Chapter 1.
The gap in the curtains was just wide enough to let a beam of early morning light spill across the child’s face, nestled on the pillow of the little bed in the center of the room. It was a small room, just large enough for the bed, a tall chest of drawers, a dressing table with mirror on top and a small wardrobe in one corner. Opening her eyes and reaching for her spectacles, the young girl gazed around her, momentarily disoriented as she tried to remember where she was. Then tears pricked her eyes as she remembered. The sudden move from the big house in which she had lived for as long as she could remember, to this tiny village in the fens of Norfolk had come as a complete surprise. Laying her head again on her pillow she thought back to that eventful day.
School had just finished for the year and the summer holidays stretched out gloriously in front of her. Days filled with summer sunshine and nothing to do but play with Paula, her best friend in the world who lived next door. But that had all changed in a blink of an eye. Waving bye-bye to Paula, she remembered opening the garden gate and running excitedly up the path towards the open front door, calling out “Daddy, I’m home!”. Suitcases were neatly piled in the hallway, cardboard boxes, stacked one on top of each other, narrowed the passage from the front door down the hall to the living room.
“Daddy? What’s happening?”
“I’m in the living room sweetheart,” she heard him reply. “We have some big changes ahead of us! We are moving to the country!” Entering the living room, she found her father on his knees, packing the last of the books from the bookcase that used to line one wall into a cardboard box and securing it with twine. “It will be so exciting!” And with those words her life had turned upside down. Katherine Linton was her name and now, little did she know, a new chapter in her short life was about to begin.
Sighing, she sat up and threw back the covers, swinging her legs out of bed she slid her feet into her slippers and pulled on her dressing gown. Downstairs she could hear the tinkling of china, so she knew her father was already up and putting on the morning kettle for tea. Walking over to the dressing table she looked in the mirror. Staring back at her was a tousled headed little girl. The small face, framed by brown, slightly wavy hair that fell to her shoulders, was made seemingly smaller by the large round spectacles perched on the faintly freckled nose. The eyes staring back at her were hazel, made bright with unshed tears. At nine and a half years old – she was very particular about adding in that half a year – she was small for her age. Her mother had passed away when she was just a toddler, leaving her to be raised by a doting father.
Pulling her dressing gown a little tighter around her shoulders she descended the narrow stairway and entered the warm kitchen. Her father, busy at the old Aga stove, turned towards her, a smile lighting up his face. Robert Linton was a tall, slender man. Although only in his mid-forties, he looked older. He shared the same brown, wavy hair as his daughter but flecks of grey tinged his temples. Whereas Katherine’s eyes were hazel, his were brown and fine lines, laughter lines he called them, creased the corners of his eyes behind his spectacles.
“Morning daddy!” she said, coming up beside him and smiling up into his face.
“Tea is in the pot and ready to pour, Katy. How about some egg on toast for breakfast this morning? You finish setting the table while I get started. We have a big day ahead of us!”
Katy, that was what he always called her, well, unless she was in trouble then it was Katherine Linton, but those times were few and far between. Walking over to the old Welsh dresser that dominated the wall by the back door, she pulled open a drawer and took out knives and forks then picked out her favourite Willow patterned plate and one for her father from the shelf above. She liked this kitchen, in fact, she had been surprised to find she liked the whole house! After living in the busy city of Worcester for as long as she could remember, she had been so worried about moving into the countryside. Leaving the factory where he had worked for the past several years, her father had seemingly on a whim decided to buy a little village shop. Now, here they were, new owners of The General Grocery Shop in the tiny village of Hoxley, deep in the Norfolk fens.