working so hard at something she was passionate about.
Melissa pumped her legs to make the wheels turn faster, desperate to get home to her family and that cider. As she enjoyed the breeze on her bare shoulders, a real sense of contentment fell over her. Finally she could say that yes, she was at peace here in the forest, the warmth of her family and friends pressing in close to her like the branches of an old oak tree.
She looked over her shoulder briefly, thinking of the ancient oak that sat in the heart of the forest.
The bad times were behind her.
Her street began to come into view then as the forest thinned out. New Pine Road was the closest street to the forest, forming one half of a circle around the woods, the village’s original street, Old Pine Road, forming the other half. There was a mixture of four- and five-bed houses on the road, each of them dominated by the same large triangle of a window that looked out over the pine trees from the back. Though Melissa and Patrick were in one of the smaller four-bed houses, they had been lucky enough to get a plot at the end of the road, meaning they were at the curve of the woods, giving them forest views from both the back and the side of their house. Nothing beat curling up with Patrick on winter nights, the log fire burning as they looked out at the dark pine columns with a glass of Baileys in their hands. Or summer evenings gathered around their fire pit with the kids as they talked and laughed into the night, the trees swaying in the moonlight before them.
That view was a daily reminder of how very far they had come. How far Melissa had come. Yes, their mortgage was astronomical, but all that scrimping and saving, all that hard work, meant she was able to continue living in the town that had been her sanctuary from childhood . . . and now it would be a sanctuary for their three children too.
She pedalled out from among the trees, enjoying the familiar judder of her bike tyres over the gravelled street, a feeling that meant she was nearly home. She passed one of the largest houses, catching sight of its owner, Andrea Cooper, attending to her immaculate lawn. Andrea was the founder of the ‘Friends of Forest Grove High’ and admin for the town’s Facebook group. Melissa’s friend Daphne called her ‘Scandrea’, referring to the fact that she loved a good scandal.
At that moment, Andrea was kneeling down on a floral knee rest, snipping away at her rose bush with the precision of a heart surgeon. She was wearing the Forest Grove ‘uniform’ of Hunter wellies and Joules raincoat, her platinum hair in a perfect bob. Melissa still remembered her tottering around on stilettos with permed hair and her cleavage spilling out when they were teenagers. It was only when she met her husband, local police officer Adrian, that she replaced the stilettos with those Hunter wellies.
As Melissa cycled past, Andrea looked up, regarding her with cold eyes. Melissa shot her a smile just to annoy her, then pedalled faster until she got to the end of the street. Melissa jumped off her bike and wheeled it to the front door, surprised not to hear the usual clamour of music, laughter and clattering pots and pans from behind the door. Maybe they were all in the garden?
She pulled her helmet off, her shoulder-length blonde hair sweaty and standing on end, then went to open the front door.
‘Hello, you,’ a voice called out.
Melissa turned to see her friend Daphne jogging by with her two Jack Russells, Fleetwood and Mac, in pursuit. She was in her usual running gear, her short red hair scraped back beneath a sapphire-blue headband.
‘I can’t believe you’re going for a run,’ Melissa said. ‘It’s so hot.’
‘You know I’m addicted, sweetie.’ Daphne came to a stop in front of Melissa, catching her breath. ‘Speaking of which, how’s the latest batch of cider?’
‘Divine. In fact, I was thinking about popping the barbecue on and having a few glasses. Do you and Maddy fancy joining us all?’ she asked.
‘Oh, I’d love to, but I have a ton of clothes to go through.’ Daphne ran a boutique in the village’s small shopping courtyard on the outskirts of the forest, called Déjà Vu. It was essentially a charity shop, but Daphne had cleverly taken advantage of