Right Number, Wrong Girl

Was this what Heaven was like? Peaceful and pretty?

Okay.

Maybe I could make this work if it meant a few days here. As well as helping Camilla, I’d be able to clear my head. I’d done nothing but look for a new job and go on interviews for the last six weeks, so maybe some time away from London would do me good.

Why yes, I was telling myself whatever it took to make me feel better. Was it that obvious?

A girl had to do what a girl had to do.

The door to the cottage opened, and a black and white border collie darted out and towards me. Its tail wagged excitedly as it circled me, and its tongue lolled out of its mouth happily when I bent down to stroke it.

“Hello!” I laughed, rubbing the top of the dog’s head.

“Oh, Oscar!” A woman’s voice chastised from the doorway. “One of these days, he’ll stay when he’s told to!”

I looked up. The woman walking towards me was clearly in her sixties, although she had a shock of vibrant auburn hair piled on top of her head where a leaf stuck out of her hairclip. Her smile was warm and kind, and she adjusted the collar of her gilet as she approached me.

“Oscar!”

“It’s fine,” I assured her with a smile. “You’re just saying hi, aren’t you, Oscar?”

He barked as if to agree with me and plopped his arse on my foot.

The woman stared at him for a moment before she returned her attention to me. “You must be Camilla. Wait, no. Sophie?”

“Sophie.” I smiled and held out my hand. “I’m sorry if it was any bother to change the reservation.”

“Oh, dear, no, not at all. These things do happen. I’m Eleanora, but everyone calls me Nora.” She shook my hand. “And that rascal there is Oscar.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” I replied. “Thank you so much for being understanding.”

Nora waved her hand and motioned for me to follow her. “Come on inside and I’ll show you around, then I’ll leave you to it, dear. It’s quite the drive from London, and you must be tired.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” I said slowly.

I was absolutely lying. It was awful. The only good part about it was that I’d left London.

Nobody tell my mother I said that.

She’d spent the last six weeksof my unemployment trying to get me to move back to Norfolk. If she knew I was happy to be out of the city, she’d never let me hear the end of it.

That was the last thing I needed.

Moving back home and her having something legitimate to go on at me about.

God only knew that would cost me what little sanity I had left.

CHAPTER FOUR – SOPHIE

Foot, Meet Mouth

The cottage was small and cosy, and Nora had to be the sweetest woman I’d ever met. Not only was the cottage completely sparkling clean, she’d also left me a loaf of freshly baked bread in a bread maker and six eggs from her garden chickens.

I wasn’t saying I could get used to this, but I could get used to this.

It was so strangely quiet here, too.

Well, quiet was the wrong word. It wasn’t quiet—birds were singing in the trees that surrounded the cottage, I could hear a cockerel singing the song of his people, and I was also pretty sure I’d heard a frog croak somewhere. The only traffic noises came in the form of tractors and other farm machinery as they rattled down the lane.