Christmas at Hope Cottage: A Magical Feel-Good Romance Novel(26)

‘But why?’

‘It’s a long story, and it happened many years ago. But I suppose the Allens started hating us when they came to us for help and it didn’t work.’

‘What didn’t work?’

‘A recipe. Sometimes, things go wrong. We try our best but we can’t make guarantees. It’s why we always say the words “I make no promises” before we agree to do one, because we can’t know – who are we to promise such things? All we can do is offer hope.’

Emma looked at her, thought of all the things she’d seen and heard. ‘Is that all it is – hope?’

‘Sometimes. Sometimes that’s all you really need. Hope can do a lot of things. It grows with just a touch of light, in even the most desperate, forsaken heart. We should never underestimate the power a little hope can bring.’



* * *



As Emma’s first year at Hope Cottage drew to an end, Evie tried her best to be what Emma needed. When Emma came home in tears thanks to Stella Lea, Evie would wipe her eyes and take her for ice cream. Chocolate and pistachio, her favourite – just like her mother.

‘It’s not going to solve anything, but it does help,’ said Evie with a wink one bright, crisp afternoon in spring, when the heather was turning the moors into a purple carpet. Evie listened as Emma explained the latest humiliating attack.

It wasn’t that the day had been that much worse than any of the others, or that Stella had found a novel way of being mean; she wasn’t all that creative as far as bullies went. Though some of her tricks were rather nasty. One involved pulling up Emma’s dress while she was standing in line so that her underwear was exposed to the class, then running off before Emma could catch her, and getting back in line so that Emma was the one to get into trouble. She was always mocking her accent whenever Emma spoke up in class.

The latest, though, had been particularly horrid, and humiliating. ‘Did you smell that?’ Stella asked Jack Allen just as they were leaving the school grounds, pulling a face in her direction. ‘I think Emma farted.’

Emma’s mouth fell open, and she gasped. ‘I didn’t.’

When Emma turned red in her humiliation Stella pointed it out as proof. ‘Look at her face – she did, yuck,’ she laughed.

Seeing her mortified face, Jack gave a short laugh and told Stella to shut it. ‘Just leave her alone, Stella.’

‘Well,’ said Evie, taking a lick of her lemon sorbet as they walked home from the cobbled high street, Emma’s short legs busy keeping time with hers. ‘You’ve tried ignoring her, which doesn’t work – she’s just become more of a bully – so perhaps it’s time to tell her to leave you alone? If that doesn’t work, I’ll have to go and speak to the Leas myself.’

Emma shook her head. ‘No, it’s fine, I can handle her.’

Emma had told Stella to leave her alone, but it hadn’t made one bit of difference. That was the problem. She had thought of another way though, one she hoped would shut her up for good.

‘If you’re sure,’ said Evie.

Emma suspected that Evie had already gone to the school to speak to the teacher, Mrs Prudney, though, because in class at least, Stella now simply ignored her.

It was Maggie who explained why she thought Stella had become that much worse during the past year. ‘I mean, when I first got here she wasn’t nice or anything, but she’s become really horrid since you arrived, like really horrid.’

‘Is it because of the stupid thing between our families?’ asked Emma.

Maggie shook her head and pushed up her glasses, their silver unicorns flashing. ‘I think it’s because you’re friends with Jack,’ she said wisely. ‘She hates that.’

‘Why?’ asked Emma in surprise. Jack was in the year above her, so it wasn’t like they spent that much time together, just a few conversations snatched here and there in the playground. Emma, of course, wished it were more.

‘Well, she likes Jack, always has, and until you came along he never really spoke to any other girls.’

‘Well, there was the time he asked if he could borrow my pen…’ added Jenny, tucking a long strand of mousy-coloured hair behind her ears.

Maggie grinned, ‘Yes, well, besides that, of course.’

They all laughed.

The next day though, when Stella snuck up behind her and her friends, a large pile of leaves in her hands, ready to dump them on Emma’s head, Emma turned and stood up, saying, ‘I’d rethink that if I were you Stella’, then she raised a finger and took a leaf out of her Aunt Dot’s book as she narrowed her eyes and muttered, ‘Wisha washa wisha.’

Stella blinked and her face paled. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Oh, you know, just cursing you,’ she said, cocking her head to the side as if in thought. ‘I’m trying to decide whether to turn you into a pig or not.’

Stella’s dark eyes bulged. Emma almost laughed. The girl was as silly as her mother. ‘Isn’t she one already?’ asked Maggie.

Emma shrugged. ‘She acts like one, that’s for sure.’

Stella let out a little squeal, dropped the leaves, and she and her gang of girls ran away, to the sound of Emma and her friends’ laughter.