The Garden on Holly Street Part One

by Megan Attley

Genres: Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Part One of the new feel-good series about finding your soulmates and your place in the world for fans of Cathy Bramley, Holly Hepburn, Heidi Swain and Kirsty Greenwood. Meet the neighbours of Willow Court . . . Newly single Abby has just moved in after finding an explicit message on her boyfriend's phone that was definitely not from her. Then, when she thought things couldn't possibly get any worse, she loses her job. Having been in a relationship for so many of her thirty-six years, she feels utterly helpless and in need of something - but she has no idea what that could be. Seven-year-old Ernie spends much of his day playing Zombies in the communal gardens. It's more a demolition site than a flowerbed, but he loves it out there. It helps him forget that his mum isn't around and that his dad is away so much with work. Lucky for them both, Ernie and Abby are about to become good friends. But only after they have run-ins with Arthur. The old man likes his quiet and is a stickler for routine. He's been that way since his treasured wife, Julia, died a year ago. Although Arthur isn't aware of it, he's slowly pulled away from life and everything he ever loved about it - what's the point, anyway, without Julia by his side? And that eyesore of a garden reminds him every day of losing her . . . All three are lonely, all three are lost. But with a little nurturing, can they find their way back to happiness?

Release date: March 15, 2019

Publisher: Orion

Print pages: 94

Sample

Chapter 1

‘Pardon?’ Abby Hamilton shifted in the chair – her armpits prickling with sweat in shock – then she adjusted her green tabard. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’m terribly sorry, Abby, but it’s down to cutbacks.’ Georgia Dawson, manager of Greenfields Care Home smiled, her grey eyes calm as she gazed at Abby. She didn’t look terribly sorry. In fact, she didn’t look sorry at all as she sat there, back ramrod straight, in her navy Marks & Spencer trouser suit, with her sleek grey bob that it was rumoured she had styled at John Frieda’s ultra-chic London salon. Travelling from Manchester to London for an expensive haircut showed that Georgia certainly wasn’t suffering from the cutbacks. ‘We’re having to let some staff go. We just can’t afford to continue employing so many here when we’ve recently lost some of our residents.’

‘But… you’ll have more residents coming in. This place has a fabulous reputation and of course you’ll never run out of residents because everyone’s got to grow old, right?’

Or most people do…

‘Indeed, we do have a fabulous reputation, and yes, we are highly likely to have more residents in future…’ Georgia pursed her bright red lips then nodded, as if agreeing with herself. ‘And I promise you, Abby, that if circumstances change, we won’t hesitate to contact you.’

Abby took a deep breath and scanned the room, desperate for inspiration, something to tell Georgia that would allow her to keep her job. It was all she had left. But the desk piled with paperwork and the Manchester city skyline through the first-floor window offered her no reprieve.

‘We’re giving you notice, as is written in your contract.’ Georgia’s voice had risen, as if her throat was tightening as she delivered the news. ‘But should you wish to leave sooner to find alternative employment, then I’m sure something can be arranged.’

‘Please don’t do this. Please. I need this job!’ The room swayed and Abby gripped the sides of the chair to steady herself.

‘These are difficult times… For everyone.’ The care home manager peered over her silver-rimmed half-moon glasses, and her eyes hardened, their grey now flinty. ‘So… if you don’t mind, I have other staff to speak to. Let me know if you decide to work out your notice period.’

Abby got unsteadily to her feet. She’d lost her boyfriend, her home and now her job in the space of six weeks. It was almost as if the universe was trying to tell her something. Or it would be if she believed in that kind of nonsense.

She took the envelope that Georgia proffered then trudged out of the air-conditioned office and into the corridor. Four of her colleagues were lined up there like naughty children waiting to see the head teacher. They stared at her, desperately reading her face for clues, so she dropped her eyes to the floor. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even wish them luck as she made her way to the poky staffroom with its scale-encrusted kettle and five green-cushioned chairs.

Sinking into one of them, Abby absent-mindedly fingered the slit where the orange foam was displayed like the innards of a body. She thought of the times she’d stuffed the foam back in during her coffee breaks, only to return to the staffroom to find that someone else had widened the split by picking at the seams or had carelessly dropped biscuit crumbs into it. Abby took care of things – it was in her nature – but not everybody was like her. She knew that now for sure.

But that was life.

Abby released a sigh before pushing herself to her feet. No point dwelling now, it wouldn’t change anything. In fact, perhaps it would finally give her something to write about in her blog. It had been a while since she’d fired up her old laptop and logged into her WordPress account, since she’d felt up to letting the world know what was going on in her life, since she’d found the text on Gavin’s phone and her world had crumbled to dust… She squeezed her eyes shut tight against the pain and forced his handsome and familiar features from her mind. Thinking about what she’d lost would not help right now. She needed to be strong because no one else was going to hold her together.

Abby opened her locker and pulled out her bag. Her shift was over and with it, her time at Greenfields Care Home. She stuffed the letter into her bag, pulled her tabard over her head, then placed it on the back of a chair as she shrugged into her coat.

She knew that she wouldn’t come back to work out her notice – it would be much too painful saying goodbye to the residents and her colleagues.

And Abby Hamilton really didn’t like goodbyes.

Abby closed the front door behind her and sagged against it. Her muscles ached, her head was tight and she was covered in dust. But at least she’d finished moving her boxed belongings into the two-bed rental flat on Holly Street in Didsbury. Considering how quickly Abby had needed to move, she’d been lucky to find such a lovely flat. Not that she’d wanted to up sticks, but after what had happened, she hadn’t really had a choice.

She wandered through the flat, admiring the hardwood floors, the plain magnolia walls and the lovely bay window in the spacious lounge. Everything in the flat was fresh, new and clean which was a very good thing as far as Abby was concerned. She needed a fresh start and hoped that this move would help her get it.

All she had to do now was to unpack the many boxes and two large suitcases that were scattered around the spare bedroom and kitchen. She grimaced. Once she took everything out, she’d have to find places for it all, and right now that seemed insurmountable. Perhaps if she just had half an hour’s rest, she’d feel up to it.

She’d make a coffee and light a cigarette and—

Wait! Light a cigarette?

She hadn’t smoked in over ten years, but when she’d found the text on Gavin’s phone, her first reaction had been to march out of their pretty three-bed semi in Wythenshawe straight to the Tesco Extra where she purchased two bottles of Pinot Grigio and a packet of Marlboro Lights. She’d drunk the wine but managed to avoid smoking any of the cigarettes, preferring to feel the comfort of having the box in her bag should she desperately need the crutch of nicotine. And, this afternoon, with the early spring sunlight fading outside and the impact of her day’s labour settling into her thirty-six-year-old bones, she really, really fancied a smoke. And why shouldn’t she have one?

Abby found her battered brown handbag – the one that Gavin had given her three Christmases ago – rooted for the packet of Marlboros and the disposable lighter, then headed down to the car park to light up.

On her descent to the ground floor, she passed the doors of the people who lived below her and wondered who was inside and if they were curious about her too. Abby had used the small lift to get her belongings up to the flat but had vowed to use the steps most days, unless she had something too heavy to carry. Now she was thirty-six, she needed to stay active to help keep her toned, and it would hopefully mean that she’d get to meet her neighbours too, possibly even make some friends.

When she reached the small entranceway, she pressed the release button to open the door and stepped out into the cool air. The car park was quite full now, but then it was Saturday afternoon and most of the residents of the flats would no doubt be preparing for an evening of Saturday TV with a takeaway or perhaps were getting ready to head off into Didsbury Village for a meal or to hit the bars. A shadow fell over her as she thought of all the couples and families, of all the people who had someone.

Abby pulled a cigarette from the pack and stuck it in her mouth like some kind of talisman against loneliness. She was about to light up when she realised that if any of her new neighbours came down to their cars, they would see her smoking, and that wasn’t exactly the first impression she wanted to create. So she walked around the side of the building and kept going until she reached the rear where it seemed more private. But it was also a right mess.. . .