amount of peace in her life, but she still couldn’t get some of those messages out of her head. Why were some people so nasty? Why did they feel so entitled to jump into her life and give their opinion? She’d never have dreamed of reaching out to others in the way that some had reached out to her. It was truly baffling. But that was the crux of social media, wasn’t it? Everyone had their little corner of the universe from where they could shout and be heard. Well, Abi wasn’t going to listen anymore.
Trying to put all thought of online negativity out of her mind, she checked her email. There was the usual stuff – messages from friends checking up on her. Another from her sister who was complaining about the latest drama with her children. Then there were the companies reaching out to her hoping to woo her with a job offer or secure an endorsement for their products. The thing was, Abi had signed a non-compete clause when she’d sold her company so her hands were tied for the next few years. She’d wanted freedom and now she had it.
As she scrolled through the messages, there was one that caught her eye. It was from somebody called Edward Townsend – a name she didn’t recognise. But she definitely recognised the name in the subject heading.
Winfield Hall.
She clicked on the message.
Dear Miss Carey
I’m the new owner of Winfield Hall and it’s been brought to my attention that you were my underbidder. I have a unique proposition for you and would like to invite you to Winfield at your earliest convenience. I don’t want to sound overly dramatic, but this house needs you.
Yours sincerely
Edward Townsend
Abi sat staring at the message. The last person she’d ever expected to hear from was the new owner of Winfield Hall and he said he had a unique proposition for her. Why would he say something like that? Why not just say, can you help me with the decorating, as most people asked? It was perplexing. She thought about emailing him back to explain that she wasn’t really doing interior decorating anymore. In fact, she’d never really done it in the past either. It was just one of those common misconceptions people had about her. She could do it, though. She’d helped many of her friends out, producing mood boards and helping them choose fabrics and papers from her own designs. It was always fun and she couldn’t wait to see how she could help the new owner of Winfield. But there was a part of her that wondered if it would hurt too much to see the place knowing that it could never be hers.
Still, curiosity got the better of her and she emailed him back.
Dear Mr Townsend
Would tomorrow at eleven o’clock suit you?
Best wishes
Abigail Carey
Five minutes later, she got his reply saying, yes, that would indeed suit him.
Abigail set off for the drive down to Sussex on a particularly fine morning. It was good to get out of the city and she wound her window down as soon as she turned off the main road towards the village that she’d once thought would be her home. The February air was chilly but delicious and she inhaled deeply as much to calm her nerves as to shake the last vestiges of London from her lungs.
She turned into the steep lane that led away from the village, following it around several bends until it became a track. Driving over a cattle grid a moment later, the rumble of her car tyres seemed to mark the entrance into another world and Abi could feel her shoulders losing some of the tension from her long drive. She took a long, deep breath, the silver-blue freshness of the air so clear and sharp and heady. The landscape of the South Downs opened up to her right, its proud hills rising up sharply to the very heavens.
And then she gasped as she glanced left. There it was – golden and graceful in the late winter sunshine. Winfield Hall. How strange it was to see it again and to know that somebody was living there. Somebody that wasn’t her. It wasn’t in Abi’s nature to be bitter, but she couldn’t help feeling the same sadness she’d felt on leaving the auction room that day. She hadn’t got this place out of her system yet, had she? Perhaps she never would.
Slowing her car down as she entered the sweep