Ottercombe Bay – Part One: Where There’s a Will...
Escape to the Devon coast, with Part One of a brand-new four-part serial from the author of Willow Cottage. Daisy Wickens has returned to Ottercombe Bay, the picturesque Devon town where her mother died when she was a girl. She plans to leave as soon as her great uncle’s funeral is over, but Great Uncle Reg had other ideas. He’s left Daisy a significant inheritance – an old building in a state of disrepair, which could offer exciting possibilities, but to get it she must stay in Ottercombe Bay for twelve whole months.With the help of a cast of quirky locals, a few gin cocktails and a black pug with plenty of attitude, Daisy might just turn this into something special. But can she ever hope to be happy among the ghosts of her past?Authors and readers love Bella Osborne’s gorgeous novels:‘I really enjoy Bella Osborne’s books’ – Katie Fforde‘An absolutely glorious read full of laugh out loud moments and beautifully observed characters who spring to life on the page’ Phillipa Ashley‘A warm and engaging story with relatable characters who will worm their way into your heart. A great read!’ – Talli Roland‘Loved it! Believable characters, a sweetly told, lovely story… a great read’ – Jane Lovering‘Romance, comedy, and mystery abound in this delightful British novel’ – I Read That Book!‘A great read, with some really special moments… so beautiful and romantic’ – Annie’s Book Corner‘A well-written and charming tale.’ – Paris Baker’s Book Nook‘I wasn't expecting a debut novel to be this good’ – The Bookish & The Romantic'Makes me feel like I should be reading it while wearing a tea dress, drinking posh coffee from a china cup and eating Victoria sandwich cake with a dainty little fork. It's charming, adorable, amusing and all those sorts of words' – Escape Into Words'This book is perfect chick lit' – Gidget Girls Reading
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Ottercombe Bay
Part One
BELLA OSBORNE
Published by Avon an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street,
London, SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2017
Copyright © Bella Osborne 2017
Cover illustration © Kim Leo
Cover design © Head Design 2017
Bella Osborne asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008258153
Ebook Edition © December 2017 ISBN: 9780008258115
Version 2018-05-04
For my mum â thank you.
Table of Contents
Daisyâs bum didnât feel like her own thanks to four hours on an old motorbike. A pretty village sign welcomed her, but Daisy felt a long-buried sadness creep over her like frost across a windowpane. Coming back to Ottercombe Bay was a big mistake. If only I had a choice, she thought.
A good-looking man in an unattractive high-vis jacket interrupted her thoughts as he stepped out in front of Daisyâs motorbike. She hastily swerved and braked, and the ancient vehicle spluttered to a halt.
âYou canât come this way,â the young man said, his muscled arms clamped across his luminous chest.
âPlease,â she said, followed by her best cheesy grin; something familiar about the manâs mop of dark hair had her memory working overtime.
âNo way,â he said, pulling back his shoulders.
Daisy flicked up her helmet visor with an air of defiance; she wasnât easily intimidated. âDonât be daft. I need to get to Trow Lane.â She looked longingly down the main road. She was only three streets away.
âYouâll have to go around.â The man was peering at Daisy. âDo I know you?â he asked, a frown appearing briefly on his tanned face.
âI doubt it. Look, itâs daft to go miles out of my way. Iâm only going down there,â she said, pointing. Daisy was tired after her long journey and didnât need this jumped-up workman telling her what to do, especially when she could see no reason why the road was cordoned off on a sunny Saturday evening in late June.
She revved the motorbike back to life but high-vis man stepped up to her front tyre, blocking her path. They glared at each other. Daisy revved the engine again and made the motorbike hop an inch forward. He didnât even flinch. She was vaguely aware of a crowd gathering nearby. Then she heard it â a distant clanging sound. She frowned and the man glared back. The clanging sound drew closer and Daisy recognised it as drums accompanied by what sounded like someone trying to get a tune out of an elephant. She spotted the bunting crisscrossing the road. The penny finally dropped â it was carnival parade night. He was right, there was no way she would be able to ride her bike through town tonight. She slammed down her visor and grumbled an apology before she skidded the motorbike away leaving the smug-looking high-vis man swathed in a fug of black smoke.
Daisy was still cross when she pulled up at Sea Mist Cottage. She stopped the bike, tugged off her helmet and tore the heavy backpack off her aching shoulders. This was not a good start and it was further confirmation that she shouldnât have come back. She turned and looked at the cottage. It was like being transported back in time â it hadnât changed a bit. The ancient building still looked like the sad face Daisy had imagined she saw when she was a child, with its heavy overhanging thatch eyebrows and symmetrical windows with half pulled down blinds giving the impression of drooping eyelids. The simple porch jutted out like an afterthought of a nose and its small front door like a forlorn open mouth was just a stride away from the pavement. She remembered that the door used to stick a bit but that was years ago, it had most likely been fixed by now. Daisy watched the silhouette of someone through the frosted glass as they gave the door a shove and stumbled outside.
âDaisy, love. You made it,â said Aunt Coral, enveloping Daisy in a tight hug. It had been a long time since anyone had embraced her like that. Daisy had forgotten there was no escape from Aunt Coralâs hugs.
