Christmas at Willoughby Close (Return to Willoughby Close #3) - Kate Hewitt Page 0,1

council decided they didn’t want people tapping their toes or really, digging in their heels, on the village hall’s gleaming new parquet floor, and the council had, sorrowfully but firmly, revoked their offer of hosting Lindy’s classes.

Lindy had done her best not to get down, even though it soon became apparent that there was no other suitable space in all of Wychwood, or any other nearby village, to host the dream she’d been cherishing—Take a Twirl School of Ballroom Dancing.

She’d had to cancel her already booked schedule of summer classes, including her tiny tots holiday week that she’d been especially looking forward to. She’d scrambled to look for a space, and in mid-August Monica Dewbury had offered her the room over her pet shop and dog bakery, which was small but adequate and the only space she could find.

An elegant woman in her fifties with a silver bob and a ready smile, Monica had followed her dream by opening a dog bakery of all things, and now she wanted the same for Lindy. She’d assured her she didn’t use the upstairs, and this would be putting it to good use. Lindy promised her free dance classes, to which Monica laughed and said she had two left feet.

“So you must be ready soon,” Monica said now as she handed Lindy her cup of tea. “When is your first class?”

“Not for a few weeks. I still have to get all the publicity out—” which she’d had to revise, thanks to the change of venue “—and I’m still hoping to put up the wall of mirrors. Ava’s husband Jace said he might be able to do it.”

Lindy had been wonderfully overwhelmed by the outpouring of friendship she’d encountered almost from the moment she’d driven into Willoughby Close. Her neighbours in the close, Olivia and Emily, had both welcomed her with casseroles, bottles of wine, and an invitation to go to the pub with a whole bevy of former residents.

“It’ll have to be The Three Pennies,” Emily had said with a wry little grimace, “unless you’re willing to sit outside.”

“Emily’s boyfriend Owen runs a pop-up pub,” Olivia had chimed in. “Man with a Van. It’s brilliant.”

There had been so many people to meet and names to learn—Olivia’s fiancé Simon was a music teacher at the primary school, and then there was Ava and Jace and their little boy William, plus Alice and Henry up at the manor, and Harriet and her family in the village. And of course there was Ellie, living in Oxford with her husband Oliver.

Lindy had met Ellie when they’d got to chatting on the bus into Manchester, both commuting daily for work. She’d been hoping to see more of her now that she’d moved to Wychwood, but she hadn’t quite twigged until she’d arrived that Ellie lived over half an hour away, worked in Oxford, and was generally very busy with her daughter Abby doing GCSEs and a husband who had a demanding job at the university, and was a viscount to boot.

But that was okay. Lindy was used to having to fit in to other people’s busy lives, and it had never bothered her before. She wouldn’t let it now—because although she’d made a lot of friends in the two months she’d been living at Willoughby Close, they were all friends with boyfriends or husbands, children or pets or both, and when it came to a Friday night or a Saturday afternoon, they tended to be rather busy. Which was fine, because Lindy was busy too. Mostly. She certainly would be busy when she finally got her school up and running—or really, up and dancing.

“I think it’s brilliant you’re doing this,” Monica said. “Following your dream, no matter what. I love it.”

Lindy smiled her thanks. She knew more than one eyebrow had sceptically risen when she’d arrived in the village, planning to start a school for ballroom dancing. She wasn’t exactly the expected model for the teacher of such a school—standing at just over six feet without shoes, and with a figure that was more statuesque than supermodel, Lindy was surprisingly light on her feet, but also a perfectly satisfied size fourteen. Still, she knew people had been expecting someone a bit, well, tinier.

“Have you had many people enrolling yet?” Monica asked.

“A few. I need to do more publicity.” Lindy was trying not to worry about the lack of enrolment. After she’d done her sample lessons at the charity gala back in June she’d had a whole host of