Coming Home To Seashell Cottage

Jessica Redland

Description

*Winner of Chill With a Book Book of the Year 2019 Award as Dreaming About Daran*

For Clare O’Connell, home is where the heart aches…

Since the age of sixteen, Clare O'Connell has lived her life by four strict rules:

1. Don't talk about Ireland

2. Don't think about Ireland

3. Don't go to Ireland

4. Don't let anyone in

And so far, it's worked well. She's got a great career, amazing friends, and she's really happy. The future is all that counts, isn't it?

However Clare is about to realise that you can run from the past, but you can't always hide from it…

When her boss insists she travels to Ireland for work, Clare finds herself drawn back to the village of Ballykielty – the home of her family, and the home of her secrets. The one place where vowed never to return to again…

With the door to her past now wide open, the first three rules have gone out of the window. Will Clare stick to rule number four?

Can she be brave and face up to her family and the demons of her past?

An emotional novel of family, friendship and dealing with your past from top 10 bestseller Jessica Redland.

This book was previously published as Dreaming About Daran.

What readers are saying about Coming Home to Seashell Cottage:

'I tweeted while reading it because I was having so much fun… I’m a certified fangirl!' Nayu’s Reading Corner

'I am really eager to see what Jessica Redland will write next, as if it’s even half as good as [this book] then I’m sure it will be fantastic' Rachel’s Random Reads

'Emotional, engaging and a lovely end to the Whitsborough Bay series! Five stars from me!' Rae Reads

'I cannot recommend this series highly enough. It’s entertaining, thought-provoking and fun' Amazon Reviewer

'Jessica Redland has quickly become a favourite author of mine' NetGalley Reviewer

'This was an absolutely brilliant book to the point where I was so sad it had a final page' NetGalley Reviewer

'A brilliant book from a brilliant author, she is soon becoming the Queen of my emotions' NetGalley Reviewer

Sujets

• Vie de famille
• Relations familiales
• Soutien psychologique et conseils familiaux
• Sea Stories
• Mashups
• Siblings
• Women
• Coming of Age
• Friendship
• Contemporary history
• Workplace
• SpongeBob SquarePants
• Sibling
• Ireland
• Woman
• The Women
• City Life
• Stephen Ireland
• Holiday
• Contemporary
• Family Life
• Romance
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 12 mars 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781838891237
• Langue: English

Extrait

COMING HOME TO SEASHELL COTTAGE
WELCOME TO WHITSBOROUGH BAY BOOK 4


JESSICA REDLAND
Some friends come and go. Others stick around. To Susan who’s been in it for the long-haul xx
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

Epilogue


More From Jessica Redland

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by Jessica Redland

Love Notes

About Boldwood Books
1



Late September
‘What the hell is that in the fruit bowl?’ I cautiously leaned forward on Ben’s sofa to get a closer look, hoping it wasn’t an enormous spider about to scuttle over me.
‘Apples, pears, kiwis and bananas,’ Ben said. ‘Don’t tell me that you’ve reached the grand old age of thirty-three and you still can’t identify your basic fruits.’
I raised my eyebrows at him. ‘Ha ha! You’re hilarious. You should be on stage, so you should.’ I reached my hand out towards the object.
‘Argh!’ yelled Ben as I was about to touch it.
I snatched back my hand, screaming.
‘Sorry. Couldn’t resist.’ He rolled around on the sofa, laughing hysterically.
‘You eejit!’ I whacked him with a cushion. ‘You scared the life out of me! Is this what it’s going to be like living with you? Because if it is, I can check into a hotel for the next few months instead. Are you ready to say goodbye to that new kitchen?’
I worked for a company called Prime PR, managing public relations campaigns for large corporates. Having recently been promoted, I needed to relocate from London to Leeds. Ben – or Saint Ben, as I called him – was the brother of my best friend, Sarah, and he lived in Leeds so I’d adopted him as my meal buddy for the past few years every time I visited on business. Meeting up with a friend for some good craic was far more appealing than dining in a hotel restaurant surrounded by suits staring into space, eating meals for one. On my last trip, I’d moaned about the prospect of living in a hotel for a month or two while I found somewhere to rent and, being the saint he was, Ben immediately offered me his spare room. Grand idea. It meant I could pay Ben rent using my allowance for not staying in a hotel, giving him the funds to refit his prehistoric kitchen. Win-win. Of course, he refused to accept payment, but I wore him down eventually.
Ben put his hands up in surrender as I lifted the cushion to whack him again. ‘Sorry. But you’d have done the same if it had been the other way round. You know you would.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Definitely.’
I smiled. He was right. ‘So, what is it, then?’
Ben reached into the fruit bowl, then held out the black object in the palm of his hand.
‘It’s a chess piece,’ I said, looking at the black king. ‘Why’s there a chess piece in your fruit bowl?’
He shrugged. ‘I came home from work last Tuesday and, quite randomly, it was on the front doorstep.’
‘With a note?’
‘No note. Just the king on his own.’
‘And it’s yours?’
‘Nope. I don’t play chess.’
‘Oh. Very random. But do you know what’s even more random? Why the hell it’s in your fruit bowl instead of the bin.’
‘It seemed like a good place for it.’
‘But you don’t know where it’s been. It could have been peed on by a dog. Or worse.’
Ben looked at the king thoughtfully. ‘Good point. Just as well it was between the bananas and kiwis, then, wasn’t it? They’ve got skins.’ He leaned forward and put it back.
‘Ben! Put it in the bin.’
‘No.’
‘ Ben! ’
I reached forward but he grabbed me and started tickling me, which he knew was a pet peeve of mine. I squealed, leapt to my feet and darted past him into his kitchen. Thankfully, I was saved from another attack by the arrival of our Indian takeaway.
‘Get your hands washed before you touch that food,’ I ordered Ben.
He winked at me. ‘I love it when you’re bossy.’
I dug out some plates and we busied ourselves dishing up the food.
‘Shall we watch a film while we eat?’ Ben asked. ‘ The Count of Monte Cristo ’s on TV and I’ve never seen it. My mate Pete said it’s really good.’
‘Is that the one with Jim Caviezel in it?’
‘I think so. And Guy Pearce.’
‘Ooh, two hotties. Grand. Count me in.’



* * *
‘Your friend Pete was right,’ I said, when the closing credits started rolling. ‘Cracking film. What did you think?’
‘I agree. The king thing was a spooky coincidence, don’t you think?’
In the film, best friends Edmond and Fernand exchange a chess king when one of them overcomes a challenge, to symbolise who is ‘king of the moment’.
I nodded towards the king nestled in his fruit bowl. ‘Did you plant it there knowing it was in the film?’
Ben shook his head. ‘Honestly, I’ve never seen the film or read the book so I didn’t know about the chess piece. I genuinely found that bad boy sitting on my doorstep, just like I told you.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Have you ever known me to lie?’
He made a good point. He was one of the most honest people I knew, although, unlike me, he was tactful with his honesty. Generous to a fault, ridiculously considerate of others and gifted in spades with patience, Ben definitely deserved his nickname of ‘Saint Ben’. By contrast, I could be pretty blunt and to the point, not particularly patient and quite selfish. I was lucky he only called me ‘Irish’ because I probably deserved something a little less affectionate.
‘Tell you what we can do.’ He grinned at me, wrinkled his nose in a clear act of mischief, then lifted the king out of the fruit bowl. Picking up a chilli pepper discarded from his curry in his other hand he said, ‘If you eat the whole chilli, you win the king.’
I was about to refuse his stupid challenge, but then he added, ‘I bet you can’t do it.’
Defiantly, I picked up the chilli and shoved it in my mouth. Tears streamed down my face, my nose ran like a tap and my head felt as if it were about to explode. But that king was going to be mine. Nobody told me what I could and couldn’t do and I would come out on top whenever challenged. Always.
‘Oh my God! I can’t believe you just did that.’ Ben handed me a box of tissues. ‘Serious respect to you, Irish.’
I gasped for breath and rasped, ‘Wait till I tell your sister what a mean boy you are.’
He laughed. ‘You’re king of the moment, Irish. He’s all yours.’
And so it began.
2



Three Months Later
‘I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.’
Sarah radiated happiness as Nick gently kissed her before they turned to face the congregation. I put my fingers in my mouth and released a piercing whistle that echoed around the church. The vicar’s eyes widened and he looked as if he were about to protest at my crassness in a place of worship. Bollocks to that. I whistled again, then started a round of applause, which everyone joined in with. I gave the vicar a hard stare, challenging him to stop me, but he surprised me by smiling and joining in instead.
Sarah and Nick signed the register and posed for some photos.
‘Nice whistling,’ Ben whispered to me, as we shuffled out of the pew. He was an usher and I was a bridesmaid alongside Sarah’s bestie since primary school, Elise, and Nick’s sister, Callie. ‘I thought the vicar was going to tell you off, though.’
‘So did I. But he didn’t scare me.’
‘I don’t imagine anyone or anything scares you, Irish.’
I laughed, but my stomach did a somersault. There were two people who still scared me. I wasn’t going to let them ruin my day, though. Time for a change of subject.
‘I’m liking the morning suit on you,’ I said, taking in the navy three-piece Ben was wearing. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit.’
‘That’s probably because I don’t own one.’
‘It’s just as well Lemony isn’t here. She’d probably get ideas of dragging you up the aisle herself after seeing you dressed like this.’
He raised his eyebrows at me. ‘It’s Lebony, and you know it.’
‘Either way, it’s not a real name. So, what’s Lebony’s excuse for missing your sister’s wedding?’
Ben didn’t get to answer the question, as the photographer shuffled us towards opposite sides of the line-up. After several photos at the church, we moved onto the reception at Sherrington Hall . An ivy-covered Georgian manor house perched on a clifftop about twelve miles south of Sarah’s North Yorkshire coastal hometown of Whitsborough Bay, it was pretty impressive as a venue. It was four days before Christmas and Sarah, a florist, had certainly pulled out all the stops to decorate it beautifully and achieve a balance between Christmas and nuptials. Swathes of ivy, bunches of mistletoe, and church candles everywhere was pretty special. Champagne-coloured roses and teal flowers – no idea what type; not my specialist subject – matched the colours of our dresses and the men’s waistcoats.
As Sarah and Nick cut the cake and giggled together after the meal, I smiled and had what Sarah would describe as a ‘warm and fuzzy moment’. They were a good match. I liked Nick a lot. Despite my cynicism about relationships and marriage, it warmed my heart to see my best friend and her new husband looking so happy together.
Elise leaned towards me. ‘Are those tears in your eyes, Clare?’ she teased.
I cleared my throat. ‘Tears? You talk bollocks. As if I’d cry at a wedding. Unless it was in sympathy for the poor buggers for ruining their lives and blowing their savings on what’s