and unkempt hair. If she had still been in London it would have been an easy option to take, but here in the village, she felt obliged to welcome her visitor. Reluctantly, Holly opened the door.
‘Hello, you must be Holly. I hope I didn’t disturb you.’ A grey-haired woman with deep brown eyes was sheltering under a huge blue-and-white polka dot umbrella. The rain was thumping savagely against it but, despite her frail appearance, the old lady kept the umbrella firm in her grasp.
‘Not at all,’ lied Holly, unconsciously rubbing her cheeks to bring some colour to her complexion. She opened her mouth to continue but then had a lengthy internal debate with herself, wondering whether or not to invite this woman into her home.
Was she an old, lonely lady looking for company, a nosy busybody on the hunt for gossip to spread across the village, or a well-disguised saleswoman selling something? Of course, she might simply be what she appeared. A friendly face, welcoming Holly to the community. Whatever the answer, Holly could write off the rest of the afternoon if she let the old lady cross the threshold, but failure to do the right thing now could see her ostracized from the village. She’d been warned by her fellow townies that if you upset the wrong person then a village feud could last generations. Those particular townies had never set foot outside the city and Holly knew it was just scaremongering, but then Holly didn’t want to take any chances.
‘Perhaps it’s the wrong time to call,’ the woman suggested sympathetically. ‘I’m Jocelyn and I live just down the road in the village. It was only a quick call to introduce myself, but please, tell me to go away if you want. Really, I’ve got the skin of a rhino, I won’t be offended.’
‘No, please, where are my manners? Come in.’
Holly relieved Jocelyn of her umbrella and her overcoat and led her into the kitchen. She quickly cleared away her artwork and made space for Jocelyn to sit down. Jocelyn was looking around the room and a gentle smile curved her lips.
‘Would you like a hot drink to warm you up?’ offered Holly.
‘No, honestly, I won’t put you to any trouble.’
‘It’s no trouble, I was about to get another cup for myself.’
With the polite debate laid to rest, Holly put the kettle on and rummaged through the cupboards for proper teacups and some biscuits to offer her guest.
‘I heard you’re a successful artist and now I can see why. These drawings are amazing,’ Jocelyn said, tapping one of the sketches Holly had put to one side.
‘Thank you. It keeps me out of trouble.’ Holly had only met a handful of people from the village so far. For the last two weeks, she and Tom had been too wrapped up in their own company to pursue introductions with their neighbours beyond the occasional polite ‘hello’. It shouldn’t have surprised her, however, that the village grapevine had already sized them up.
‘Billy has been telling me all about your new studio. He’s quite proud of it.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Holly didn’t see really and was trying to make the right connections. Jocelyn must know Billy quite well, but she looked at least eighty years old, while Billy was perhaps early sixties. ‘You’re not Billy’s wife, are you?’ Holly blushed at her own bluntness.
‘Good grief, no,’ laughed Jocelyn. ‘He’s a good friend and I love him to bits, but I can only take Billy in small doses.’
Holly laughed. ‘I think I know what you mean. He does seem rather set in his ways. He certainly gave Tom a hard time for going off and leaving me.’ Presuming that Jocelyn wouldn’t know Tom was working away, Holly explained herself more. ‘Tom left for Belgium this morning and he’ll be away for six long weeks.’
‘Yes, I know, it’s why I called around, really,’ Jocelyn admitted with an awkward smile. ‘Billy thought you might need a shoulder to cry on and it was either me or him.’
Holly wondered if there was anything in their lives that would remain private. It was certainly going to take her a while to get used to village life. Perhaps there was a village committee that would need to ratify her next five-year plan, she thought to herself.
‘Well, thank you for being so thoughtful,’ replied Holly, and she actually meant it. Tom’s parents had promised to check on her regularly, but they were two villages away. The few friends she had were all in London and she was just starting to realize that the emptiness she had felt when Tom left was as much to do with feeling isolated as it had been to do with the absence of bodies in the house.
‘It’s not a problem,’ Jocelyn said, taking a sip of her tea and allowing a small hesitation before saying what she said next. ‘The truth of the matter is I fancied a sneaky peak inside the house. It’s been a long time since I was here last.’
‘Really?’ asked Holly. ‘Did you know someone who lived here before?’
‘I was someone who lived here.’
‘Really?’ gasped Holly. ‘When? What was it like? Why did you move?’ The questions kept tumbling out of Holly’s mouth.
‘Oh, it must be at least twenty-five years now,’ explained Jocelyn. ‘Last time I was in this kitchen it was fitted out in top-of-the-range Formica and the colour scheme was orange and brown.’
‘Seventies at its best,’ observed Holly.
‘You guessed it, although it was the early eighties when I left. My husband wasn’t exactly one for decorating.’
‘So why did you leave? Who had the house after you?’ Holly was eager to know the full history of the house she now called home.
‘That’s a long story,’ sighed Jocelyn. ‘I left because I left my husband. He lived in the house a few more years and then it was sold on.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’ More questions were queuing up in Holly’s mind, but she had the good grace to curb them.
‘That’s all right. This house holds some really good memories for me and some,’ Jocelyn continued, scrunching her face as she prepared herself for the confession: ‘Well, some not so good. I just hope you find happiness here. In fact, I’m sure you will.’
Jocelyn was more keen on telling Holly all about the village than she was about her life in the gatehouse. She offered to introduce her to village life whenever she was ready, whenever she felt like she needed the company. She told her all about the quiz nights at one of the local pubs, the karaoke night at the other, not to mention all the fundraisers and bingo nights at the village hall.
‘And then of course there’s my teashop, which is opposite the church. Now I will only insist on one thing and that is that you stop by this week so I can treat you to afternoon tea.’
Holly could offer no better response than continuous nodding. Jocelyn was turning out to be the perfect medicine for a lonely heart. ‘I will,’ she promised.
‘Don’t go getting all polite on me. I’m sure you think I’m nothing but a hopeless busybody,’ Jocelyn confessed. ‘But I know from experience how easy it is to become isolated in a small village. You seem to be an independent and determined young lady, but sometimes that can work against you. It worked against me.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Holly, hoping
