Page 4 of The Village of Lost and Found

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.

When she finally reached the village, she parked her car next to Uncle Frank’s bungalow and got out, looking around and smiling at the familiar view.

Cranbridge looked as beautiful as always, with its sandy-coloured brick cottages lining the riverbanks and the green rolling hills surrounding the village peeping through from between each house. Instead of a main street, there was a wide shallow river running down the middle of the village, with three ancient pedestrian stone bridges connecting either side over the clear, bubbling water.

The sun was high in the bright blue sky and glistened onto the river invitingly. The front gardens of the small row of bungalows next to where she stood were filled with brightly coloured flowers, butterflies and the buzz of bumble bees.