The Little Cottage in Lantern Square

by Helen Rolfe

Genres: Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance

Synopsis

Looking for a fresh start? Welcome to Butterbury... A delightfully heartwarming story, perfect for fans of Holly Hepburn and Cathy Bramley

Step into the magic of Lantern Square...

Hannah went from high flyer in the city to business owner and has never looked back. In the cosy Cotswold village of Butterbury she runs Tied up with String, sending handmade gifts and care packages across the miles, as well as delivering them to people she thinks need them the most.

But when her ex best-friend Georgia turns up and wants in on the action, will Hannah be willing to forgive and forget? With her business in jeopardy she needs to maintain the reputation she's established, and discover who she can trust...

Meanwhile, a mysterious care package lands on her own doorstep at Lantern Cottage. Who is trying to win her heart - and will she ever be willing to give it away?


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Readers have fallen in love with Lantern Square:

'Such a perfect gift of a book!'
'Another fabulous read filled with happiness and friendship'
'Set in the most picturesque little village and an absolute joy to read'
'What a beautiful story filled with happiness, comedy and lovely characters'
'My favourite type of book - a heart-warming tale of friendship, romance and community spirit'
'Lantern Square sounds a wonderful place to live in and heal your heart'

Release date: August 20, 2020

Publisher: Orion Publishing Group

Print pages: 416

Sample

Prologue

‘We’re here!’ Hannah announced to Smokey and Bandit as she pulled up outside Lantern Cottage. There was no reply – of course – from her two feline friends, who’d resisted getting into the cat baskets a few hours ago but had since accepted their imprisonment and settled down to sleep in the footwells of the back seats. The next two weeks were going to be fun, keeping them inside the cottage so they’d get used to their new territory. Smokey and Bandit hated being confined anywhere. Rain, hail, or shine, they liked to be free and explore. Hannah got that. She’d waited a long while to feel like her old self and it had taken way more than two weeks.

She climbed out of the car and stretched after the long drive from Whitby, fanning her T-shirt to circulate some air. She must look like a crazy woman, smiling so broadly standing here on her own, but she couldn’t help it – because here she was at last, in Lantern Square, the heart of the cosy Cotswold village of Butterbury, in front of her new home. Named on a weathered sweet-chestnut plaque next to a soft-green ledged-oak front door that showed its age, Lantern Cottage was the home she’d saved diligently for. Buying her own place had been a long time coming and, with everything in her life being so spectacularly thrown up in the air, it was as though it had all come down to the ground again, settled, and marked a fresh start.

Beautiful spring blossom from the trees in the square carried a subtle scent her way as Hannah turned and waved at the sound of a loud toot-toot. She’d managed to fit plenty into her tiny car along with the cats, but her dad had followed her in a van filled with the rest of her belongings, and here he was pulling up behind her. She checked her bumper, but she couldn’t move any closer to the car in front unless she wanted to touch park. She spoke to her dad through his open window because four doors down the charmingly named Honey Cottage had a driveway and the van was so long that it well and truly blocked access. ‘Let me go and have a word with one of my new neighbours. I’m sure they won’t mind us being here to unload.’ Hannah had already seen a curtain twitch when she’d used hand signals to guide her dad, who was out of his comfort zone in this van, being used to his modest Golf that shunted him and Hannah’s mum from A to B.

‘Right you are.’ Crunch. Bless him, he drove an automatic car and the van had gears which he wasn’t used to, though he’d announced it was going to be fun reverting to a manual.

Hannah knocked on the door of Honey Cottage, noting its plaque was in much better repair than hers. Well-tended window boxes, filled with purple and white blooms that looked as though they’d escaped the April storms that had battered every other inch of the country a few short days ago, flourished in front of pristine glass.

The door opened a crack.

‘Hello, I’m Hannah, and I’m moving into Lantern Cottage today.’ She beamed a smile at the occupant when the door opened some more. ‘I wonder if you’d mind us parking here while we—’

Hannah didn’t get any further before the woman said, ‘You’re blocking my drive.’ She looked older than Hannah’s dad, perhaps mid-seventies, with beady brown eyes flecked with glimmers of gold. She was keeping the door ajar just enough that she could engage in conversation, and closed enough that she could slam it quickly if she didn’t like who was on the other side.

‘I know and I’m very sorry. There doesn’t seem to be anywhere close enough to park other than here and we have furniture to unload.’

‘That’s not my problem, young lady.’

‘It’ll only be for an hour. I’d really appreciate it.’

‘Fine, one hour. Then I’m calling the police if you don’t move.’ And with that she shut the door.

Hannah stood on the path of Honey Cottage and took a deep breath. The estate agent listing hadn’t remarked on a crotchety old woman four doors away and she hoped not all of the residents were as unwelcoming.

‘Good to go?’ Her dad had already opened up the rear doors.

She chose not to elaborate about her awkward neighbour in case her dad worried. ‘I should’ve taken up weight training before I insisted I didn’t need to pay removal men to do this,’ she joked as she climbed into the truck after him to take one end of the tabletop.

‘Don’t make me laugh or I’ll be too weak to lift,’ he said, smiling, and with a surge of necessary energy, they got going. Hannah would let the miserable neighbour stew inside her cottage. Nothing was going to ruin moving-in day for her if she could help it.

It took over an hour and another knock on the same woman’s door to make sure she didn’t follow through and call the police before Hannah and her dad were done with the unloading. Hannah’s arms were probably stronger than some, but this was one job she’d readily admit needed a couple of big strong men.

‘I hope your neighbours make you welcome.’ The worry lines on her dad’s forehead deepened as he set down the last of the boxes by the door to the kitchen.

‘It’ll take time to settle in, but I’ll get there.’

‘It’s different from London, that’s for sure.’ He held up his hands in defence. ‘I’m not criticising.’

‘Mum is, though.’

‘She worries, that’s all, but doesn’t always show it in the same way as I do.’

‘Mum doesn’t seem to understand this is what I need.’ She didn’t understand that Hannah didn’t need her boyfriend Luke any more either, or that she’d chosen to change career. Big changes didn’t come along in her mother’s life and in some ways she was treating Hannah’s recent decisions as a personal slight. All Hannah wanted was for her mum to see things the way she did, or if she really couldn’t, then maybe keep her opinions to herself. Surely that wasn’t asking too much? ‘Are you sure you won’t stay for a cup of tea?’

‘And upset Mrs Busybody four doors down?’ More curtain twitching had given the game away. ‘And you know I’m more of a coffee person – at least, when your mother isn’t looking. I’ll grab one at the services, might even sit and read the paper for a bit before I take the van back.’

‘It’s a long drive up to Whitby.’

‘I’m not past it yet, love. I’ll be grand. And your mum gave me enough sandwiches to cater for a town picnic. I’ve still got those to keep me going.’

‘At least have a cold drink. I know this box has glasses in.’ She wasn’t going to take no for an answer and produced a glass from between sheets of newspaper, gave it a wash and filled it at the tap. From the speed at which he glugged it back she knew she’d made the right choice.

He set his empty glass down by the sink, narrowly avoiding tripping over Bandit, who, happily released from the cat carrier, had been weaving in and out of their ankles. ‘You cats are going to like it here,’ he said to him.

‘These two are going to hate being shut inside, more like.’ She watched Smokey go off on the prowl, most likely upstairs.

‘Only two weeks, guys. Two weeks to settle in to your new home.’ He hugged Hannah tight. ‘I’d better leave you to unpack and organise yourself.’

They’d got everything in and, aside from the big items put in their proper places – the bed upstairs, the table which Hannah had struggled with even though the legs had been taken off for transport and her dad had taken most of the weight, the sofa and armchair in the sitting room – there were boxes cluttering every available bit of floorspace. Hannah had never been one for pristine living quarters, but even she couldn’t wait to get it sorted.

‘Do you need anything before I go?’

‘I’m fine, Dad. Stop worrying.’

‘It’s in the job description.’ And with a characteristic wink he scooped Bandit up and gave him a cuddle. He put him down to exchange him for Smokey but couldn’t see him. ‘Where’s the other one gone?’

It was then Hannah felt a cool breeze lick around her bare arms. ‘Keep hold of Bandit!’ she yelled, running down the hall towards the sunlight blasting through the door she’d been forewarned could be temperamental and down the path, just in time to see and hear a sleek black car come to a screeching halt outside.

Smokey shot past her, back into the cottage he’d been so desperate to escape, and Hannah was confronted by the driver of the car as her dad shut the front door to stop the same thing happening again.

‘I almost swerved and crashed!’ the man yelled from behind dark sunglasses.

‘I’m so sorry.’ She shielded her eyes to get a better look at him. The fresh air mingled with a woody aftershave from the man in tailored suit trousers, a crisp white shirt and a tie obediently unflappable in the spring breeze.

‘I should think so too. Bloody irresponsible.’

‘There’s no need for foul language,’ she said, although she found it hard to reprimand someone as attractive as he was. First impressions counted and, right now, his height and broad chest that suggested superior upper-body strength she could’ve used about an hour ago as she and her dad wrestled the bed posts and frame up the narrow staircase, made her nerves flutter away in her body despite his rudeness.

His mouth set in a firm line, he climbed back into the fancy car and pulled away with another screech of tyres.

‘Maniac!’ Hannah yelled after him. Arrogant, unwelcoming tosser, she wanted to add. But she wouldn’t, not out loud. She wanted to at least attempt to make a good impression on day one of living in Lantern Square.

But moving day troubles weren’t over yet, because the same woman from earlier was right behind her. ‘Only been here an hour or so, and you’re already upsetting the locals.’

‘It’s not my intention, I assure you. Who was that anyway?’ Her interest wasn’t only platonic, judging by the way the butterflies in her tummy did a giddy dance. Despite his rudeness, the man had been good to look at. She supposed nobody had ever taught him anything as basic as manners.

‘That was Joe; he’s the local GP.’

The butterflies disappeared entirely. ‘You don’t mean Joe Altringham?’

‘Dr Joe Altringham, yes. Do you know him?’

‘In a manner of speaking.’ Today wasn’t the first time she’d had cause to dislike the man. After she’d bought her cottage she’d lined up an on-air interview with the local radio station to talk about her new business and generate more custom but at the last minute Joe Altringham had come along and they’d pushed her aside, just like that. She wondered what he was like with patients, given his apparent disregard for anyone else other than himself, both on the road and off.

She reiterated the sorry tale to her new neighbour, thinking it might help their relationship, but she got no sympathy, so instead of talking about the local GP she tried to make peace with this woman in a different way. ‘We don’t seem to have got off to a very good start. As I said before, I’m Hannah.’ She held out her hand.

‘Mrs Ledbetter.’ The woman took her hand with an air of suspicion. ‘Is it just you moving in?’ She eyed Hannah’s little car parked outside. ‘Just the one car?’

‘Don’t worry, the van is a one-off. Moving-in day and my dad’s helping out.’

‘You had an awful lot of boxes for one person.’

So she really had been taking it all in from behind those curtains, not just watching and waiting for parking time to be up. ‘I run my business from home, so I have a lot of things delivered in bulk.’

‘Business? What sort of business?’ Mrs Ledbetter eyed Hannah suspiciously, as though expecting her to announce she ran a brothel or an illegal gambling den.

‘It’s a care-package business – I deliver gifts to people as a pick-me-up, something to make their day a little brighter.’ The business had started as a seed of an idea a long time ago, and Hannah would always be glad that something wonderful had come out of such a painful personal experience.

Mrs Ledbetter seemed unimpressed. ‘I hope you’re not going to have delivery vans dropping off or picking up at all hours of the night.’

‘Strictly a daytime business, I assure you.’ She was rescued from further questioning when a voice behind her called out to greet her neighbour.

‘You’re glowing this fine day, Mrs Ledbetter.’ A man in his early thirties bumbled across the street from the square. He had mud all down the front of his overalls, a spade in one hand, a cap in the other as he let the air get to the riot of auburn curls on his head.

Hannah almost gawped as Mrs Ledbetter reversed her demeanour completely. It was like seeing a totally different woman. ‘Good morning, Rhys,’ she said warmly. ‘How are you?’

‘Grand.’ His smile was as wide as his deep-set eyes. ‘And who’s this?’

Hannah thought it best she take the lead. ‘I’m Hannah, I just moved in to Lantern Cottage.’

‘Well, congratulations and welcome to Butterbury,’ he said, beaming. ‘I won’t shake your hand, I’m filthy. I’m Rhys, gardener extraordinaire, employed to look after the gardens in the square.’ He pointed across the street to the wrought-iron railings that ran all the way around Butterbury’s famous Lantern Square. ‘The flower beds are looking really great, even though I do say so myself.’

He certainly was chatty. At last, someone friendly. ‘Do you live here too?’

‘I wish I did. I live in the next village. Any gardening you need, give me the nod. And if you need evidence of my talents, you could check out the flower beds here in the square. Tulips, bluebells, lilacs – all my handiwork.’ He put his cap back on and tipped the peak. ‘Actually, I’d better get on soon or the council will put me on a warning for slacking off. Got to oil the wooden benches, Mrs Ledbetter, so no sitting down on your way through there for a few days. We want them looking pristine for the summer fair in August.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Was that a smile she managed? ‘And I’d better get on too. Lots to do.’ She made sure she was the first to walk away.

‘Don’t worry.’ Rhys leaned a little closer. ‘Her bark really is worse than her bite.’

‘I’ll take your word for it.’ Hannah grinned. ‘What’s the summer fair?’

He briefed her on what it entailed: the community coming together with stalls, food, even dancing. ‘I think you’re going to like living in Lantern Cottage.’

‘I think you might be right. The cottage needs a little bit of attention, though.’

‘The front looks tired, but settle in first, there’s no rush. And don’t let Mrs Ledbetter’s cottage put you off. The rest of the residents only aspire to have the fastidiousness of that woman.’

Hannah managed a giggle. ‘Is she always so disapproving?’

‘Not when you get to know her.’

Hannah reached for a tall, dark-stemmed weed by the gate and began to pull. ‘Better start attending to the weeds out here before I give her anything else to complain about.’

‘Whatever are you doing, woman?’ He stepped forward to rescue the plant. ‘It may not look like much at the moment, but any day now this will have bright crimson flowers.’

‘So not a weed, then.’

‘Definitely not a weed.’

‘I’m not exactly green-fingered.’

‘Tell you what, I’ll pop over when I’ve finished doing the benches, give you a quote for a spruce up of the front and back, plus maintenance should you want it. No pressure. But if you’re interested, it could stop you killing off any more innocent plants.’

She agreed and when Rhys went on his way she returned inside to rescue her dad from cat patrol so he could go home.

She was buoyed by meeting the friendly face of the local gardener, the sunshine gracing the square on her first day here and the promise of new beginnings behind the weathered front door of Lantern Cottage. The only thing that made her frown again was when the sleek black car honked its horn as her dad began to pull away from the kerb, then roared on past, its owner not in the least bit cautious of other vehicles, a man crossing the road up ahead, or the possibility of cats darting out from surprising directions.

Lantern Square was picturesque, a pretty perfect place to start again. But Hannah guessed you couldn’t have everything. It seemed the locals might well take a bit of getting used to.

1

Hannah’s first few months in Lantern Cottage had flown by in a whirlwind of unpacking, working, meeting the locals and starting to make friends as she went about her daily routine, exploring the village to get her bearings.

The day after she arrived she’d seen an advert in the post office window asking for volunteer companions at Butterbury Lodge, the care home at the top of the hill that led out of the village, and so Hannah had decided it was the perfect way to immerse herself in the community. Mostly it was friendship that was required, or reading books to residents, playing card or board games, and through her regular visits she was slowly getting to know more and more people. The square was beginning to hold the promise that it could be her forever home, a notion she’d thought unattainable not so long ago.

Despite her best efforts, Hannah hadn’t managed to entirely avoid Mrs Ledbetter’s disapproval since she arrived, whether it was complaints about her cleaning her car and the water trickling towards her neighbour’s garden path, Hannah and her new friend, Lily, chatting outside Lantern Cottage after the pub one night, or the many other complaints the woman had listed. And today, Mrs Ledbetter’s opinion looked set to take another nosedive.

‘I promise it won’t happen again,’ she told Mrs Ledbetter as with a bit of manoeuvring she scooped Smokey from her neighbours’ arms. Hannah had soon come to realise that the local busybody liked to have her nose in other people’s business whenever she could, and for some reason her disloyal cat had taken to the woman.

‘The last car to go past almost squashed him beneath its tyres!’ Mrs Ledbetter continued her lecture, looking Hannah up and down, unimpressed with her tatty dungarees and old T-shirt underneath. ‘You really should keep a better eye on him.’

‘I will. And sorry, again.’

Mrs Ledbetter readjusted the handbag looped over one arm. ‘I do hope you’ll wear something a little smarter to the summer fair today.’ She primped the back of her salt-and-pepper hair in case holding Hannah’s cat might have in some way ruined her pillar-of-the-community image. ‘It’s an important event on the social calendar.’

‘I’ve heard it is, and yes, I’ll blend in well, just like everyone else.’ At least she hoped so. She wondered whether she’d stick out like a sore thumb, being new to the summer fair, and Mrs Ledbetter’s observations weren’t helping matters.

Mrs Ledbetter didn’t miss the opportunity to wave at the local doctor, who chose that moment to roar past in his sleek, sporty black car. He had a real habit of doing that.

Hannah cuddled her cat close, but in the interests of fitting in, gave a reluctant wave to Joe, a man she found to be arrogant and quite frankly, right up his own arse. She wouldn’t mind betting he’d glimpsed her standing at her front gate in her scruffy clothes with a piece of wool hanging from her bobbed brunette hair – Smokey had just alerted her to the problem by retrieving it with a swipe of his paw – and decided she lowered the tone of the neighbourhood. However, Butterbury was full of characters with a jumble of personalities, and ever since she’d moved to the little village Hannah had felt as though she’d soon fit in. More so, in her opinion, than the village GP who wore well-cut suits as though it was a uniform for that car of his. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him in casual clothes. Maybe he didn’t own any.

‘You youngsters don’t value your possessions, that’s the problem.’

‘I can’t be with my cats twenty-four hours a day,’ Hannah retorted, bristling, although she told herself that she should know by now to just let it go. Ever since she’d moved in to her cottage she’d been fighting a losing battle, trying to be chummy with this particular neighbour. Everyone else seemed to be welcoming enough, but not this local. Instead of continuing to argue back, Hannah put a smile on her face and said, ‘Looks like the summer fair has brought plenty of visitors to Lantern Square.’

‘Hmm . . . I’ll be glad when they all go home. Your cats probably will be too. Less chance of getting run over.’

She’d walked right into that one. ‘He’s safe now. Anyway, I’d better get back to work. Maybe I’ll see you at the fair later.’ She couldn’t help being friendly! Hostility wasn’t something she’d come looking for in Butterbury. She’d had enough of that to last her a lifetime.

When Mrs Ledbetter harrumphed, Hannah gave up and went back inside her cottage. She could still hear the woman mumbling something or other even when she’d shut the door behind her.

‘You need to stop getting me into trouble,’ she told Smokey, who promptly leapt from her arms and trotted in the direction of the dining room. Mrs Ledbetter was forever finding fault with something. Last week she’d even taken umbrage to Hannah’s music – soft to any ear, even if you were sitting right up next to the speaker – which had apparently drifted four doors down from Hannah’s cottage while she had her windows open to grab a bit of fresh air on a warm summer’s evening.

‘And don’t even think of going anywhere near the table,’ she called, as she followed Smokey into the room at the back of the cottage with its double doors that opened out onto her little garden. Her latest packages were waiting for her trademark finishing touches that had built up the brand for her care package business, Tied Up with String.

Hannah had launched the business twelve months before from her old bedroom in her parents’ house. Not ideal, but it had been a start, and now Hannah’s home at Lantern Cottage doubled as her business space. She also designed her own greeting cards, selling them via her website or, more recently, to Castle Cards, a boutique stationery shop on the outskirts of Tetbury. Thanks to her involvement with Castle Cards she’d had write-ups in both the local and national press – and she’d even had a mention in Mrs Ledbetter’s personal ‘village voice’. As much as she disliked gossip, Hannah had to admit that Mrs Ledbetter’s description of ‘a strange girl who sent mysterious boxes to strangers’ had been perfect advertising, piquing local interest only weeks after she moved to the area, and even got her business a double-page spread in the local newspaper when a journalist heard about Tied Up with String and wanted to do a feature. Her nosy neighbour had made the business sound more illicit than it was, but Hannah had been able to make the publicity work to her advantage. Tied Up with String had started slow, but soon transitioned from a business that was just about coping, to one that was almost overwhelmed with requests. And her neighbour’s interference, which had led to the extra exposure, was probably the only reason Hannah had never lost her temper with Mrs Ledbetter – or told her, quite simply, to bog off !

Hannah got back to fulfilling her orders, which she’d been in the middle of doing when Mrs Ledbetter’s thump on the door had made her jump. She made up a flat-packed piece of cardboard into a postal box and wrestled its sides until they slotted together. When Bandit decided to get in on the action by leaping up on to the table, she shooed him away and he protested by leaving the room entirely for the front room, no doubt to curl up in the shaft of sunlight that came in through the latticed windows there. His brother had already taken custody of the big carver chair in the corner of this room and the remaining chairs were taken up with all manner of paraphernalia, and all alternate shelf spaces were full to the brim. As well as a long sideboard along one wall stacked high with clear boxes containing inventory, all clearly labelled with stickers to save rifling through each one every time, there was a large cupboard in a corner of the room which was filled with smaller items for her business – plentiful supplies of clear adhesive tape, rolls and rolls of traditional brown packaging paper and the balls of string that went so well with it, bubble wrap rolls, tissue paper reams and polystyrene chips that could be used to cushion and protect items in transit.

If she worked hard now, she’d soon be able to head over to Lantern Square where the summer fair was well underway. She’d seen the excitement mounting when she passed by on her way home this morning from buying some of the regular and most popular supplies for care packages – tea in all manner of flavours, from Earl Grey to peppermint and chai, novelty chocolates plain, milk and white, various scented candles, soaps in different shapes and sizes, and more of the blush champagne ivory confetti to add a finishing touch should the customer prefer it to the ice-blue alternative she had in the cupboard. When she’d stood talking to Mrs Ledbetter out front she’d glanced over at the square where children were playing in the sunshine that looked set to stay all day. A kite was tangled in the huge oak tree that dominated one end of the square, a toddler was wailing after dropping his ice-cream in the gutter, and the cake stall already had a queue snaking all the way out of the square’s gates and into the road, getting in the way of anyone who tried to pass through Butterbury on such a busy day. Somehow, though, Joe had managed it in his posh car. He was one of those men people seemed to just get out of the way for – although quite why, she had no idea.

It was late August and soon many kids would be off to university for the first time or returning to their studies, a few tackling the separation from home with bravery, others revelling in their newfound independence. Hannah had already put together a few dozen care packages and sent them on their way, but the order she was working on now had come in later than the rest and she really wanted to catch the last post. She picked up the printed email and reread the list she’d agreed with her customer, lining up the items: three small pots of single-serve instant porridge – all banana and strawberry flavour – a reusable takeaway coffee cup and a collection of individual coffee sachets, a packet of disposable razors, shaving foam, a small first aid kit which Hannah hoped wasn’t related to the previous few items, plus a jar of Marmite, a portable phone charger with spare cable, and a couple of pairs of extra-warm socks. She wrapped everything individually in blue tissue paper – she’d hate to have lost concentration and picked up the roll of pink paper, only for this male student to be teased by his new friends as he unwrapped the package – before placing everything carefully in the brown box.

When she’d started Tied Up with String she’d imagined, as the song from The Sound of Music went, brown paper packages, tied up with string, heading out to customers far and wide. But her research had soon proven this notion to be completely impractical. Unlike in the past, where a cutesy package could have been wrapped exactly the way she’d intended, both domestic and international postal services had to contend with faster sorting and delivery services, introducing the hazards of conveyor belts for string or loose wrapping to get caught in, and sorting machines that would jam if she didn’t make up her parcels properly. Reputation in business was everything, and so Hannah wrapped each parcel the way she intended, but each went into another box filled with biodegradable chips for protection in transit, ensuring recipients didn’t miss out on the enchanting, olde worlde feel with the brown paper and tied, distressed string when the care package arrived at their door.

This particular parcel she was working on was not to have any confetti added to it, not even the ice-blue kind, an omission the recipient would likely appreciate as much as the blue tissue paper rather than the pink. And with every item safely tucked inside, she retrieved the traditional brown paper from the cupboard, cut it to size and neatly wrapped the box, folding any cut edges, securing them with clear tape and finally tying the whole thing with brown string, ending in a neat bow ready to be tugged open. She set the brown paper package inside a white box, sealed the whole item, and copied the delivery address from the email onto a label and stuck it onto the package. She added her company stamp, a gift-shaped outline with crescent writing saying Tied Up with String over the top of the illustration, and she was done. Another parcel ready to go out into the big wide world and put a smile on someone’s face.

She left the package on the large wooden table – the only item of furniture she’d brought with her from the townhouse she’d shared with her ex, Luke. It had at least appeased him when she had the removal men take it away. He’d never liked that table. They’d bought it on a whim, more on her impulse than his. It had barely fitted inside their kitchen – something that generated a loud ‘I told you so’ from her other half – and in the entire thirteen months they’d lived together, furnishing a rented