Chestnut Lane

Chestnut Lane

Anna Jacobs

Contents

1. Title Page
2. Chapter One
3. Chapter Two
4. Chapter Three
5. Chapter Four
6. Chapter Five
7. Chapter Six
8. Chapter Seven
9. Chapter Eight
10. Chapter Nine
11. Chapter Ten
12. Chapter Eleven
13. Chapter Twelve
14. Chapter Thirteen
15. Chapter Fourteen
16. Chapter Fifteen
17. Chapter Sixteen
18. Chapter Seventeen
19. Chapter Eighteen
20. Chapter Nineteen
21. Chapter Twenty
22. Epilogue
23. About the Author
24. By Anna Jacobs
25. Copyright

Chapter One

Sophie was strolling through her garden when she saw a man standing under the huge horse chestnut tree that overhung the wall to mesh branches with a similar tree next door. If he’d been facing her way she’d have run, but he had his back to her and didn’t seem at all interested in her house. He was standing on a garden seat, hidden by the mass of leaves, peering over the wall at the house next door.

She stopped dead, wondering what to do. He must have come through the old wooden gate that led next door but it was closed now. Was he hiding from someone or spying on them? Curiosity kept her standing there even though she knew the sensible thing would be to creep quietly back indoors and call for help.

But she wasn’t the sensible type, as her son pointed out regularly. William was still furious that she’d wasted her money on such a large house – not necessary for one person, he insisted regularly – but she loved living there. It wasn’t for the prestige of a Chestnut Lane address, but because the house had spacious rooms and a larger than average garden and that felt good.

Curious, she hid behind a bush. As she watched, the man rubbed a hand to and fro across his forehead as if he was tired and had a headache. He stiffened suddenly and she too heard something from the direction in which he was gazing – men’s lowered voices, meant only for one another to hear. But sounds carried clearly in the still air of an early spring day.

The stranger’s fists clenched, then he stepped off the bench and swung round, his eyes scanning the garden as if looking for somewhere to hide. As he began to limp slowly towards her, his face was revealed, showing recent scarring on one side. She gasped in surprise as she realised who he was: Jez Winter! No doubt about it.

Why was one of the most famous rock stars of her youth creeping round her garden? He didn’t do much performing these days but still had the ability to turn out albums that sold steadily, and when he gave one of his rare concerts, he filled the biggest venues to overflowing. She loved his music and owned all his albums. That hawk-like face was hard to forget and the years hadn’t dimmed its appeal to her or to many other women.

Her gasp made him turn sharply in her direction, so she moved out from behind the bush and stood motionless. She hoped that showed him she meant no harm, but she had no idea what to do next.