Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
I was glad Julian came from money—and loved Hazel dearly—because the council had charged some pounds for that, and the insurance had been through the roof.
Yes. My next three weeks would not be the glory of the excited build up to Christmas, but a mix of maid of honour and wedding planner duties.
Honestly, a lot more of those crossed over than you’d think.
That wasn’t to say I wasn’t happy to be here.
I was. Sort of. As a teenager, I’d wanted to escape the small village and see the world. It also seemed like the only way to escape the bullying that chased me through secondary school, and university was my ticket out of Castleton and into a brighter, better world.
Well, that was what eighteen-year-old me had thought ten years ago. I’d only been back once since, and that was little more than a flying visit for my grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary party.
University had given me a lot, even if my dream had changed over the years. Granted, the art degree I’d obtained was largely useless these days, but I did love a good doodle.
What it came down to was that I just didn’t love Castleton the way my family did, and it’d never been somewhere that I’d necessarily seen myself living in for the rest of my life.
I was just happy to see my family again, and I smiled as I pulled along the sweeping driveway that led to my grandparents’ house.
My house, technically.
They’d wanted to move three years ago, and I’d been in a position to buy the house from them. They’d always intended it to be an inheritance for me and Hazel anyway, but she didn’t want the house, and it seemed like a good investment for me at the time given how much cheaper houses were up north. Buying a house in the south was more and more of a pipeline dream as time went on and house prices rose faster than my savings account.
In the end, my grandparents gifted me my half, and I’d mortgaged the other half, freeing up Hazel’s inheritance money.
Now, my grandparents paid everything but the mortgage—and the cleaner I had go in twice a week to make life easier for them in exchange for looking after the house—and I was creating quite the little nest egg in equity.
I knew I was lucky.
Well. Not really. Paying a mortgage and rent in a house share wasn’t ideal for a thirty-year-old self-employed woman, but I managed. Just.
I was not looking forwards to my mother trying to talk me into moving back home for that very reason.
“Sylvie!” My grandmother had the kind of voice that transcended time and space when she was excited, and the warmth that flooded me as I got out of the car was unparalleled.
“Nana!” I rushed to her, leaving my car door open, and wrapped her in the biggest, warmest hug I could muster. Another pair of arms from someone decidedly taller than us enveloped us in another layer of a hug, and I giggled at the rich scent of oak trees and freshly cut grass that was my grandpa’s calling card.
All right.
So, the ‘oak trees’ was a polite way of saying ‘whiskey,’ but who was judging him?
Not me.
“Hey, Gramps.” I turned my body slightly to rest my head on his shoulder with a smile. “I missed you.”
“Took your sweet time getting here, didn’t you?” he grumbled, squeezing me gently before he released both me and Nana. “Thought you’d be here by six.”
I grimaced. “Sorry,” I said, extracting myself from Nana’s arms. “There was a crash on the motorway that held me up. I did try calling.”
He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out his dinosaur of a phone. “Oh. It’s got no battery.”
I dipped my chin. Of course it hadn’t.
“Keith, stop being such a fusspot,” Nana said. “She’s here now. Shouldn’t you be doing something useful like putting the kettle on? I’m sure Sylvie needs a cup of tea after being stuck in traffic for so long.”
“Of course, dear. Cup of tea, Birdie?” Gramps asked me.
I sighed. Of course, he was going to use that nickname. “I’d love a cuppa, Gramps. Thank you.”
“Come inside,” Nana said, squeezing my hand. “It’s getting chilly out here and I don’t want you to freeze to death.”
“I will, just give me a minute to grab my stuff.”
“Oh, goodness. Keith! Move the car! I can’t believe you parked in front of the bloody door when you knew Sylvie was coming.”
“It’s fine,” I called through the door, touching Nana’s shoulder. “Gramps, don’t worry. Suitcases do have wheels these days.”
He poked his head around the doorframe. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “Yes. Nana, please go inside if you’re getting cold. It won’t take me more than a couple of minutes to bring my cases inside.”
She huffed. “At least back up to your grandfather’s car so you don’t have to take it so far.”