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too late,’ I said softly, ‘it’s too late.’ Casually leaning both my hands on the table, I sighed.

      Molly gave an infinitesimal nod, taking in what I was saying, and we sat there in silence for a moment.

      ‘In time, you’ll meet the right man,’ she offered.

      I managed a smile. ‘It’s not just that.’ There had been something on my mind for a while, a niggle, an itch that needed scratching, but I just hadn’t said the words out loud.

      I took a deep breath. This was the time to clear my conscience and confess all while I had Molly’s full attention. She was my best friend and I’d no idea how she was going to react to my next bit of news. But I managed to splutter the words out: ‘I’m thinking of going back to England.’

      I watched as the words registered on Molly’s face. Her expression changed then she sprang upright in her seat like a jack-in-the-box being unleashed for the very first time.

      ‘Alice, England’s over 3,000 miles away,’ she finally said, breaking the silence. It was difficult for her to keep her voice steady.

      ‘I know, but it’s been playing on my mind for a while,’ I answered truthfully.

      Molly’s bottom lip wobbled. ‘How long is a while? And why didn’t I have any idea about any of this?’ She fiddled with the strap of her Garmin with a grief-stricken look on her face.

      ‘Maybe the last six months or so, but even more so since I received this,’ I admitted, exhaling slowly and turning my laptop towards her so she could read the message I’d received at the beginning of the week via Facebook from Grace.

      Grace Anderson and I had known each other from the year dot. Our mums had been the best of friends and as children, we’d gone everywhere together. Not only were we in the same class at school but we’d shared a passion for dance and drama, and every Saturday, dressed in all things pinkish, Grace’s mum Connie had dropped her off at Grandie’s ballet school, where my mum had worked as a dance teacher. Everyone thought we were sisters as we twirled with our identical long plaited coffee-coloured hair, blue eyes and a string of freckles across our noses. Back then, we had been inseparable, the best of friends until the day I left.

      When I’d left, I remembered Grace clinging to me on the step, making me promise to write to her as soon as I could. I never broke that promise and never lost touch. Over the years, staying in touch had become easier. We’d followed each other’s lives on social media and I’d been thrilled to see that she was living her dream, starring in the theatre in Birmingham, even though I had to admit I was a tiny bit jealous that her career had worked out much better than mine.

      I felt my pulse quicken as Molly began to read Grace’s message:

       Dear Alice

       I hope you’re behaving in that big old city and it’s treating you well.

       Please forgive me for the late-night message, I’ve toyed for the past twenty-four hours about whether to say anything at all but decided that if I were you, I’d want to know. I’m afraid your grandfather isn’t well. His health has been deteriorating over the last couple of months and he’s been admitted to the local hospital. Mum is still cleaning and acting as general housekeeper up at Honeysuckle Farm. He’s mentioned to her he would like to see you one last time, which I know may be difficult in the current circumstances, but I feel you needed to know.

       If you decide you want to come back, there’s always a spare bed at mine. I would love to see you too!

       Grace xx

      ‘Does your mom know about this?’ Molly’s eyes were wide as saucers as she tucked her feet back underneath her.

      I swallowed hard and shook my head.

      ‘You’ll have to tell her you are going back to England. You can’t just up and leave without saying a word.’ Molly managed a glimmer of a smile, ‘You need to go, Alice.’ Her voice faltered as she handed the laptop back to me and I slowly closed the lid. ‘You need to see your grandfather. They don’t live forever, and time is precious.’

      I knew Molly was right, I didn’t have any intention of just upping and leaving but I didn’t relish the idea of telling Mum either. I’d no clue how she was going to react. Grandie’s name had not been mentioned for years, in fact it was never mentioned again after the day we left. My stomach was churning just thinking about it.

      ‘Don’t worry, you have me to help you through it,’ Molly said, giving me a reassuring smile.

      ‘Thanks, Mol, it means a lot.’

      ‘Are you definitely sure about this?’

      I nodded, ‘Definitely sure. I need to see him again. It might be my last time.’

      ‘I know,’ Molly’s voice was barely a whisper.

      ‘Grace wouldn’t message me if it wasn’t serious and something inside me is telling me I need to try and put this situation right.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ she asked tentatively.

      ‘I loved Grandie, I still love Grandie, but at the time we left, I didn’t have any choice, I was ten-years-old. But I do have a choice now. I’m my own person and whatever went on between him and Mum is not my argument.’

      Molly gave a brief nod of understanding. ‘Do you have any idea what the argument between them was about?’

      ‘No,’ I shook my head and felt myself tremble, remembering back to that day. ‘I’ve no idea, all I know is that Grandie was angry, shouting she’d betrayed him in some way.’ The pain twisted in my stomach just thinking about those words.

      ‘Do you remember much about England?’

      I nodded and smiled, and a warmth filled my heart just thinking about it. ‘Grandie lives at Honeysuckle Farm, and we lived in the annexe attached to the farmhouse.’ I hadn’t realised how much I missed him, until now.

      ‘Sounds very grand.’

      ‘It is,’ I cast my mind back, remembering the three-storey building full of exposed brick, wooden beams and huge stone fireplaces which roared every winter. ‘And there was a secret spiral staircase at the back of the house.’

      ‘Very quaint, like something out of a romantic novel.’

      I smiled. Honeysuckle Farm was idyllic, set in acres of land with stone walls, ponies and chickens. ‘One day, you need to come and visit.’

      ‘I’d love to.’

      ‘Then there was the dance school where my love of ballet and drama began. Mum was a teacher there and helped to run the business. The idea was that she’d completely take it over from Grandie when he retired.’

      Molly frowned at me with concern, ‘Do you know what happened to it? Is it still up and running?’

      ‘I’m not sure, I’m assuming eventually it closed down.’ My tone was pained, thinking about it. I’d never even asked Grace whether it was still there. As time passed it had never really crossed my mind what had happened to it, but it was that little place that had moulded my dreams into becoming a performer. I’d loved dancing there.

      ‘Such a shame.’

      I nodded, ‘You’d love Brook Bridge; it’s a pretty village, a typical idyllic setting with lovely tea shops too, all things rustic.’

      ‘Very England!’

      I felt a sudden warmth surge through my body, a feeling of belonging at my memories.

      ‘It was a wonderful place, but I’ve no idea what it’s like now.’ I began to wonder if it had changed and how different it might be.

      Suddenly Molly’s mood dampened. She bit down on her bottom lip and her eyes drooped. ‘If

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