The Guestbook at Willow Cottage Read online

  HOLLY MARTIN lives in a little white cottage by the sea. She studied media at university which led to a very glitzy career as a hotel receptionist followed by an even more glamorous two years working in a bank. The moment that one of her colleagues received the much coveted carriage clock for fifteen years’ service was the moment when she knew she had to escape. She quit her job and returned to university to train to be a teacher. Three years later, she emerged wide eyed and terrified that she now had responsibility for the development of thirty young minds. She taught for four years and then escaped the classroom to teach history workshops, dressing up as a Viking one day and an Egyptian High Priestess the next. But the long journeys around the UK and many hours sat on the M25 gave her a lot of time to plan out her stories and she now writes full time, doing what she loves.

  Holly has been writing for 9 years. She was shortlisted for the New Talent Award at the Festival of Romance. Her short story won the Sunlounger competition and was published in the Sunlounger anthology. She won the Carina Valentine’s competition at the Festival of Romance 2013 with her novel The Guestbook. She was shortlisted for Best Romantic Read, Best eBook and Innovation in Romantic Fiction at the Festival of Romance 2014. She is the bestselling author of 20 books.

  Also by Holly Martin

  A Home on Bramble Hill

  One Hundred Proposals

  One Hundred Christmas Proposals

  Tied Up With Love

  The Guestbook at Willow Cottage

  Holly Martin

  Copyright

  HQ

  An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2014

  Copyright © Holly Martin 2014

  Holly Martin asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue record for 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 author’s 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, downloaded, 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.

  E-book Edition © February 2014 ISBN: 9781472090966

  Version: 2018-08-08

  Contents

  About the Author

  Also by Holly Martin

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Acknowledgements

  Dear Reader

  Read On

  Advert

  About the Publisher

  Dear Guests,

  Welcome to Willow Cottage, I hope you enjoy your stay. I’m only next door, so if there is anything at all that you need, please don’t hesitate to let me know.

  You may wish to use this guestbook to do a diary entry for every day you are here, tell us where you’ve been and what you’ve done. You may wish to leave helpful hints for other guests or you may just want to leave a short comment at the end of your stay telling me what you think of Willow Cottage.

  I will come by on Tuesdays to drop off fresh towels, so if there’s anything else you need, you can always write it in the guestbook and I will check on it then.

  Annie Butterworth.

  **********

  1st - 8th March

  Rosie and Jake Hamilton.

  Saturday:

  Thanks so much for the flowers and champagne, what a lovely surprise. The cottage is beautiful and Chalk Hill village is so cute. I’m so excited to be here. We’re on our honeymoon, one long delicious week with my beautiful hubby. Yesterday I married my best friend. I really am the luckiest girl alive.

  Jake says we can go for long walks along the beach and explore the beauty of the Norfolk Broads. Personally I don’t think we’ll be leaving the house much. We’ve been here six hours already and we’ve only really seen the bedroom! We’re getting a takeaway tonight, another excuse to stay in bed.

  Can I just say for the record now, so it is here in black and white, I love my husband soooooo much. He won’t read this so I’m safe.

  Mrs Rosie Hamilton. (Mrs!! I don’t think I’ll ever tire of that)

  Sunday:

  I’m in love, did I mention that. I can’t stop staring at the ring. It just hasn’t sunk in yet. I’m married!! And to the most marvellous man as well. Jake caught me watching him sleep last night, bet he thinks he’s married a right weirdo. Still there’s no escape for him now.

  We actually made it to the beach today. The dunes are beautiful. We had a picnic and even had a dip in the sea.

  Mrs Rosie Hamilton

  WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WON’T READ THIS? WHAT YOU FAIL TO REALISE IS HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU TOO, EVEN THOUGH YOU SNORE.

  JAKE HAMILTON. (HUSBAND TO CHIEF SNORER)

  I do not snore.

  YOU SO DO.

  Monday:

  Annie Butterworth, what a shock! With a name like Mrs Annie Butterworth I was honestly expecting some grey haired granny with half-moon glasses who would bring round homemade lemon drizzle cake. I didn’t expect someone so young and pretty. Jake thought you were a ghost at first, seeing you run through the garden with your long white dress and blonde hair flying theatrically behind you. It was quite the entrance.

  It was great talking to you today. Where is Mr Butterworth? You both must come round for dinner one night.

  Love Rosie

  AS ROSIE IS USING THIS AS HER OWN PERSONAL MESSAGE BOARD IT’S DOWN TO ME TO SAY THAT TODAY WE HIRED A BOAT. SPEED BOAT WOULD BE TOO MUCH OF A GLAMOROUS TITLE FOR IT. IT WAS A ROW BOAT WITH AN ENGINE STUCK TO THE BACK. THOUGH EVEN CALLING IT AN ENGINE WOULD BE A STRETCH. IT MADE A LOT OF NOISE AND PROPELLED US MARGINALLY FASTER THAN A SNAIL. I HAVEN’T LAUGHED SO MUCH IN AGES.

  WE ENDED UP ON SOME BIG LAKE AND FED THE SWANS OUR LEFT OVER PICNIC. THE BOAT THEN FAILED TO START AND WE WERE QUITE LITERALLY UP S**T CREEK WITHOUT A PADDLE.

  THANKFULLY SOME LOVELY GERMANS CAME TO OUR RESCUE AND TOWED US BACK TO WHERE WE LEFT THE CAR. THEY DIDN’T SPEAK A WORD OF ENGLISH, OR AT LEAST WERE NOT WILLING TO. THOUGH I DIDN’T NEED TO BE FLUENT IN GERMAN TO KNOW THEY WERE TAKING THE PISS OUT OF US ALL THE WAY BACK.

  JAKE

  Tuesday:

  Hi Rosie, it was lovely to meet you too. I’m more than happy to come round with homemade lemon drizzle cake if that’s what you were expecting. I don’t have half-moon glasses but I can wear my reading glasses if that will work. As for the ghost, I was always cast as the angel in the school plays, being a ghost would have been much more exciting.

  Mr Butterworth - Ha, Nick would have hated been called that - died two years ago so he won’t be joining us for dinner. If the weather stays fine how about you two join me for a barbeque tomorrow night?

  Let me know if you want some eggs, Suzie and Doris, the chickens, are laying them faster than I can collect them.

  Annie.

  Annie, I’m so sorry, I really need to engage my brain before I speak. I’m such a nosy cow. I just assumed that as you were Mrs Butterworth that he was still around. I’m sorry.

  Rosie

  Rosie, I just saw Jake, he said you wanted some eggs so I’m just popping them in the fridge. Please don’t worry.
I’m not in the least bit upset or offended by you asking where Nick is. It’s been two years and though I miss him terribly, I really don’t mind talking about him.

  ANNIE, A BARBEQUE WILL BE LOVELY. WE ARE TAKING A BOAT OUT TO BLAKENEY POINT TO SEE THE SEALS TOMORROW AND THEN GOING FOR A DRIVE DOWN THE COAST. I IMAGINE WE’LL BE BACK AROUND SEVEN. I’LL BRING BURGERS AND CHICKEN, THAT’S IF SUZIE AND DORIS WON’T MIND.

  JAKE

  Wednesday:

  We went out to see the seals today. It was amazing; we got so close to them. Jake took some fantastic pictures, but he was always good with a camera. Many of them were swimming around the boat as curious about us as we were about them. Off to a barbeque round Annie’s now, hopefully I won’t put my foot in my mouth again.

  Rosie

  WATCHING ROSIE GET SO EXCITED ABOUT THE SEALS TODAY, I THINK I FELL IN LOVE WITH HER A LITTLE BIT MORE.

  Thursday:

  My head hurts.

  Annie is quite possibly one of the loveliest people I have ever met in my entire life. I didn’t stop laughing all night. She looks so sweet and innocent in her pretty flowery dress and huge Jesus sandals, looks like she goes to church every Sunday and probably sings in the choir. So it comes as a bit of a shock when the stories she comes out with are so funny and sometimes even filthy.

  We must have polished off at least two bottles of wine and too many bottles of cider to count between us. That cider was potent, some obscure local variety I think. By the end of the night Jake was a mess and I was even messier. Annie, however, looked as fresh as a daisy.

  Did I put my foot in it? Yes probably about a hundred times. I felt like John Cleese in Fawlty Towers when the Germans came; ‘Whatever you do, don’t mention the war.’ I just couldn’t stop mentioning her husband, death or funerals. Luckily Annie saw the funny side.

  I WAS NOT A MESS, AT LEAST I DIDN’T THROW UP IN MY SHOE THIS MORNING. GREAT NIGHT ANNIE, THANKS FOR THE AMAZING CIDER, WE NEED TO GET HOLD OF A FEW BOTTLES BEFORE WE LEAVE.

  JAKE

  Just popped in to change the light bulb in the bathroom. I’m definitely getting a change of wardrobe after that lacklustre description ;-). I don’t go to church apart from weddings, christenings and funerals. Oh no, I mentioned the funeral word!!! I can assure you I wasn’t feeling as fresh as a daisy this morning, my tongue felt drier than Ghandi’s flip-flop. I’ll get you some of the cider to take back with you.

  Friday:

  After recovering from our excessive hangover yesterday we spent the day in the garden reading. Jake wears his big glasses when he reads, he thinks it makes him look clever, but he looks more like a nerd. A loveable nerd though. He was reading some big tome on codes used in WW2. Geek! Another day on the beach today. Wells-next-the-Sea really is the loveliest place in the world, the beaches are spectacular.

  GEEK? NERD? HOW DARE YOU. BESIDES I DON’T THINK I LOOK CLEVER I KNOW I AM CLEVER. NEVER MIND THE FACT THAT I FELL ASLEEP FOUR TIMES READING THE CODE BOOK. IT WAS THE HANGOVER THAT WAS HAVING AN ADVERSE EFFECT ON ME. ANYWAY, WHAT WERE YOU READING, THE THIRD BOOK IN THE FIFTY SHADES OF GREY TRILOGY WASN’T IT? PERVERT.

  I’ll have you know the Fifty Shades Trilogy has a very good storyline. And yes you are a complete geek and a nerd but I still love you.

  Saturday:

  Annie we have had the best time. We are going to come again soon. We don’t live that far away so we’re going to drive down when you have some free weekends.

  YES, I CAME HERE FOR A QUIET WEEK AWAY AFTER ALL THE STRESS OF THE WEDDING, BUT WE’RE DEFINITELY GOING TO BE COMING BACK ON A REGULAR BASIS. WILLOW COTTAGE IS BEAUTIFUL. THANKS SO MUCH FOR MAKING US SO WELCOME.

  **********

  8th - 14th March

  Oliver Butterworth. Black

  Saturday:

  I’m here to kill someone and I’m not leaving until I’ve done it.

  Oliver Black

  Sunday:

  I’m thinking of using a scythe, with a jagged serrated edge. Though I don’t want my victim to die too quickly, it needs to be slow and painful, it needs to be bloody. I want her to see her blood drain out of her, slowly, agonizingly feel her life force ebb away. I want her to beg for her salvation. I want that tough hard exterior to crumble in the last pitiful minutes of her pathetic life. I want to see her cry.

  My best laid plans continue to go awry. As devious as I am in trying to catch my prey, she is as cunning at evading me. I almost respect her for it. Almost.

  Oh Olly, you do make me laugh. It’s good to have you back. You do realise how this will look don’t you, or is that your intention? I’ll have the police on me for harbouring a criminal. If they come for me, I’m taking you down with me. There’s no honour amongst thieves.

  Annie x

  Careful Annie, or I may have to kill you.

  Oh please do, I’ve been begging you to kill me off for years. The bloodier and messier the better. Could you chop off my head and tear out my innards? Could you gouge out my eyes and keep them about your person as a memento? You could have a whole box of eyes left over from your victims. Oh and could you write some message on the walls using my blood? My brain could be the full stop. I’d love that.

  I bet you would you sicko. Now leave me alone. I came here for some peace and solitude, not to be bothered every five minutes by the dodgy landlady next door. If you disturb me again I really will consider ripping out your heart and letting you watch as it beats feebly in my bloody hands.

  Promises, promises. Come for dinner tonight, don’t shut yourself away for the whole week, I’ve missed you. If you come I promise to be good and quiet for at least a day.

  Right, that’s it, you’re in for it now. I need a big knife.

  I have one. You’re welcome to come round and borrow it.

  Monday:

  After dinner with my sister-in-law I feel much better about the murder. We talked things through and she gave me some great ideas on how to commit the perfect crime. I now know how I’m going to dispose of the body too. No one will ever find her. Claudette Montana is going to die tonight. I will not rest until she is lying in the ground.

  Claudette Montana? Really? Please kill me off, not her.

  I am not killing you off. I’ve told you before, Annie Butterworth just isn’t sexy enough to be in one of my books. Annie Butterworth sounds like an old granny with fluffy slippers and someone who wears cardigans no matter how hot it is. Why do you think I changed my name to Oliver Black? Oliver Butterworth would be smoking a pipe and sucking on his Werther’s Originals, he certainly wouldn’t be the number one crime writer in Britain, nay the world.

  You think a lot of yourself don’t you? And yes, I’m well aware I’m not sexy enough for you.

  Are we still talking about the book here? Let’s not go down that weird road again. Besides you were in my last book, you obviously didn’t look hard enough.

  I was not, I would have noticed that.

  Try the very front of the book.

  What’s this? The Great Oliver Black having writer’s block? Surely not.

  Sophia Lorenzo. Cleaner.

  Oh Annie. Please tell me, with all your money, why you still haven’t got yourself a decent cleaner yet? Why do you still have this old bag hanging around like a bad smell?

  Oliver Butterworth, don’t think you are too old to be put over my knee. Sophia

  Oh Aunty Sophia, are you still mad that I killed you off in Behind Closed Doors.

  I was more bothered that you made me into a prostitute.

  High class escort actually, I couldn’t resist. Besides Sophia Lorenzo is a much sexier sounding name than Annie Butterworth.

  You dedicated your last book to me!! How did I miss that? I can’t believe you did that. That’s… Thank you.

  Oh don’t get all soppy on me. Jeez if I knew it was going to get this reaction I would have dedicated it to my local Chinese take-out, who kept me fed through the duration of the book.

  And Sophia, it wasn’t so much writer’s block, more mu
rderer’s block. I had made the character of Claudette so clever, underhanded and cunning that she wouldn’t fall for the plots and ploys of Maxwell Hunt. I also needed to make sure the reader would feel sympathetic towards him, they had to want Claudette dead almost as much as he did.

  Tuesday:

  It is technically Tuesday. 3.27 Tuesday morning to be precise. But Claudette has been killed. I feel like singing ‘ding, dong the witch is dead’. I have cracked open a bottle of Whin Hill Cider to celebrate but may sneak next door and top up my celebrations with some of Annie’s amazing trifle.

  Note to self: When breaking into your sister-in-law’s place either go blindfolded or call out to make sure she is decent first. I don’t know who was more shocked when I walked in to find her stark naked tucking into the trifle. Admittedly we’re experiencing one of the hottest springs since before dinosaurs roamed the earth but still, one should wear a robe when wandering about downstairs.

  Why should I wear a robe in my own house? Normally my guests don’t just take it upon themselves to wander into my house and help themselves to my food. That’s not part of the service. Besides you have seen me naked before.