion so great that she couldn’t distance herself from it. Harry didn’t make too much of a fuss; it was the sort of genteel occupation he could accept for his wife.

At home she’d continued in the well-lit attic room to turn out a substantial number of paintings. Maybe at last the collection of pictures she’d produced over the years could find a proper home instead of being stacked against the walls. If everything went well she could have her own commercial premises and be her own boss. Holly had never dreamt of starting a business but the prospect was staring her in the face. She made it pretty obvious she was keen. She couldn’t have feigned indifference even if she’d tried; it wasn’t her way, and the owner, an elderly lady who was moving to live with her daughter, was completely frank with her.

‘Perhaps I should mention, my dear, that there are two more people coming to see it this evening. I’m not pushing you, but you seem like such a nice young woman, and all on your own too.’

Well, what would any normal person have done? Holly made an offer there and then.

‘That is a little less than I’d hoped for, I’m afraid. I think I’ll have to wait and see what the next people say.’

‘I understand, of course, Mrs Foster, but please come back to me anyway. If they do make an offer I’d really like the opportunity to match it.’

Holly wondered if she sounded over-eager. Well, she was and there was no way she could have pretended otherwise.

‘You remind me of my daughter when she was your age. I’d like to help you, if I can.’

Mrs Foster smiled at Holly. ‘Look, I tell you what; I won’t make any more appointments and if either of these other two is interested I’ll give you the chance to match the price. If you still want it then, it’s yours.’

For Holly the next few hours were interminable. Emma couldn’t believe it when she didn’t eat supper. Nothing ever put her off her food. And she was pacing. Nervous, or what! When she phoned Mrs Foster later in the evening her hand was shaking; her whole body was shaking.

‘One of the couples has topped your offer by £2,500 but I did tell them that I’d promised you first refusal. It’s up to you now.’

It wasn’t the full asking price, but it was pretty close. Still, she’d known what the asking price was. If she’d thought she couldn’t afford it, she wouldn’t have gone to see it in the first place would she. When it came to convincing herself, Holly was a pushover.

‘I can meet that offer, Mrs Foster. I’d like to go ahead if it’s okay with you. I’ll contact my solicitor first thing in the morning.’

‘All right, my dear. In that case it’s yours.’

‘Thank you. Oh, thank you so much. Goodbye.’ … ‘Emma. Eeeeemma! How do I go about finding a solicitor?’

And so began the nerve-racking process that every new buyer goes through. Holly was so anxious while she waited for completion that Emma, in spite of having told her she could stay as long as she liked, threatened to throw Holly out onto the streets if she didn’t stop wittering. Secretly Holly knew her friend was almost as excited as she was. She felt the weight of responsibility for Holly’s move to Cuffingham and her own part in it and was anxious to see her settled.

Oddly enough the twins didn’t seem to mind their godmother burbling on about ‘my cottage’ either. They’d long ago formed the opinion that she was a bit crazy. They even asked her occasionally if she had any news. Six-year-olds! She didn’t think it was because they couldn’t wait for her to leave.

***

It may have been late autumn but Holly obeyed the demands of the weak sunshine streaming in through Emma’s window. Bundled up against the bright but rather chilly day she set out to further explore her new surroundings. Harry would have loved this, she thought. Damn Harry. Charming, gorgeous Harry. But not for her. No, definitely no longer for her. She still thought about him far more often than was comfortable.

She could call him all the names she liked but she couldn’t get away from the fact that she missed him desperately. She’d learned to cover it well, particularly when she’d been house-hunting or sheltered in the company of her friends, but you can’t put a marriage behind you that quickly. Consequently it was on days like this one, when members of the Carter family were at work or school, that loneliness hit her with a very big L.

Turning into the high street, to follow what was fast becoming her favourite walk, her aim was to go through the village and out the other side. That way she’d get a quick peek at what she earnestly hoped was going to be her new home. Like so many places in the Cotswolds Cuffingham was charming. A river flowed through the main street with a bank on one side and a road on the other. Shops and houses faced each other across the ribbon of water.

Emma’s home was on the tarmacked side, so Holly crossed the footbridge to get to the bank. Another river ran behind the row of houses and shops on this side. It was as peaceful as it was beautiful and to Holly, as she left her old life behind and in spite of her pangs, it was becoming everything she’d never known she’d wanted.

She began walking through the village intending to search for treasure on the riverbanks beyond the cottages. She’d seen and made some fantastic creations out of things as mundane as a few bits of wood and twigs, or some leaves and feathers; bottle tops; old socks. Well, maybe not old socks. Holly knew herself well enough to realise that once she started it would be all-absorbing and hopefully sufficient to shake off the alien depression that had descended as she’d thought again of Harry.

There was a cool, almost chilly breeze, in spite of which she wasn’t walking quickly for fear of missing something. She hadn’t lived in Cuffingham long enough to take it for granted and hoped she never would. The sound of quacking alerted her to a pair of ducks on the river and she glanced at them with a smile, moving towards them to get a better look, already feeling her mood lifting. At least it was, until she was knocked off balance and sent flying. She landed on her back, her rucksack cushioning her fall, her lightened frame of mind changing to one of irritation.

‘Can’t you look where you’re going,’ she muttered as she scrambled to her feet. It was only when she looked up, way up, to find herself staring into a pair of piercing, very blue eyes strongly reminiscent of a young Paul Newman, that something stirred inside her. The actor had had eyes you could drown in but the ones that were returning her gaze held a strong hint of steel, and the face they shone out of may have been gorgeous but she could see he was very angry.

‘Can’t I look where I’m going? Just exactly what do you think you were doing? You were all over the place. I couldn’t have missed you if I’d tried, which, by the way, I did.’

Never one to turn down a challenge, Holly wasn’t going to let that pass, deciding that maybe he wasn’t so very good-looking after all in spite of thick dark hair glinting with auburn shades where it caught the sun. Oh no, she thought. Not hair envy again. The fact that she needed to crane her neck to look up at this giant did nothing to soften her reply. Rather, and even though she’d never desired to be of the Amazon race, she felt disadvantaged by her size and went on the attack.

‘Have you even stopped to look around? It’s a beautiful day – not that you would have noticed at the rate you were haring along,’ Holly said, allowing disapproval to creep into her voice.

‘That’s right. I was. One of my patients is about to give birth and I’m in rather a hurry. I certainly didn’t expect someone to throw themselves into my path. Anyway, I can’t stand here all day arguing with you. I’m needed elsewhere.’

And he took off without another word.

Insufferable! And what made it worse was that he was right. Holly knew she’d been in a little world of her own, aware only of the increasingly warming caress of the sun and the ducks on the river. She’d been so engrossed that it was she in fact who hadn’t been looking where she was going, thus putting herself in the path of the stranger who obviously didn’t have any soul or he too would have been enjoying the day.

Guilt-fuelled frustration made it worse because she wasn’t even able to defend herself. She’d readily have admitted fault if he’d apologised for knocking her over, but there was no way she would now; even if she could; but she couldn’t because he’d gone. Rushed across the footbridge, jumped into a parked Land Rover, and raced off, leaving her standing like an idiot.

She’d been bowled over and given the brush-off in less than three minutes by someone she suspected was the most gorgeous man in the village, or possibly even the world. The strange feeling she’d had in the pit of her stomach the moment she’d looked up into those amazing eyes began to subside.

Who was he anyway? Holly had registered at the local surgery and, although she hadn’t yet met the doctor, she knew from Emma that he was softly spoken, cuddly, and about a hundred years old. She was sure the practice only had one doctor. Maybe this one was a locum. Good job if he was. At least she probably wouldn’t have to bump into him again.

Chapter Two

A little shaken by the encounter, Holly carried on walking, though with perhaps slightly more caution. It was a lovely crisp day and now she’d shaken off her misery over Harry she certainly wasn’t going to let some pompous, full-of-himself doctor upset her again. And if that was anything to go by she was pretty willing to bet he had a terrible bedside manner!

The lovely weather had lured others out into the sunshine and every single person she met smiled at her. That kind of thing just didn’t happen in London, not in her experience anyway, and it made her feel good. She allowed her mind to wander – though not her attention. She wasn’t looking to run into another crashing boor!

Holly found herself reflecting again on what she might be able to do when (and if) the cottage finally became hers. Though modest, she was also innately honest. She realised of course that being a grade A student didn’t qualify her to run a business. Many things can be taught but talent is something that, if you are lucky, you are born with, and hers had been nurtured.

Her work at college was outstanding and nobody envied her success. Holly was unassuming and only too ready to help any of her fellow students if she could. It came as no surprise that she achieved a BA (Hons) First Class and her framed certificate – one of the few things she’d brought with her from London – was second only to her mother’s table (at present in storage) as her most cherished possession. But could she turn her talent into a successful commercial reality?