Page 5 of The Inn on Bluebell Lane

She did not, Gwen thought, sound entirely pleased about it.

Matthew raised his eyebrows as he swallowed the second Welsh cake. “I am British. Well, I’m Welsh, in fact.”

And no one, Gwen noticed with an inward sigh, said anything to that.

It was the first day and it already felt as if it was going wrong, or at least it wasn’t going right. Not as right as she longed for it to. Her grandchildren looked out of place, and Ellie was already seeming aggrieved—and what had she done wrong? She’d made cakes, that was all, but apparently in her daughter-in-law’s book that was an offense.

“Jess, Ben, Josh,” Gwen tried again, her tone a tiny bit too commanding. “Do have a cake.”

Silently, they all took one, holding them in their hands without taking a bite. Gwen watched them in dismay, feeling as if they were all here on sufferance. She turned to the kettle, as much to hide the hurt she feared was on her face as to make tea. As far as beginnings went, this was not the one she had wanted.

Still, Gwen told herself, surely things could only improve. She squared her shoulders as she began to make the tea. She would simply have to make sure they did.

CHAPTER 3

JESS

Jess woke up in one of the attic rooms at four o’clock in the morning, dawn light filtering through the curtains and the birds making a noisy racket like none she’d ever heard before. This house was so weird. Everything in Wales was weird.

On another morning, in a different life, she knew she might have been charmed by the early sunrise, the dawn chorus, but, as it was, she lay in bed, the duvet drawn up to her chin, and felt her stomach clench hard as realization sank in. She’d moved to Wales… and her life was basically as good as over.

Blinking back tears, Jess rolled onto her side and tucked her knees up to her chest, the way she used to do when she’d been little and feeling sad. Back then, she’d had baby problems—someone hadn’t shared a stupid toy, or something like that. She’d never had problems the way she did now, at thirteen, with absolutely everything going wrong. Her life was a disaster.

Yesterday had been awful from start to finish—the endless car journey, the relentless rain, her little sister being so noisy and annoying, Ben unable to sit still for so much as two seconds, and Josh picking his nose. Gross.

Then they’d finally arrived, and that had been even worse. She had never felt as if she’d known Faraway Granny, not the way she knew her Grandma and Grandpa back in Connecticut. They only lived an hour away and they often came over for a weekend visit or went on vacations with them. When she’d been nine, they’d taken her and Ben to Disney World, a special treat for the “big kids.” Jess had had the best time.

But Faraway Granny was totally different. Jess only saw her once a year for a couple of days, if that, and she always stayed on the edges of things, speaking in a polite way that made Jess feel nervous, like she was talking to a stranger, and basically, she was.

Yesterday, her grandmother had looked sniffily at them all as Jess had forced herself to choke down one of those horrible Welsh cakes. She didn’t like raisins either, but she wasn’t four years old like Ava and so she’d had to eat it, swallowing every stupid bite.

Just as she’d had to say thank you—her mom had given her that look—when Granny had shown them their rooms, up on the top floor, where it was stifling hot and smelled like dust and mothballs. Who on earth would want to sleep there?

“I hope you’ll be comfortable,” her grandmother had said in her stiff way. “I thought it best to put you up here since we’ll be renovating the guest rooms on the floor below. It’ll be a building site for a while, and at least you’ll have some peace and quiet, along with some privacy.”

Jess had thought it was her grandmother who wanted the privacy—and why were they living in the attic, for heaven’s sake? Wasn’t that where you hid crazy old wives and stuff? They’d read Jane Eyre in school this year, although she hadn’t totally understood it, but her grandmother’s house seemed just as creepy as Mr. Rochester’s.

Still, she hadn’t said anything more than thank you to her grandmother, because the truth was, in that moment she didn’t trust herself not to cry. She hated it here already, just as she’d known she would.

Jess had fought against moving when her parents had first floated the idea past her and her siblings, back in February. In the grip of a New England winter, Connecticut had been icy and unforgiving, and her dad had seemed completely taken by the prospect of moving to his homeland—not that he’d been there in, like, forever, and he didn’t even know Welsh, not really. He’d certainly never spoken back home.

“You’ll love it, Jess,” he’d assured her, his smile so warm and hopeful that Jess almost didn’t want to disappoint him, but… Wales. No one in her class had even heard of the place. “It’s so peaceful and beautiful,” her dad had told her. “Green hills as far as you could see. We’ll watch the rugby together! We can finally get the dog you wanted…”

She knew the dog was just a sweetener, because she’d been asking for one for forever. But hills and rugby? Did her dad think she was actually interested in either of those things? She didn’t even like American football, never mind the British version of the sport. It had all sounded incredibly boring to Jess, as well as alarming. She didn’t want to be stuck in the middle of nowhere, knowing no one. She didn’t want to leave her friends, particularly her best friend, Chloe, with whom she did literally everything.

She liked her bedroom back in Connecticut, which she’d only decorated last year, in blues and greens, having finally convinced her mom to change it from babyish pink and purple. She liked her weekly ice-skating lessons, too—next year, they were going to have a big gala performance—as well as Saturday lacrosse club, neither of which were apparently available over here. Her mom had told her the nearest ice rink was in Cardiff, which was, like, a million miles away, and lacrosse wasn’t even a thing here. No one had probably even heard of it. Her mom had said something about netball, but what on earth was that?

None of that had mattered to her parents, though, who had relentlessly forged ahead with the move, even when Jess had resorted to threats of never speaking to them again because they’d ruined her life, and how she would need therapy for years because of this, and who was going to pay that bill?

“Jessica, you’re thirteen,” her mother had said in that pseudo-patient voice that Jess knew came right out of some parenting book. “You’ve barely begun your life, so I don’t think it can be ruined just yet. Besides, you might appreciate this change later on, the opportunities you’ll have…”

“What opportunities?” Jess had demanded. “The village where Faraway Granny lives is tiny. There is, like, literally nothing there except a couple of houses.”

“There are bigger towns nearby,” her mom had answered with a sigh. “And please don’t call her Faraway Granny. It’s not very nice.”

“But it’s not like here,” Jess had insisted, trying to sound angry despite the tell-tale break in her voice. “I have opportunities here, Mom. Good ones. Really good ones.” And more importantly, good friends. Or at least a friend, singular. What would she do without Chloe? They’d started kindergarten together, holding hands on the first day. Jess had never been without her, ever.

Her mom had softened a little then, but that hadn’t made it any better. “I’m sorry,” she said, her tone gentle, regretful even, but also implacable. “I know this is hard, and there will be a lot of challenges, but this is something we have to do as a family.”