“So it was all your doing, Gran?” asked Emily, gazing at the portrait.
After the row with her husband, Emily hadn’t slept a wink. She’d sensed something was amiss in their marriage, but when he’d come home that evening and confessed he loved another, she hadn’t been ready for such a blow. He’d left, and she’d wept for hours, wallowing in self-pity.
One moment, she wanted him back—but that meant forgiving his betrayal. Emily wasn’t sure she could ever trust Simon again. The next, she longed to make him suffer as she did. But love doesn’t vanish overnight, not even when you’ve been wronged. So she set the thought aside for now and focused on how to carry on.
Just before dawn, she found herself remembering the summers her parents had sent her to her grandmother’s little house in a quiet Berkshire village, where she’d been so happy. If only she could go back there, return to those simpler days…
But Gran had passed three years ago. Emily didn’t recall her parents selling the cottage. Perhaps some distant relatives lived there now? She’d ask Mum. With that comforting thought, she finally drifted off.
That night, she dreamed of the park near Gran’s house. There she was—Gran in her cream trench coat and a straw hat, sitting on a bench, watching Emily and a boy playing with a puppy. “I knew you’d come back,” Gran said suddenly, looking straight at her—not the little girl with the puppy, but Emily as she was now.
The intensity of Gran’s gaze jolted her awake. The dream felt so real, the sense of her presence lingered long after. The more Emily thought of it, the clearer the message seemed: Gran was waiting. She had to go.
“Mum, what happened to Gran’s cottage after she died? Did you sell it? Is anyone else living there?” she asked that evening.
“Of course not. Whatever gave you that idea? Gran had no one but us. She left a letter saying the place was yours.”
“So I could live there?” Emily brightened.
“What’s got into you? You want to move to Berkshire? What on earth would you do there?” Mum huffed.
“I can’t carry on like this. We’re treading on each other’s toes. I need to get away, clear my head…”
The flat she’d shared with Simon had been a gift from his parents. Staying there was impossible, so she’d moved back with Mum. Two years of independence had spoiled her—now she had to endure endless lectures about how Simon would come to his senses, how she’d never find another man like him…
“That cottage is ancient, Emily. It’s hardly fit to live in. If you need a change, go to Cornwall—proper seaside air would do you good.”
Ordinarily, she might’ve agreed. But the dream wouldn’t let her rest.
“Do you still have the keys?”
Mum rummaged through a drawer. “Here. Though why you’d want to go there…”
The next day, Emily dragged herself to work, sniffling pitifully as she handed in her leave request. Her manager, sympathetic to the plight of betrayed women, signed it without question.
By morning, she was on a train, clutching the keys like a talisman. Five hours later, a cab dropped her outside a weathered brick terrace. She hesitated on the doorstep, doubts creeping in—you canThe moment she stepped inside, the scent of old books and lavender wrapped around her like Gran’s arms, and she knew—this was where she was meant to be.
