What did you just say? Emily froze, a cold shiver running down her spine. James stood by the door, his fingers clenched around a set of keys. His usually cheerful face was set in a stony mask of frustration.
I cant do this anymore, he repeated flatly. Neither can I, nor Mum. Pack up the kids and move to Willowbrook. Grans cottage is still standingthe roofs intact. Youll manage.
Emily stared at him as if he were a stranger. Ten years together, three childrenand this was his solution? A forgotten village with no shops, barely a road worth the name.
Why? she began, but he cut her off.
Because Im exhausted, James looked away. The constant complaints, the endless whinging, you just sitting at home with the kids. Mums rightyouve turned into a proper little housewife. I dont even recognise the woman I married.
Tears burned in her throat, but Emily swallowed them. Behind the wall, the children sleptSophie and Oliver, while the eldest, Thomas, had likely heard every word.
Where am I supposed to work? How will we live? Her voice was barely a whisper. James tossed an envelope onto the table.
Theres enough to get you started. And the cottage deedsits been in your name for years. If youre so independent, prove it.
Without another word, he turned and left. A moment later, the front door slammed.
Emily sank into a chair. One absurd thought circled her mind: *I made his favourite apple crumble this morning.*
The cottage welcomed them with a damp chill. Emily stepped inside, little Sophie drowsy in her arms, her heart twisting. Shed spent summers here as a childfresh-baked bread, herbs drying in the attic, apples stored in the pantry. Now it was dust, cobwebs, and the scent of abandonment.
Thomas, far too serious for a boy of twelve, pushed open the shutters. Sunlight streamed through grimy windows, catching motes of dust in the air.
Its freezing, Oliver grumbled, hugging himself.
Well light the fire soon, itll warm up, Emily said, forcing confidence into her voice. Thomas, will you help? He gave a silent nod. He hadnt spoken a word since overhearing his parents fight.
Thankfully, the old fireplace still worked. As flames licked at the kindling and warmth filled the room, Emily exhaled slightly.
Mum, are we staying here forever? Oliver asked, peering at faded photos on the wall.
I dont know, love, she admitted. Lets get settled first.
That first night, they all crammed into Grans wide bed. The children fell asleep quickly, worn out from the move. Emily lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering how shed ended up here.
At dawn, she slipped outside. The garden was a tangle of weeds. The apple trees, once heavy with fruit, were gnarled and broken. The shed leaned dangerously, and moss choked the old well.
Emily surveyed her new kingdomand laughed, sharp and bitter. So this was her fresh start.
The first week was a blur of disbelief. Each morning, she half-expected to wake in their flat, to hear the kettle boiling and James voice.
Mummy, whens Daddy coming? Sophie asked, used to their Sunday walks. Soon, darling, Emily lied, unsure how to explain what she didnt understand herself.
Her phone stayed silent. James ignored her calls. Once, a single text arrived: *Youve got what you need. Give me time.*
Time? For what? To miss them? Or to erase them completely?
By weeks end, it was clear the money wouldnt last. The fireplace needed mending, the roof leaked, and groceries cost more than shed expected. Worst of all, there were no jobs in Willowbrook.
Maybe you ought to go back to the city? suggested Margaret, one of the few remaining neighbours. Emily shook her head. Theres nothing to go back to. At least here, weve got a roof.
That afternoon, she decided to clear the garden. The soil was choked with weeds, but she remembered how Grans plots had once flourished.
Thomas, can you help? she asked. He nodded, still distant.
They worked side by side, pulling roots and turning soil. Her hands, soft from years of housework, quickly blistered. By evening, her back ached, but theyd only managed a small patch.
Mum, Thomas finally broke his silence. Why are we doing this?
To plant vegetablespotatoes, carrots, tomatoes, she began.
No, he interrupted. I mean *why*? Why dont we go home? What really happened with you and Dad?
Emily straightened, wiping sweat from her brow. How could she explain? Admit his father had left them? Confess that James mother had always thought her unworthy? Or that there might be another woman?
We need time to figure things out, she said carefully. Sometimes adults need space to
see if they still love each other, Thomas finished, his voice too old for his years. Is it because of that woman? The one at Dads office party?
Emily went still. *Eleanor*tall, polished, always laughing at James jokes. Just a colleague, hed said when shed noticed him coming home late.
Maybe, she admitted. But rememberyour dad loves you three. And Ill make sure youre happy, even here.
Thomas studied her, then suddenly hugged her, his grip fierce.
Well be alright, Mum, he said firmly. You and me. Well look after the little ones.
That night, Emily sat by the window, gazing at stars brighter than any in the city. For the first time, she didnt feel despairjust a quiet, steady calm, as if the earth beneath the cottage was lending her strength.
From then on, she worked the garden daily, with Oliver and Sophie joining in. The children, once restless, now chattered about their secret garden. Sophie even drew plans for flower bedsto make it pretty, like in storybooks.
One afternoon, her spade struck metal.
A rock? Oliver guessed, crouching closer.
Emily brushed away dirtand froze. In her palm lay a coin, heavy and unmistakably old. She rubbed it clean: a kings profile stared back.
Mummy, is it treasure? Sophie whispered.
Probably just an old coin Gran dropped, Emily said, though she knew Gran would never have been so careless.
By dusk, theyd found twelve more.
That night, she spread them on the table. Under lamplight, she traced the dates1897, 1899. Gold sovereigns, she guessed. Rare. Valuable.
Sleep didnt come. If these *were* gold, what were they worth? Where had they come from? Andmost importantlywere there more?
Next morning, she called Uncle Robert, her fathers brother in the nearby market town.
Rob, Ive found old coins in Grans garden. Gold, with a kings head
Sovereigns? he cut in, voice sharp with excitement. Em, are you serious?
I think so. They feel real.
Dont tell a soul. Ill be there by lunch.
He arrived in his battered Land Rover, bearded and windswept. One coin between his fingers, a quick bite-testthen a low whistle.
Gold. Proper antique ones too. Em, do you have any idea what youve stumbled on?
She shook her head.
Its a hoard. A proper buried treasure. Each coins worth thousands. And if theres more
But why would Gran have these?
Robert smirked. You didnt know? Gran married a local lad, but before that, she was a *Hartwell*. Before the war, the Hartwells were loadedowned half the county. When things went bad, old Mr Hartwell supposedly hid his fortune. Then he died, and the land got split up.
And no one ever found it?
Oh, folks looked. But Grans plot was just one of dozens.
By evening, the childrens excited shouts led her to their newest finda rusted strongbox, half-buried under the apple tree. With Roberts help, they pried it open.
Inside were cloth sacks. Dozens. The first spilled gold coins into her hands. The secondmore coins. The thirdjewellery, glinting with gemstones.
Mum, are we rich now? Oliver gasped.
I dont know, Emily said honestly. But weve got choices.
That night, she weighed them. Sell it all quietly? Report it properly? Or
Next morning, she called Robert again.
I want to open a museum. Here, in Willowbrook. About the Hartwells. Use part of the hoard for exhibits.
Silence
