Everything is Beautiful by Eleanor Ray (best classic romance novels txt) 📕

not tracks,’ he said. ‘But in this picture, it’s got tracks. Look.’

Amy looked. ‘OK,’ she said, not understanding.

‘It’s been modified,’ said Charles.

‘Let me see that,’ said Richard. ‘You’re right.’ He grinned at his son. ‘Nice work.’

‘What does it mean?’ asked Amy.

‘Sometimes the builders request that machines be modified for specialist tasks.’

‘So?’

‘A modified machine is possible to trace,’ said Richard. ‘We’ll need to call the JCB head office and hope they cooperate,’ he said. ‘But they might be able to tell us where it was, even eleven years ago.’ He smiled at her. ‘It’s not definite,’ he said. ‘But thanks to Charles, there’s a chance we can find out where this photograph was taken.’

October 2006

‘It was a lovely service,’ said Tim, holding a small plate of sandwiches for Amy that they both knew she wouldn’t eat. ‘She would have liked it.’

‘I keep thinking she’ll walk through the door,’ said Amy. They both looked at the door to the church hall. Suddenly it opened. Amy watched it, filled with a pointless hope.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ said Chantel, walking straight over to Amy and hugging her. ‘The train in front broke down.’

‘You’re here now,’ said Amy.

Chantel took a sandwich and wolfed it down. ‘Jack thinks carbs are the enemy of fitness,’ she explained. ‘So we don’t keep them in the house. I bloody miss bread.’ She looked at Amy. ‘I’m sorry, Amy,’ she said. ‘But your grandma was always feeding me egg salad sandwiches.’

‘She’d want you to have them,’ said Amy, attempting a smile. Chantel took another one. ‘In her memory,’ she said, taking a bite.

Amy’s parents came over and Chantel gave them each an awkward hug. With Amy’s grandmother gone, they were finally going to make the move to El Salvador that they’d been talking about for years. Her mother told them all about the community they’d be helping but Amy found she couldn’t focus. Tim wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him, letting his body carry both their weight.

A week later and Amy still found herself close to tears whenever she thought about her grandmother. Everything seemed to remind Amy of her, from an egg sandwich to a framed photo to a child clutching a teddy bear. She still couldn’t bring herself to sort through her grandmother’s things, though her parents were keen to get the house on the market before they left. Amy just wasn’t ready.

The doorbell rang and Amy dragged herself up to answer it. A motley assortment of children stood on her doorstep with smudged face paint and witches’ hats. ‘Trick or treat!’ they declared in unison, thrusting a bucket towards her. An apologetic-looking adult stood behind them.

‘Oh,’ said Amy. She’d forgotten all about Halloween. ‘I might have some oranges.’ The children looked disgusted. Thankfully Tim chose that moment to return home, clutching a large object covered in wrapping paper and a giant bag of lollipops. He put the package down, grabbed a generous handful of lollipops and dropped them into the bucket.

‘Oranges,’ he exclaimed, as they left. ‘The kids would be within their rights to cover our house in toilet paper!’

‘What’s that?’ said Amy, looking at the package. Tim grinned at her.

‘It’s Halloween,’ he said. ‘Do you know what that means?’

‘You’re not dressing up, are you?’ asked Amy.

‘Get inside the house,’ he said, picking up the package again.

‘I’ll reveal all.’

Amy sat on the sofa and Tim put his package down with a clink. ‘Well, open it,’ he said.

Amy obeyed. Inside was a small palm tree in a pretty lilac pot. ‘What’s this for?’ she asked.

‘Our anniversary,’ said Tim. ‘You forgot, didn’t you? It’s OK. I know you’ve got other things on your mind.’

‘It’s lovely,’ said Amy, admiring the plant.

‘House plants in terracotta pots always get me in the mood,’ said Tim, leaning in to nuzzle Amy’s neck.

‘Weirdo,’ teased Amy.

‘You don’t remember,’ said Tim, sitting back. ‘Do you?’ ‘Remember what?’ asked Amy.

‘The first night we were together. Properly together.’

‘Of course I remember,’ said Amy. ‘You cooked me dinner.

Spaghetti bolognese.’

‘And you bought me a potted fern,’ replied Tim. ‘In an effort to seduce me.’

Amy remembered. Then she laughed, the first time she’d been able to since her grandmother died. ‘It worked,’ she said.

‘It did,’ replied Tim. He took her hand. ‘I couldn’t keep the fern alive,’ he said. ‘Back then, I was young and irresponsible.’ He looked at Amy. ‘But I’m not any more. I’m going to make you my new vegetarian spaghetti bolognese recipe and get some water for our new green friend here. After dinner I want to talk.’

‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Tim. They were sitting on the sofa together, with a glass of wine each. Plates smeared with the remains of the pasta sauce sat on the table next to their new house plant. Amy caught a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror she’d hung on the wall, and she realised how comfortable they looked together. Like an old married couple. Except they weren’t married, she reminded herself.

‘Always dangerous,’ she joked.

‘Money is tight,’ he said. ‘Without Chantel’s rent.’

‘Do you want to get a new flatmate?’ asked Amy, her heart sinking. She moved away from him a little, almost involuntarily. The image in the mirror changed. If she couldn’t have Chantel in that room, she didn’t want anyone.

‘No,’ replied Tim. ‘But I want you to be able to spend some time on your art. It’s your dream.’

‘I can’t afford a dream,’ said Amy. ‘I have to work full time to pay the rent.’

‘It’s time for me to pull my weight,’ said Tim. ‘Actually, it’s well past time. The supermarket pay is shit. The band is going nowhere. I should give up on the music. Get a proper job.’

‘Music is your dream,’ said Amy, sitting back. She looked at the Tim in the mirror. He looked back at her the same way, talking to each other’s