It didn’t even matter when her parents sold their house almost immediately and went off house-hunting in the country, because eventually she was going to live somewhere else too. Anywhere except Bristol, she decided, the first time she bumped into Darren.

The second time she ran into him, he had the gall to suggest them spending a night together for old times’ sake, because they’d always been good in bed.

As if!

Her only trouble was losing the weight. She couldn’t seem to lose it as quickly as she had last time. She didn’t even lose weight every week, however carefully she ate and exercised. Well, it wasn’t a crime to be plump, she told herself. She’d stopped putting weight on at least, and her clothes were a little looser.

For the first time in over a year, hope seemed to be hovering on the horizon, sparkling and twirling there like an expensive ornament, waiting for her to catch up and reach out for it.

Chapter Three

The following morning Nell tiptoed out of the bedroom and left Angus sleeping off his twenty hours of hard work. His concentration was so intense he barely noticed her coming into his office with the occasional cup of tea and some of them were left to go cold.

As she thought about what to do with her day, she ate a satisfying breakfast of fruit, and a boiled egg with narrow toast ‘soldiers’ to dip into the yolk. No use planning to go out clothes shopping for Angus, even locally, because he would probably sleep until mid-afternoon.

It’d be best to continue her efforts to find out more about Saffron Lane. She hadn’t discovered anything at all about it yesterday, and was eager to continue hunting through the Denning family’s mountains of records. She was intrigued by the small, abandoned street, amazed that it had sat there hidden for so many years and no one had bothered with it.

It could be so pretty and—an idea struck so forcibly that she sat perfectly still for a few moments while it sank in: if the other houses were also shops or workshops, as seemed highly likely from their exteriors, maybe they could start an artists’ colony at Dennings and rent out the cottages to creative people.

She’d seen such colonies in one or two out-of-the-way places in Australia and they attracted tourists. She wasn’t artistic herself, but she loved looking at paintings and sculptures. They wouldn’t be able to get the highest possible rents from artists, but it’d be an attraction for the small town.

And maybe – she smiled as another idea struck her – maybe one of the houses could become a little café or kiosk. There was a small park close to the top end of the next street that ran parallel with Peppercorn Street, and lots of families went there at weekends. And there were allotments nearby too. People working on them might like to buy snacks from time to time.