In December and Always

By AH Bracken

Ellen Shrimpton is going home to clear her mum's cottage ready to sell, and it's great to be back in the tiny village she grew up in...that is until she finds herself face to face with Will Saunders, her first love and the man who broke her heart at Christmas, 15 years ago.

Returning to the quaint village of Little Claydon, and tasked with packing up her parents thatched cottage, Ellen is determined to get everything done and get herself safely home to London by Christmas Eve. But the villagers seem to have other ideas and she is quickly involved in activities that distract her from her purpose and throw her directly into the path of Will.

He's looking good - too good - and it soon becomes clear the easy familiarity and chemistry they once enjoyed is still there and still strong. Will is keen for them to become friends - and perhaps more - but Ellen is still angry and hurt, painful and confusing memories of their last Christmas together still burned into her memory. And that's before she meets the woman and two children living with Will!

Thrown together at the most romantic time of the year, can things ever go back to the way they were?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AH Bracken
• Release date: Nov 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201228941

Book preview

16TH DECEMBER

DO YOU THINK you’re going to need to take all that stuff, Elle?  You’re only going for a week! exclaimed Seb as Ellen Shrimpton placed the third huge bag next to the door of the flat they shared in Muswell Hill.  She had packed much more than she had intended, it was true. But then, what should you wear scrambling around in cupboards, the attic and a cold outbuilding? Rifling through dusty boxes and, in all likelihood sobbing for most of the time you’re awake doesn’t really have a dress code! Let alone, in the middle of winter!  All Ellen knew was it was a situation that called for warm clothes, and lots of them.  

It’s December, Seb. I have no idea what the weather’s going to do, do I? When I was there for the funeral in June, it was freezing one minute and boiling the next! Ellen shouted over her shoulder as she walked back to her room to get her boots and coat.  As it was, she was struggling to be heard over the strains of Paul McCartney singing "Wonderful Christmas Time" as Seb decorated the enormously oversized Christmas tree he had managed to shoehorn into the flat while Ellen was in her studio yesterday. The flat was one of four in an old Georgian house converted sometime in the 1980s.  It had high ceilings, real fireplaces in the lounge and bedrooms, with enormous windows, allowing light to flood in.  Even with high ceilings, the tree was far too big.  

 And jumpers take up more space than t-shirts, you know! Ellen continued, determined to win the clothing battle.  

I just think you’ve overpacked a little bit, that’s all.  I mean, it's not like your mum didn’t have jumpers and warm clothing you could borrow, is it?  

It was a fair point, Ellen conceded quietly.  Her mum had more clothes than anyone Ellen had ever met - from thick woolly jumpers to gorgeous designer dresses that hadn’t been worn in years but had been treasured through the decades.  Her sense of style was just one of the many things Ellen missed about her, since she’d passed away suddenly in June after a short illness.  The telephone call telling Ellen that her beloved mum had died was without a doubt the single worst moment of Ellen's entire life, followed so closely by the passing of her dad, just five years before.  

Your taxi is here, called Seb, as he moved a couple of baubles on the tree to improve the aesthetic.  

Okay - see you in a week then.  I’ll be back on the 24th, said Ellen cheerfully, popping her head around the door and smiling.  It was hard to know what to do around Seb anymore since they’d broken up two months ago.  They were still friends, having drifted apart over the last year, and had decided to share the flat as roommates rather than lovers, but at moments like this, it was hard not to fall into old habits and kiss him goodbye.  

Safe journey Elle - call if you need anything, okay?  

Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.  And no more Christmas decorations or trees, right? Bye! she replied and pulled the door closed as she left.  

Getting the bags from the taxi into the station and onto the train was tricky, but she’d managed it, and as she sat watching the world whizz past the window as the train sped out of London and grey buildings gave way to fields, she felt the weight of what lay ahead descend on her.  She had given herself just one week to clear out her mum’s cottage and get back to London for Christmas, and she was dreading it, knowing full well it was going to be almost impossible to get everything done but hoping the challenge would keep her focused.  

Since her mum Elizabeth had died, Ellen had been putting off going back to Little Claydon.  The funeral had been more emotionally draining than she could ever have imagined, and being back there after so many years, with so many memories of the place etched into her psyche, had left her in no rush to go back.  But there was no avoiding it forever, and Ellen knew she needed to get the house ready to go on the market as early as possible in the new year if she was going to sell it quickly.  

There was no doubt that December was a magical time to visit Little Claydon, a small village buried in the Kent countryside with a population of 500 or so if you were lucky.  The nearest supermarket was 10 miles away in Darleyton, and every second house had a thatched roof, a picket fence, or both.  It was a gorgeous place to live if you like a slow pace and fresh air, but not so much if you happened to be 18 and in search of adventure as she had been.  She escaped to university as soon as she left school and never looked back, instantly won over by London’s constant buzz and excitement and her passion for painting and writing.  

Well, she had seldom looked back.  There had been one disastrous visit on her last Christmas at university when she had hoped to surprise her boyfriend Will by coming home a few days earlier than planned. That surprise, however, had ended in catastrophe when she saw him cuddled up to another girl in the pub.  Furious and hurt, Ellen had walked into the bar, picked up Will’s drink and thrown it over him before walking out without saying a single word.  Then she disappeared back to London and out of Will’s life for good.   

When she came home to visit her parents in the spring of the following year, she’d expected to have to face him, but to her surprise, he and his mother had moved away, leaving his father to run the family carpentry business.  That was 15 years ago now, and she hadn’t seen him again since.  He hadn’t been at her mum’s funeral - and although the two families had been close back in the day, she wasn’t expecting to see him there.  She had no idea where he was anymore, and, much to her relief, she didn’t care.  

As the light faded and the evening crept in, the twinkling fairy lights hanging from trees and adorning windows made each town and village the train passed through look magical.  In the busier stations, platforms were packed with workers and shoppers alike, all cramming into the train with bags of gifts. They wore the harassed look that every parent has when they try to find the perfect festive gift, and every commuter has when they find themselves squashed up against a Christmas shopper or ten. 

As the train travelled deeper into the Kent countryside, it began to empty; the platforms became less and less busy and the towns and villages more idyllic.  And soon enough, the train pulled into Darleyton station, and Ellen began the arduous task of moving her bags off and into a nearby taxi.  The station itself was old and adorned with garlands and illuminated with icicles and stars. Even Father Christmas was standing near the entrance, ringing a bell and calling Merry Christmas to people as they rushed to and from their trains without much interest.  

It was a 20-minute drive to Little Claydon, and as the taxi, humming with the strains of Bing Crosby, rounded the bend into the village, Ellen felt suddenly sad that she was arriving at her family home, but neither of her parents would be there to meet her.  She had loved the welcome she always had, finding them both standing at their gate, arms linked and waving as she would approach in a taxi.  They were so proud that she was living in London and pursuing her dream, and she missed them both so very much.  

Ivy Cottage stood on the village green and could not have been prettier if it tried.  With whitewashed walls and a vast thatched roof, the garden was full of plants and shrubs, and a great climbing rose draped up and over the front door.  It was just like the old cottages you see on many a traditional Christmas card.  The houses around the green were decorated with lights, and even a couple of blow-up Santas and a family of illuminated penguins were on display at Pond Cottage.  

But Ivy Cottage looked empty and unloved, undecorated and in total darkness.  A lump formed in Ellen’s