Calling Home

Calling Home

Jen Silver

2018

Back of the Book

Sarah Frost enjoys her dream job as director of the Frost Foundation making her home at one of their writers' retreats, The Lodge on the Lake. The general manager of The Lodge is Berry Fields, an old childhood friend.

Galen Thomas arrives at the island to fill the post of handy person, taking an extended break from her vet's practice to help her decide how to shape her future life and career. 

When the next group of writers arrives for their two-week retreat, along with Sarah's grandmother, tensions start to surface. Magda Frost doesn't approve of the appointment of the vet and still questions Sarah's decision to hire Berry.

The island idyll is soon undermined by the revelation of events from forty years earlier, threatening the lives and loves of Sarah, Berry, and Galen. Calling home and what they now call home—all are affected by the disturbing legacy from the past.

Calling Home

Copyright © 2018 by Jen Silver

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-98-854939-2

First Edition

PDF, ePub, mobi

Published: June 15, 2018

This book is Published by

Affinity eBook Press NZ LTD

Canterbury, New Zealand

E-mail: affinity@affinityebooks.com

Editor: Angela Koenig

Proof Editor: Alexis Smith

Cover Design by Irish Dragon Designs

Production Design: Affinity Publishing Services-

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This work is copyrighted and is licensed only for use by the original purchaser and can be copied to the original purchaser's electronic device and its memory card for your personal use. Modifying or making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, without limit, including by email, CD, DVD, memory cards, file transfer, paper printout or any other method, constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Acknowledgments

Calling Home is my 8th novel published by Affinity Rainbow Publications. I couldn’t have imagined only four years ago that this could be possible. Thank you to the Affinity team for their faith in my writing and continued support: Julie, Mel, and Nancy. Thank you also to the editors who have helped me recognise my many mistakes—Mary, Ruth, Angie, and Jo—any errors in the final manuscripts are mine alone.

Thank you, as always, to my wife Anne, whose love and support encourages me to keep on writing.

Dedication

To my readers…

Without your encouragement many of my stories would have

stayed either in my head or at the bottom of a drawer.

Also by Jen Silver

Single Stories:

Changing Perspectives

Running From Love

Christmas at Winterbourne

The Circle Dance

Starling Hill Trilogy:

Starting Over

Arc Over Time

Carved in Stone

Short Stories:

There Was a Time

The Christmas Sweepstake (Affinity’s 2014 Christmas Collection)

Beltane in Space (It’s in Her Kiss—Affinity Charity Anthology)

Maybe This Christmas (Affinity’s Christmas Medley 2017)

Table of Contents

Part One

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Part Two

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Part Three

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

About the Author

Other Books from Affinity

Part One

Chapter One

Berry studied the items on her To Do list for the day and smiled. Preparations for the writers’ retreat session starting in a few days were almost complete, giving her the chance to take some time off to enjoy the late spring sunshine. She was looking forward to the warmer weather with its promise of refreshing swims in the lake after hours spent in the kitchen.

Frown lines creased her forehead as her thoughts veered in another direction, the oft-travelled path of what if. This one haunted her still: what if Saffron hadn’t walked into that café at that particular time on that particular day? Where would she be now? What if Saffron hadn’t caught her at that low point in her life when she was drifting—between jobs and lovers? Homeless, cast off once more into a friendless void.

She had been considering trying to find the farm, on the verge of buying a bus ticket to Carlisle with the last of her savings, when she met Saffron by chance. Was it coincidence, or fate? Saff’s mother would have called it the will of God.

Berry was sitting in a Starbucks on Buckingham Palace Road in London, studying the coach timetable to Carlisle and wondering how long she would have to wait for a connection to Hexham. Her limited funds wouldn’t stretch to taking the train, and even when she got there, her knowledge of the exact location of the farm was vague at best. She was pondering this when a barista called out, Sarah.

Berry looked up and saw someone she hadn’t seen in over twenty years going up to the counter to collect a take-out coffee; the childhood friend she knew as Saffron. Although so much time had passed since they reluctantly parted ways, there was no mistaking the long, wavy, auburn hair that tumbled around her head, and her warm smile that enveloped the barista who handed over the cardboard container.

Saff? Berry stood, almost knocking over her own tall glass of Skinny White Mocha, her last indulgence before heading off into the wilds of Northumberland.

Saffron looked at her, bright blue eyes taking her in before her smile widened further.

Berry Fields. She walked over to the table. Is it really you?

Yes. Berry took in the smart, grey, tailored suit; a far cry from the last outfit she had seen her friend wearing. You look great.

Putting her coffee on the table, Saffron embraced her in a hug and Berry felt the lost years slip away. After a few moments they broke apart, smiling shyly at one another.

Going somewhere? Saffron glanced at the large suitcase next to the table as she pulled out a chair to sit down.

All my worldly possessions. I was thinking of visiting the farm.

That bad, is it? Saffron’s look of disbelief said it all.

Afraid so. Berry fought to hold back tears.

In the few minutes that followed, Saffron managed to ferret out most of the story that had led to the point of desperation. Berry expected her to make sympathetic noises before walking out of her life once again. Instead Saff gazed into the middle distance for a few minutes.

Well, if you’ve nothing else on at the moment, you could help me out. It would mean living on an island but the catering part of the job wouldn’t be as stressful as working in a restaurant.

Three years on from that meeting, Berry sometimes woke in the middle of the night, fearing it was all a dream and she was still at the farm.

Back in the present, Berry finished her second cup of coffee of the day and prepared to face the first task—meeting the new employee off the boat. Saffron had conducted the interviews herself and had been annoyingly mysterious about the newcomer. Berry wasn’t pleased about being excluded from the decision, pointing out that her job title was General Manager, but all she got from Saff was her Mona Lisa smile and the arrival time of a G H Thomas from the mainland.

Didn’t this person have a first name? Berry had been given no clue whether she was meeting a man or a woman. Well, it didn’t matter, as long as they had the right qualifications.

As for names, Saffron didn’t like Berry calling her by the name she had left behind at eighteen, but Berry could never think of her as Sarah.

†

The closer the boat drew to the island, the further away all her cares receded. With her phone switched off and stowed in her suitcase, no one could reach her here. Galen smiled at the thought. Her brother had been livid when she told him there was no phone connection. It wasn’t true, but Tim didn’t need to know that.

What about Mum? he’d asked accusingly when she told him she had taken this job.

Mum will be fine. She’s looking forward to seeing more of you.

She had shut out his protests. It was time he took on some responsibility for their mother’s care. Not that she was ill, mainly suffering from loneliness after the death of their father. In the two years that followed her father’s departure, Galen had been the recipient of daily phone calls, often at night. Her mother seemed to concur with Tim’s view that her daughter should be the first point of contact since she was unmarried and childless. Something her brother threw in her face whenever Galen suggested he take up the slack.

I’ve got Maureen and the kids to look after, he would say.

You also have an ageing mother who would like to hear from you once in a while.

We visit in the holidays.

Yes. For two hours. She would like to see more of her grandchildren.

But it’s hard to fit it in with the kids’ after-school activities. And at weekends they want to spend time with their friends.

There were always excuses. Galen had finally snapped. Since neither her mother nor her sibling recognised that she had a demanding job and deserved to have a life she could call her own, she had taken steps to make the changes that would break the pattern.

It had been in her mind for some time to give up her veterinary practice. When she saw the job advertised for this island retreat, it looked like the perfect opportunity to take a step back and reevaluate things. The woman who interviewed her said there would be a three-month probation period, telling her with an engaging smile that island life didn’t suit everyone.

So Galen had left a locum in charge of her practice, which included the accommodation on the premises, and taken a plunge into the unknown.

The boat was docking and the ferryman threw a rope up to a woman waiting on the pier. She secured it expertly around the post and held out a hand. Belatedly, Galen realised it was for her. This was the general manager Sarah Frost had said would meet her. She had been expecting a man.

Ignoring the offer for help, she managed to step up onto the pier without tripping or falling into the water. After all, Galen was meant to be the outdoors type, as specified in the advert.

The ferryman passed up her suitcase, backpack, and longbow case. She shouldered the pack and bow, thanking him before turning to greet the woman. But all Galen got was a view of her backside as she bent down to hand over a parcel.

Thanks, Alf. See you next week.

He gave her a toothless grin as she untied the rope and tossed it back to him. Nothing else was said as he expertly turned the motorboat back towards the lakeshore.

Galen looked at the woman standing next to her.

So, you must be Barry. I’m Galen.

Berry.

Sorry?

Berry, that’s my name. As in strawberry.

Oh, right. No further explanation was forthcoming. Maybe Berry’s father had a brainstorm on the way to the registry office as Galen’s had. Her mother had planned to call her Gwen but her father explained, after presenting the newborn’s birth certificate, that Gwen Thomas was far too common a name. His daughter was destined to be a renowned brain surgeon.

Berry was walking away from the dock, obviously expecting her to follow. Releasing the handle on her suitcase, Galen caught up to her easily with her longer strides.

They reached a strange looking vehicle. Galen suspected it was a converted milk float, an electric one that came into use as horse-drawn carts were phased out more than half a century earlier.

Berry caught her looking and smiled for the first time.

This is the only means of transport here. It’s not far to the Lodge, but I didn’t know how much luggage you would have.

†

The newcomer wasn’t talkative. In Berry’s experience most people, on arrival at the island, were full of awe, expressing their delight in the peace and quiet.

Some succumbed to island fever after a few days, especially if they had run out of drink. The shortest distance to the lakeshore was a mile but so far no one had been desperate enough to try swimming across.

The full name of the retreat was The Lodge on the Lake, but it was always referred to as the Lodge by staff and guests alike. Staff was rather a grand term as it included only herself, Saffron, and now Galen. Alf and his son Alfie were retained for ferrying guests from their boathouse by the marina. Alfie’s wife came over twice a week during retreat sessions to clean and change sheets and towels. Berry looked after the kitchen, planning the menus and keeping a constant eye on supplies.

She parked the float by the barn. It was a two-storey stone-built structure, converted into accommodation and office space. Staff quarters, as Saffron referred to it.

I’ll show you to your room and then we can do a tour of the main house and the grounds.

Galen nodded and silently removed her belongings from the vehicle.

†

Berry waited downstairs, giving the newcomer a chance to freshen up before embarking on the tour. She went into the kitchen and made a mental note to add bananas to her food order for the week. Saff was keen on keeping up her potassium intake. Their coffee supply was getting low too. Galen appeared in the doorway as Berry was writing the items on the list she kept on the fridge door.

Would you like a drink before we go? Coffee, tea, water?

No thanks.

Okay. Well, might as well start here. You don’t need to go over to the main house for breakfast or lunch. Just help yourself to what you want during the day. If there’s something you normally have that isn’t available, just let me know and I’ll get it with the next grocery run.

Is the tap water okay to drink?

Yes, perfectly fine. But we do have some bottled, if you prefer it.

No. Just checking.

Berry was beginning to wonder if Galen’s abrupt manner was due to shyness or rudeness. Saff was good at reading people, so she had to trust her old friend hadn’t got this one wrong. Living in close proximity made it important that the woman fit in.

They walked across the yard to the main house or Retreat Centre—its formal name on the brochure.

"The guest bedrooms are on the two upper floors. There are ten in total. We could have fit more in but we wanted them all to be ensuite." Berry guided her through the ground floor—two sitting rooms, each with a wood-burning fireplace, dining room, bathroom, and boot room—ending with, to her, the most important room in the house, the kitchen.

The first day, I prepare the evening meal. But after that it’s up to the guests to cook dinner. Although they’re here to get on with their projects, we feel it’s good for them to have some bonding time, so they don’t just sit in their rooms without talking to anyone else for two weeks. They sign up to a schedule when they get here.

Does that work? What if they don’t want to, or can’t cook?

It’s advertised on the website and in the brochure, so it shouldn’t come as a shock. They’re provided with all the ingredients and a detailed recipe. It’s just a main course and dessert, unless they feel up to making a starter. I always have enough salad ingredients available. Actually it works surprisingly well. They haven’t poisoned anyone yet.

Good to know.

Breakfast, they help themselves. Some don’t bother with breakfast at all. They have tea and coffee-making facilities in their rooms. I provide a buffet-style lunch for those who want a mid-day meal. But it’s very simple, mainly sandwiches and fruit.

Do we eat with them at dinner?

Either myself or Saff, um, Sarah will take turns. You’re welcome to join in, or not.

What about drink?

You mean, alcohol?

Yes.

The first night we do offer wine with dinner. After that, it’s up to them to supply their own. The savvy ones will be prepared and bring what they require with them. Others turn up for dinner on the second night and realise they’ve missed a trick. If they ask nicely, I will sell them some bottles from our stock, but after that they have to order what they want from the pub. The phone number for the Lakeside Inn is by the pay phone, along with their selection and price list.

Do they drink a lot?

They’re writers. Of course they do. The poets are the worst. They also stay up all hours, so you’ll be thankful we’re in a separate building. Berry smiled. Okay, let’s do the outside. I’m sure that’s what you’re really interested in seeing.

†

Galen knew she probably wasn’t making a good impression on Berry. The woman was doing her best to be friendly, but Galen had always had more patience with the animals she treated than with their owners. This job was going to challenge her mostly non-existent people skills.

The flowerbeds and lawn in front of the main house were badly neglected. Berry explained that the gardener they had employed left suddenly and neither she nor Sarah were up to the task. Galen thought that was a feeble excuse. Both women were fit enough and they surely had time to cut the grass and do a bit of weeding. Still, no point in talking herself out of a job, so she didn’t comment.

A utility shed tacked onto the side of the barn served as a garage for the milk float and all the essential tools she would need for getting the garden into shape. At least her predecessor had looked after them.

"We have a compost heap. It’s on the other side of the greenhouse. There’s also an incinerator bin. We dispose of what we can to save making too many trips across the lake. Saff or