A Home at Honeysuckle Farm: A gorgeous and heartwarming summer read

Grace took a mouthful of water and put her glass back on the table. ‘I mentioned you to one of the cast members, told them my best friend from across the pond was a superstar and you were jetting in from New York for a visit.’

‘Far from a superstar,’ I managed to say.

‘Says the one who is far too busy to update her social media due to her hectic schedule!’

Grace gave me a knowing smile and I could feel my cheeks redden at the mere thought that my little white lie was already coming back to haunt me only seconds later. Why did I have to give the wrong impression? The embarrassment and guilt were gnawing away at me, I knew I was no superstar. ‘Over-exaggeration,’ my voice came out a little sharper than expected.

‘Don’t be modest, credit where credit’s due, and it was only Sam I was chatting to.’

My ears pricked up, ‘Sam?’

‘Yes, Sam … Sam Reid, the lead role in the production we’ve just finished.’

My heart was racing now.

‘He was very impressed I had a friend who lived in New York City, in fact we need to have a drink with him while you’re over here.’

Of course I was nervous about meeting the man in the photograph I’d admired from afar – but also a little excited. ‘I think I saw him in one of your photos: tight T-shirt, Levi’s jeans.’

‘You did notice him and scrutinised his photograph, by the sound of it,’ smiled Grace.

‘Maybe a little,’ I smiled, feeling the crimson flush to my cheeks.

‘You’d get on well, both of you are top of your game … are you blushing?’

‘Leave the girl alone, give her time to settle in before you go teasing her,’ Connie joined in, trying to rescue me from Grace’s scrutiny.

The blushed cheeks had everything to do with Sam Reid but were also helped along by the high pedestal everyone seemed to be putting me on, which I’d encouraged by not offering the truth straight away about my life and career.

‘What about the kids we went to school with? Sarah, Sian, Lizzie and Ben, are they still living around these parts?’ I asked, safely steering the conversation away from my failing career.

‘They all moved on after university. Sarah’s a vet, Sian’s a doctor and Lizzie works on one of the national newspapers in London. They all discovered life outside the village, but Ben is still here.’

‘Works for his dad’s building firm. The yard is still in the same place, just off Captain’s Lane, and doing very well, by all accounts. The new development we drove past on the way in is all down to them,’ Connie chipped in.

I gave a low whistle. ‘Definitely doing all right for himself.’ Inside my mood slumped a little further. It seemed there was only me out of the old gang that wasn’t in the least bit successful. For the past twelve months, I knew I’d been stuck in a rut, unable to see my way out of it all. Every day it had been a struggle, the same old same old, and there had even been days when I didn’t want to climb out of bed and sweep the stage of the theatre. I wanted more, and I knew I was capable of more. Things needed to change and hearing about how successful my old school pals were gave me a jolt. Inside a spark of determination ignited, just like the feeling I’d had when I was a little girl dreaming of a life on the stage.

‘Is the dance school still open?’ I looked towards Connie and took a sip of my drink.

She looked up, ‘Afraid not. It closed down the day you left.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘The day we left? Really? That’s so sad,’ I answered, feeling a gush of emotion, but I suppose in all honesty that was what I’d expected to hear.

‘It was very sad, it affected the whole community. All those children and adults suddenly without dance classes. Some had been coming to the school for years. It affected Ted’s mental state in a big way. He felt like he’d let everyone down, so he hid away in the farmhouse for a while. He couldn’t face anyone, the questions …’

‘Was there any chance of him handing it over to anyone else?’ I asked, already knowing the answer and unable to keep the slight note of sadness from my voice.

Connie regretfully shook her head. ‘No, that was Florrie’s school, a family business. He would never have entrusted it to anyone else.’

I pressed my lips together, not knowing what to say.

‘I suppose without the support of Rose he would have found it difficult to manage. He didn’t want to interview new staff,’ added Connie, her eyes blinking sadly at me. ‘It was one of those things … timing.’

‘What happened to the school? Did Grandie sell it?’ I asked, thinking it had probably been bulldozed for houses by now.

‘No, he didn’t sell it. Funnily enough, Jim and I were talking about it only this week. The dance school is still locked up and Jim checks on it on a weekly basis.’

‘Really?’ I asked, amazed. ‘And it hasn’t been used since?’

Connie said sadly, ‘Ted couldn’t bear to part with it … Memories, I suppose.’

I wasn’t sure why but all of a sudden I felt emotional, my eyes prickled with tears and my throat became tight. Even though it hadn’t been my choice to leave back then, a wave of guilt washed over me. The day we left for New York, Grandie had lost everything: us, the dance school and his life within the community. It was so sad to hear.

I slapped the table as a thought occurred to me. ‘I’d love to see it, while I’m here,’ I blurted, hoping that was a possibility. ‘Jim has the keys, you say?’

‘Absolutely,’ replied Connie. ‘And of course you can. I’m sure your grandfather won’t mind at all.’

Delighted by Connie’s enthusiasm, I realised the dance school still held a special place in my heart. That had been my grandfather’s empire, his passion and a huge part of my childhood. How would it feel to step back inside that building? A shiver of excitement ricocheted through my body at the very thought.

We spent the next twenty minutes enjoying our food and chatting about all the people I might remember in the village. The pair of them reeled off a long list of names, mainly from the dance school days, but I couldn’t remember half the people they mentioned.

‘Dessert?’ asked Connie, standing up and collecting the empty plates from the table.

‘Not for me, thank you.’

‘Or me,’ Grace smiled up at her mum. ‘Sit down, I’ll clear away in a moment.’

‘If you’re sure?’

‘Of course.’

‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to get going, leave you girls to it,’ she said, slipping her arms into her coat and grabbing her bag from the worktop.

‘Thank you for picking me up from the airport,’ I said, smiling up at Connie.

‘You are more than welcome. Shall I collect you around eleven-ish tomorrow and we can visit your grandfather? Would that time suit you?’

‘Perfect,’ I answered with a little apprehension. I was beginning to feel nervous about seeing him again.

Connie must have noticed the look on my face. ‘There’s no need to be nervous, I promise.’

Grace stood up and kissed her mum on the cheek before Connie disappeared out of the cottage.

‘Here, have a look through that while I wash up.’ Grace handed me a programme from the latest production she’d performed in.

‘I’ll help you clear up.’

‘You will do no such thing,’ Grace insisted. ‘Sit and relax, it won’t take long.’