Finding Love at Hedgehog Hollow Read online

  Finding Love at Hedgehog Hollow

  Hedgehog Hollow Book 1

  Jessica Redland

  For my Auntie Gwen, a real life ‘hedgehog lady’

  With lots of love xxx

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Acknowledgments

  More from Jessica Redland

  About the Author

  Also by Jessica Redland

  About Boldwood Books

  1

  ‘Would I be right in thinking that wasn’t easy for you?’ Dad whispered to me shortly after we exited the church behind the newlyweds.

  My stomach did somersaults. Had he guessed the truth? ‘It was really easy,’ I said quietly, hoping to deflect him. ‘All I needed to do was smile, hold the bouquet, arrange her train and smile some more. My cheeks are aching.’

  ‘And I bet your heart is too. Mine would be if my cousin had just married the love of my life.’

  ‘Dad! Shhh!’ Even though he’d spoken softly, I still felt the need to grab his arm and lead him down the church path away from prying ears – like Great-Aunt Agnes’s. Mum’s auntie already hated me for some unfathomable reason so it was best not to provide her with more ammunition.

  ‘James is not the love of my life,’ I insisted, very much aware of the shake in my voice. ‘We just… well, he… it was…’ Looking up into Dad’s warm brown eyes, I crumbled. There was no point denying it. ‘No, it wasn’t easy. If I was to compile a list of the worst days ever, losing Gramps would be top but today wouldn’t be far behind.’ My voice cracked on the final words.

  Dad pulled me into a hug, instantly comforting me with his warmth and strength. At six foot four, there was a lot to hold onto and I didn’t think I’d ever grow too old for a hug from him, especially on a day like today.

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ I said as we separated. ‘I needed that.’

  ‘Can everyone except the bride and groom move away from the church entrance please?’ called the wedding photographer.

  I lifted up the skirts of my bridesmaid dress as Dad and I moved further down the church path. With a heavy heart, I turned and watched Chloe and James gaze adoringly at each other under an archway of pink and cream roses while the photographer snapped photos and tried to shoo away the paparazzi of friends and relatives thrusting mobile phones into his shot. The mid-August sun warmed my bare arms and I closed my eyes for a moment, head tilted upwards, as the gentlest of breezes kissed my face, comforting and relaxing me.

  Dad and I stood in silence for a few minutes, watching the photographer issue instructions to Chloe and James to stand side by side, hold hands, face each other, kiss. I couldn’t help fantasising that I was the one in the ivory dress instead of my cousin, starting my happy ever after with the man with whom I’d been hopelessly in love for nearly two years.

  Unable to bear watching them any longer, I drew my eyes away but they rested on the equally unsettling sight of Mum smiling proudly and hugging Auntie Louise, mother of the bride. A familiar wave of sadness swept over me. I completely understood that their sisterly closeness was multiplied several-fold by being identical twins but what I’d never understood was why that warmth and affection couldn’t be shared with Dad and me. I actually couldn’t remember the last time she’d hugged me. Some people aren’t tactile but she didn’t fall into that camp, frequently hugging Auntie Louise and Chloe. I’d always had a difficult relationship with her and had often wondered if part of it was her envy of how close I was to Dad. Yet she was so close to her twin that surely it couldn’t be a surprise that Dad and I, left on the periphery, had forged such a strong bond. Stop it, Sam. Not today. Today is challenging enough without going down that road.

  ‘Mum looks nice,’ I said. In keeping with the colour scheme, she wore a pale-pink floaty dress, a matching pink waterfall jacket and a fascinator.

  ‘Your mum looks beautiful,’ Dad said, a wistful tone to his voice. ‘It’s good to see her in something that isn’t black for once.’

  I couldn’t remember seeing Mum wear anything but dark, drab colours. Auntie Louise, by contrast, usually wore bright colours although she’d opted for a muted palette today. Her mother-of-the-bride outfit was really classy – a fitted dusky pink shift dress with an ivory lacy bodice, pink jacket and matching wide-brimmed hat.

  ‘And you look very smart,’ I added. Dad was a vet so I was used to seeing him in a shirt and trousers but he’d invested in a charcoal three-piece suit and new shoes for the wedding and he looked very distinguished.

  Looking towards the bride and groom once more, I sighed. What a strikingly beautiful couple they were. With his muscular physique, dark blond hair, immaculately coiffed beard and piercing blue eyes, James could have been a model – and so could Chloe. The off-the-shoulder bodice and the bottom of her ivory dress were covered in intricate pink and cream embroidery. Her waist-length blonde hair was piled in loose curls on the back of her head, pinned back with sparkly flowers, while two delicate plaits criss-crossed over the top of her head like a headband. Absolutely stunning. Although Chloe could have worn a binbag and still looked incredible. Her dad, my Uncle Simon, had Danish roots and those genes had blessed Chloe with straight pale-blonde hair, ice-blue eyes and chiselled cheekbones.

  Chloe attracted male attention wherever she went and, once we hit our teens, was never without a boyfriend. As we got older, she became a magnet for men who used her like a beautiful trophy on their arm. None of them appreciated her. She was cheated on several times, put down or made to feel stupid. I remembered one particular ex ridiculing her for her job as a pre-school assistant, calling it, ‘playing with children all day because you’re too thick to teach them’. She was no pushover so wouldn’t take it for long before ending it and moving on, yet she never seemed to learn, picking the same alpha-male bad-boy type eac
h time.

  She also struggled with female friendships, being on the receiving end of jealous accusations of flirting with their boyfriends or trying to outshine them all the time, so she clung to me – the one person who’d always been there for her.

  It saddened me that, as a result of so many negative experiences, Chloe was insecure about her looks when she absolutely had no need to be, whereas I – the one who blended into the crowd – was really comfortable in my own skin most of the time. I was five foot eight and slim, same as Chloe, but the complete opposite in colouring. My hair was thick and brown like Mum’s and Auntie Louise’s. For years, Chloe had tried to persuade me to get it thinned out or highlighted ‘to attract the men’ but I resisted. If I needed an expensive haircut for a man to notice me then they weren’t worthy of my time, and no amount of toning or shading was going to make me the sort of woman who’d get a second glance when Chloe was around anyway, although that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

  My favourite feature was my eyes, which were hazel with amber and green flecks and a dark rim. When I wasn’t with Chloe, and therefore not invisible, they were the first thing anyone noticed.

  ‘Chloe looks stunning, doesn’t she?’ I said.

  ‘She certainly does,’ Dad agreed, ‘and so do you. Lovely to see you in a dress for once.’

  I curled my lip. ‘Even a pink one?’ I loved the style – full-length A-line tulle skirt with a ruched off-the-shoulder bodice, satin waist ribbon and corset-style detailing at the back. But the colour?

  Dad laughed. ‘It suits you. Although, being the only bridesmaid, I’d have thought Chloe could have given you some say in the colour.’

  ‘She gave a few other options – very unenthusiastically – and you know how it is. What Chloe wants…’

  ‘…Chloe gets,’ we chorused together, smiling at each other.

  ‘Which was one thing when you were kids and it was one of your Barbies or dresses,’ Dad continued. ‘But you do know you can say no, don’t you?’

  ‘I know, but it was obvious how much she wanted pink and it’s her big day, not mine.’ My voice caught as I said the words. No, definitely not mine. If only… I cleared my throat as I continued. ‘Her excitement far outweighed my objection so I was happy to go with the flow.’

  Dad looked down at me earnestly. ‘I love that you’ve always been so kind and thoughtful, Sammie, but I worry about it too. You’re not kids anymore. You don’t have to keep giving her what’s yours.’

  ‘I know, but James was never mine to hold onto.’ A lump constricted my throat and I had to blink back my tears.

  He shook his head, frowning. ‘I know I only saw you together a few times but I thought you two were happy. Next thing I know, he’s with Chloe and you’re a bridesmaid at their wedding.’

  ‘Sucks doesn’t it? If it had been up to me, I’d have married James, had his children, and we’d have grown old together. But he wasn’t feeling the love. Then one day, he finally was. Except it wasn’t for me.’

  ‘Oh, Sammie,’ he said gently, his eyes full of sympathy and his shoulders slumped. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Please don’t be nice to me. You’ll set me off again.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I know it’s not ideal that he chose someone in my family but, if it hadn’t been Chloe, I’d have lost him to someone else. It was never going to last much longer, no matter how much I wanted it to. But it was Chloe he fell for and it is what it is. And look how happy she is. She deserved to find a good guy after all the bad ones.’

  How could I begrudge her happiness with someone who I knew to be a genuinely lovely person whose only flaw, from what I’d seen, was that he hadn’t fallen helplessly in love with me like I had with him?

  ‘Can I have the bridesmaid and best man?’ the photographer called. ‘And can the immediate family be standing by please?’

  ‘That’s our cue.’ Dad squeezed my hand as we stepped forward. ‘You know I’m here for you if you ever want to talk about it.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad. I know and I love you for it.’

  As we posed for what seemed like hundreds of photos, I pushed my heartache aside and focused on Chloe’s happiness. She wasn’t just my cousin, she was my lifelong best friend. With only a six-month age difference, we’d been in the same class at school and had attended many of the same after-school clubs. We lived a couple of streets apart and our families holidayed together so every aspect of our lives had always been inextricably linked. And now we were linked by James, and I just had to learn to live with that or risk losing Chloe.

  2

  Two Years Earlier

  As I drove through the picture-postcard pretty North Yorkshire village of North Emmerby towards Hannah and Toby’s cottage, butterflies stirred in my stomach. Tonight I would finally meet Toby’s best friend, James Turner – the man whom they were both convinced would be perfect for me.

  I’d been best friends with Hannah for eight years, having met her at Liverpool University where we’d studied our degrees in adult nursing. She’d met her fiancé, Toby, a few years after graduation and, over the years, I’d spent many evenings or weekends in their company. The subject of James and I getting together had frequently arisen but we’d never been single at the same time so it hadn’t been an option. Until now.

  The butterflies intensified as I passed The Fox and Badger where Toby’s thirtieth birthday celebrations would be taking place tonight. Deep breath. Calm down. You can’t spend the next four hours stressing about it.

  James and Toby were playing golf and James had strict instructions to return to the pub at 6 p.m. where Toby was expecting to join Hannah and me for a birthday meal. What he wasn’t expecting was the fifty friends and family members who’d be waiting to surprise him.

  I parked in the lane outside their home, Fuchsia Cottage. The front door opened and Hannah rushed out for a hug. ‘Thanks so much for coming early.’

  ‘Couldn’t leave you to put up all the decorations on your own,’ I said, squeezing her tightly. ‘Do you think he suspects anything yet?’

  ‘Not a thing. Or, if he does, he’s doing a brilliant job of acting like he doesn’t.’

  Twenty minutes later, we’d carried everything into The Fox and Badger’s function room and were attaching thirtieth birthday banners to the walls.

  ‘Are you excited about tonight?’ Hannah asked. The mischievous twinkle in her eyes accompanied by a cheeky wink left no doubt as to what she meant, sending the butterflies soaring again.

  ‘A little bit excited and very nervous. I feel like there’s a massive expectation on us meeting and fireworks exploding. What if he doesn’t like me?’

  She placed her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows at me. ‘What’s not to like? Besides, you might not like him either, although I don’t think that will be the case. I still maintain that you’re perfect for each other.’

  As we continued to decorate the room, Hannah enthused about how much James and I supposedly had in common – same taste in music, films, books, sense of humour, outlook on life. If – or rather when – Hannah and Toby abandoned us together, at least we’d have plenty to talk about.

  ‘Does he know you’re trying to set us up?’ I asked, positioning a balloon bouquet in one corner of the room while Hannah placed one in the adjacent corner.

  She twisted a highlighted lock of hair round her middle finger and gave me a coy look. ‘I’ve dropped a few hints. Subtle. Understated.’

  I laughed. ‘By which you mean unsubtle and overstated.’

  Hannah looked at me with mock offence. ‘What would make you say something like that?’

  I shook my head at her, smiling. ‘Ooh, maybe the unsubtle approach you’ve used on me. What was it you said? Oh yeah. “Toby’s best mate James is a hottie and the perfect way to get over Harry would be to get under James”. I think those were your exact words.’

  She had the decency to look embarrassed. ‘It’s a good idea. It’s been over two years since it ended with Harry and how many dates
have you been on during that time?’

  I sighed. ‘None.’

  ‘Exactly. It’s time to get out there again.’

  I knew she was right but my experience with Harry had massively knocked my confidence. He’d been my first long-term boyfriend and I’d thought it was going well. I thought we were in love and heading for old age together. Apparently not.

  Harry was a junior doctor at the surgery where I worked after graduating. We were friends for a couple of years but it developed into something more. Relationships at work were frowned upon so I transferred to Whitsborough Bay’s district nursing team. On our one-year anniversary, Harry invited me to move in with him but, two years later, he casually told me over breakfast one Saturday that it wasn’t working and I needed to move out. Immediately. It seemed to come from nowhere. He claimed the relationship wasn’t going anywhere, it had only ever been a bit of fun and surely it was better to end it now with happy memories rather than let it deteriorate until we ended up hating each other. I packed my belongings, feeling too shocked to cry and too confused to debate it further. If he didn’t want to be with me, I wasn’t going to humiliate myself by begging him.