The Difference a Day Makes by Carole Matthews

Author:Carole Matthews [Matthews, Carole]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 0755345819
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2009-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifty-Eight

I hang up the phone and turn to my sister. ‘It’s sold,’ I say. ‘No way.’ Serena gapes at me. ‘Someone’s crazy enough to take on this place?’

I nod, unable to find my voice. My legs don’t feel all that steady.

‘Did you get a good price?’

‘Not bad.’We’ll be going back to live in a shoebox in London, but that’s what I want, isn’t it? ‘Twenty grand below asking price. But beggars can’t be choosers.’

‘How quickly can they move?’

‘They want me out by the end of January.’

‘That’ll take some doing.’

‘At least it means we can have Christmas here.’

Serena looks puzzled. ‘Why would you want to do that? You could rent somewhere straight away. I thought you’d have been out of here like a shot.’

So did I.

‘You can get all your stuff packed up, anyway,’ my sister advises. ‘We need to organise you a place in Town. As soon as that’s sorted, you can come back. It doesn’t matter if this place stays empty for a few weeks. I can help you out with the money side of things until you’ve got the dosh from the house. There’s nothing holding you here.’

‘No,’ I say, somewhat morosely. ‘I guess not.’

Going to the window, I stare out over the moors.What would Will think about my imminent departure? We’ll all be leaving behind the house, the life that he’d come to love so quickly. ‘Are you happy for me?’ I ask out loud.

‘Of course I am,’ my sister replies, not realising that I wasn’t really talking to her.

The clouds are low, sulking. I can’t hear anything but the faint rustle of the trees in the breeze. How different London is going to be. I’ll have to get used to the traffic noise, the fumes and the crowded places again. Out in the garden I see the children playing. There’s an old horse chestnut tree down at the bottom of the garden by the orchard and someone’s fixed a rope swing on there. Tom’s currently dangling upside down on it, swaying backwards and forwards while Jessica runs round him in circles, arms outstretched, hair streaming behind her. They’ve enjoyed their time here, I’m sure, despite the tragedy. They’re wrapped up against the cold and seeing them looking all pudgy and cute in their Puffa jackets makes me want to go and hug them. I know they’ve felt the loss of their dad keenly, but they’ve been so stoic about it all that it makes me so proud to be their mum.

‘I should tell the children,’ I say to Serena.

‘You do that and I’ll put the kettle on,’ she says. ‘We’ll have a celebratory cup of tea.’

Pulling on my welly boots and my coat, I go outside. The day’s fresh and dry and the chickens are out and scratching about even though they’re not that keen on the cold.They need a light put in the henhouse so that it extends their day and they don’t get the chicken version of SAD - or something like that. I’ll have to ask Guy for his advice and get my finger out to do it.

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