New Beginnings on Railway Lane: An uplifting rural romantic read from Alison Sherlock

By Alison Sherlock

Welcome back to Railway Lane.
A feel-good story of new beginnings set in an idyllic English country village.

When high flying, workaholic Katy Smith is suddenly made redundant, she needs to find a job fast!
After mistakenly answering an advert online, she quickly realises that the rundown railway station in sleepy Cranfield isn’t the 5-star London hotels she’s used to working in!
But a job’s a job. Right?
Chef Ryan Connelly is having a crisis of confidence after his Italian dream turns sour.
Returning home to try to pick up the pieces of his parents broken marriage, he soon discovers that his family home, the railway station, is close to financial ruin Can Katy use all of her skills and find a way to save the railway station?
And can Ryan rediscover his passion of cooking once more?
As winter in Cranfield begins to sprinkle its magic, perhaps Katy and Ryan can find their very own new beginning on Railway Lane.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boldwood Books
• Release date: Jun 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9781804264447

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

Dear Miss Smith,

Thank you for your recent application for the position of Hotel Manager. Unfortunately…

Katy Smith slammed down the lid on her laptop. Another day, another rejected job application. It was a disaster. She was no longer in control and everything was falling apart. Her worst fears had come true and she felt ill to her stomach with the anxiety of it all.

‘I think that’s everything.’

She looked up at her ex-boyfriend, Gerard, someone who she had dated for two years. Someone, as it turned out, she didn’t know very well at all.

He was hovering near the front door of the apartment, holding the last bag of possessions that he had spent the past hour packing up. He had moved in almost exactly a year ago and she could briefly recall the excitement that she had felt at not being alone any more. She swiftly dismissed the memory.

‘And the front door key?’ she asked, deliberately keeping her voice in a level tone.

‘I’ll leave it here,’ he said, placing it on the sideboard nearby.

Katy turned away, unable to bear to look at him any longer. Instead she stared out across the lounge from her vantage point at the dining table.

It was a modern one-bedroom apartment in a newly built block with a view over Clapham Common. It was only five minutes from the nearest tube station and therefore only half an hour’s commute from the hotel where she had worked until one week ago.

Of course, now that she was unemployed, perhaps she would have to forgo the desirable address without Gerard’s share of the expensive rent. She didn’t care about having to move, though. It was just four walls. It didn’t mean anything to her, just like anywhere else she had ever lived since her family life had come to an abrupt halt all those years ago.

‘Yeah, well, sorry again,’ she heard Gerard say.

Katy shrugged her shoulders in response and kept looking away until she heard the front door close with a click.

Finally, she sagged back against the dining-room chair and let her emotions rush in for a moment. She wouldn’t cry, of course. Gerard didn’t deserve any tears and she certainly wouldn’t waste them on someone like him. But she did let her arms wrap around her trembling body, willing herself to find the inner strength that had got her through life so far. She could overcome this. After all, she had got through far worse. What was one lousy cheating boyfriend compared to that?

Still feeling shaky, she got up to wander into the kitchen and opened up a bottle of white wine before pouring herself a much-needed large glass.

The kitchen was also very modern but barely used, with only an empty Pot Noodle in the bin next to the sink. Not exactly a well-rounded meal, but it was either that or toast or takeout again for dinner. Gerard hadn’t been any kind of cook either. On the rare occasions that they were both at home at the same time, they had ordered takeout. Normally they were at their different offices, of course, busy climbing the career ladder or socialising at working dinners with business colleagues.

There would be no more working dinners while she was unemployed though, which didn’t bode well because Katy had absolutely no culinary skills – something she shared with her father, although that hadn’t stopped him investing heavily over and over in the restaurant trade in her childhood. But his business acumen was just as poor as his cooking as the many failed businesses had proved. It had finally come to a head with the bankruptcy that had abruptly ended their secure, happy family life.

She took a sip of wine from the glass and headed back into the lounge. Would it seem odd without Gerard living there? She looked around the apartment in a daze. In all honesty, she would barely notice. He was a workaholic like her. He worked long hours at an exclusive law firm and she, until a week ago, had worked even longer hours at an upmarket hotel on Park Lane in central London, where she had been deputy hotel manager.

She had hoped that by the end of the year she would have been promoted to the top job as manager within the high-end hotel chain. She had worked so hard over the years, as well as taking many business courses in her limited spare time. But wide-sweeping job losses had suddenly been announced and she had been stunned to learn that she was on the list for an immediate redundancy. It had upset her terribly and she had been reeling from the shock ever since.

She didn’t even care much about the generous severance package she had received. As far as she was concerned, it was a matter of pride. She had never been made redundant before. She had worked her way up the career ladder almost all the way to the top. Each job, just like her whole adult life, had been under total control. To be without control was to attract failure and heartache and that would never, ever, happen again.

She lived by such a strict code of control that everything had to be in order, even the apartment that she had chosen to rent. The lines of the walls and ceilings were straight, the decor white and clean. There was a lack of anything personal and that was just the way she liked it. Apart from the photographs on the sideboard, there was nothing to make anyone aware that it was even her apartment at all.

She had earned a decent wage over the years and had managed to build up a healthy savings account but had never bothered to spend it on anything for the apartment or anywhere else where she had lived. It was just bricks and mortar. What was the point?

Her only luxury, the only time she felt that small thrill of self-indulgence, was her love of expensive shoes – the higher the heel, the better. It was daft and ridiculous, but they always made her feel powerful and, she rarely admitted to herself, a tiny bit wild as well. Those boxes full of designer leather in her wardrobe made her feel alive, as if she really wasn’t missing out on an exciting life despite working all the hours in the day. In her bare feet, she felt small and ever so slightly worthless.

Taking another, much larger, drink from her wine glass, she went over to the sideboard. She barely looked at the photo frames these days, always rushing past or busy working on her laptop at the table. This time though she looked a little closer at the two photos. The frame on the left was a faded photo of her parents on either side of her, both holding her hands, when she was six or so years old. Her mum looked a little weary, as she always did in those days. Living with a force of nature like her husband would do that to a woman. He was always striving for the bigger and better adventure. Until it had all come to a crashing halt that Christmas Eve, fourteen years ago.

They had all just settled down with a mug of hot chocolate and a mince pie to watch The Muppet’s Christmas Carol when the knock on the front door had come. In retrospect, only Katy and her mum had been shocked at the sight of the bailiffs at the threshold. Her dad hadn’t been at all surprised, having hidden the large amount of letters demanding payment for the ever-increasing business debts over many months.

In the early days of the business, ever the optimist, Katy’s dad had signed off a personal guarantee to start up a brand-new restaurant. But it had failed, meaning that all assets, such as the family home, would have to be used to pay off the substantial debt. They would lose everything.

Having already shut down the restaurant, the bailiffs swiftly cleared out most things from the house to repay some more of the debts. Katy and her mum could only stare on in horror as the television and even the Christmas presents had been taken away.

‘It’ll be okay,’ her dad kept telling them both. But even his usual charming smile was a little less vibrant that evening. ‘We’ll be fine,’ he had carried on. ‘We’ll find somewhere else to live. What’s life without a bit of adventure, eh?’

It was the same excuse that he had always used, which had meant that she had spent her childhood being dragged from one city to the next, Katy and her mum trailing behind her dad as he searched for his next dream. Over and over, he had told them that the next place would be different. That the next adventure wouldn’t end in failure. But it always had.

But this time he had gone too far. This time they wouldn’t even have a roof over their heads for much longer. Katy was now an adult and at eighteen years old could make her own choices as to her future. At that exact moment, standing in the living room of their rapidly emptying family home, she decided that she didn’t want any more adventures or surprises in life. She wanted rock-solid stability and had been seeking it ever since.

So she had abandoned her beloved history A level course at college and the future place at university as well – there was no way that she could stay in control without an income – and took the first job that she could find, which was a chambermaid at a nearby hotel. Whilst her parents’ marriage and lives fell apart in the background, Katy worked all the hours that she could to start becoming independent of her dad’s dreams.

Pretty soon, her income was needed to support both Katy and her mum. Her dad borrowed some money from a friend and fled to the Far East, sending only a text to his daughter with a promise to send for them both when he was settled. The promise, like everything else he had ever vowed, had never come true. He had quickly moved on to another life with another woman and, soon afterwards, another child as well.

Back in England, Katy’s mum had struggled to overcome the shock of how swiftly her life had fallen apart. So, for the next couple of years, Katy had had to become the strong one, the parent, whilst they both picked up the pieces of their lives that her dad had destroyed and tried to find their way forward.

She worked long hours at the hotel and was so thorough with her duties that she was soon promoted to housekeeper. Then, over time, she had moved up into a supervisor role. With her determined nature and complete lack of social life, she had been like a whirlwind in each place she had worked. The hotels tended to be a complete mess behind the scenes. She went in, worked hard to sort out all the mayhem so that it was orderly and smooth and then left once it was a well-oiled machine and, more importantly, before she got too close to anyone. It was for the best, she would tell herself, despite the aching loneliness. It would keep her from getting hurt that badly ever again.

Her eyes moved across to the other photograph, which was of her mum and her lovely Irish stepdad who had been married for almost ten years. They had met on a tour of Scotland and now lived in a modest home in Cork. Katy hadn’t visited as often as she would have liked, due to her work commitments, but theirs was a comfortable home and her mum was finally happy and secure with a gentle, loving husband whom she could trust wholeheartedly.

Her dad, meanwhile, was still searching for that next adventure in Asia, for something always just out of reach. Perhaps he was still embarrassed about what had happened all those years ago. Katy would never know as she refused to answer the phone to him on the rare occasions that he bothered to call, wanting to spare herself from any more hurt.

She sighed, as always, the thought of her selfish father bringing on darker, more negative thoughts. And that just wouldn’t do. That kind of attitude hadn’t helped her survive the mess of her late teenage years.

She glanced down at the spare front door key that Gerard had placed at the end of the sideboard before turning away. She was alone again at the age of thirty-two. And that was fine. That was absolutely how she wanted it. She spoke to her mum once a week and that was the sum total of her personal contacts. She didn’t need or want anyone else in her life, despite any gentle nagging from her mum.

But, for some reason that evening, the break-up of her relationship was hurting her far more than she had ever expected. After all, it wasn’t as if she had truly loved Gerard. Their moving in together had been more convenient than anything else when the lease on his own apartment had run out. Truthfully, she had never felt that burning, couldn’t-live-without-him passion that others spoke about. She had never loved anyone except her parents. Gerard had been a mirror image of her own hardworking personality. Except it had turned out that he had found time in his busy schedule to fall for an accountant at his law firm called Kimberley.

‘I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love with her,’ Gerard had sheepishly told Katy when he had finally confessed his affair. ‘She’s all I can think about. I’m sure you know what that’s like.’

No, thought Katy. She didn’t. And never wanted to either. To trust someone completely with her heart? It was unthinkable to her.

She drained her glass and headed back into the kitchen to retrieve the wine bottle from the fridge. Then she grabbed her laptop and sat on the sofa, refilling her glass and drinking it in a daze. She didn’t normally drink to excess. In fact, she didn’t do any kind of overindulgence. But she felt out of sorts and, for once, was willing to throw caution to the wind.

By the time the bottle was almost empty, and fuelled by alcohol on a nearly empty stomach, Katy was feeling much more optimistic. Of course she hadn’t reached a dead end with her career. Of course she was still in control. The right job just hadn’t come up, that was all. Who wouldn’t want to employ someone like her? She was perfect! Organised! A machine!

She gave a start at the word she had used to describe herself. Well, okay. She had feelings, didn’t she? She just didn’t give in to them. Better to suppress any emotions than to let them run away and cause catastrophes like an unexpected bankruptcy on Christmas Eve.

What word had Gerard used to describe her earlier that evening as he had made his excuses? Distant. Ha! What did he know? He was weak, just like her father. It would be nice, she thought, to find a man who could be just as strong as she was, perhaps even more so. Someone to lean on in those rare occasions when she needed it. A real man. But where on earth was she going to find one of those?

She picked up the bottle and poured the last dregs of wine into her glass. But somehow she missed and some of it spilled onto the glass coffee table instead. Katy immediately got up to retrieve a dishcloth to wipe up the mess. No mess, no fuss. That was her mantra. Everything had to be just so.

After she returned the cloth to the kitchen sink, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the sofa. Her expensively cut dark long hair hung in a perfect sheet around her shoulders, no kinks or waves tolerated. Her make-up was delicate and natural looking. Her body slim. No excess allowed there either.

As she sat down heavily on the sofa, she realised that she really was quite drunk. She opened up Google and stared at the flashing cursor. She had tried every job site, every recruitment search engine for work as a senior manager in the hospitality sector but those jobs were scarce. What next? There had to be a solution. There had to be a job out there that she was perfect for.

She picked up her glass and drained the final drops of wine. Think, she told herself. There’s always a solution to every problem. What was she good at? What did she have to offer?

She instantly thought up her answer. She, Katy Smith, was the most organised person in the country, capable of dealing with absolutely anything.

She smiled as she haphazardly typed the description of herself into the search engine. There must be someone out there who wanted skills like that. Who wouldn’t?

After hitting search, Katy leaned forward to squint at the newest result. Was she seeing things? Nope. It was real.

Wanted – the most organised person in the country! Do you love a mess? Then come to Cranfield because we have just the position for you!

We have a temporary but fantastic job opportunity for someone who has excellent administrative and organisational skills with an eye for detail and a logical mind.

Bed and board included!

She read the advert in disbelief before giving a whoop of joy. Good things always came to those who deserved them, she reminded herself.

She was pretty muzzy-headed after all the alcohol, but it seemed to be the perfect job opportunity, presumably in hospitality, as bed and board were mentioned. There was no mention of salary, but she had enough savings to cover her bills if it wasn’t well paid. Also, it was only a temporary position, but that was fine too. By the time she had the place in Cranfield shipshape, another far better job was bound to have come along.

Where was Cranfield? She guessed it was a suburb in one of the big cities somewhere. She had always been an urban person, hating the chaos and lack of order in the countryside, and had managed quite successfully to avoid straying away from the light pollution of major cities. The countryside was most definitely for other people, certainly not her.

She swiftly typed out her reply, emphasising all of her skills and experience. Even in her drunken state, she knew to spell-check the email and double-check for grammatical errors. After all, it was vital to appear professional, even for a temporary position.

After one final read-through, she gave a sigh of relief, grateful to be in control once more. Katy pressed the Send button on the email before she passed out on the sofa with a triumphant smile on her face.

2

‘You’ve done what?’

Ryan Connolly stared at his younger brother, Ethan, in utter disbelief. He couldn’t believe what he had just been told.

‘I posted an advert online for someone to tidy this place up,’ repeated Ethan, with a shrug. ‘I thought it would help you and Dad out.’

Ryan glared at him. ‘We don’t need help,’ he replied.

Ethan rolled his eyes before staring around the living room, barely able to disguise his grimace at the state of the place. ‘You truly believe that, bro?’

Ryan followed his brother’s look around the chaotic and messy family home, already knowing the state of the place before his eyes reminded him. No, of course he didn’t believe what he was saying. But what other choice did they have but to battle on by themselves?

The apartment above the railway station in Cranfield had been Ryan’s family home since he was born thirty-three years ago. But it had been in the Connolly family for many decades before then. His great-grandfather, his grandad and his dad all had the railways in their blood and had loved working on the trains and at the station. His grandad Eddie had been the stationmaster before passing on the apartment and the job to his son, Bob, and his family.

But whereas once it had been a happy home for the older generations, it wasn’t any more. It had been nearly a month since their mum had walked out on their dad to start a new life in Spain with her lover. A month since she had walked away from her husband and from the family home. Everything had changed and not for the better.

The apartment above the old railway station had always been a bit messy. Ryan’s mum had never been particularly house-proud and his dad had always collected old railway items to the point of obsession, which had been the cause of many rows as to how much the place was beginning to fill up with the collection. But now, if possible, it seemed worse than ever.

It didn’t help that there were three men living there in the upstairs apartment at the moment – Ryan, his dad and his younger brother Ethan. Two generations of Connolly men all trying to find a way forward in their new and strange existence. Ryan and his brother were trying to keep their dad from sinking into a deep depression. A wife walking out after thirty years of a seemingly happy marriage would do that, they thought.

Was it actually a happy marriage? In truth, Ryan knew that it hadn’t been for a very long time. Both he and his brother had had to listen to their mum’s many complaints about her husband over the years. She had always been a glass half-empty kind of person, but Ryan had assumed that it had been his mother’s personality and that hopefully deep down she was happy in her marriage and living in Cranfield. It turned out that actually she was happy with neither.

However bad the apartment was though, it wasn’t anywhere near as awful as the main part of the station downstairs, long since closed to the public and almost full with every piece of junk and train paraphernalia that Bob had laid his hands on.

After his dad had been made redundant a couple of years ago and suddenly given early retirement, Bob’s hobby had become a full-on obsession and he had quickly become fixated on the full-sized old steam train that was in the railway workshop alongside the station. It needed major renovation work to even get the engine going once more and each day a new oil-covered steel rod or box of valves would appear.

It had been the last straw in what had already been an unstable relationship between husband and wife and the small gap between his parents had widened to an insurmountable gulf. But Bob had been so wrapped up in his renovating the steam train that he hadn’t noticed his wife growing ever more distant. Therefore, the shock of his wife walking out had hit Bob harder than anyone had expected, least of all his sons.

Every evening, Bob would work on each new part for the steam engine. Normally, his dad was talkative and friendly, but the past few weeks he was almost silent. Ryan could only watch him and worry.

Ryan had tried just once to gently broach the subject of the mess in the apartment, but his dad had burst into tears and Ryan had quickly told him to forget about it, anxious not to cause his dad any more hurt.

And that was the worst thing, because Ryan felt completely helpless about the situation and could do nothing but sit and twiddle his thumbs.

What Ryan was really missing was his beloved cooking. It had always soothed away any stresses in his life, but now it felt as if he had lost that as well.

From the very first time that his late grandmother had shown him how to bake bread, he had been hooked. His favourite lesson at school had always been cooking and he had worked his way up through many years of hard days and late nights from the food preparation area inside many kitchens until he had reached the pinnacle as head chef in a fancy restaurant in Rome. He had rejoiced in creating amazing food night after night for the past three years.

Then, a few weeks ago, he had been falsely accused of food poisoning by a celebrity customer. It had been a simple mistake and Ryan was completely innocent, as proved later when the customer had confessed to eating a mushroom which had been rumoured to be great for weight loss.

But the ensuing publicity had been fatal for the reputation of the restaurant. Suddenly, the celebrity crowd that had frequented the place found somewhere else to eat. The restaurant had moved swiftly to stop the fallout, but Ryan had ended up being sacked by the owners as they tried to save their business and Ryan was the scapegoat.

The worst thing of all had been the sneering headlines in the food pages about the sacking. His critics had crowed that Ryan had never been a great chef after all and, in that moment, his confidence had been destroyed. He had never doubted his abilities before, but reading all the criticisms, suddenly he wondered whether he had ever been as good as he had thought.

On the same day as being sacked, Ryan had received a phone call to say that his mother had walked out and he had swiftly flown home to comfort his dad whilst their marriage lay in tatters.

Back in Cranfield, Ryan had discovered that the scandal that had surrounded his dismissal had ensured that none of the restaurants in Rome wanted to hire