Finding Home (42 page)

Mr Kendall shakes his head. ‘I believe he was detained. That's all I know. But anyway, you've still got to attend to the business at hand.' He points to something on the programme of events. ‘It's 2 p.m. According to this, it's time for you to give your speech.'

He takes me by the arm and steers me up towards the podium. He's right – it's my job to get up on stage and thank everyone for coming, but I just can't do it – not right this second. I—

It's too late. The band stops playing and the dance floor begins to clear. I'm standing there at the edge of a vast space with Mr Kendall at my arm.

‘No,' I whisper, ‘I need a minute.'

Mr Kendall squeezes my arm. ‘Come on Amy, this is your moment.'

I know he's right. I step forward and tap the microphone.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,' I say. Everyone looks up at me and my nerves vanish. I feel a warm flush of pride, knowing that I belong up here.
I can do this
.

‘I'd like to welcome you all to the grand opening of Rosemont Hall and thank you so much for coming today.' I scan the faces of friends and strangers alike, and can't keep from smiling. ‘For those of you who don't know the whole story, let me just say that a little over a year ago, Rosemont Hall was a house in peril – no offense to any golfers in the room.'

I enjoy the laughter that filters through the crowd.

‘But after a lot of hard work, put in by a number of dedicated people, I honestly think that we've achieved the best possible result for this national treasure.'

My estate agent friends give a little cheer. And then suddenly, my mind goes blank. Jack should be here. The next part of my prepared speech is about him.

‘And, umm… anyway, if I tried to thank everyone that made today possible, we wouldn't have time for any more drinking or dancing,' I say. ‘But rest assured, each and every one of you are playing your part in the ongoing story of Rosemont Hall. Especially…' my voice falters. I sense Mr Kendall take a step closer to my side for moral support—

And at that moment, the door flaps at the back of the marquee part and Jack steps through. His smile is devastating as Mr Kendall gestures him to the front.

And then he's there – at my side. My knees go weak with joy.

‘I don't want to steal your thunder,' he whispers in my ear. ‘But I'd like to say a few words. Is that okay?'

I nod, my hand trembling as I pass him the microphone.

He gives it a tap and then begins to speak. ‘For those of you who don't know me, I'm Jack Faraday. While some people may say I've got no right to be here…' he winks at his grandmother, Mrs Bradford, who downs a shot of whisky and clacks her dentures in response, ‘…sometimes, things turn out a little differently than one might expect.'

There's a smattering of laughter and murmuring in the crowd.

‘A year ago, I would have done just about anything to get shot of this place. To me it was a decaying white elephant on the wrong side of the Atlantic from everything I knew. Whether it became a golf course or just crumbled to dust was all the same to me. But then, like Saul on the road to Damascus, someone opened my eyes. Someone with a passion for history and heritage, who was willing to fight for the things that matter. Someone who cares not just about houses, but about people too. Someone who is the heart and vision behind the new Rosemont Hall. Ladies and gentlemen, please raise your glasses to Amy Wood.'

‘Hear hear!' There's a general hum in the crowd and the clinking of glasses. Jack takes my hand and smiles at me. I feel warm all over – a cosy sort of warmth like my heart has curled up in front of a fireplace. But just then, Jack lets go of my hand and taps the microphone again. The crowd goes quiet.

‘But there's one additional piece of business that I'd like to settle while Amy's up here in front of you all,' he says.

I look at him quizzically. We've both said our pieces, and I'm anxious to leave the stage.

‘When I first met Amy, she thought I was going to tear Rosemont Hall apart brick by brick – and she hated me for it.' He winks at me and my insides liquefy.

‘In fact, ever since then, I've given her a lot of reasons to be annoyed with me, infuriated, and generally pissed off,' he grins, ‘– not least of which because I was very late today.'

The crowd chuckles when I nod my head.

‘But just like Amy's been preparing for this day, I'd like to assure her that I was delayed due to some preparations of my own.'

Someone (Dad!) whistles.

‘Because apparently, some jewellers in London don't open until eleven o'clock.'

Everyone including me gasps as he takes out a small velvet box. ‘So, in spite of all the water under the bridge, Amy, I hope that you can still find it in your heart to love me, even half as much as I love you.'

He opens the box – there's a ring of pink and blue sapphires surrounded by diamonds and seed pearls in a Victorian setting. My hands tremble as he slips it on my finger. ‘It's not a family heirloom,' he says. ‘But I hope that someday it will be. Amy Wood – will you marry me?'

And there, right there in front of my guests, the staff, my parents, my former co-workers, Mrs Bradford, the TV cameras, God and everyone, I grab him by the collar and kiss him silly.

He's laughing as we finally come up for air. ‘So what do you say?' he points the microphone in my direction. ‘Has Rosemont Hall got its love story? And have
you
got your happy ending?'

‘Yes!' My heart is bursting with joy. ‘Oh yes.'

And the crowd cheers as Jack leads me off stage and out the back of the marquee. The band starts up again and I can't feel the ground beneath my feet as we walk across the lawn to the front of the house. And I still can't speak as he waves goodbye to the visitors behind us, and takes me by the hand into the house. He leads me through a door marked ‘Private' and up the back stairs; laughing and stealing kisses. And in that moment, overwhelmed by love and desire; I know that I've been given such an incredible gift.

I'll be coming here again. I'll be coming…
home
.

T
HE
E
ND

 

 

 

~

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Rosemont Hall is a fictional house, but there are thousands of historic houses that have been lost or are in peril in the UK. For more information about country houses at risk and an archive of these lost treasures, please see Matthew Beckett's excellent blog and website:
thecountryseat.org.uk
. Other invaluable resources include the National Trust, the Landmark Trust, and English Heritage, whose many employees and volunteers work tirelessly to preserve our heritage and make it part of our future.

This book was inspired by my family's three-year long quest to find our perfect home, which took in a 100-mile radius of London and made us the bane of numerous estate agents – I very much applaud the spirit and positivity of estate agents everywhere who, day in and day out, deal with people like us, and the ups and downs of matching people and property. Any mistakes I've made in describing such a difficult job are purely my own.

There are many people who have helped and supported me to ensure that
Finding Home
‘found a home'. I loved writing this book – which is a good thing, since it took me over six years. In 2012, the opening chapters were short-listed in the ‘Undiscovered' Competition at Novelicious.com, and it was this tiny kernel of success that helped keep me going through the long, dark night of a writer trying to get published.

I hope you'll forgive me a little ‘Oscar' moment as I have many people to thank. First, my writing group: Ronan Winters, Chris King, David Speakman, Francisco Gochez and my dear friend Lucy Beresford. We've been going for ten years now (in various incarnations), and we've laughed, argued, cried, and drank a lot of red wine. Second, I'd like to thank my agent, Anna Power, for sticking with me through ups and downs, and introducing me to the amazing Caroline Ridding and her team at Aria (Head of Zeus) who had a vision for the novel, and the courage to back an unknown horse.

Next, it goes without saying – which is why it's so important to say it! – thank you to my family – the unsung heroes. Living with a writer means tolerating an entire cast of ‘imaginary friends' that you haven't met and can't interact with. I know I'd struggle to do it! Your love and support mean everything.

Finally, I am grateful to current and future readers of
Finding Home.
There is nothing more satisfying to an author than introducing our beloved characters to their audience. It's you that truly brings them to life.

Lauren Westwood

Surrey 2016

L
AUREN
W
ESTWOOD
is also a prize winning debut YA novelist and a solicitor for a renewable energy company. Originally from California, she now lives in a pernickety 400 year-old house in Surrey, with her partner Ian and their three young daughters.

Aria is the new digital-first fiction imprint from Head of Zeus.

It's Aria's ambition to discover and publish tomorrow's superstars, targeting fiction addicts and readers keen to discover new and exciting authors.

Aria will publish a variety of genres under the commercial fiction umbrella such as women's fiction, crime, thrillers, historical fiction, saga and erotica.