The Colour of Summer

  Victoria Connelly

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Victoria Connelly asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  Cover design by The Brewster Project

  Photos copyright © Depositphotos

  Author photo © Roy Connelly

  Published by Cuthland Press

  in association with Notting Hill Press.

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2022 Victoria Connelly

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Acknowledgements

  A Note to my Readers

  Also by Victoria Connelly

  About the Author

  To Kate with love and thanks for being there!

  Chapter One

  There is a house that sits high up on the Sussex Downs. Its name is Winfield Hall, but the locals call it The House in the Clouds. With its golden Georgian façade and huge sash windows which wink in the light, it really is something to behold no matter what the season. Spring brings wild flowers in yellows, violets and gentian blues; summer blesses it with light and warmth; autumn colours swirl and dance right up to the doorstep; and winter silvers the downland tracks and slopes with rime.

  On clear days, if you walk up on the downs, you can glimpse the sea between the hills and catch the softest of salty scents from the waves. And this is something that one of the owners loves to do.

  Abigail Carey had been at Winfield for two years and the place still enchanted her on a daily basis, which made for rather a wonderful life, she thought, because enchantment could be hard to come by sometimes. Ever since the house had been put up for auction, it had found a place deep within her heart, even though she hadn’t made the original successful bid. That had been Edward Townsend’s privilege. But, during extensive renovation work, a couple of cruel twists of fate had befallen Edward and he’d made the decision to contact Abi, selling his underbidder half of Winfield.

  Abi still couldn’t believe all that had happened in the last few years. She’d sold her successful design company, left her London home, bought half an historic house, let two apartments, and also had a misguided romance with Edward’s brother, Oscar, which almost ended with her being driven off a cliff into the sea. It all left her quite breathless when she thought about it, but Winfield had a way of helping a person to heal – no matter what life threw at them – and she couldn’t have been more content with her new life.

  Abi hadn’t seen Oscar since the accident. He’d texted a couple of times, checking that she was okay, but Abi really hadn’t known how to respond. How should you react to the man who’d stolen flowers off somebody’s grave before almost driving you over a cliff, leaving you with a broken arm and nightmares for months? It hadn’t come as any surprise when he’d been fined and banned from driving.

  As she left the table where she’d been choosing some mounts for her latest prints, she walked towards the French doors and gazed out into the walled garden. It was a breezy May day. A few autumn leaves, which had escaped raking, were now swirling among the late spring flowers. The yellow and white tulips Abi had planted in October had put on a fine display, but the last of their petals were being torn from their stems by the downland wind, reminding her of the continual passage of time and how important it was to stop every so often and just look around and note the changes. That was something she’d rarely been able to do when running her company. Time had always eluded her, but she’d claimed it back now, enjoying her art once again and making time to walk, cycle and swim.

  Back in October, after her cast had come off and she’d had some time to experience life with two working arms again, Edward had reminded her of the swim he’d promised. He’d then taken her to a small lake on a private estate where one of his clients lived. The water was deep, cold and silky, and Abi regretted her decision to venture in as soon as she’d dipped her first toe. But she’d done it, encouraged by Edward who’d promised her lunch in a pub afterwards where they’d thawed out by the fire. But now, even though it was late May, they were yet to have their first swim of the year. The weather, up until this point, had been so erratic. But it was warming up now and Abi was hopeful it wouldn’t be too long before their first outing together.

  Opening the door into the walled garden, Abi picked up a couple of terracotta pots that had blown over in the wind and popped them in the greenhouse. She looked back at the hall. All four apartments were let now. Abi had leased her first one to Aura Arden, a yoga instructor and healer, and her second to Tim Becker, a writer. She hadn’t seen much of him, she had to admit. He had the apartment at the back of Winfield and he very much kept himself to himself as she guessed most writers did. She’d advertised the flat back in August and word had spread fast about the low rent and Abi had been inundated with applicants. She’d decided to do preliminary interviews online and only invited shortlisted candidates to Winfield. Tim was the clear winner with his quiet manners and assurance that he’d disturb nobody.

  He was in his forties, loved old buildings and seemed to own a lot of waistcoats – all with holes in the pockets where he kept sharp pencils. He’d been a schoolteacher until four years ago, and had been writing all his life, but had only recently become a novelist when a big publisher had signed him up. Unfortunately, they had paid him badly, not promoted his book and then dropped him. Then, instead of securing another deal for him elsewhere, his agent had also let him go. Tim had been devastated and was having to start all over again while writing freelance pieces for newspapers and magazines.

  Abi had read his book and had loved it. It was full of humour, charm and perception and she hoped he would keep writing and that he wouldn’t have to go back to teaching the unruly children at the school he referred to as ‘The Zoo’. Perhaps Winfield would work its magic and be a source of inspiration and calm to him just as it had been for her. She hoped so. She liked him a lot. He reminded her of a Beatrix Potter character, but she wasn’t quite sure which one. Peter Rabbit or Samuel Whiskers perhaps. Someone sweet and endearing. Anyway, she was glad he’d found Winfield.

  Edward Townsend couldn’t have been happier with Harry as his neighbour. He was a quiet young man, dedicated to his work with a local B corporation, and he was friendly without being intrusive. Just what Edward liked.

  If only it had been as easy finding a suitable tenant for the new apartment. He’d first let it out at the beginning of September to Miss Bradley, a sales rep working for a large international company. But, in mid-March, Miss Bradley had decided she needed a more central location and moved to Leeds. Edward had then had to go through the whole advertising and interviewing process again. Luckily, he’d found a replacement quickly, but he had yet to make his mind up about her although he’d liked her initially.

  Samantha Everett had arrived for her interview punctually, she’d been neat and tidy in appearance and absolutely charming. In short, she’d come across well and Edward had been happy to offer her the apartment, but the truth of it was that Edward was having his doubts now. Shortly after she’d moved in, litter had started to appear in the hall and driveway. It wasn’t anything much: a chewing gum wrapper one day and an empty tube of sweets the next, but it did show a lack of care that annoyed Edward. Was it deliberate? Or did Samantha genuinely not know she’d dropped these bits? For it surely was her, as litter had never been an issue before.

  Then there was the radio. Edward had been in a Zoom meeting when he’d first heard it coming through the walls. He’d winced at the noise. It was some dreadful pop band whose song had the kind of chorus that could send the mind into madness within seconds. But, not liking a fuss, he’d ignored it, hoping it was a one-off. After all, everyone was entitled to make a bit of noise once in a while, weren’t they? It was just unfortunate that it hadn’t been a one-off.

  He was just pondering this thought when there was a knock on his door.

  ‘Abi,’ he said with a smile as he answered. It was always a delight to see her.

  ‘Hi Edward.’ She looked anxious.

  ‘Everything okay?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m afraid Tim’s been complaining,’ Abi said. ‘About the noise.’

  ‘You mean Samantha?’

  Abi nodded. ‘Their walls join at the back of the hall, you see, and he’s trying to write and the music – well – it’s been quite loud lately.’

  ‘Oh, d
ear, not again.’ Edward said. ‘I’ll have to have a word with her.’

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind. Tim’s been wearing ear plugs, but isn’t very happy about having to.’

  ‘Of course not.’ He sighed. ‘I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a landlord. It’s all very well when things are going smoothly, but it’s something else entirely when they’re not.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay. It’s what we signed up for, isn’t it?’

  ‘But we’ve been so careful to make sure the people we choose are right for Winfield,’ Abi pointed out.

  ‘I guess you don’t really know someone until you’re living with them.’

  ‘I guess not,’ Abi agreed. ‘Listen, let me know if you need any back up.’

  ‘Do you think I might?’ Edward said, panic in his voice.

  ‘Well, I meant emotionally,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’m hoping we won’t have to physically throw her out. At least, not yet.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Edward asked, scratching the back of his neck anxiously.

  ‘Edward – don’t worry!’ Abi stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. ‘You’re simply reminding her that we like it quiet here at Winfield. She knew that when you agreed to her tenancy, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And she won’t want to jeopardise that, will she?’

  ‘I guess not.’

  ‘Then you’ve nothing to worry about.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘I wish I had your confidence.’

  ‘It’ll be fine. You worry too much.’

  ‘Very likely.’

  ‘Let me know how it goes, okay?’

  He nodded and watched Abi cross the hallway back to her own apartment. He was truly on his own in this, wasn’t he? There was nobody else to sort it out but him. And he supposed that he should get it over and done with and then treat himself to some time outside. Maybe he’d go for a walk and let the wind from the downs blow away some of the dread and anxiety. But first…

  He made his way to Samantha’s apartment. He could clearly hear the music in the hallway as he knocked on the door and waited. And waited. He knocked again – louder this time. Finally, the door opened.

  ‘Samantha? How are you?’ he began with a smile.

  ‘Edward!’ she said, looking surprised to see him as she ran a hand through her short dark hair.

  ‘Can I have a word?’ Edward asked, raising his voice slightly above the radio which was still blaring.

  ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘It’s about the music.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘It’s too loud.’

  ‘Says who?’ Her forehead creased into a frown. ‘That old bore next door, is it? Tim whatshisname?’ She gave a brittle laugh.

  Edward wasn’t sure how to respond, but he didn’t like her flippant tone. ‘You can hear it everywhere, I’m afraid.’

  She continued to frown and Edward shuffled his feet awkwardly. ‘It is a condition of your tenancy here that peace and quiet is maintained at all times. That was made very clear, I believe?’

  Her face changed suddenly. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, obviously realising she was at fault. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ll turn it down right away.’

  She closed the door in his face and, a moment later, the music was no longer audible. Well, it was a result. Of sorts. Edward grimaced. He felt uncomfortable after the encounter. This spiky individual was most certainly not the young woman he’d interviewed. Where had that sweet, pleasant woman gone? Had it simply been a front to get the apartment? She’d also told him she was a full-time manager at a hotel in Eastbourne, yet here she was at home in the middle of the day blasting music. What was that about? Did she do night shifts and, if so, surely she should be resting now rather than winding up everybody else who was trying to work from home.

  He shook his head. He wasn’t going to fathom it out today, was he? And the music had been turned down so the problem had been dealt with. Still, as he left the hall and bent to pick up a chocolate bar wrapper from the driveway, he couldn’t help wondering if he’d made a terrible mistake letting Samantha Everett into Winfield.

  Chapter Two

  The last week in May brought warm sunshine to Winfield and there was a real feeling that summer was just around the corner, and Abi thought she’d go in search of that very corner. Her bicycle had had a quick once-over and the ebony metalwork was looking shiny and in need of an adventure, so she tied her hair back, popped her helmet on and hopped on and was soon freewheeling down the country lanes, the sun full on her face. It was a glorious feeling and really helped to shake off the dark images that had haunted her through the night, waking her up in the small hours, her bed sheets tangled around her feet and her skin hot with fear.

  It had been the same dream – or rather nightmare. Once again, she was a child, creeping down the stairs of her old family home – the one where they’d lived with their mother before Aunt Claire had taken them in – the one she only had vague and hazy memories of. But she remembered those stairs. She seemed to be forever stuck on them, neither up nor down. Half-way. Suspended between the hall and her bedroom in a place she shouldn’t have been so late at night.

  Then there’d been that awful, hollow feeling of dread as strange voices broke the silence of the night. Her sister was shouting at her, telling her to go to her room and Abi could feel the hot sting of tears. And that’s when she’d wake up, her cheeks streaked with tears once again.

  Abi could almost feel them again now, but being out on her bike helped to blow away the memories of the night, replacing their darkness with the light of the spring day and she did her best to focus on that . Live in the present, she told herself, shutting out the shadowy pain that could so easily threaten the beautiful day around her if she let it.

  As was her routine whenever she headed out on foot or on her bike, she found her way to Ronnie’s cottage in the tiny village on the other side of the downs. The unmetalled road had her teeth rattling and body vibrating and she decided to get off and push before she cycled right into a pothole.

  A moment later, she was wheeling her bike through the open gate into his garden, breathing in the deep scent of fresh honeysuckle. She leaned her bike against the wall of the cottage and took her helmet off. What was it about Ronnie’s place that made her feel so relaxed within seconds of arriving? It wasn’t as though she loved it more than her home at Winfield, but this little downland cottage had quite a different hold on her heart. It was small and intimate. It was cosy and cute. And it was wonderfully loose around the edges in a way that the rather grand Winfield could never be, and the artist in Abi liked that a lot.

  Peering in through the open window to the living room and finding it empty, Abi cast her gaze into the garden. Where else would Ronnie be on such a day?

  ‘Hello!’ she called, following the brick path which crumbled lazily into an unkempt lawn where daisies jostled with dandelions.

  ‘Abi?’

  Abi frowned. She could hear her friend, but couldn’t yet see him. ‘Ronnie? Where are you?’

  ‘Behind the viburnum.’

  Abi panicked. Which one was that? She’d been doing her best to learn about shrubs, but she still had a long way to go. Luckily, Ronnie’s teddy bear face peeped out from behind some large white blooms.

  ‘Smell that,’ he said, beckoning her over to the plant.

  Abi dunked her nose into the domed flowers and inhaled. ‘Lovely!’

  ‘One of my Emma’s favourites,’ he told her.

  ‘I can see why. It’s glorious. I should get one for Winfield.’