Secret Wishes and Summer Kisses on Lily Pond Lane Read online

  Secret Wishes

  and

  Summer Kisses

  on

  Lily Pond Lane

  Emily Harvale

  Copyright

  Copyright © Emily Harvale 2019

  All rights reserved

  Emily Harvale has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organisations, businesses, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Crescent Gate Publishing

  E-edition published worldwide 2019

  ISBN 978-1-909917-45-3

  Paperback edition published 2019

  ISBN 978-1-909917-44-6

  Cover design © JR and Emily Harvale

  Edited by Christina Harkness

  In memory of Ann Kellett.

  An inspiration to everyone who knew her.

  Table of contents

  Title

  Dedication

  Copyright

  Series info

  About this book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Coming Soon

  Also by

  Acknowledgements

  A note from Emily

  Contact

  This is the list of titles in my Lily Pond Lane series, in order of publication:

  The Cottage on Lily Pond Lane

  (four-part serial)

  Part One – New beginnings

  Part Two – Summer secrets

  Part Three – Autumn leaves

  Part Four – Trick or treat

  Christmas on Lily Pond Lane

  (can be read as a standalone)

  Return to Lily Pond Lane

  (can be read as a standalone)

  A Wedding on Lily Pond Lane

  (can be read as a standalone)

  Secret Wishes and Summer Kisses on Lily Pond Lane

  (can be read as a standalone)

  ~~~

  About this book:

  Secret Wishes and Summer Kisses on Lily Pond Lane

  Everyone's got a secret wish in Little Pondale this summer.

  Mia's been exceptionally lucky since moving to Lily Pond Lane. But even on her honeymoon with the man of her dreams, she still has one remaining wish.

  Ella wishes Gill would propose. But since Mia's wedding something's changed in their relationship. Now he's spending time with newcomer, Tabbie Talbaine, Ella wishes Tabbie will leave as quickly as she arrived.

  Tabbie wishes she hadn't driven her car into a pond. But it could be the best thing that's ever happened to her. When she discovers Hollywood heartthrob, Justin Lake's staying in the village, getting an interview for her popular blog isn't her only wish.

  Bree was told she couldn't have a baby. Now she's expecting twins and is simply wishing it all goes well.

  And as for Hettie ... she wishes she could get her hands on an old map of the village. Because there's something hidden in Little Pondale that Hettie Turner really wants to find.

  Chapter One

  'You're in my pond.'

  Tabbie Talbaine's hand shot to her chest as a grizzled old woman tapped on the driver's window with a long, twisted stick of wood.

  'Gosh, you startled me!'

  Tabbie let out a sigh of relief as she pressed the button to open the window and smiled as the stooped, thin figure glared at her.

  Heavy set black brows flew up towards grey curls, loosely tied, but tumbling from what looked rather worryingly like a bone.

  'I startled you? You scared the life out of me.' With the window now open, the woman used her stick to poke at Tabbie's seat.

  'Please be careful with that stick.' Tabbie leant to one side. 'You could poke a person's eye out with that.'

  'I'll do more than poke an eye out if you don't get this thing out of my pond and my garden right now.' She waved the stick menacingly.

  Tabbie glanced around and took in her surroundings. Pond? What pond? Her beloved Smart Cabrio's front end was in a muddy hole, not a pond. The so-called garden was merely a field dotted with wild flowers and this large ditch was in the middle of what Tabbie had believed to be a lane, although the hedges surrounding it were so overgrown it was difficult to tell.

  'I beg your pardon?'

  'You'll do more than beg my pardon, missy. You'll be a-begging for your life if you're not gone within ten minutes.'

  Tabbie sucked in a breath. 'I'm truly sorry but I can assure you this was an accident. I had no intention of driving into your … pond … or your garden. I thought this was a lane. And it may have escaped your attention but my car is head first in this dit– I mean, in your pond. It'll take more than ten minutes for the RAC to get here once I've been able to contact them.' She darted a glance at her phone. 'If I can ever get a signal, that is. I can't seem to get even one bar on my phone.'

  'Useless thing. You may as well chuck that in my pond while you're at it, for all the good it'll do you in this neck of the woods.'

  The woman's cackle wasn't comforting. Neither was the fact that twilight was chasing away the dying rays of the setting sun. It would be dark in a couple of hours. Was that enough time for Tabbie to get herself and her beloved car out of this ditch slash pond and as far away as possible from this rather scary woman? She wouldn't be out of place in a Stephen King novel although the woman's dark purple cloak lent itself more to witches and demons. Oh dear. Tabbie wished she hadn't let her mind wander in those directions. A quick glance around confirmed her fears. Not another human in sight apart from the old woman who was staring at her in a manner that indicated Tabbie was being measured in some way. Perhaps for a coffin … or a cooking pot?

  'Don't be ridiculous, woman,' Tabbie mumbled.

  'Ridiculous?' The woman's screech set Tabbie's teeth on edge. 'You cheeky miss. You've got the nerve to call me names when you're the one who's driven her car into my pond?'

  'I'm sorry. I wasn't calling you names. I was talking to myself.' The woman might be old but her hearing was exceptional.

  'Hmm. So you're mad as well as being a bad driver. But I'm not afraid of the likes of you, missy.'

  Tabbie hadn't meant to laugh. It was probably nerves. But come on. Didn't the woman have a mirror? Only one person here looked like a character from a horror movie. And it wasn't Tabbie.

  'You find that funny, do you?'

  Tabbie shook her head.
'No, no. Believe me. I'm not finding any humour at all in this situation.'

  'You laughed.'

  'Nerves. Frustration. It's better than crying. I'm truly sorry. If you'll tell me where I can find a phone, I'll make a call and then I can get both myself and my car out of here as quickly as humanly possible. In fact, if you can tell me the way to Witt's Cottage, I'll be able to make a call from there, although I may need some assistance to get out of my car. The door–'

  'Witt's Cottage? What do you want at Witt's Cottage?' The expression on the woman's face turned to one of shock.

  'Not that it's any of your business but … sorry. That was impolite of me. I suppose I am trespassing as far as you're concerned.' Tabbie sighed and began again. 'I was on my way to Witt's Cottage to see my mother's friend and I thought this lane led there. That's what my Sat Nav assured me, so hopefully it can't be too far from here.'

  The woman leant closer, her dark eyes narrowing and a dubious frown further creasing an already creased brow.

  'Your mother's friend? Who are you? Who's your mother and what's the name of her friend?'

  Tabbie gave a friendly smile. Perhaps that would work. The old woman's tone had mellowed slightly so Tabbie would try to build on that.

  'My name's Tabitha. But my friends call me Tabbie. My mother is Camilla Talbaine Saint Sorrel and her friend is Aurelia Jenkins who lives in Witt's Cottage.'

  The woman's mouth formed a perfect 'O' but her shaking head implied she found it difficult to believe. She stared at Tabbie for a moment longer before suddenly slapping her thigh and bursting into laughter. Well, more of a cackle. She swayed back and forth and waved her stick wildly in the air. It was several seconds before she spoke but when she did her manner was transformed. As if someone had cast a spell, turning the woman from an ugly old witch into a friendly, charming and warm-hearted, fairy godmother.

  'Well, knock me down with a bat's wing. You're Cami's daughter? I thought there was something familiar about you.'

  'Cami?'

  'Cami Talbaine. She never should've married that Simon Saint Sorrel. But would she listen? Not that I blame her. He looked like George Clooney and twice as smooth. Good thing he left after you were born. Still not heard from him? No, of course not. What's the point? Waste of good clean air keeping that man breathing.'

  'Excuse me. That's my father you're talking about and although I know there were problems, my mother never says a bad word against him.'

  'That's probably because she never says anything about him, does she?'

  That was true. Camilla never spoke of Simon Saint Sorrel unless it was absolutely necessary. Even at an early age, Tabbie saw the flash of pain that would shoot into her mother's eyes at the mention of his name.

  Tabbie shook her head. 'No. But how did you know that? Do you know my mother? Or has her friend Mrs Jenkins spoken of her?'

  'Know your mother? Of course I know Cami. We were like two peas in a pod.' The smile faded. 'Until Simon Saint Sorrel. But it's too late in the day to talk about that.' She shook her head and sucked in a quick breath. 'Why are you sitting in that car? Get out and come and have some tea. You can call the RAC from my cottage.'

  Realisation dawned but Tabbie couldn't quite believe it. 'You're Aurelia Jenkins? You're my mother's friend?' The woman looked nothing like the one in the photographs that Camilla had shown her. But they were old photos taken at least forty years ago. Even so, if this woman was Aurelia Jenkins, she had changed beyond recognition.

  Aurelia nodded. 'Hard to believe? Time has painted a somewhat sorry canvas. Don't even recognise myself at times when I look in the mirror. But do come along, Tabbie. Don't sit there all day. That pond is deeper than it looks and that tiny car of yours might go under any minute.'

  'What?' Tabbie was horrified but she tried to remain calm. 'The door's stuck in the mud and I can't get out. I've tried. Several times.'

  She tried again, shoving her shoulder against it and using her full weight. Which wasn't much. She was slim. Too slim, she'd been told. Apart from her large bust. But why was she thinking about such things now? She might drown at any minute and this old woman, or Mrs Jenkins if that was really who she was, was unlikely to be able to get the door open. Tabbie glanced up at the closed, retractable roof. Would she have to open it and clamber out that way?

  Aurelia smiled but she didn't step forward or make any attempt to assist Tabbie.

  'Try once more.'

  Tabbie frowned, took a deep breath and this time when she leant against the door, not only did it shoot open, but she tumbled out, landing on her knees in the mud.

  'I don't believe it!'

  She beamed up at the woman who leant both hands, together with her chin, on the top of her stick.

  'Sometimes all you need is to want something enough to make it happen.' She turned away, still smiling. 'Grab your things, in case the car goes under, and follow me. It's been a long time since I've had company so you'll have to excuse the mess. I hope you're not allergic to cats because I have one or two who live with me. And one or two who come and go as they please.' She glanced over her shoulder. 'Oh, are you praying? Righty-oh. Follow me when you're ready. It's this way.' She pointed ahead with her stick and strode forward.

  'I'm not praying,' Tabbie said, to Aurelia's back. 'I think I'm simply in a state of shock.'

  A bubbling sound followed by a loud squelch soon made her move. She only had time to grab her handbag and her phone before clambering to safety on dry ground. Getting to her feet she turned and watched her beloved orange car sink into the water like a chunk of pumpkin in a pot of soup, until only the black retractable roof could be seen above the muddy water.

  Now she wasn't sure who to call. The RAC, or a diver.

  'Don't worry about that,' Aurelia called out, without so much as turning her head. 'I know a man or two who can get it out, and with a wash and a brush it'll be as good as new.'

  Aurelia was clearly mad. It would take a lot more than a wash and a brush to make the car even usable again, let alone as good as new. It would take a miracle. Or magic. Neither of which Tabbie believed in.

  But she did believe in insurance. Perhaps that was the call she should make? The insurance company would advise her what action she should take.

  Experiencing a tiny glimmer of hope, she squished and squelched her way behind Aurelia.

  What would Witt's Cottage be like? As untidy and unkempt as the owner? Aurelia had warned her about the mess. Thankfully, Tabbie wasn't allergic to cats. A number of images popped into her head, all of them rather unpleasant and one or two had not just cats, but frogs and toads and bats and …

  Tabbie shivered. Not merely from the cold although the weather was unseasonably chilly for June but she was soaking wet from her tumble in Aurelia's so-called pond. Would there be central heating in this messy cottage? Or at the very least a fire?

  She gasped as she followed Aurelia out from a small copse of trees into the twilight and saw Witt's Cottage. Why hadn't she spotted it from her car? It was only a few metres away. But it was not at all what she was expecting. It was like something out of a fairy tale.

  The façade was the palest salmon pink beneath a thatched roof, which may have seen better days but somehow simply added to the overall charm of the place. The front garden burst with flowers and the four windows – two either side of the sky-blue front door, each had window boxes filled to the brim with more rainbow-coloured blooms. What really caught Tabbie's eye and gave her a warm and cosy feeling, was the pale shaft of grey smoke wafting from the salmon pink chimney. That meant there was at least a fire in Witt's Cottage.

  Aurelia opened the door on to a bright pink hall. Not the pale salmon of the exterior but a vivid cerise pink. The wooden floor with its mellow, almost ivory wash was barely visible beneath a multicoloured hall runner. Frames jostled for space on the uneven walls but Tabbie noticed as she followed Aurelia towards what was probably the kitchen, judging by the heavenly aromas filling the air, that not all of them cont
ained pictures. Several of the frames contained what appeared to be poems; some contained phrases and one or two seemed to contain recipes of some sort – but not for anything Tabbie could ever imagine eating.

  She peered into what was perhaps the sitting room as they passed, and saw shelves crammed with old, leather bound books, two exceedingly comfy looking winged chairs piled high with colourful cushions and a couple of seemingly contented cats curled on the seats. Beyond them stood a large, blackened hearth where a welcoming fire crackled and spat as if it laughed at her appearance.

  'This way,' Aurelia said, leading Tabbie into a room that resembled a scullery from Tudor times more than it did a kitchen. There was another roaring fire but this one had a large pot hanging above it from an iron hook and frame. There were no kitchen cupboards but there was an antique oak dresser and rows of matching shelves cut across uneven, white-washed walls. In the centre of the brick floor sat a large, equally ancient oak table and one solitary chair. As if reading Tabbie's mind, Aurelia added, 'I don't often have company.' But she grabbed a chair from out of nowhere and placed it on the fire side of the table. 'Sit there for a moment to dry off. I'll get you some clothes to change into until I can wash and dry your own. You're welcome to have a shower if you'd like one. Is that a twig in your hair?'

  Tabbie's hand flew to her head and found the twig, teasing it out of her high, tight ponytail with care. Her hairdresser had copied the style from the fabulous Ariana Grande's signature design and had spent almost an hour that very morning perfecting the look to ensure that Tabbie's long, chestnut tresses were as sleek and perfect as the star's. A small, wet clump of mud came with the twig. Not so sleek now then.

  Tabbie sighed. She dreaded to think what clothes Aurelia would give her to change into, but anything was better than mud-covered jeans and a sodden T-shirt – even if they were designer. And she'd love a shower but if this kitchen was anything to go by, the shower would probably be a bucket of cold water, and possibly, outside. Was the lavatory outside too? Oh, why did she have to think about that? Now she wanted to pee.