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Chapter Five

‘May I start by expressing my sincere condolences and thanking you all for coming today. I’m Gordon Braithwaite, senior partner here at Braithwaite, Cobbs and Fisher. We’re proud to have handled all of John and Hannah Garside’s legal affairs over the years.’

Callie cast her eyes around the room. It wasn’t what she had been expecting at all. She had envisaged the boardroom of her aunt and uncle’s solicitor’s office to be lined with mahogany bookcases crammed with weighty, leather-bound, legalistic tomes and the faint smell of dusty parchment fighting for supremacy with the aroma of wax furniture polish like the venue – straight out of a Dickensian novel – that she had been forced to attend for the reading of her parents’ wills after the car crash. As she had been an only child, the contents of their last will and testament had held no surprises and she’d wondered at the time why the elderly solicitor had bothered with the charade.

Here she was, a scant fifteen years later, being invited to listen once again to the monotone drone of a probate lawyer as he read through the terms of her aunt’s will, but this time she sat, along with Seb and Dominic, in what was essentially a glass cube. The view from the window was spectacular, looking straight out onto The Stray, a large expanse of open parkland in the centre of Harrogate framed by a profusion of pink-flowering cherry trees.

Her aunt and uncle had adored the park so much they’d bought a house which overlooked it. Uncle John had often told her that in Victorian times it had been used as a racecourse, but more recently the area around The Stray had been declared one of the UK’s happiest places to live.

She dragged her attention back to the room, surprised to see that Mr Braithwaite was looking over his tortoiseshell spectacles at her with an expectant expression on his face. Seb and Dominic were smiling.

‘Erm, sorry, I was just admiring the view.’

‘Yes, Miss Henshaw, I have to agree with you, and it’s at its most beautiful this time of the year.’

She smiled back, but the silence continued.

‘What?’ she blurted out.

Seb got up and went to sit next to her. He took both her hands into his. ‘Mum has left her house here in Harrogate to me and Dom.’

Callie nodded, smiling into Seb’s kind brown eyes which reminded her so much of his mother that she had to quash the rising panic in her chest. Mr Braithwaite didn’t look like the type of lawyer who would appreciate females sobbing onto his smoked-glass conference table.

‘And she left Gingerberry Yarns to you, Cal.’

‘She… I beg your pardon?’

‘Dom and I knew she wanted you to have it. It was half your mum’s before she and your dad…well… And you did love the place, didn’t you, before you left to chase your fortune in London? You know, one of my earliest memories is of you designing and sewing your own clothes for your Sindy doll from remnants of fabric and ribbon. You even knitted jumpers for our teddy bears, remember? We’re not interested in the shop. Mum made the right decision.’

Callie knew her jaw had slackened. She flicked her eyes from Seb to Dominic and back again. The brothers nodded in unison.

‘Seb’s right, Cal. You adore that place. Whenever I go there it feels weird not to see you sitting at that huge table doing your homework. You spent every spare second there. Well, when you weren’t out gallivanting with Theo or watching his band crucify some of my favourite rock anthems,’ added Dominic.

‘Gingerberry Yarns is mine now?’

Her cousins nodded. The solicitor shuffled his papers back into the buff file in front of him, tied it with a green ribbon and rose from his chair.

‘I’ll leave you to your discussions. Please take your time and help yourself to coffee. If you need any advice about the disposal of either the property here in Harrogate or the shop on Allthorpe High Street, then my firm’s services are at your disposal.’

The door swung closed behind him.

‘But I can’t run a haberdashery shop in Yorkshire. I live in London. I have a business that devours every second of my time, perhaps even more if my prayers are answered.’

‘Mum was so excited about the wedding gown competition, you know. She told everyone who came into the shop about it.’ Seb’s eyes sparkled but he managed to hang on to his emotions. ‘Dom and I have already decided to sell Mum’s house. If you want to sell Gingerberry, you have our blessing. Lives move on, things change. We know that. Just promise to come and visit us up here in Yorkshire once in a while. We miss you.’

Callie couldn’t hold on any longer. She’d thought she had no tears left to shed yet a deluge burst from within.

‘I promise,’ she managed.

‘Oh, and before you go back down to London, why don’t you make your peace with Theo? Remember what Mum always used to say? Life’s too short to carry grudges. You know, I don’t have a single childhood memory that doesn’t feature you and Theo together in supporting roles.’

‘Seb…’

‘And perhaps, before you make any decisions, you should take a good look around the shop. Maybe take a few photos? It’ll bring back memories you thought you’d forgotten. It did for me and Dom.’

‘I will, yes. Thanks, Seb. Thanks, Dom. But, really, I can’t see any other alternative but to sell up.’

‘Whatever you decide, Cal, you have our full support.’

She would do as Seb had suggested. She’d go back to Allthorpe and spend an afternoon in the shop. It was the least she could do after such a generous gift from her Aunt Hannah. It would also be an ideal opportunity to check out the stock, to box up anything suitable for Callie-Louise.

Seb was right. She had left her life in Yorkshire behind and carved out a new one in the capital, although it was career-orientated with very little social life. She found herself yearning for the anonymity of London where the streets were filled with dull, grey office workers unconcerned about their fellow humans’ difficulties – in fact she had become one of them, a member of that overworked, harried tribe. In Allthorpe, on the other hand, everyone knew their neighbours’ business, happy or sad, and had a ready word of congratulation or solace to offer.

However, she did have a plethora of happy memories wrapped up in Gingerberry Yarns and it would be tough to leave them behind for good. Yet a stab of regret needled her conscience – there was one thing that pained her above all else.

If she did sell Gingerberry, what would happen to Delia?