The Village of Lost and Found: The perfect uplifting, feel-good read from Alison Sherlock

By Alison Sherlock

From the bestselling author of The Village Shop For Lonely Hearts.

Scandal-hit party girl Lucy Conway needs to leave London fast, so she packs her bags and escapes to the sleepy village of Cranbridge to take care of her beloved Uncle Frank.

But the country village isn’t quite as idyllic as she remembers. To make matters worse, her Uncle’s pride and joy, The Cranbridge Times, is close to going out of business.

Editor-at-large Tom Addison is having a crisis of confidence and needs help if the newspaper is going to survive.

With time on her hands, can Lucy work some magic and together save the family newspaper?

Over a long, hot summer, friendships are made and hearts begin to heal. And, with the help of a stray dog, perhaps Lucy and Tom can find their very own new beginning...

Praise for Alison Sherlock:
'Glorious escapism. Uplifting, heartwarming and joyful, Alison Sherlock writes with a warmth and lightness of touch' -
Kerry Fisher
'A lovely story of finding yourself and discovering what home means. I couldn’t stop turning the pages. Loved it.' Jessica Redland

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boldwood Books
• Release date: Mar 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781838899899

Alison Sherlock

Alison Sherlock is the author of the bestselling Willow Tree Hall books. Alison enjoyed reading and writing stories from an early age and gave up office life to follow her dream. Her series for Boldwood is set in a fictional Cotswold village.

Book preview

1

‘What on earth were you thinking?’

Lucy Conway glanced around the hospital ward and was not surprised to see the other male patients staring across at them after the shouting they had just heard.

She looked back at Uncle Frank, who was sitting up in bed looking extremely agitated. ‘Could you please stop yelling and take it easy,’ she whispered to him. ‘Otherwise you’re going to have another episode or whatever it was.’

Frank Conway slumped back against the pillows, his face paling once more as his anger faded. ‘I’m fine,’ he told her with a wave of his hand. ‘And it wasn’t an episode. The tests will confirm that. I just tripped over my own feet and I’ll be back home tomorrow hopefully. So it’s nothing for you to worry about.’

‘Great,’ drawled Lucy, rolling her eyes. ‘Maybe we can go out for a ten-mile run later if you’re not too busy.’

He gave a grunt of humour in reply before following her gaze to where his heavily swollen foot was resting on top of the covers, covered in bruises. He had fallen badly earlier that day. ‘It’s only a small bone fracture,’ he said. But his sixty-seven-year-old face was etched with pain.

Lucy glanced at the drip which was attached to his arm and felt a pang of fear. She didn’t know what she’d do if she ever lost Uncle Frank. He was her rock and the only member of the family that seemed to genuinely care about her these days.

Lucy sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything,’ she said, feeling cross with herself that she had upset him when he was already in hospital.

Frank looked at her, his hazel eyes softening. ‘You’re my favourite niece. We talk nearly every day. You tell me everything, so why should today be any different?’

‘Because you’re in hospital today,’ she said, reaching out to take his hand and hold it tightly in hers. ‘By the way, I’m your only niece.’

He smiled at her. ‘You’re still my favourite though.’

They were both silent for a moment as Lucy relished the strength she drew from the hand squeezing hers. Her fingers touched the gold band on his third finger. Uncle Frank still wore his wedding ring, five years after losing his beloved wife. The loss of her Aunt Jane still weighed heavily on both of them. What they would have given to have her calming, comforting nature with them that afternoon. Lucy missed her more than ever in that moment.

‘Jamie Watkins,’ murmured Frank, with a small shake of his head.

‘Don’t upset yourself,’ said Lucy with a grimace. ‘He’s not worth it.’

‘He’s awful,’ said Frank, looking dismayed. ‘What were you even doing going out with someone like that?’

Lucy rolled her eyes. ‘Trying and failing to please my parents, as per usual.’ She had spent all of her thirty years attempting to achieve something that might be a kind of accomplishment in her parents’ eyes. Unfortunately being headline news in the tabloids wasn’t quite what they had in mind.

Uncle Frank squeezed her hand again. ‘I guess they were hoping that your days of being in the news were long over.’

‘So was I,’ said Lucy, grabbing the newspaper which had been lying on Uncle Frank’s lap.

Married Media Mogul Jamie and Wild Child Lucy! screamed the lurid headline. Jamie Watkins has been having a steamy affair with ultimate party girl Lucy Conway behind his wife’s back!

Lucy groaned. Ultimate party girl! Since when? It made her sound like a perfect airhead.

Of course, the wild child label was a little closer to the truth. But it had been ten years since she had last been on the London social scene and even then it had been a brief sojourn. She had left that life a long time ago. But now it had all come rushing back once more and she felt sick to her stomach.

The two photographs made her feel even worse. The first photo was of Jamie, his wife and two children posing in some sunny garden somewhere and looking like the perfect family. The other was of Lucy at some party from a decade ago that she didn’t even remember, holding a glass of champagne and grinning for the camera. She looked like some kind of dark-haired bimbo, especially as her top appeared to have been dragged lower and was showing quite a lot of cleavage.

The final insult was that every word of the story was wrong, but, of course, nobody would know that apart from her and Jamie.

She quickly thrust the newspaper out of sight, deciding to swear off men forever. She truly was better off alone.

‘He told me his marriage was over,’ she said, dragging a hand through her long dark hair. ‘And I stupidly believed him.’

She sighed heavily as she thought about Jamie. He owned one of the biggest daily newspapers in the country. Sitting next to him at one of her parents’ dull dinner parties, she had been unexpectedly won over by his smooth charm. They had been dating for three months, during which time he had completely forgotten to mention that he was actually still married and not separated from his wife at all.

Lucy hung her head in shame. She had always hated cheats and now she was one of them, according to the press.

She finally looked up into Uncle Frank’s sympathetic eyes. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you again,’ she told him.

‘You’ve never done that,’ he said softly. ‘Dare I ask how my dear sister-in-law is taking the news?’

‘I didn’t know mum’s voice could climb that high,’ said Lucy, blowing out a long sigh. ‘Her stress levels are at Def Con 4 right about now.’

It wasn’t an exaggeration. Her mother had ranted at her for over an hour that morning during breakfast when the story had broken. The words had been pretty awful to hear. Lucy had brought shame onto the family – again – but, worse still, also upon her parents’ finance consultancy firm. As Lucy had known from a very early age, the business was far more important than she had ever been.

Her mum’s tirade had continued until they were interrupted by a call from the hospital. Lucy was listed as Uncle Frank’s emergency contact so she had dashed to the hospital fifty miles out of London to be with him. Good thing too, as her mum had no time for her brother’s laid-back attitude to life. They had never been close. Sometimes Lucy was secretly grateful that she wasn’t the only disappointment in the family.

Her distress at Uncle Frank being in hospital had dissipated slightly once they had learned from the doctors that it was just a small bone fracture in his foot. He insisted that it had been an accident but they were running a few further checks to ensure that it wasn’t anything more serious. Lucy was keeping everything crossed, just in case.

‘I’m sure she’ll calm down,’ said Uncle Frank. ‘My sister-in-law always does eventually.’

Lucy wasn’t so sure. There was nothing worse than bringing shame upon the family business as far as her mother was concerned. As always, the lucrative business that her parents had spent a lifetime building up was more important than their daughter’s well-being. They had moved from place to place throughout her childhood and each new address had become a little more fancy, each house just a little bit larger. Until they had reached the pinnacle of their ascent and were now in the heart of London living in one of the best houses on one of the most desirable streets.

Image and success was everything to her parents. Having their daughter’s photograph splashed across the tabloids didn’t exactly fit with that ideal.

Frank glanced down at the paper on his lap again. ‘I’m sure it was an honest mistake.’

‘The trouble is I keep making them,’ said Lucy, with a sigh.

She looked up to find Uncle Frank still watching her with worry etched across his face. She immediately blinked away the tears that had suddenly appeared in her eyes and straightened up.

‘Anyway, Jamie Watkins is a rotten cheat. I hope his wife takes him to the cleaners,’ she said, trying to sound stronger than she felt. ‘All that matters is getting you better.’

‘The doctors are the best people for that,’ said Frank in a soft tone. ‘But your mum rang me earlier to check up on me and also to have a little chat. She thinks it might be best for you to leave London for a while.’

Lucy sagged briefly. All her life she had felt like a burden to her parents. She had never achieved good grades at the snooty boarding school they had sent her to. She hadn’t been bright enough to make it to university. She had no job experience other than various roles in her parents’ company and even they had been menial tasks. She had no skills to speak of. And now it felt as if they didn’t even want her living anywhere near to them. Lucy felt that nothing was ever going to make them feel proud of their daughter.

‘As it happens, there might be a temporary job for you at a brilliant local newspaper in my lovely home village of Cranbridge,’ said Uncle Frank. ‘And it’s got a very understanding chairman.’

She laughed for the first time that day. ‘Who just happens to be my uncle!’

Frank broke into a grin. ‘As it happens, yes, I do own The Cranbridge Times. Grab that other newspaper, would you?’ he added, gesturing at the top of the bedside cabinet. ‘It’s the latest edition.’

Lucy leaned over to pick up the folded newspaper, quickly skimming the front page of The Cranbridge Times to check if her name was on there, but thankfully the headlines appeared to consist of some roadworks and a charity event. The lead photograph was of a man holding some kind of giant vegetable.

She passed it on to her uncle, who was waggling his grey eyebrows at her in a knowing fashion as he took the newspaper from her.

‘You can’t deny that’s one hell of a turnip,’ he said, smiling, as he turned over the front page and handed it back to her. ‘Read the editorial,’ he added.

Lucy took the paper and read all three paragraphs on the inside page quickly. To her amazement, the writing was passionate, confident and informed.

‘Pretty good, huh?’ she heard her uncle say.

She nodded, still staring down at the printed words. ‘Very good, actually. Who’s the editor?’

‘Tom Addison. He’s one of the best I’ve ever come across.’

Yet another high-flying achiever who would no doubt chink her already heavily dented armour, she thought.

‘I’m not the right person for your newspaper,’ she said. ‘You know I don’t have any experience in journalism or anything like that. Why don’t I just stay with you for a week or so until you’re literally back on your feet.’

‘As it happens, the newspaper is short-staffed at the moment. So why don’t you go along and meet the editor tomorrow, OK? For me?’ Frank held up his arm where the cannula was attached. ‘I’m on a drip here, by the way.’

‘That’s emotional blackmail,’ she told him. But she leant forward and kissed his soft cheek. ‘OK. Don’t get your blood pressure up. Or your hopes either. But yes, I’ll meet with Tom Addison before I come and visit you tomorrow afternoon.’

She owed Uncle Frank that much and more besides. But however much Lucy felt that she had reached rock bottom, she was certain that her time in Cranbridge would be short once Uncle Frank had recovered. After all, what did she have to offer a quiet village in the middle of the countryside that no one else did?

2

Tom Addison finished his call and allowed himself a relieved smile before pushing open the front door and heading into the cosy interior of The Black Swan pub in Cranbridge.

‘Good evening, all,’ he announced as he walked across towards the bar.

Thanks to the light summer drizzle outside, the usual half-dozen or so customers were inside rather than in the far prettier pub garden.

They all looked up at him expectantly with worried faces.

‘The good news is that Frank is going to be all right,’ he told them. ‘I’ve just heard from him. Apart from a small break in his foot, it was nothing too serious, thankfully. So he’ll be back home within a day or so.’

Everyone gave a sigh of happy relief.

‘That’s great news,’ said Josh, Tom’s best friend, who was seated on a stool by the bar. ‘The place isn’t the same without him.’

‘I agree,’ said Josh’s girlfriend, Amber, who was sitting with her friends nearby around a small table. ‘But it’ll be strange not seeing him chatting with Stanley on the veranda as usual tomorrow morning.’

Josh and Amber ran The Cranbridge Stores, the corner shop on Riverside Lane. Usually, Frank could be found having a takeaway coffee and chatting to his old friend Stanley on one of the benches outside.

‘Thank goodness he’s OK,’ said Molly, who was sitting next to Amber and looking tearily relieved. ‘I’ve been so worried. It’s so awful to think of him in hospital.’ Molly was the receptionist and office assistant for the newspaper. She was terribly sweet, only in her early twenties and revelling in the fact that this was her first ever full-time job.

Tom was hoping she might still have a job by the end of the summer, but he wasn’t holding his breath, given the rocky state of the newspaper.

For almost 100 years, there had been a weekly printed edition of The Cranbridge Times. In recent years, though, the newspaper had been struggling trying to keep its head above water in an extremely challenging market. There was still a weekly print run to be sold and distributed, but the reality was that hardly anyone was buying the newspaper these days. The online edition wasn’t doing any better unfortunately. The truth was that readers were turning away from local newspapers and that trend wasn’t likely to change.

Belle, who was sitting on the opposite side, rolled her eyes at Molly’s tears before giving her friend a quick squeeze around the shoulders. ‘Remember that it’s good news, so let’s hold back the waterworks for once,’ she told her. ‘Frank’s going to be fine. I’ll get us all a drink.’

‘Next round’s on me!’ announced Tom, in a cheery fashion. ‘To celebrate and raise a glass to Frank.’

Belle was the barmaid and stood up to head behind the bar. ‘Does that include staff?’ she asked, with a smile.

‘Of course,’ said Tom, beaming at her.

‘Thank goodness you don’t drink anywhere else then,’ said Belle, with a wink.

‘First of all, it’s the only pub in this village,’ said Tom. ‘Second, I’d be hard-pushed to find all this glamour anywhere else.’ He waved a hand around the shabby room in the equally shabby pub, but he felt at home there. The Black Swan had pretty fireplaces and oak beams but, best of all, it was full of people that liked him, and that included Belle, whose bark was far worse than her bite. She was an attractive brunette but kept everyone at arm’s-length. ‘Please whisper those three little words that would make my day,’ asked Tom.

‘Here’s your pint,’ said Belle, handing him the full glass.

‘That’s the winning answer,’ he told her.

Belle gave him a small smile at his lame joke. He knew he acted the clown and hated himself for it. But he couldn’t stop. He would do anything to prevent anyone thinking that he was miserable to be around. After all, it had been his quips and joking that had helped bring his mum out of the gloom that had surrounded her when his dad had walked out early on in Tom’s life. Together, Tom and his mum had made a strong team and he had always been the one to put a smile on her face.

But now it was Tom who was struggling to find some cheer after losing his mum six months previously. His heart was broken for the second time in two years and he wasn’t sure that it would ever be whole again. But he didn’t want to show it. He didn’t want anyone’s worry, or worse, their pity.

‘Do you know, I’m starving. Shall I push the boat out and try one of those steak pies?’ said Tom.

Belle gave him a stern look. ‘Are you sure? That would mean slaving over a hot microwave again.’

‘Why not?’ he said, with a smile. ‘It can’t taste any worse than the chicken one.’

‘That’s what you think,’ replied Belle.

She was probably right, but Tom couldn’t be bothered to cook dinner for just himself these days. Unfortunately, that meant that the only other cooked food available in the village was in the pub. Whilst he loved everything about the pub, its food was the one thing that he didn’t.

Belle’s Aunt Angie was the co-owner of The Black Swan and insisted on doing all the cooking, although the term cooking was perhaps a bit of a stretch. Sadly, her culinary skills were so awful that most meals were delivered with the whine of the smoke alarm in the background.

But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and after the drama of today he was just happy to be in the pub and not having to think about making his own meal.

There were a pile of newspapers on the bar and Tom picked up the latest copy of The Daily Mail to stare at the two photographs on the front page. One was of that media tycoon, Jamie Watkins, who’d been caught cheating on his wife with some Z-list celebrity. No surprise there, thought Tom. The man was a renowned cheat to his long-suffering wife and the other woman appeared to be desperate for publicity as befitted her former wild child status. The other photograph showed his own ex-wife, Andrea, standing next to the head of the TV station who was rumoured to be her lover.

His hand automatically strayed to touch the bare third finger of his left hand. He snatched it away, annoyed with himself that it still felt weird without his wedding ring on there.

Tom shook his head. His ex-wife had been out of his life for almost two years, but he still felt heartbroken and betrayed by her.

Andrea had always been ambitious. He knew that when they had met at a party thrown by the large corporation that owned both the newspaper that he had been editing at the time and the TV station where she was a newsreader. She had told him that with the right partner, he could rise quickly up the career ladder. But, unlike her, he had no great ambition and just wanted to do the job that he loved. It had caused quite a few arguments but not enough to call off their wedding. The ink on the marriage certificate was barely dry before he had discovered that she had been cheating on him.

She was cruel too. She would still text him asking if he missed her. Of course he did. But he just about managed not to reply each time. Just.

Anyway, that part of his life was over. They were divorced, he was on his own and that was how it would remain. Forever, as far as he was concerned.

On the stool next to him, Josh cleared his throat and Tom looked up to find his friend watching him with a small smile of understanding mixed with pity.

Tom quickly dropped the paper back down onto the bar and pointed at the photo of Jamie Watkins. ‘Did you know that he’s so dense that the twinkle in his eyes is actually the sun shining between his ears?’

Josh nodded. ‘He’s always struck me as being a spectacularly stupid man.’

Tom liked Josh. They had become firm friends since the newspaper had moved offices next door to Cranbridge Stores the previous autumn.

‘I thought your column was inspiring this week, by the way,’ Josh told him.

‘Thanks,’ said Tom, before swiftly draining almost a quarter of his pint in one gulp to dull the pain of lying to his friend.

The truth was that most days he sat at his desk waiting to find some words, any words, that he could use for that week’s editorial. But nothing had come to him for the past three months. So he was reusing old pieces and just hoped that nobody else had read them before. Writer’s block was a nightmare that he just couldn’t shake off. He couldn’t even enjoy his work any more.

The only thing in a worse state than him at that moment was the newspaper. If sales figures and advertising revenue didn’t pick up and quickly, both he and Molly would be out of a job. And without the newspaper, he wasn’t quite sure what he would do with his life.

Tom knew he was doing a bad job. He was pretty certain that Frank knew it as well, despite Tom’s best efforts to shield his boss from the truth about the state of the business. But Frank trusted him and loyalty was everything to Tom.

After all, Frank had been one of the first ones to reach out and offer the job to Tom when the pressures of the divorce, losing his marital home and his mum falling ill had become almost unbearable two years ago.

They had slowly got to know each other through Frank’s friendship with his mum. She had lived in Cranbridge for the past ten years and had been very happy in the village.

Despite his broken heart, Tom loved Cranbridge as well. The village and the people who lived there were the sparks of joy in his life. He had enjoyed getting to know the group of villagers who had become his close friends. He liked the fresh air and changing seasons that the countryside provided.

He rubbed his aching forehead. What he needed was a good night’s sleep. But that had eluded him ever since his mum had passed away and he was working increasingly long hours. Now, just to add to his small mountain of problems, he had to interview Frank’s niece at some point. Frank had been pretty sketchy on her work history. But Tom had no idea what kind of work he could offer her and how he would be able to pay her any kind of wage. But when Frank had called him from his hospital bed explaining the situation, he could hardly admit the truth as to how dire things really were.

He briefly sagged on his stool, the weight of responsibility threatening to overwhelm him. But he had to keep it to himself. It was too much of a burden for anyone else to bear.

So he drew himself up straight and, fixing a wide smile on his face, said, ‘Right! Who’s up for a game of darts?’

Tomorrow he’d turn over a new leaf, he promised himself. Just as soon as he could find one.

3

As Lucy drove across the countryside in her Ford Fiesta, she found herself singing along to the radio.

She knew she should be feeling more miserable than she did at that moment. After all, she had no career to speak of. Her ex-lover had turned out to be married. Plus her parents were still upset about her so-called ‘affair’ ending up on the front pages of the newspapers and the paparazzi were still camped out on the street outside their home.

And yet, despite all of that, Lucy felt happier than she had done all week. Spending a night away from her home to stay in a hotel near to the hospital meant that she hadn’t had to endure her parents’ disapproving silence over an awkward dinner and could relax. Uncle Frank had been told that he was likely to be discharged from hospital in the next few days. She felt relieved that it had not been anything more serious although he would be heading home with a large boot to protect the small fracture in his foot and would need some help getting around. Lucy was thankful that she had the time to step in and assist him in his recovery.

As she drove further into the countryside, her mood lightened even more. It was the middle of June and the air coming through the gap in the car window that she had opened was both fresh and warm. When the song on the radio finished, the sound of birdsong filled the air instead.

This particular journey always brought a smile to her face. Each school holiday, her parents had carried on working and hadn’t wanted her under their feet so she had been packed off to stay with her aunt and uncle in Cranbridge. The summers had been particularly special. She remembered paddling in the shallow river that ran through the middle of the village. Ice cream melting down onto her sticky fingers. The smell of home cooking and freshly made cakes just out of the oven. Hugs from her Aunt Jane. Laughter with her uncle.

Best of all, away from the constant criticisms from her parents over her failed academic record, it was a place to relax and enjoy herself. She had always tried to remain cheerful despite everything. She was thankful for her parents’ wealth and the security it had afforded her growing up, but it seemed to overshadow everything including any kind of affection. But her aunt and uncle had made up for it tenfold over the years.