The House At The Bottom Of The Hill - Plot & Excerpts
She leaned against the doorframe of her B&B, new screwdriver in one hand, the telephone in the other. Early Monday morning in Swallow’s Fall and the town getting ready for its day. It would be late Sunday night in Starfoot; maybe a few young people showing off with rowdiness as they made their way home from the local pub, giving the Yorkshire residents something to complain about the next morning as they queued for bread at the bakery and discussed the building of the new two-storey hotel on seventeen acres of good old English soil, a quarter of an acre of which had once been Charlotte’s. ‘So,’ Sammy said down the phone. ‘Dinner. Saturday night, six o’clock. I’ve got a roast planned and I’m going the whole hog since Ethan wouldn’t let me go to the barbecue last Friday due to my swollen ankles.’ A twinge that felt suspiciously like misery because she hadn’t been invited to Kookaburra’s first Friday night barbecue gripped Charlotte’s chest. Then again, nobody had needed invites, the notice had been plastered on the pub’s front window.
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