She either kept on walking in the hope that the elusive Fingle Lodge appeared like a rose-covered oasis from nowhere, or headed back to the car in defeat.
She should never have trusted a ninety-eight-year-old’s vague pencilled directions. Her godmother struggled to recall her own name sometimes, never mind remembering how to travel to the old lodge house she’d long ago abandoned to weather and time after her beloved husband died.
But the place sounded so romantic, set amongst sloping fields and miles from town. The sole surviving remnant of the vast Georgian estate of a family that had once retained the land and considered it home.
And Kiki’s choices were limited after a year living and working in Alaska. A suitcase full of clothes and a redundant engagement ring relegated to the dark depths of her handbag, along with her crumpled tissues and faded hopes, didn’t give a girl a lot of choices.
If she didn’t find Fingle Lodge soon she would remain homeless and jobless. Something she didn’t want and couldn’t afford to be. Her savings were small and her options unfortunately not much bigger.
‘Okay, Kiki,’ she said, in an attempt to boost her flagging spirits. ‘Let’s find this property. You’re not a quitter, no matter what a certain stupid male insisted seconds before you dumped him. You are an intelligent woman and you need no one—especially not a lying cheat.’
Oh, good—now she was talking to herself. Give her a woolly hat, a couple of pretty cats and she’d morph into the stereotypical singleton, living a life filled with nothing but sad memories, bed socks and crocheted blankets to keep her warm throughout the night. Though she did rather like crochet blankets. They reminded her of her godmother.
With another glance around the field, she made a decision. She’d give it another half-mile and then, if she still hadn’t found the property, or someone to ask for better directions, she’d turn back. The exercise would do her good, and the spring sunshine was pleasant after months of living in the cold and the snow. She certainly didn’t miss that part of Alaska.
She ignored the pinch in her heart, pushed the thought away and continued across the field, dodging the many animal deposits and rabbit holes that scattered the area. Breathing in the fresh air, she let the stress of the last few weeks mentally drift away.
So what if her life had hit a few bumps lately? Who wanted to live in a small town constantly seeing her ex-fiancé slobbering over other women? The same man who had believed it acceptable to drop the lace knickers of half the town’s female population months before their wedding. A wedding that, in truth, Kiki had been too much of a coward to call off until complete humiliation and battered pride had forced her into action.
Well, she definitely didn’t want him any more. Just the thought of the man made her cringe and wonder about her sanity. She’d made some stupid choices in her life, but that one she put down to senseless panic.
She was destined to be single for a while longer. Thirty-two wasn’t old. It wasn’t the full flush of youth either—but it didn’t matter. She didn’t even like men much, so the loss of yet another one from her life was no big deal. Just one more to forget and move on from. The same sad tune many a woman belted out.
More upsetting was losing her job at the marine research centre. That she did regret. But that kind of thing tended to happen when you dumped a man who was not only your fiancé, but also the man who happened to be your boss. She refused to give him the opportunity to abuse his position and make her work life unbearable. And she knew he held a grudge.
Ending their relationship in the middle of the high street, with most of the locals watching on, had ended with both her front and back doors being mysteriously blocked overnight by huge piles of snow and several large truck wheels.
So, with her life in such wonderful disorder, it was important to find Fingle Lodge and get on with her future. Or lick her wounds until they ‘scabbed over and hardened’, as her godmother had so eloquently phrased it just before she’d handed over the directions and a box of food for the journey.
If Kiki ever found the long-forgotten house she would make it her home for a few months. Somewhere to rest and reassess until she decided what to do and whether she could find a veterinary nursing job locally. She had worked hard to achieve her degree, and had spent six years using it in a city practice before leaving to work in Alaska.
Was that a chimney showing between those trees?
Kiki rushed towards the stile at the edge of the field and climbed over it, almost falling in her rush, thanks to the soles of her wellies slipping on the moss growing along the wooden step.
The adrenaline rush pumping through her veins at the sight of one chimney was quite startling.
Yes, definitely a chimney—and attached to it was a rather stumpy single-storey house with a good section of slipped roof tiles. The woodwork needed a fresh coat of paint, and a dead climbing plant concealed one of the windows with its skeletal stems and leaves. The whole place screamed neglect and despair and looked unloved.
Stumbling forward, she dodged a large muddy puddle and moved to stand in front of an old sign nailed to a worm-riddled gatepost: Fingle Lodge.
The last of the tightness in her shoulders eased and she glanced at the property once more. Well, it certainly needed work, but building repairs had never daunted her. Her parents, before their acrimonious divorce during her teens, had spent years renovating properties all over Britain and Europe. Sometimes for paying customers, other
