My Kind of Happy

by Cathy Bramley

Genres: Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

It started with a wishlist... Now can she make it happen?

'A story bursting at the seams with sunshine' Milly Johnson
'Filled with warmth and laughter' Carole Matthews
'A delightfully uplifting, inspiring read. You might just want to change your life too' Fiona Gibson

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'I think flowers are sunshine for the soul.'

Flowers have always made Fearne smile. She treasures the memories of her beloved grandmother's floristry and helping her to arrange beautiful blooms that brought such joy to their recipients.

But ever since a family tragedy a year ago, Fearne has been searching for her own contentment. When a chance discovery inspires her to start a happiness wishlist, it seems that Fearne might just have found her answer...

Sometimes the scariest path can be the most rewarding. So is Fearne ready to take the risk and step into the unknown? And what kind of happiness might she find if she does?

Fall in love with this romantic, feel-good story from bestseller Cathy Bramley about one woman's search for happiness!

My Kind of Happy was originally published as a four-part serial. This is the complete story in one package.

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Readers are LOVING My Kind of Happy!

'Inspiring and uplifting' 5*
'Cathy just gets better and better' 5*
'Like a dose of sunshine on a dismal day...' 5*
'A feel-good story!' 5*
'Draws you in from the beginning...' 5*
'I laughed and cried my eyes out!' 5*

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Your other favourite authors love to curl up with Cathy Bramley too:

'Delightful!' Katie Fforde
'A page-turner of a story' Milly Johnson
'Delightfully warm with plenty of twists and turns' Trisha Ashley
'The perfect romantic tale, to warm your heart and make you smile' Ali McNamara

Release date: March 4, 2021

Publisher: Orion Publishing Group

Print pages: 304

Sample

‘I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,’ I said with a contented sigh.

Laura looked at me uncertainly and whistled under her breath. ‘Talk about glam. Hope they let us in.’

We were gazing around the foyer of the Enchanted Spa, Derbyshire’s newest luxury health resort.

There was something special in the air, as if the staff knew just what a fabulous day you had in store and could hardly contain their joy at sharing their workplace with their clientele. Young, old, fat, thin; gym bunnies or couch potatoes, everyone received the same warm and celebratory welcome at the front desk. I could feel my body slowly unfurling at the prospect: a spa day with my best friend. What a perfect way to spend a grey Saturday in March.

‘Oi, speak for yourself.’ I tossed back my blonde hair. ‘I can do glam.’

Although having said that, I had noticed a rather unattractive dark parting this morning. Time to book into the hairdressers for some overdue highlights. I hadn’t been for ages. In fact, I’d hardly been anywhere for ages.

Perhaps today would mark a fresh start? A chance to get my life back on track and moving forward again …

Laura snorted. ‘Tell that to your joggers, I hope that’s only mud up the back of your leg.’

‘Whoops.’ I peered down at the mark; almost definitely mud. It had still been dark and damp when I’d taken Scamp for a walk this morning, I could have splashed through anything. I wiped the front of my trainer against the back of my leg and prayed I wasn’t making things worse.

Although I was only half an hour from home, it felt like I was a million miles away from reality. Crystal chandeliers glittered above us, the polished marble floor sparkled and harp music played softly in the background.

I caught the perfume from two enormous flower arrangements and exhaled with pleasure; my shoulders dropped from their usual place around my ears. ‘I feel relaxed already.’

‘Ditto.’ Laura squeezed my arm as we both gazed around us, taking it all in. ‘I’ve got loads to tell you later.’

‘Can’t wait!’ I answered contentedly. ‘And we’ve got all day, nothing to rush for.’

Just then the sliding glass doors behind us swished open and a huge group of women entered, all kitted out in sashes and tiaras, and we were pushed towards the reception desk on a tidal wave of over-excited hen party chatter.

Ten minutes later, we’d been handed fresh fruit smoothies, fluffy gowns and slippers and a lady called Bernice, one of the smiley young receptionists, was showing us to the changing rooms.

‘Is today a special occasion, ladies?’ Bernice glided ahead of us along a thickly carpeted corridor as if she was floating on her own cloud of happiness. Her lipstick matched her nail polish exactly, I noticed. I tucked my own ragged nails into my palms and tried to remember the last time I’d even worn make-up.

‘Not really,’ I answered, straightening my spine to copy her immaculate posture. ‘Just spending a day together. We haven’t seen each other for ages.’

‘Celebrating life then.’ Bernice turned and gave me a twinkly smile. ‘Can’t fault you.’

‘Er … I guess so,’ I said vaguely.

Today was about escaping my normal life. And here, where no one knew me except Laura, I was hoping to forget my sorrows for a few hours. Or did that make me sound uncaring? Because I cared very much. Always would. Oh God, now I could feel tears pooling in my eyes. Fresh start, Fearne, remember?

Bernice gave me a quizzical look and I felt Laura’s reassuring hand on my arm.

‘I’m an accountant,’ she said, forcing Bernice to divert her stare from my less than celebratory face. ‘So the start of the year is always hectic for me, doing people’s last-minute tax returns. I’m exhausted.’

Poor thing, I thought, snapping myself out of my reverie to note the dark shadows under her eyes. We’d been friends since we were sixteen, so I was used to her ridiculously long hours in January. Mind you, this year must have been exceptionally busy because I’d scarcely seen her in February either. And seeing as I’d become a bit of a recluse over the last seven months, so far this year had been pretty quiet. If it wasn’t for her and my brother’s best friend Hamish checking up on me regularly then the majority of my conversations outside of work would be with the dog, Scamp. And he wasn’t even mine, I was looking after him for my elderly neighbour, Ethel, while she recovered from a broken hip. Scamp did his best to keep up his end of the conversation, but I must say I was looking forward to chatting with an actual human for a change.

‘Tax returns. Urgh.’ Bernice pulled a face as she opened the door to the changing rooms and led us inside. ‘Sounds tough.’

‘It’s over for another year though, thank goodness!’ said Laura, doing a fist pump. ‘Besides, it’s Fearne who’s most in need of some pampering, she really has had a tough time.’

A knot of frustration tightened in my stomach. She was half right. But I hadn’t had a tough time; I was still having one. If my best friend didn’t understand how I felt, what chance did anyone else have, I thought glumly. I’d been there when her mum died ten years ago just before we graduated from university and it had been a full year until she stopped bursting into tears at the most inopportune moments. Grief was inconsiderate like that, it didn’t work to a deadline and my grief appeared to be going on long after other people thought I should be over it.

‘Oh? Sorry to hear that.’ Bernice tilted her head, waiting for me to elaborate.

‘Thanks.’ I looked down at my muddy trainers. No way was I going to open up to a stranger.

‘So how do these lockers work?’ Laura asked, coming to my rescue again. She sent me a look of apology.

Bernice demonstrated how to activate the wristbands we’d been given to open the lockers. Then she gave us a smile. ‘Righto, ladies, now all you have to decide is what to do next.’

‘I fancied doing a class first,’ I said, scanning the activity schedule. ‘Before getting into my dressing gown.’

Laura’s brow lifted with shock and I felt a flush of warmth to my face. I’d resisted her attempts to get me to go to Salsa (and every other sort of exercise class, and I’d bailed out of book club). I didn’t know why she bothered with me these days: I’d always been the sociable one, always up for a drink or a shopping trip, an impromptu party. Now I avoided group situations like the plague.

‘Great idea.’ Laura looked at the fluffy robe over her arm longingly. ‘As long as it’s nothing too strenuous.’

We both looked at Bernice for ideas.

‘Hula-hooping at eleven?’ she suggested, circling her hips.

Laura shuddered. ‘Tried it once at the gym and my hips wouldn’t gyrate like everyone else’s. I looked like Mr Bean dry-humping his imaginary friend.’

I giggled. Laura was petite and pixie-like, with short coppery hair and large brown eyes and looked absolutely nothing like Mr Bean.

‘Hmm, OK, let’s have a look.’ Bernice peered over my shoulder at the sheet. ‘How about Nordic Walking then? Fresh air and a tramp in the woods?’

‘Who’s she calling a tramp?’ Laura muttered wickedly.

I coughed to cover my mirth.

‘Nice thought, but I’ve already done some of that this morning,’ I said, showing Bernice the dirt up the back of my leg. My trainers must have been muddy as well because now there was a mess on the spotlessly clean floor around my feet.

‘That’s mud, allegedly,’ Laura piped up.

Bernice laughed nervously and took the schedule from my hands.

‘I’ve got it!’ she said triumphantly, a moment later. ‘Crystal Healing. It starts in a few minutes in the dance studio; you could do that if you hurry?’

Laura and I exchanged dubious looks.

‘That’s a real class?’ I asked.

‘Oh yeah.’ Bernice nodded earnestly. ‘Crystals are powerful things. They can do wonders for your physical and emotional needs. You get your chakras balanced and everything. All you have to do is sit down for an hour with a blanket over your knees. It’s fabulous; you’ll feel like new women after that.’

‘Sounds interesting.’ I nudged Laura. ‘I was saying only last week that my chakras were all over the place.’

‘Ditto.’ Laura was chewing her lip, trying to keep a straight face. ‘And I’m sure one of mine is heavier than the others.’

‘There you go then.’ Bernice pursed her lips. If she was aware she was being teased, she was too professional to comment on it. ‘It’ll be perfect for you.’

She glided back to reception and Laura stared at me in amazement.

‘You nut job. We’re not really doing it, are we?’

‘We are,’ I said shoving my stuff in the locker. ‘It might be a laugh. It’s ages since I’ve had any fun.’

Neither of us was into any of this new-age, deep and meaningful stuff normally. But I reckoned it had to be worth a try, I’d been stuck in a rut for months now and couldn’t see a way out of it. Perhaps getting my chakras shaken up would do the trick.

Laura opened her mouth, a protest forming on her lips. I grinned at her and her face softened.

‘You’re right, let’s do it. And then we do need to talk about something.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Something important.’

I smiled indulgently at my dearest friend, watching while she folded her own belongings neatly into the locker below mine. It would probably be another self-help book, or website or support group. Laura was on a one-woman mission to mentor me through my loss and while I knew it wouldn’t help me, I loved the fact that she kept on trying, because it meant that she still cared.

‘Sure.’ I locked my locker and linked her arm through mine. ‘Straight after this. Promise.’

The dance studio we’d been directed to appeared to be empty at first except for four chairs which had been arranged in a circle, a folded blanket placed squarely on each seat. But as Laura and I entered, we saw a woman with a head of tight white curls crouched over a CD player on the floor. She pressed a button and the sounds of wind chimes and waves softly lapping the shore filled the room.

Laura cleared her throat and the woman turned, her face lit up with a welcoming smile.

‘Hello, come in, come in, take a seat!’ She stood and waved us to the chairs. She was wearing what looked like a long tapestry rug and her fur-lined boots squeaked on the rubbery floor as she crossed it to close the door behind us and dim the lights.

‘I think it might just be us,’ I whispered, tucking the blanket over my knees. ‘This is going to be so awkward.’

Laura eyed the door shiftily. ‘We could do a runner?’

‘We can’t do that to her,’ I said with a horrified giggle.

‘I can,’ she muttered.

Just then the woman joined us in our circle of two. She smelled of cloves and eucalyptus; it was exotic and mysterious and exactly how I imagined a crystal healer should smell. She sat down, placed a velvet bag on the floor by her feet and regarded us both intently.

‘I’m Maureen Sinclair,’ she said in a voice as smooth as warm honey, ‘welcome to this crystal healing session. You are good friends, I think?’

We nodded.

‘Then this will be a wonderfully intimate session for you both.’ Her fingers were adorned with silver rings and her thumb was stroking them rhythmically.

‘Great!’ Laura announced with a note of hysteria in her voice. She’d pulled her blanket up to her chin and looked about eight years old.

‘Yes, lucky us!’ I pinched my lips together, trying not to laugh.

Maureen lifted her velvet bag onto her knee and looked at me as if she could read my soul, as if my innermost thoughts were etched on my heart in bold for her perusal. I felt a flush of heat to my cheeks. It already felt intimate and she hadn’t even produced a crystal yet.

‘Introduce yourselves and tell me what you are hoping to get from this session,’ she asked softly.

Laura gave me a look as if to say good question.

‘Well, I’m Fearne,’ I said confidently, trying to remember what was on the write-up about this class, ‘I definitely think my chakras needed balancing.’

Laura let out a snort and quickly turned it into a cough.

Maureen leaned towards her and gave her an intense look. ‘We can certainly do that. Any particular issues you’d like to address?’

‘I’m Laura and I need my brain to calm down after a busy month and I haven’t been sleeping well,’ Laura said meekly.

Maureen listened so carefully, it was almost as if she was straining to hear another voice, inaudible to the two of us. She nodded slowly before turning her attention back to me.

‘And you, Fearne?’ she said softly, ‘I’m sensing a sadness behind that smile.’

I shrank back in my chair, feeling an instant prickle of perspiration under my arms; I wasn’t comfortable being under this kind of scrutiny. I didn’t want her to be able to read me like this.

‘I’ve had a lot to deal with recently,’ I said in a small voice.

Maureen held my gaze for a second longer than I’d have liked and delved into the bag. Getting to her feet, she placed a large pink stone on the floor in the centre of our circle and around it she dotted others in white, green and more pink ones.

She tipped some smaller crystals out into her hand and held them out to us. ‘If you’d like to hold one during the healing, help yourselves.’

Laura and I exchanged sceptical glances. Maureen’s eyebrows flickered with interest as we made our choices. Mine was a smooth white stone shaped like an egg which seemed to have a light coming from its centre. Laura’s was blue flecked with gold.

‘Close your eyes and relax …’

I did as I was told. This is what I had come for: complete relaxation, for body and mind. A rest from the angry thoughts which had been tormenting me for the last eight months.

Let them go, Fearne, just let them go …

Maureen asked us to imagine a sandy beach, a hammock, the gentle sound of the waves and warm sun on our skin, her words soft like a lullaby. My breathing slowed and I felt the steady beat of my heart in my ears.

‘And now, I will come to both of you in turn and begin the healing,’ Maureen murmured. ‘Concentrate on the area in your life or in your body where you need my help.’

As I let go of all the remaining tension in my muscles, I could sense that she had crossed the circle and was behind Laura. Normally this sort of thing would send me into a fit of giggles, but this felt really important. Laura had put up with my mood swings, my tears, my listlessness without comment and I’d done very little to repay her. Now I sent her my love telepathically and thanked the universe for her friendship.

I don’t know how much time passed but suddenly, I felt Maureen’s light touch on my shoulders. It was my turn; my stomach fluttered with nerves.

All at once, colours danced inside my eyelids: red, green, blue like fireworks exploding in my brain and all the doubts I’d had at the start of the session melted away. Even if these crystals didn’t have any effect, just sitting here, meditating and thinking good thoughts felt like a very good way to pass the time.

I sensed Maureen moving behind me, that heady aroma growing stronger and I heard the faint chinking sound as she selected crystals from the bag. After that initial contact, she didn’t touch me again, but I knew she was there and I knew she was trying to help me, to ease the sadness which she’d sensed so intuitively.

When will I feel normal again, Freddie? When will I wake up in the morning without my stomach dropping, remembering that your room is empty and you’re not coming back? When will I stop fearing for everyone I see riding a motorbike, wanting to shake them and tell them how stupid, how dangerous they are? Life just isn’t fun any more, grief feels like such a heavy load to carry day after day. First Dad left us and now you. I can’t bear it; I can’t bear losing people I love. Perhaps that’s the answer, perhaps I shouldn’t love anyone at all and save myself the heartache.

An image floated through my mind, a memory of my big brother and me playing on the altar in the little Welsh chapel where Granny was in charge of the flowers. We were obsessed with a board game called Operation at the time and we would take it in turns to operate on each other while Granny created huge arrangements of lilies and gladioli and chrysanthemums with the other ladies. I missed Granny so much, but her death had felt like the natural order of things. Not like Freddie’s stupid, stupid accident. I didn’t think I’d ever reconcile myself with that, no matter how long I lived.

Other memories began to flash up, happy ones: summers spent making daisy chains in the meadow behind Granny’s cottage, making the journey at dawn to the market in a van bursting with the perfume of cool fresh flowers, pinching pieces of fern – my favourite foliage of course – and other small flowers and making fairy bouquets with offcuts of ribbon from the haberdashery stall …

The sound of rustling fabric interrupted my thoughts. Maureen had moved away and was back in her own chair. She spoke soothingly, bringing our attention back to the room and after a few moments, invited us to open our eyes. Laura stretched her arms above her head and I blinked to refocus my vision.

My face was wet with tears and when I looked across at Laura, so was hers.

‘How do you feel after that?’ Maureen held out a box of tissues and we both took one.

Laura wiped her cheeks. ‘Good. Relaxed. I didn’t realise it had made me cry.’

‘And what brought on those tears?’ she probed.

Laura twisted the tissue round and round and stared down at her hands. ‘Guilt, I think.’

My heart melted for her; what could she possibly have to feel guilty about? She was good to her dad, a hard worker and a saint when it came to dealing with me.

‘You have a good heart and a great capacity for love,’ said Maureen kindly, ‘but don’t forget that you are also worthy of love. It’s fine to let others lean on you, but value yourself and remember that your happiness is just as important as theirs.’

Laura flushed and a fresh crop of tears appeared in her eyes. ‘Do you think?’

Maureen inclined her head. ‘I know.’

‘I’m probably to blame.’ I gave my friend a watery smile. ‘Laura has been my rock just recently.’

‘I can tell,’ said Maureen. She tilted her head. ‘Fearne, what was going through your mind during the healing?’

‘Oh …’ I shrugged casually, not meeting her eye. ‘Memories. Games I played with my brother. Things I used to love doing. Happy times.’

‘Would you say your life is happy now?’ she asked in a soft voice.

Her direct question put me on the back foot. I felt the familiar constricting of my throat.

‘I can’t … I don’t …’ I flicked a glance at Laura, hoping she might step in but she simply nodded encouragingly. I took a deep breath. ‘No, it isn’t.’

‘Perhaps you’ve lost sight of what makes you happy,’ she persisted.

I nodded, tears blurring my vision. My brother had lost his life and I hadn’t worked out how to fill the gap he’d left behind.

‘My advice to you is to be kind to yourself, allow yourself to find your way back to happiness. Maybe you’ve put up barriers to protect yourself but don’t be scared to connect with people and let them into your heart.’

I stared at her, unable to voice my feelings. A wave of annoyance flared in my chest: if only it was that simple. I was ready to leave now, I needed some air. I hadn’t expected to be affected as deeply by this session, but I felt totally exposed as if my skin had been peeled back and Maureen could see everything about me.

‘Thank you, that was really … useful,’ I said hurriedly, getting to my feet. I handed her back the stone I’d been holding. ‘Is that quartz?’

She didn’t take the crystal from me, she held my gaze instead. ‘You chose selenite. It’s a calm stone. It brings a deep inner peace, perfect for someone who might be grieving.’ She folded her hand over mine. ‘You keep it. A gift from me. I wish you well for the future, Fearne.’

My voice had evaporated but I managed to smile and nod my thanks.

‘And this?’ Laura held out her blue stone. The metallic flecks twinkled where they caught the light. ‘What did I choose?’

Maureen smiled knowingly. ‘Sodalite. It eliminates mental confusion and improves communication to help you verbalise your feelings. I hope it has helped?’

Laura’s eyes flicked briefly to mine. ‘I think so. I’ll certainly try.’

Maureen insisted on Laura keeping her crystal too and after clasping both of our hands and wishing us well, she sent us on our way.

Once we were out in the corridor, we headed for a squishy sofa and both collapsed onto it with relief.

‘Never again.’ I groaned, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyeballs. ‘How weird was that? So apparently I’m a misery guts and you need to work on your communication skills.’

I shoved Laura’s arm playfully, expecting her to join me in poking fun at what had just happened. But when she met my eye, her face had gone deathly pale.

‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you.’ Her voice shook. ‘Something I’ve been trying to tell you but I haven’t had the courage.’

A trickle of fear ran down my spine, a hundred awful possibilities whirring through my head.

Please don’t be ill. Please.

My mouth had gone dry. ‘What is it? Tell me?’

‘It’s not a bad thing, it’s a good thing, at least …’ She swallowed as if she might be sick. ‘I hope it is. Because if you didn’t think it was, then …’

‘Jesus, Laura, my heart is going like the clappers here.’ I gripped her hands. ‘Put me out of my misery.’

‘It’s Hamish and me,’ she blurted out. ‘We’re seeing each other.’

I was lost; what was so earth-shattering about that? ‘Well that’s nice for you, when?’

‘No,’ she said slowly, ‘I mean we’re together; as in I love him.’

Laura and Hamish? My Laura, and my brother’s best friend.

My jaw dropped open. Of all the things she could have said, that one hadn’t even crossed my radar. They’d known each other for years, but not well and there’d never been a spark between them. Or at least so I’d thought. And I saw them both separately all the time and neither of them had mentioned it.

Laura was staring at me, waiting for my reaction, but I was so stunned I couldn’t react.

‘Well, that’s unexpected,’ I managed shakily. ‘Since when?’

There was a beat of silence.

‘We swapped numbers at the funeral and—’

My gasp stopped her in her tracks.

Freddie’s funeral. July last year. The worst day of my life. Correction: second worst. The day I found out he was dead was off the scale.

I sat back against the sofa, taking this in. Laura squeezed my hand but I slid my fingers from her grasp and turned my face away. While I was burying my big brother, our two closest friends were setting up their first date. I felt physically sick.

‘How could you?’ My voice was barely audible, and tears spilled down my cheeks. I shook my head, trying to remember the events of the day. ‘Of all the places. And as for Hamish, I thought he was genuinely cut up at the funeral. But now it turns out he was working on his chat-up lines.’

‘It wasn’t like that, I promise.’ She held her hands up, pleading with me. ‘Initially we thought we should stay in contact because we were worried about you. I didn’t even see him again after that until December. We just texted each other or talked on the phone.’

‘What happened then?’ I said stonily.

‘Hamish found tickets to some Christmas party he’d been supposed to go to with Freddie and he got really down. He rang me to tell me how much he missed his best friend and I suggested we met up.’

I folded my arms. ‘He could have rung me.’

‘How could he?’ Laura sighed. ‘You were suffering yourself, he didn’t want to burden you with his grief.’

My heartbeat was thumping so loud that I could hear it whooshing in my ears. ‘And all that time you never thought to tell me?’

‘A million times,’ she groaned. ‘But we wanted to be sure that it was serious before we told you. It hasn’t been easy to find the right moment.’

We, we … already they were a couple. A pair. And three was a crowd, everyone knew that.

I should have been happy for her, for them both. But all I could feel was betrayed. The two people who’d been my closest allies, by my side, helping me through the last few months, had secretly been dating, laughing behind my back, having fun, having sex even … Bile rose in my throat. I’d never felt so alone in my life.

I glanced around the spa pointedly.

‘And you think this was the right moment?’ I tried to keep the emotion from my voice, which resulted in an icy staccato tone that sounded nothing like me at all. ‘When we’re supposed to be having a nice day together.’

She reached towards my arm. ‘Maureen gave me the courage …’

‘Stop.’ I shrugged her off me and jumped up. ‘I can’t listen to this. I’m going to be sick.’

I stormed off along the corridor and Laura ran to catch me up.

‘Fearne, wait! Please be happy for me. Remember what Maureen said, that I deserve happiness.’

It was true. Even through the mist of my anger I knew it was true. Laura did deserve to be happy. I hated that I was behaving like this: angry and selfish. But right now it felt like another loss. Only this time I was losing both Hamish and Laura, to each other.

‘Please leave me alone,’ I said in a shaky voice, reaching the door of the changing rooms. ‘I’m going home.’

‘Maureen was right,’ Laura said sadly. ‘You have forgotten what makes you happy. And until you find it you’ll never be able to move on with your life.’

I whirled round to face her.

‘Why are you so obsessed with me moving on?’ I drew air apostrophes over the words. ‘And what exactly am I supposed to be moving on to, anyway?’

‘Oh, Fearne.’ Laura’s shoulders slumped.

I pushed the door open and went inside; the wounded look on her face nearly undid me. If she spoke, I didn’t hear her, which was just as well. Because I simply wasn’t ready to hear it.

The row hovered over me all the way home like my own personal rain cloud. I felt wretched; I’d never quarrelled with Laura before. If it hadn’t been for Scamp, I’d have probably made a den under my duvet and stayed there for the rest of the weekend, curled up with my own misery.

I was ashamed of my reaction to her news; of course Laura deserved to be happy and she deserved my support. But I was hurt too. We’d always been there for each other; I didn’t have any secrets from her and I couldn’t believe she had fallen in love with someone and not confided in me. And not only was Hamish in on the deception, he was the cause of it, which made me feel more isolated and despondent than ever.

My spirits lifted a little as I pulled up outside our – my, I corrected myself automatically – house, a pretty little Victorian terrace on the outskirts of Chesterfield; there, perched in the front window was Scamp. Ears pricked and front paws, one white, one black, resting on the back of the armchair I’d put there especially for him to keep a lookout. I was pretty sure that he was waiting for Ethel to come home, which melted my heart and made me perhaps a bit over generous with the dog treats to compensate.

Freddie and I had bought the house between us seven years ago; we’d had the best fun doing it up and for a time it had been known as party central among our friends. For the months following his death, I’d hated the special kind of silence Freddie had left behind him. Having Scamp to come home to had helped No. 78 Pineapple Road feel like home again.

‘Hello, you gorgeous boy.’ I crouched down to let Scamp give me his usual enthusiastic welcome and felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I took it out and read the screen: text messages, from both Laura and Hamish. I wasn’t ready to listen to them. Not yet. Instead, I cancelled the dog walker who’d been due in at lunchtime and took Scamp out for a long walk.

‘You’re the best thing to happen to me this year, you know,’ I told him as we stopped at a pedestrian crossing. He looked up at me adoringly, two chocolate brown eyes under expressive bushy eyebrows. The crossing started to beep and Scamp tugged me across the road, eager to get to the park on the other side. Once through the gate, I let him off the lead, laughing as he lolloped off to the spot where two months ago he’d found a discarded sausage; he never gave up hope of finding another. I envied him his optimism.

Ethel had left me a letter asking me to look after him if anything happened to her. A dog fills a space in your heart you didn’t know was there, she’d written. And she’d been right; Scamp had quickly worked his way into my affections as well as my home, and I was simultaneously looking forward to and dreading the day that Ethel returned to her house next door. Scamp ran back to me, his tail wagging wildly, and dropped a filthy tennis ball at my feet. I picked it up gingerly and Scamp yelped with glee as I threw it for him. Part Border collie, part Jack Russell, he had longish legs, wiry fur and perky ears. Despite his arthritic hips and advancing years he raced after the ball with all the enthusiasm of a puppy. At least I was making someon