Kitabı oxu: «Escape to Willow Cottage: The brilliant, laugh-out-loud romcom you need to read in autumn 2018»
Copyright
Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by AVON 2017
This title was previously published in eBook as a four-part serial 2016, 2017
Copyright © Bella Osborne 2017
Cover illustration © Kim Leo (house, willow) 2016
All other images © Shutterstock.com
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 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, 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: 9780008181024
Ebook Edition © August 2017 ISBN: 9780008181031
Version: 2017-07-19
What readers are saying about Escape to Willow Cottage
‘Loved this book, so light-hearted and amusing’
‘A lovely read’
‘Oh what a little treasure this is! A cast of great characters, lovely Cotswold village and Beth trying to cope with the disaster she has bought’
‘Full of wit and charm’
‘Great characters who have quickly become established and rooted in my imagination. Very funny, but with deeper undercurrents woven in’
‘Loved the story, couldn’t put it down’
‘Absolutely loved this book, hooked from the start’
‘Three Words: Brilliant, Charming and Moving’
‘This is a wonderful read’
Dedication
In memory of a truly amazing woman, my grandma 1903–1993
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
What Readers Are Saying About Escape to Willow Cottage
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading …
Read More Wonderful Books by Bella Osborne …
About the Author
Also by Bella Osborne
About the Publisher
Chapter One
Beth had spent the day surrounded by people who, she suspected, all looked exactly like their passport photos – not a smile between them. Beth yawned and stretched her arms above her head; it had been a long day.
‘Bid from the lady on the right,’ said the auctioneer as he carried on his high-speed number chant.
Beth spun round. She was on the right but it couldn’t have been her, could it? Her eyes darted around the room. Nobody was moving, not even a twitch. Her heart was racing and she could feel the panic rising.
‘Two ninety, at the back,’ said the auctioneer and Beth let out a sigh of relief. That was a lucky escape.
‘Any advance on two ninety?’ The auctioneer was looking directly at Beth.
What the hell had she bid on? She snatched up the catalogue and quickly thumbed through the pages, past her first choice of apartments she had come to buy and that had shot high above her budget.
‘Selling for two ninety,’ said the auctioneer, looking at someone at the back. ‘Lot 37, Willow Cottage, selling for two hundred and ninety thousand pounds.’
Beth found Willow Cottage in the catalogue and speed-read the blurb. It sounded like a slice of paradise – a cottage overlooking a traditional village green in the heart of the Cotswolds. She bit her lip. It was like that moment on eBay when you quite like something; it’s not exactly what you were after but the urge to grab a bargain and be termed a winner suddenly surpasses everything.
‘All done at two hundred and ninety thousand pounds? Going once, going twice …’
Beth waved her bidding card in the air. ‘Three hundred thousand,’ she croaked, wondering what on earth she was doing. She was meant to be waiting for her second choice of flats to be auctioned.
‘Three hundred thousand on my right, thank you,’ said the auctioneer. After checking with the other bidders he finally concluded. ‘Sold to the lady on the right brandishing the upside-down bidding card.’ And the gavel gave a satisfying thud as it hit the wood.
‘You have reached your destination,’ announced the Sat Nav with ultimate confidence. Beth pulled the hire car into the kerb, switched off the engine and looked around. She was parked by a large area of greensward, which was dotted with trees and encircled by impressive old properties of differing sizes.
Beth picked up the auction catalogue and peered at the small grainy photograph, then reread the description underneath – ‘Willow Cottage stands in a secluded position overlooking the village green within the picturesque Cotswold village of Dumbleford. Rare opportunity to purchase this freehold detached dwelling. Plot circa 0.6 acres with stream running through the property. Renovation opportunity.’
Somewhere in the back of Beth’s mind she recalled a certain person saying that he wouldn’t live in the countryside if his life depended on it and right now that felt like an added bonus. She checked the back seat. Leo was stirring from his journey-induced slumber and he instantly smiled when he saw his mother. The six-year-old was too tall for his car seat and would soon need to upgrade to a booster, but for now Beth just wanted to keep him safe.
‘I wish you’d brung my iPad,’ said Leo as he stretched.
‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t find it. And brought is the past tense of bring. Okay?’ What did they teach them at these private schools? ‘Shall we go and explore our new home?’ Beth waved the auction details excitedly.
Leo yawned and stretched. ‘I’m hungry, Mum.’
Having anticipated this, Beth went to rummage in the boot and handed Leo a small bag of dried mango pieces as he got out of the car. Beth crouched down and showed Leo the small photograph of Willow Cottage on the auction sheet.
‘Now all we have to do is find our cottage. Which one is it, do you think?’
They both studied the small photograph. It was taken at an angle and part of the cottage appeared to have a climbing plant growing prettily up one side. There was a biggish garden in the foreground and very obviously a willow tree. It was quite a dark picture so it was hard to make out much else.
‘It can’t be hard to find a cottage with a tree like that in the garden, now can it?’
Leo shook his head as he shoved another mango piece into his already full mouth. He thrust the empty packet at his mother and hand in hand they started to walk around the green, checking out each house.
‘There’s no swings in the park,’ observed Leo.
Beth chuckled. ‘It’s not a park, it’s the village green. It’s more like a garden.’
‘Whose garden is it?’ asked Leo.
‘No one’s and everyone’s, it’s for everybody to use.’
‘Huh,’ said Leo, looking a little perplexed at the concept and possibly at the pointlessness of a space such as this without any swings.
It really was a divinely pretty village, thought Beth as she looked about her. The village green itself was the biggest she’d ever come across with well-worn paths crisscrossing it and a mixture of mature trees that she would need to consult Leo’s Book of the Countryside to identify correctly. Well cared for benches, with no signs of graffiti, were dotted at strategic points and the whole area was surrounded by the prettiest white chain-link fence that scalloped its way from post to post around the perimeter. A very grand mock-Tudor building had a prized position overlooking the centre of the green and two very symmetrical red-brick buildings either side stood slightly back, as if knowing their place. A couple of the smaller ones were thatched and Leo shouted excitedly as he spotted a thatched figure on the roof.
‘Pigeon!’ he squealed.
Another sign her son was London born and bred. ‘No, I think it’s meant to be a peacock,’ said Beth, squinting a little at the odd-shaped creature with the long tail. A small pond was home to a handful of fat ducks and what looked like a few of this year’s ducklings. There was a tearoom that had the look of a converted cottage, the only thing giving it away was the swinging sign in the shape of a large teapot. Each window had pristine white shutters making it stand out against the other not so well dressed properties. At the other end of the green was the village store cum Post Office, which appeared to be semi-detached to a very sweet looking cottage with a white picket-fenced front garden. Beth studied the small photo again. No, Willow Cottage was meant to be detached and there was no sign of the tree. Next to the store was the pub – the Bleeding Bear. It had a pub sign that could easily give a six-year-old nightmares so Beth hurried them past. As they drew near to the hire car Beth realized they had done a whole circuit. She spun round to see an ornate sign that clearly stated ‘DUMBLEFORD’ so they were definitely in the right place, but where was Willow Cottage?
A clanging bell announced that the door of the village store was opening and Beth and Leo watched as a figure dressed head to toe in beige came out, pulling a tartan wheelie trolley.
‘Let’s ask someone,’ said Beth, and she and Leo approached the hunched-up person. ‘Excuse me. Please could you direct me to Willow Cottage?’
The beige-clad old lady jumped and clutched at her heart. She was barely bigger than the trolley. ‘Oh my life, you gave me a turn!’ she said as she started to rummage in her trolley. She pulled out a bottle of sherry, unscrewed the top and took a large slug of the contents. Beth knew her eyes were as wide as an owl right now and she was very unsure what to do. Leo was mesmerized. The lady went to return the bottle to the trolley but stopped and suddenly thrust it under Beth’s nose.
‘Mind my manners, dear. Would you like some?’
‘Uh, no, thanks.’
The lady shrugged and returned the bottle to the safety of the trolley, giving the lid an affectionate pat as she did so. She then stood up as straight and tall as nature would allow and grinned a perfect false-teeth smile at Beth. Neither of them spoke. Beth sort of half grimaced back. The lady raised an eyebrow and tilted forward on her toes as if about to speak and Beth and Leo waited expectantly.
‘Willow Cottage?’ said Beth when she could stand the suspense no longer.
The old lady started to laugh; it was a giggly laugh that befitted her size. She stepped forward and gently shoved Beth in the middle. ‘Huh, silly me. Of course.’ She stopped laughing and frowned. ‘Who wants to know?’
Beth shook her head slightly. She had no idea what was going on but she had an uncomfortable feeling rising inside and she didn’t like it. She’d asked what she thought was a very simple question and a very simple yes or no really would have worked a treat.
‘I’m Beth …’ she thought for a second and decided on a whim to amend her name slightly. ‘Beth Browne. I’ve bought Willow Cottage.’ Just saying it out loud made Beth smile. It sounded so perfect. It was the last place she had intended to buy when she went to the auction but, when the sensible-looking flats had been snapped up for more than she wanted to pay, she made a snap decision and went with her heart and Willow Cottage was the result.
‘Huh?’ said the old lady screwing up her wrinkled face and making it look like a discarded piece of parchment.
Beth handed her the estate agent’s details, tapped the photo with a perfectly manicured fingernail and repeated slowly, ‘Wil-low Cot-tage.’
The little old lady scrutinized the page and started to laugh again. This time it was hysterical giggles that were coming in waves. As she laughed her head bobbed about making her mop of unruly white hair swirl about her head like smoke.
‘Mum, can we go now?’ whispered Leo, clutching his mother’s hand tightly.
But the lady was already moving off across the green giggling and shaking her head as she went. Great start, thought Beth. Round one to the local bag lady.
‘It’s okay, Leo. Let’s ask in the shop.’
The clanging bell sounded their entry to the small dark store, which was crammed full of stock. Beth thought she saw movement at the back so she led Leo in that direction down the narrow aisles. A cheery round-faced woman beamed into view. ‘Hello there, what can I get you? We’ve got lots of offers on.’
‘Thanks but I’m hoping you can help me.’ The woman’s face looked decidedly less cheery. ‘I’m looking for Willow Cottage.’
The woman’s eyebrows shot up and she tilted her head like an alert spaniel, her wavy brown hair adding to the comparison. ‘Willow Cottage?’
Beth nodded. She was starting to get that uncomfortable feeling again.
‘Willow Cottage,’ repeated the woman. ‘Oh, you mean Wilf’s place?’
Leo looked at his mother and she looked at the woman behind the counter. ‘I don’t know who lived there before but it’s ours now.’
The woman’s eyebrows went a fraction higher and something akin to sympathy passed across her face. ‘Down the side of the pub next door.’
‘Right. Thanks.’ Beth was pleased that they were definitely in the right place but how they had missed the cottage she wasn’t sure. She didn’t remember seeing anything next to the pub other than a driveway to what she’d assumed was the pub car park.
‘Sure I can’t interest you in …’ the woman searched the shelves frantically with her eyes. ‘Some discounted noodles? They’re only recently out of date.’
‘No, we’re fine, thanks. But I’m sure we’ll become regulars in here very soon.’
‘Lovely,’ said the woman instantly cheering up. ‘Oh and good luck.’ There was that sympathetic spaniel look again. Beth and Leo left the shop to the clang of the bell and walked purposefully past the pub next door. Leo stared open-mouthed at the pub sign – a frightening looking chained bear that was bleeding from a number of wounds. At the other side of the pub was the gravel track. Looking up the driveway she could see a rickety picket fence behind which was a sea of tall straw-like grass and a willow tree.
‘We’ve found it,’ said Beth, almost dragging Leo up the track. The closer they got the more of the willow they could see. But that was all they could see. It was a willow tree of mammoth proportions. Beth and Leo stood in front of it and gazed at the mass of gently swaying greenery as the summer breeze lightly fanned it.
‘Wow, that’s the biggest tree I’ve ever seen!’ said Leo, his eyes darting over it as if taking in every pale green leaf. It was impressive but Beth was rather keen to see the cottage. She opened the gate that was held on by string and the rest of the rotting structure fell into the grass.
They stared at the remains. ‘Oh well, never mind,’ said Beth, her hopes still high as she and Leo stepped over the broken gate and skirted around the willow tree. And there was Willow Cottage, their new home. They both stood and gaped at the sight before them. Beth swallowed hard; this wasn’t exactly what she had been expecting.
Carly stood in the kitchen of her small flat and read the text again. It was spread over three messages because her ancient mobile phone couldn’t cope with long texts and she had an unnatural hatred of technology, which was why she had only now switched it on.
Hi Carly I bought a cottage at the auction – yay! It’s a bit further away than I’d planned – it’s in The Cotswolds. Please don’t say anything to anyone in case it gets back to Nick. Completion should be in a few days as I’m paying cash and using same solicitor as seller but I can’t wait so we’re going to take a look at it in the morning. I’ll call once we’ve found somewhere to stay. Missing you already. Beth & Leo xx
A bit further away? The Cotswolds was up north somewhere, wasn’t it?! Carly wasn’t sure but she did know it was a very long way from Kentish Town, London. She blew out a sigh and it made her lips flap together like a child blowing a raspberry. She missed Leo already and she’d only seen him three days ago. Carly loved her godson and, with little to give her hope that she would be having any of her own anytime soon, he was her kiddy fix. But however she was feeling about not seeing Leo, she could multiply it a thousand times for Beth. She understood why Beth had had to leave but it didn’t make it any easier to face.
‘The Cotswolds?’ she muttered to herself. It wasn’t even a city. What was it? A giant chunk of countryside in the middle of nowhere? She’d get the map out later and look it up.
Carly poured herself a large glass of Chablis and another for Fergus. She had a quick look at the veggie pasta bake turning golden and bubbling happily in the oven.
She pushed open the door to the spare room. ‘Dinner.’
A harassed Fergus stuck his bristly face round the door. ‘Give me ten minutes. Okay?’ He blew her a kiss and disappeared.
‘The pasta bake won’t give you ten minutes. Eejit,’ she muttered and she took a large mouthful of wine. She was fed up. She loved Fergus but they had been bobbing along together for nearly three years now and there was still no flicker of likelihood that he was going to propose. She’d tried dropping hints and staring longingly in jeweller’s shop windows but he had the hide of a pickled armadillo and nothing was getting through. Carly wished she could forget about weddings and marriage and enjoy being a couple because they were happy together, but having been brought up by her grandmother, she was a traditional soul at heart. She wanted to have children and knew Fergus did too, but she wanted to be married before they considered it. And more than anything she wanted to be a bride. Well, who didn’t fantasize about having their perfect wedding?
An unpleasant aroma wafted in Carly’s direction and she puzzled for a second as to what it was. Then, remembering the pasta bake, she grabbed the oven gloves and dived towards the oven. ‘Sod it!’
Chapter Two
Willow Cottage stood on the other side of a sizeable sun-scorched wilderness that may once have been a front garden but was long since abandoned to the forces of nature. Beth inched forward, blinking; she really wanted this to be a trick of her eyes or at least to look a little better close up. It didn’t. Ivy and traveller’s joy had covered most of the cottage’s boarded-up front door and continued to rampage down one side of the property and across the roof. The front of the property was symmetrical and that appealed to Beth’s sense of order but where there should have been four windows there were large sheets of board nailed in place. One of the boards displayed the auctioneer’s sign with the date of the auction and another flaunted a particularly good graffitied picture of a pink chicken.
Beth dragged her eyes away from the boarded-up shack to look closely at the photo on the auctioneer’s details and then back again. It was a masterpiece in artifice or perhaps plain old dishonesty. Whichever way she looked at it, she’d been had.
She felt a small hand clasp her own and she looked down at Leo. He was taking it all in and she suddenly felt that yet again she’d let him down.
He grinned at her. ‘It’s crap,’ he said. And although he was right she was still shocked by his turn of phrase.
‘Leo! Where did you hear that word?’
‘School. I learnt it in Reception … and you said it when you were arguing with Nick and …’
‘Sorry, darling.’
‘Can we go now, Mum?’ asked Leo, swivelling round and tugging at her arm.
‘Not yet.’
‘Can we go inside then?’
‘No, not at the moment,’ said Beth. Not now, not ever, it’s most likely unsafe, she thought.
But that wasn’t going to stop Leo exploring. He let go of his mother’s hand and marched with his knees high through the long grass until he reached where the boarded-up front door was barely visible through the overgrown greenery. Beth followed but, as she got closer, Leo disappeared down the jungle side of the property.
‘Hang on, Leo. Careful!’ she called, wishing she hadn’t worn a skirt and heels. Leo squeezed himself between the ancient wall and the plant and disappeared. ‘Leo! Ouch!’ she said as her bare legs found some hidden nettles. When she eventually managed to wriggle through the gap, destroying her Ted Baker blouse in the process, her eyes searched quickly for Leo. He was leaning over a low wire fence into a field looking at three horses that were eyeing him speculatively.
‘Look, Mum, horses!’ said Leo as he jumped up and down with delight. When he stopped bouncing Beth stood behind him and hugged him. It was a view to behold. The field the horses were in was part of a magnificent patchwork thrown over the undulating hillside that surged away from the cottage. They could see for miles. A small stream trickled its way down the side of the cottage, the gentle natural sound of flowing water instantly calming Beth’s senses. She breathed in the light warm air that held a hint of lavender. Somewhere in this forest of a back garden there must be a lavender bush, she thought. The back garden was considerably smaller than the front, as if they had built the cottage as far from the willow tree as they could and without considering the best layout for the occupants. Or perhaps it was to angle the cottage so it had these amazing countryside views from the rear windows?
She hugged Leo as he excitedly pointed at his surroundings. Beth suddenly felt very out of her depth. What had she been thinking to move this far away from London? She’d never lived in the countryside before, she’d only ever lived in the city. It all looked very picturesque but already she could feel her nose tickling, perhaps it was hay fever. She knew nothing about the countryside and, if it were possible, she knew even less about restoring a dilapidated property.
Willow Cottage from the back was no prettier than the front. More boarded-up windows and more galloping greenery. Beth left Leo, who was frantically waving grass at the horses who were observing him mildly as they chewed their own plentiful grass supply. She stood by the back door; it was a stable door, split in two and sturdy. It was unusual and she liked that. Beth stepped back and took in the old tired building. It was in a state but perhaps it was better inside. She decided she wasn’t going to give up just yet as she felt a sprig of optimism take root.
‘Come on, Leo, let’s find somewhere to have a drink. That tearoom looked good and I bet they do a good scone.’
‘Yay, cake,’ said Leo, throwing the grass over the fence and wriggling his way back through the gap at the side of the cottage. Beth followed and was taking Leo’s hand as they reached the willow when the bush-like branches of the tree parted and an old man stumbled out towards them. His face was red, he was waving his arms and looked rather cross, a little like a baby who had been woken from a nap.
‘Argh!’ shouted Beth as Leo screamed and ran towards the gap in the fence where the gate had once been. Beth ran after Leo and didn’t look back until she had hold of his hand and they were safely on the village green. Leo started to laugh. Fear and adrenalin mixed inside her and, whilst Beth was now frantically looking back towards the willow tree, she was laughing too.
‘Does he live in our garden?’ giggled Leo.
‘I really hope not,’ said Beth with feeling.
They were still chuckling as they entered the tearoom. Having not seen many people about the village, the tearoom held the answer – it was packed. There was one small table left near the door that appeared to be where the other customers had deposited used cups and plates. Leo sat down and Beth automatically handed him her mobile phone to play games on. Beth piled up the empties as best she could, creating a bit of a teacup tower and turned with the laden tray to return them to the counter.
As she turned, the door swung open and caught her elbow. As the heavy tray started to tip its load towards her son she countered the effect and promptly deposited the entire cargo over the person entering. The crash was quite spectacular as everything smashed on the floor.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake!’ yelled the man who had failed to dodge the impact.
‘I am so sorry,’ said Beth, feeling the prickle of sweat on her chest as a violent flush engulfed her. Leo giggled behind her.
‘Look at the state of me!’ declared the teacup tower victim as dregs of tea and coffee dripped off his otherwise pristine white shirt. Beth surveyed the man who was now trying to kick cake crumbs off his shoes. He was in his mid to late twenties, clean-shaven, his dark hair had a hint of auburn and under neat dark brows were the palest grey-blue eyes she’d ever seen. Right now they were glinting like ice crystals as he grumbled to the fully tuned-in audience who all sat in silence staring at the floorshow.
A big-haired woman came bustling from behind the counter wearing a floral waist apron. ‘Oh, Jack, whatever happened?’ she said, attempting to dab at his suit trousers with a sponge.
‘Your new waitress threw a tray at me.’
‘Excuse me, I don’t work here,’ said Beth, feeling her temperature go up a notch with indignation.
‘Then why did you have a tray of crockery?’ asked Jack with a frown.
‘Yes, why?’ added the aproned woman.
‘I was helping, well trying to …’ said Beth, her voice now a lot smaller than it had been.
Jack huffed, ‘Yeah, great help.’ He shook his head and then watched the aproned woman as she continued to dab at his lower half.
‘Er, Rhonda, that’s not helping.’
Rhonda appeared to be in her own little world for a moment. ‘Oh, um, sorry. Here,’ she offered him the sponge.
‘Could you get me a double espresso to go, please, and I’ll be back in five minutes when I’ve changed.’ He aimed the last words in Beth’s direction and turned and left.
‘I’ll pay for that and the broken crockery,’ offered Beth.
‘It’s okay, accidents happen,’ said Rhonda. Beth crouched down as best she could in the fitted skirt and started to pick up the worst of the broken porcelain.
She was thankful for the sympathetic smile Rhonda gave her. ‘Don’t worry. Maureen will do that.’ A large lady who would be a prime candidate for over-60’s cage fighting, if there were such a thing, appeared from behind the counter brandishing a dustpan and brush.
Beth retreated to the small table and sat down. As Maureen cleared up, the tearoom clients went back to their drinks now that the entertainment was over. Beth waited patiently and Leo swung his legs and huffed a lot. The tearoom was equally quaint inside with mismatched crockery and simple wooden tables and chairs with gingham seat cushions in an array of colours.
Out of the window they had a good view of the village; a car trundled past and stopped to let the ducks waddle across the road before it drove through the ford and out of the village. Beth checked her watch. She needed to book them in somewhere for the night and she hadn’t seen any hotels since they left the motorway.
‘What do you want?’ asked Maureen, gripping a small notepad, her stubby pencil poised, her tone disgruntled.
‘A cranberry juice and a caffeine-free Coke, please,’ asked Beth with her best ‘I’m sorry’ smile.
Maureen stared at her and a muscle near her eye twitched. She tapped the laminated card on the table. ‘Teas, coffees, hot chocolate, lemonade or squash.’
‘Oh,’ said Beth hurriedly, familiarising herself with the items on the card. ‘Is it sugar-free lemonade?’
‘No.’
‘What flavours of cordial do you have?’
‘Orange and it’s squash,’ said Maureen. There was more twitching.
‘Hot chocolate, hot chocolate …’ Leo chanted.
‘Um,’ Beth frantically reread the list again. ‘Just two iced waters then, please.’
Maureen didn’t bother to write it down. She shoved her note-pad in the front pocket of her apron and marched off behind the counter. Beth let out a sigh. This wasn’t going well. A couple went to pay and, although she couldn’t quite hear the conversation, Beth was pretty sure they were discussing her. A series of furtive looks over their shoulders accompanied by huffing from Maureen confirmed her suspicions.
The door opened and in came Jack. He was wearing a similar well-fitted dark suit and despite his deep frown he was quite good looking. He strode purposefully across the tearoom to collect his espresso. When Beth saw him get out his wallet she dashed over to intervene.
‘I’ll get that,’ she said, opening her purse. As she looked up she saw she was moments away from bashing into Jack once again. ‘Oh, sorry.’
Jack shook his head. ‘Bloody tourists,’ he murmured as he sidestepped her and exited the tearoom. Beth felt decidedly awkward as she handed over a ten-pound note and silently Rhonda gave her the change and passed the two glasses of tap water to her.
‘Could you tell me where the nearest hotel is, please?’
‘There’s the B&B on the south side of the green and there’s the Bleeding Bear,’ said Rhonda. ‘The Bear does a great breakfast.’
‘Right. Thanks. And where would be the nearest Hilton or Marriott?’
Rhonda thought for a second. ‘That’d be Tewkesbury but Cheltenham’s nearer and there are hotels there.’
‘Thanks,’ said Beth and she slunk back to Leo with the glasses of water.
‘What about the scone, Mum?’ asked Leo looking totally unimpressed with the glass of water and its solitary ice cube.
‘Not now, Leo. Let’s drink this and go.’
A few short phone calls later she discovered that, thanks to a Medieval Festival, there was no room at the big hotels in Tewkesbury or Cheltenham or anywhere nearby. Staying in a bed and breakfast was never going to be the first choice for Elizabeth Thurlow-Browne. However, it appeared the village of Dumbleford was pretty short on options and she didn’t like the sound of the Bleeding Bear pub despite its recommended breakfast.
Thankfully, the landlady at the B&B was very friendly and keen to have residents for the night. She welcomed them by bustling around and thrusting leaflets at Leo that detailed all the local attractions.
‘And there’s the Morris competition tomorrow on the green. You’ll love that!’ she insisted. Leo let out a giant yawn.
‘Morris? Are they those funny little cars?’ asked Beth.
The landlady laughed, ‘No, dancing. Morris dancing, it’s a big thing round here. You might get to join in if you’re lucky!’
Beth could think of nothing worse.
She settled Leo in front of the small television and dashed out to the hire car to grab their case and Leo’s rucksack of toys. Seeing as it was dark she also grabbed her pink unicorn onesie from the overstuffed small car and shoved it under her arm. The hire car was parked further away than she’d thought and Beth was concentrating on where she was walking as she struggled with the case.
It was the dog she spotted first. A huge muscle-bound beast with flailing jowls that intermittently showed large white teeth as it hurtled towards her. Beth tried to get out of the way as the huge dog ran past her but at the last second she saw a large hooded figure running behind the dog and they barrelled into her, sending her sprawling across the pavement. If she hadn’t been winded, she would have had a lot to say.
‘Where the hell did you spring from?’ came a gruff and accusatory male voice that was worryingly familiar.
‘Could you get off me, please,’ was all Beth could manage, her response muffled by the onesie over her face. The large hooded figure was heavy and she was pinned to the case. He rolled onto his haunches, sprang up and dusted himself down. Beth pulled the onesie off her face and tried to hide the mass of pink furry material. She looked up and despite the hoody she recognized her assailant – it was Jack.
‘I think that makes us quits,’ she suggested as she sat up and started to get her breath back.
The dog must have kept going at first but now, realizing it was running alone, it was racing back towards them. Jack made a lunge for the beast’s collar and missed, and Beth found herself lying on the pavement again, this time with a huge dog slobbering all over her.
‘Argh! It’s trying to bite me!’ she yelled.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Doris wouldn’t hurt a soul.’ He got hold of the collar and winched the large dog off. He held out his other hand to help Beth to her feet.
‘I’ll manage, thanks,’ huffed Beth. ‘That thing should be on a lead.’
‘You should look where you’re going. Come on, Doris.’ Jack turned and jogged away.
Chapter Three
Carly had finished work for the day and stopped off at a small café on her way home. She sipped her black chai tea and jotted down her latest contract into her diary. As a British Sign Language interpreter she was in demand and received many different requests. Hospital work was her bread and butter but she took on other projects when they interested her. She popped the lid back on her half-finished drink, slipped the papers into her oversized handbag and left the café. She loved her job but sometimes it did feel like she was the grown up with the proper job and Fergus was … well he definitely wasn’t a grown-up with a proper job.
Carly loved Fergus, there was no question about it, but some of the things she loved about him were also the things that drove her slightly crackers. As she opened the front door she could hear him chattering excitedly in his playroom. That was what she called their spare room; he grandly referred to their converted second bedroom as his office but, seeing as all he did was play computer games all day, she thought her label was far more appropriate. She pushed on the door so it opened a fraction. It went quiet inside and he popped his head round the door in greeting.
‘Hiya, C. Good day?’ he asked, his game controller clutched between his thighs and his uncombed dark hair falling across his face.
‘You’ve not got dressed.’ Carly puffed out her cheeks.
Fergus looked down at his Minecraft lounge trousers and grinned. ‘I have, I was wearing Batman ones this morning.’ The door shut behind him. Every day was a pyjama day to Fergus – how he managed to pay his share of the bills into the joint account each month Carly had no idea. He had tried to explain how it worked a couple of times but, whilst she did use the Internet occasionally, she didn’t really get it and it still baffled her how he got paid for playing children’s games.
She pouted at the shut door and listened to him gabbling on to himself like a total loon. His own grandmother’s phrase popped into her head, recited in her broad Irish accent, ‘Thick as manure but only half as useful.’
Carly started chopping vegetables for a stir-fry and found the action quite therapeutic, although the more she chopped and sliced the more disgruntled she became. It was Wednesday night and she always saw Beth on a Wednesday night; it was takeaway and natter night, a chance to have a night off from signing and give her aching wrists a rest. That had all changed now that Beth had gone.
The flat’s door entry buzzer interrupted her thoughts. She put down the knife and went to see who it was. There was a hunched figure on the screen.
Carly pressed the button to speak. ‘Yeah?’
‘Carly, it’s Nick. Can I come up?’
Carly felt her heart start to race. ‘No, you bloody well can’t. Sod off.’ She leaned across the hallway and opened the playroom door. Fergus looked irritated at first until she pointed at the screen to show Nick’s face peering at them in black and white.
‘Come on, Carly. Elizabeth has blown this all out of proportion. I want to fix things but I can’t if she won’t take my calls.’
Carly felt the need to shout, ‘Out of proportion! You shit, you hit her!’
‘Carly, this is between me and Elizabeth. Tell me where she is. I just want to know she’s all right.’
‘I don’t know where she is,’ she lied, ‘but she is fine now she’s away from you.’
‘What’s he saying?’ asked Fergus and Carly relayed the conversation. ‘Tell him to feck off,’ said Fergus.
‘I’ve tried that. You go down and see him.’
‘Dressed like this?’
Carly shrugged; perhaps he would now see the benefits of getting dressed on a daily basis. She turned her attention back to Nick.
‘Nick, you can stand there till Christmas for all I care. You’re not coming in and I’ll never tell you where she is … even if I knew.’ She put down the entryphone. Nick stood and stared at the screen for a bit. She watched as he tried the door a couple of times and pressed the button again. Carly ignored it. Nick leaned on the button.
Carly swore and then answered. ‘I’ll call the police.’
‘I need to speak to her.’ Nick’s voice had a harsh tone to it now.
‘Never going to happen.’
‘I will find her. I guarantee it,’ warned Nick as he stared into the monitor. Carly watched him, her heart racing. He gave the door one last try and then walked away.
Fergus hugged Carly. ‘You okay?’
‘No, not really. Beth said he’d come looking for her. I think I’m starting to understand why she’s run so far away.’
Beth woke early in the small twin room of the B&B and pulled the pink candlewick bedspread up to her chin. It was many years since she’d slept under sheets and although she’d heard stories of bedspreads this was her first. She plucked at it as she listened to Leo snoring lightly. She hadn’t slept much, her mind full of buyer’s remorse. What had seemed a wonderfully romantic and spontaneous act at the auction now seemed like the epitome of stupid. Despite the state of the cottage, she had had a good feeling when she stood in the back garden with Leo. But her plan of buying something, doing superficial restoration, some painting and decorating and then a flourish of interior design before moving on to the next property was not likely to work with Willow Cottage. It needed major renovations, shoring up most likely or possibly knocking down, and she didn’t know where to start.
What was she doing? She was a Business Operations Manager. She knew about planning and executing efficiency strategies and adhering to compliance as well as how to cope in a male dominated world. She knew nothing about renovation and she feared the money she had would soon be gobbled up by this project. Most of her money was tied up in the London flat and discussing its sale with Nick was something she couldn’t face anytime soon. He had successfully blocked her access to their joint account so that didn’t leave her with much. Just thinking about him made her feel anxious.
Leo stirred and Beth turned onto her side to look at him – her gorgeous boy. He had slept well. He seemed okay even though he was miles away from London but at least he was safe. Maybe everything wasn’t such a disaster after all.
Beth was rethinking that statement later that day as yet another Morris dancer whooped towards her with a handkerchief and an exaggerated wink. Leo was dancing and laughing as if he was high on sugar, which he definitely wasn’t as Beth was fairly strict with both his sugar and fat intake. There had been lots of skipping about, banging of sticks and plenty of very repetitive music but it was quite jolly and Leo loved it. It was all a bit bonkers and quintessentially English, especially when it was performed on a village green.
After a jacket potato for lunch in the hectically busy tearoom, where the unsmiling Maureen served them, Beth decided they should have another look at Willow Cottage. She was really hoping that her brain had exaggerated what she had seen yesterday and now in the full sunshine it wouldn’t be quite so bad. Beth was also keen to see if she could get a look inside because that might actually be better than the exterior would have her believe. With the lure of an apple, Beth persuaded Leo to come and have another look at the cottage. She liked the fact that she didn’t have to answer to Nick, she could do what she wanted here and even if Willow Cottage had been a stupidly impulsive decision, at least it was her own decision. The village was a hive of activity today and there were cars parked everywhere and slow-moving jolly people clogging up every inch. They mingled their way through and, as they reached the pub, someone called to them.
‘Yoo hoo! Hello!’ It was the small elderly lady with the wheelie trolley. Beth looked around but nobody else was acknowledging the woman so she assumed she must have been talking to her.
‘Hello again,’ said Beth, stopping and waiting for the woman to get to her.
‘Now, lovey, tell me again,’ she said, slightly puffed by the effort of the last few steps.
‘Sorry?’ said Beth totally confused.
‘I want to make sure I heard right. What was it you told me yesterday?’
Beth raised an eyebrow, the bag lady was clearly quite potty, poor old soul. ‘I asked you where Willow Cottage was because I’ve recently bought it.’
The old lady burst into hysterics and all Beth and Leo could do was watch her in puzzled bewilderment.
Eventually, after lots of hand waving, she caught her breath and slowed to a chuckle. ‘Oh, my, I haven’t laughed that much since Maureen shat herself at the harvest festival.’ The memory of this event seemed to set her off again. ‘Mittens,’ she said as if remembering something.
‘Right. Well, it was nice to see you again,’ said Beth as she tentatively inched Leo away.
‘She’s funny, Mum,’ observed Leo. ‘She said “shat”! Is that the past tense of …?’
‘Leo!’ warned his mother.
There was no breeze today and the willow tree stood resplendent, a magnificent cascade in shades of summer green. Beth felt herself smile as she stepped over the broken gate, a new one of those couldn’t be that expensive. She made Leo wait there as she peeked into the willow to see if their lodger was in residence. Thankfully he wasn’t.
‘Come on,’ said Beth, her spirits starting to lift as she tried to take Leo’s hand. Leo pulled it away and munched on his apple as they stood and examined the cottage again. She didn’t know what she was looking for. She moved forward to look at the brickwork. On closer inspection it was obviously very old but there were no major cracks that she could spot. Goodness only knows what is under the climbing plants, she thought but for now she couldn’t worry about what she couldn’t see. They squeezed round to the back of the property and Leo immediately went to see the horses, who were soon attracted by his apple and came walking over with interest.
Beth had a closer look at the stable-style back door. It was quite beautiful. She gave it a rattle. It didn’t seem to fit too well in its frame so she gave it a shove. Surely it couldn’t be breaking and entering if it was practically your own house?
From right behind her there came shouting and Beth jumped away from the door as if it were alarmed. Fear punched her in the gut. The old man that had scared them half to death yesterday had come back to finish the job, only this time there was nowhere for Beth and Leo to run. He was blocking their exit down the side of the house. Beth backed away and clutched Leo to her. The horse that had so very nearly made it to the apple made a bolt back across its field.
‘Arghhhhhhh!’ shouted the man. Beth had no idea what to do. Was this village full of mad people? Her heart was racing and she wanted to run but there was nowhere to run to.
She decided to try to be the voice of reason. ‘Look, it’s okay, we’re not burglars. This is our house.’ There was a flicker of recognition although he was still shouting. Leo had his hands pressed tightly over his ears and looked frightened. ‘We’ve bought the cottage,’ said Beth, her voice raised just enough to be heard. ‘It’s ours.’ She pointed to the cottage. The man stopped shouting.
‘No. It’s Wilf’s,’ he said, his words muffled as if he had a speech impediment. Beth remembered the lady in the shop saying something about Wilf yesterday.
‘Yes, it was Wilf’s but he’s sold it to me,’ she explained in what she hoped was a calm and soothing tone. However, this had the opposite effect as the man started to shout again.
‘Arghhhhhhh!’
There was a rustle in the climbing plant and Jack suddenly appeared, his face full of concern. Beth felt the stiffness in her shoulders ebb away as she was so thankful to see someone come to her rescue.
‘Ernie, what’s wrong?’ said Jack to the shouting man, his voice smooth and gentle and far less gruff than the tone he had used towards her when they’d bumped into each other.
Ernie pointed at Beth. ‘Breaking in!’
‘What do you think you’re doing exactly?’ The gruffness instantly returned to Jack’s voice as he turned his attention to Beth.
‘I wasn’t breaking in.’ Well, maybe she had been trying to a little bit but now was not the time to confess all. ‘I was only looking at the cottage, seeing what work would need doing.’
‘This is private property. I suggest you leave.’
Beth felt her eyebrows shoot up involuntarily at the resolve in Jack’s voice.
‘Did you notice what was on the board on the front of the property?’ she asked, starting to feel more in control of the situation as she knew she was about to wrong-foot him.
Jack pulled a face that made one of his eyes squint up and he looked quite comical. ‘It’s a picture of a chicken.’
Beth was starting to get frustrated. ‘No, not that one. The one that shows when the auction was. Well, it was last week and I bought it. So technically you are on my private property and you should leave.’
Jack rubbed his chin. ‘You can’t have completed on this place that quickly,’ he said, as Ernie looked on, his face etched with concern.
‘No, not exactly but everything is going through and we complete next week.’
‘So, technically none of us should be here.’ He was being pedantic now and that was quite irritating.
‘Then we should all leave. Come on, Leo,’ and she ushered Leo through the gap in the plant and squished herself through after him with as much dignity as she could muster with the leaves tangling in her hair.
As they all stumbled into the overgrown front garden Beth tugged bits of greenery and small white flowers out of her hair and walked off with Leo. A glance over her shoulder saw Ernie disappear under the canopy of the willow tree and Beth stopped in her tracks, nearly making Leo trip over.
‘Come on, Mum,’ he said, his voice a borderline whine.
‘Hang on,’ Beth had her hands on her hips now as Jack approached. ‘Who is that dangerous man exactly?’ she pointed to the tree.
‘That’s Ernie. He’s not in the slightest bit dangerous. He’s part of the village; lived here all his life.’
Beth felt the dig, Jack wasn’t one that was going to accept outsiders easily.
‘He shouldn’t be living under a tree.’
‘He doesn’t,’ said Jack with almost a smile forming on his lips. ‘He has a bungalow near the school.’ Jack pointed past the B&B.
‘Then why is he sat in my garden like a hostile garden gnome?’
Jack shook his head slowly as if he couldn’t be bothered to speak any more and wandered off towards the pub leaving Beth more confused than ever.
‘Mad. They’re all stark staring bonkers in this village.’
Beth’s phone rang. ‘The voice of sanity! Hello, Carls.’
‘At last it’s not your wretched voicemail. How are you and where the hell are you?’
‘I’m feeling surprisingly normal in the village of the totally insane. How about you and Fergus?’
‘Nick came round here last night. We didn’t tell him anything but he says he’s going to find you.’
Beth couldn’t help the feeling of ice fear that trickled through her body. Her mind flashed back to the night she left. Beth looked around her: another troop of Morris dancers was in the middle of the green hopping up and down as another group practised nearby. People were chatting and laughing and the sound filled the air. This was a world away from her London life; there was absolutely nothing here that could connect her to what she’d left behind. Despite the state of Willow Cottage it made sense to stay here for the time being.
‘He’ll never find me here.’
‘Where is here exactly?’
‘Dumbleford. It’s west of Stow-on-the-Wold.’
‘Sounds like place names from Narnia to me. What’s it like?’
‘The cottage I bought is practically a ruin, there’s a man living in my willow tree, the only person under fifty thinks I’m an idiot, everyone else is barking mad and today they are having a Morris dancing competition on the village green.’
‘Actually, I like the sound of that. The Morris dancing, not the rest of it.’
Beth lowered her voice and took a step back from Leo so he wouldn’t hear what she said. ‘Between you and me I think I may have made a huge mistake with the cottage. I’m speaking to the solicitor tomorrow to see what options I have. I’ll keep you posted.’
The rest of the day was spent watching the Morris dancing and reading books in bed at the B&B. Beth tidied the small room for the second time that day. The stupid things I’ve brought from London and the important ones I haven’t, thought Beth as she picked up her glue gun and wished it was her hairdryer.
She pondered the day and hated the fact that Carly’s statement about Nick had dominated it. Everything was Nick’s fault. If Nick hadn’t refused point blank to leave the apartment they would still be in London. She missed London. She had choices in London; she could have any type of food she wanted, stay in a variety of hotels, shop for virtually anything. Here food was limited to the tearoom or the pub, there were no hotels and the handful of shops sold knick-knacks, souvenirs, and out-of-date noodles. If Nick hadn’t sounded so menacing when he said he would find her wherever she went then maybe she wouldn’t have ended up here.
Chapter Four
The solicitor confirmed what Beth had feared – that she was committed to the purchase of Willow Cottage, there were no get-out clauses not even with the dilapidated state of the property. All responsibility for investigating the property before purchase rested with the buyer and, as she hadn’t done any of that, it was entirely her own fault. The solicitor did impart what he felt was good news: that they were completing even sooner than they’d hoped and she could pick the keys up from their offices near Stow the next morning.
‘How would I go about putting it back up for auction?’ she asked, as a sigh escaped.
‘Oh, well, I could do that for you.’
‘You see, I think I may have made a mistake and I need to sell it quickly and get the money back.’
There was a long pause at the other end of the phone. ‘I think I should probably inform you that this was the third time this property has been presented at auction. It’s been looking for a buyer for seven months.’
‘Seven months?’ Beth flopped back onto the B&B single bed. It was bouncier than she’d noticed before as her body jiggled about involuntarily.
‘I’m afraid so.’
She closed her eyes and processed the information. Beth felt her plans had been thwarted, she was stuck here with no obvious escape or quick fix. She felt a sense of resignation. ‘Do you know any good local builders?’
The B&B landlady, Jean, was not doing a bad job of keeping Leo entertained, as it turned out her own grandchildren lived in Canada so having a child in the house was a novelty. It was a shame that Leo wasn’t able to see his own grandparents but, as they had been Nick’s first port of call when she left, they wouldn’t be seeing them for a while. At least it gave Beth precious time to ring a local building firm and set up a quote. She decided that if she could get away with doing the minimum required to make the cottage habitable maybe she could get it back on the market and then make good her escape. The plan had always been to buy somewhere, do it up and then move on and repeat the exercise until she felt that Nick had given up looking for her. It probably wasn’t the finest plan but it was what she had dreamed up when she had found herself staring at another mini-bar in another random London hotel.
Beth picked up the keys to the cottage from the solicitor as planned and with Jean showing Leo how to make fairy cakes she headed off to meet her first tradesman at Willow Cottage. As she walked down the side of the pub she could see the back of a white van that was parked in front of the cottage, which was a good start. However, seeing Ernie peering into the driver’s window was not. Beth’s mobile rang; she didn’t recognize the number so answered it but didn’t speak.
‘Hello? Hello, Ms Browne? This is Kyle from Glancey Construction. I’m at the property now but …’
Beth walked round to the passenger window. The young man inside was leaning away from the driver’s door as Ernie’s gnarled face loomed large. She tapped on the glass making the young man jump. ‘Hello,’ she said with a wave.
Kyle didn’t answer, he just pointed at Ernie.
‘Oh, that’s Ernie. It’s okay, he won’t hurt you, he’s not dangerous,’ said Beth into her mobile. She wasn’t entirely sure that was true but she needed Kyle to get out of the van. Kyle switched off the phone and scooted along the seats until he could climb out of the passenger door.
‘This way,’ said Beth, keen to ignore the Ernie situation.
‘Is he a bit …’ Kyle tapped his head to finish the sentence.
‘I’m not sure really, but he seems to fit in well here.’
Beth took Kyle round the back of the cottage and he was already sucking his teeth before he’d even seen the inside. Beth tried each key on the plastic cable tie that was keeping them together. Every key was old, some were rusty but none of them fitted. Kyle was busy poking at brickwork and shaking his head at the roof so she systematically tried each key again – no luck. As she stepped back she noticed another lock further down on the bottom half of the stable door.
‘I wonder,’ she muttered to herself as she crouched down. The third key she tried turned grudgingly in the lock and she was able to push open the bottom half of the reluctant door and it creaked in protest. ‘I’m in!’ she called to Kyle as, adopting an unattractive walking crouch position, she waddled inside.
It was dark and musty. Beth squinted and still she couldn’t see anything. Suddenly a beam of light blinded her and Kyle appeared carrying a large torch and doing the same odd crouching walk that she’d done. They stood up and dusted themselves down as Kyle shone the torch around to reveal that they were in a kitchen. That was if a ceramic butler-style sink and an elderly stove was enough to qualify it as such. A brief glance at the floor revealed chunky-looking floorboards, a much darker shade than they should be thanks to the dirt. Beth was aware of something where the window was despite it being boarded up so she pointed for Kyle to shine the torch in that direction.
It appeared that the plant that dominated the outside of the house was also doing a comprehensive job on the inside too. ‘Oh my God!’ said Beth, as she took in the expanse of the creeping vegetation and the maze of spider’s webs clinging to it.
Kyle strode out of the kitchen leaving Beth with only two choices – stay in the dark with the spiders or scuttle after him. In the dark she tripped up a small step that led out of the kitchen but thankfully the dark hid her blushes as she scooted after Kyle. There were two more rooms downstairs; one was completely empty and the other had an open fireplace with a large beam above it. From the glimpse she saw, it looked promising and definitely the sort of feature she could emphasize as a focal point. As Kyle headed upstairs the torch glinted off something on the grimy wall. Beth reached out to touch it before the light disappeared and the contact of her fingers sent it crashing to the ground.
‘Hang on, Kyle. Shine that torch this way would you, please.’
Kyle reappeared and shone the light in her face. With her eyes tight shut she pointed at the floor and the torch beam followed her finger. She opened her eyes to see a dusty photo frame in pieces at her feet. Beth bent down and, carefully sifting through the broken glass, she picked out the photograph.
Holding it in the light she could study the black and white picture. Its edges were tatty implying it hadn’t spent its life in the frame. There was a middle-aged woman, her hair pinned back in a style reminiscent of the war years. She was laughing and in front of her she was hugging a small boy who was beaming a smile at the camera. Beth felt herself smile. She turned it over and read the swirly writing on the back: ‘Dearest Frank/Daddy With all our love at Christmas time Elsie & Wilf (Christmas 1944)’.
Kyle coughed and the torchlight wobbled. ‘Do you want to stay down here while I take a look upstairs?’
‘No, I’ll come up, thanks.’ Beth put the photograph safely inside her T-shirt so that it didn’t get damaged. The smiling faces gave a little hope that once upon a time a family had been happy here. So perhaps she could restore it to somewhere liveable for another family in the future.
‘Best be careful. It may not be stable,’ said Kyle, pointing at the stairs. He proceeded to demonstrate his caution as he took each stair one at a time and tested it first with a stomp of his boot before putting his weight on it. Halfway up Beth huffed her frustration at the slow progress.
When they eventually reached the top, Beth could see they were on a small landing and a beautifully carved balustrade, with the odd missing spindle, which was protecting them from the stairwell. Kyle opened a door to reveal the grimmest-looking bathroom Beth had ever seen – even the spiders hadn’t settled in here. Its avocado bath and toilet mismatched with the pink sink and the curly-edged linoleum floor finished off the ghastly ensemble, which was all covered in a layer of grime. The last two rooms were the bedrooms; both were a good size but one was particularly attractive as it had a sloped ceiling on one side, even if it did have a large brown patch in the centre, and there was also a step down making it into two levels. She was pleased with the quirky nature of its layout and could see what a lovely room it would make for a child but the thought of the work required took her breath away. She gave herself a small shake; she had to think of this as a business venture, as a project to be managed. This wasn’t going to be their long-term home, she couldn’t afford to invest heavily in it right now and she didn’t need to lavish it with the same love and attention she would her own home. She just needed to do it up and get it sold.
Beth was deep in thought when a bang made her jump. Kyle swung round and aimed the torch beam at the stairs to reveal Ernie. He was clutching the handrail tightly and frowning deeply, only an arm’s reach away from Beth.
‘Out!’ he shouted, his voice deep and raspy.
Beth stood her ground although her pulse was racing. ‘Ernie, please don’t shout. Let’s go outside and I’ll explain.’
‘Out,’ he repeated, but with less ferocity as Beth gently guided him back down the stairs with Kyle erratically waving the torch above her head. When they reached the back door, Ernie stood back so that Beth could go first. She resumed her crouching position and shuffled out under the stable door.
She heard Ernie expertly wriggling a bolt on the top half of the door, it opened and he and Kyle walked out. Thanks a bunch, thought Beth as she dusted herself down.
‘Ernie. This is my house now.’
Ernie didn’t seem to understand as he was shaking his head. ‘No. Wilf’s house.’
Beth remembered the photograph. She retrieved it from under her T-shirt, at which Ernie looked a little alarmed.
‘Here,’ she offered him the photo, ‘Wilf.’
Ernie leaned forward to take a proper look and a grin spread quickly across his haggard face.
‘Wilf,’ he repeated.
Beth tried to pass him the photograph but he refused with a wave of his hand.
‘I’m going to live here with my son.’ Ernie looked confused again. ‘Like Elsie and Wilf did.’
‘Elsie?’ Ernie’s voice was soft and his eyes instantly welled with tears. Beth’s heart went out to him and she willed him to understand.
‘Yes. Leo and me. We’ll live here like Wilf and Elsie. Oh and,’ she checked the back of the photo. ‘Frank.’
Ernie wiped away a tear with his sweatshirt sleeve. ‘Not Frank.’
‘Oh, um.’ Beth didn’t know what to say and she could see that Kyle had finished jotting notes down with an exceptionally small pencil and was keen to get her attention.
‘Frank died,’ Ernie’s voice was shaky.
‘I’m sorry. Shall we …’ but she didn’t get to finish the sentence as Ernie was already scrambling back down the side of the house and he was gone.
‘What sort of budget are we looking at for this, then?’ asked Kyle, sucking his teeth again.
‘As cheap as possible. Could you send me the quote? I’m sorry, I need to go after him and make sure he’s all right.’ Ernie hadn’t gone far; a swift peek into the willow tree revealed his hunched form sitting on the ground.
‘Come on, Ernie. Let’s get a cup of tea and you can tell me all about Elsie and Wilf, okay?’
Ernie rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve like a child and gazed at her. Eventually he spoke. ‘Tea and cake?’
Beth laughed. ‘Yes, if you like.’ She held out a hand to help him up and he took it and held on to it with his thin bony fingers.
The tearoom was quiet so when Rhonda brought over their order she sat down too and Ernie smiled his greeting. Beth wasn’t sure if the smile was for the cake or Rhonda.
‘Hello again, I’m Rhonda.’
‘I’m Beth.’
‘I know. So you’ve bought Wilf’s old place, then?’ asked Rhonda, folding her arms and leaning forward. Beth was instantly uncomfortable with Rhonda’s over-friendly approach.
‘Like Elsie and Wilf,’ said Ernie through a mouthful of coffee and walnut cake.
‘Willow Cottage,’ said Beth, feeling that she needed to have her wits on high alert in order to not be tricked into giving away too much information.
‘Never heard it called that before. Must be the spin the estate agent put on it,’ said Rhonda, pulling a face to match her statement.
I’ve been had again, thought Beth.
‘Partner not with you?’ ventured Rhonda, eyeing Beth’s ringless fingers.
‘Er, no, I’m single.’
‘Holiday let or permanent?’
Beth was thinking. ‘Renovation project.’
‘Project to live in or sell?’
The quick-fire question round was making Beth exceedingly uncomfortable. ‘Sell.’
Rhonda looked disappointed. ‘What we need is new blood in the village. Young blood.’
Beth tried very hard not to think of vampire films as she looked at Rhonda’s pale face. Maureen snorted her derision from behind the counter, so she was clearly listening in.
‘The village school is struggling, I think it’s down to twenty-two children now.’
‘Per class?’ asked Beth. That was well below national average and would be a good place to ease Leo into the routine of a new school, even if he might only be there for one term.
‘No,’ chuckled Rhonda. ‘In total! They have to put them all together to make enough for one class. And that’s after trying to encourage them in from surrounding villages too.’
Ernie wiped his mouth with the serviette and got up to leave.
‘Oh, Ernie, are you going? You were going to tell me about Elsie and Wilf,’ said Beth.
Ernie looked teary again and he shook his head. He pointed at the now spotlessly clean plate that had once delivered his cake. ‘Thank you,’ he said and he left.
‘Poor old Ernie,’ said Rhonda. ‘Lived here all his life, never left the village.’
‘He seems quite attached to Willow Cottage.’
‘Ah, well, that was Wilf’s old place you see and he and Wilf were like brothers. Ernie’s mother was pregnant when they evacuated her from London during the bombing. Elsie took her in. She was on her own too, both waiting for men to come back from the war you see.’ Beth nodded her understanding, she was engrossed in the nostalgic story and was waiting for the happy ending. ‘Thing was, it was a difficult birth. Baby got stuck, which is why Ernie is the way he is. His mother died in labour so Elsie brought him up.’
Beth swallowed hard, she was still looking for the happy ending. ‘Was her husband okay with that when he came back from the war?’
‘Oh, Frank, he never came back; he was shot down. It was just Elsie and the boys. Ernie moved out some years ago and he lives in one of the new bungalows up the way,’ she pointed in a random direction. ‘But the cottage was always his home. He and Wilf were inseparable. You see, Wilf used to sort things out for Ernie. With Wilf dead, Ernie is pretty much alone in the world. I’d better get back to work.’ Rhonda smiled briefly, collected up the empty teacups and plate, and went behind the counter.
Beth felt near to tears. There was no happy ending to this story. She placed the photograph on the table and took in the faces again. They looked so cheerful.
Chapter Five
Carly was gabbling on the phone and it was difficult to interrupt.
‘Slow down, Carls, I’m only picking up every third word, it’s like trying to decipher a coded message,’ said Beth.
Carly took a deep breath and tried to quell the excitement that was bubbling up inside. ‘So, in summary – I think Fergus is going to propose! Eek!’
Beth pulled the phone away from her ear. ‘Now hang on, we’ve been here before. Do you remember the large Christmas present that sat under the tree for weeks and you convinced yourself that it was like a Russian doll full of smaller and smaller boxes until you got to a ring box?’
Carly made a non-committal noise as she bit her lip at the memory and winced. ‘But it could have been …’
‘And what was in the large box?’ Beth’s voice had gone all school teachery.
‘A new sleeping bag.’
‘Precisely. I’m just saying be careful. Don’t go getting your hopes up.’
Carly paused before the excitement grabbed her again. ‘But this time it’s different. He’s asked me to meet him under the statue of Eros in Piccadilly Circus! I mean how romantic is that?’
‘It’s on a busy traffic junction.’
‘Stop being a killjoy. Anyway, think about it. Piccadilly Circus is very close to the Ritz. Perhaps he’s taking me there for afternoon tea to propose.’ She emitted another more stifled eek. ‘Oh my God, I need to change!’
‘No, you don’t. You always dress pretty smart for work.’
Carly was staring down at her outfit and it all looked very different when she surveyed herself this way compared to how it did when she checked herself in the full-length mirror before leaving the flat each morning. ‘I’m wearing a dress but with flats!’ She didn’t give Beth a chance to respond. ‘And Tiffany’s is not far from the Ritz. Oh my God, Beth, I’ve got to go …’ The line went dead.
Beth groaned. She truly hoped that this time Carly had got the right end of the stick and that she wasn’t winding herself up into a frenzy of happiness only to have it peed all over.
Beth sat at the table in the B&B and studied the various quotes she’d received. It was not looking good. Number one priority was the electrics so she had no choice but to confirm the work for that, which was a sizeable chunk of money. Basically, everything needed something doing to it and it was going to cost more money than she had. Having walked out on a well-paid city job she only had a small amount of savings to rely on until she sold Willow Cottage and hopefully turned a profit. Beth was feeling at a loose end as Leo was watching some cartoons on the small television and Jean was dusting around them both.
‘Why don’t you go to the pub tonight? It’s quiz night,’ she suggested. Beth struggled to think of anything worse. Bingo, actually, bingo would have been worse.
‘They do bingo first, so if you go early you’ll catch that too.’
Beth openly sighed. ‘I think I’ll give it a miss, thanks.’
‘They are friendly, you know, folk round here. If you’re going to be here for a while it would do you well to make some friends. Just a bit of motherly advice,’ she chuckled as she whisked the plates into the kitchen. Beth didn’t want to make friends. This was a temporary thing; she didn’t need new friends. She had Carly and … she realized nobody else from her old life had been in touch but that was because nobody else had her new mobile number. She’d been too worried about it making its way into Nick’s hands.
Something else she could lay firmly at Nick’s door, not only had she left behind the life she’d built for herself in London, her job, her parents and pretty much everything she knew, she had also had to cut herself off from her friends. But if she thought about it she knew this hadn’t happened overnight. Hindsight was a wonderful thing. When she looked back she realized things with Nick were changing long before that fateful day. Nick’s apparent easy-going manner had been replaced over time by a persuasive argumentative one that manipulated Beth into doing what Nick wanted. The seemingly throwaway comments about the people Beth socialized with were all intended to drip-feed his messages of control and it had worked. Slowly Beth saw less and less of her friends until it was just Carly on a Wednesday night. Carly and Fergus were pretty much her only friends now but if she had them then that was all she needed.
It was the middle of the afternoon and, despite her mercy dash home to swap her shoes and redo her make-up and hair, Carly had been fifteen minutes early arriving at Eros’s statue. She hadn’t enough time to do a proper job but a quick go with the straighteners had spruced it up a treat. She got out her clear lip-gloss and applied another coat to make sure. She wanted to look and feel perfect when he proposed. Carly checked her watch again – only five minutes to go. Her stomach was doing all sorts of things; it felt like it was full of hungry caterpillars instead of butterflies.
Carly searched the busy streets for Fergus. He was tall, quite lanky really, so often was easy to spot in a crowd but there was no sign of him yet. The minutes ticked by as she watched the busy hum of London life around her: the Big Issue seller on one side and the young person with a large sign directing people to a new shoe shop on the other; it interested her that the Big Issue seller was a lot more enthusiastic than the sign holder.
Carly checked her watch again. Now Fergus was late. She had to keep moving out of the way for tourists to take photos of Eros, and photos of them pulling silly faces and kissing each other in front of the statue. It was starting to get annoying. She watched couples hand in hand heading into the Criterion restaurant looking all loved up and happy. People kissing each other good-bye as they piled out of taxis. Others sat on the steps of the statue watching the world go by.
Fergus was fifteen minutes late. Carly’s feet were starting to hurt. These heels looked fabulous but they weren’t designed for standing about in or walking any distance. She thought about texting him but he rarely felt the vibration of the phone so that was probably pointless, and right now she didn’t trust herself to text something that may spoil the mood of the ever-so-romantic proposal she was sure was about to materialize.
Carly spotted a mop of unruly black hair bobbing her way and instantly relaxed. It was Fergus, he was late but he was here. As the crowd parted she saw his grinning face. He looked particularly pleased with himself, which was a good sign. He was dressed which was definitely another plus but he was wearing jeans and a Star Wars T-shirt – not her first choice for the beautiful memory of his proposal but now was not the time to get picky, she thought.
Fergus kissed her. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘The blog chat ran over,’ he explained but Carly wasn’t really paying attention – that didn’t matter now.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
‘Wait and see.’ He took her hand and led her into the tube station. Immediately her spirits plummeted. She was wrong about the Ritz and Tiffany’s and she tried hard to erase the pictures of the stunning rings she’d seen in magazines. Her feet didn’t take kindly to the tube station steps but she was trying to stay positive.
A few sweaty minutes later they emerged at St Paul’s and Carly tried to think of nearby places that were ideal for a proposal. She was struggling to think of any; all that was nearby was the London Stock Exchange and St Paul’s Cathedral, its dramatic white dome visible above the grey office buildings. Fergus gave her a reassuring smile. Perhaps he could sense her anticipation, but did he realize how important this moment was to her?
Carly had been dreaming of the perfect proposal and perfect wedding ever since she was a girl and watched Monica and Chandler on Friends. He led her through the streets, past the front of St Paul’s and then into the magnificent cathedral by the sightseeing entrance. Carly had been here as a child but remembered little of its vastness and awe-inspiring interior; it did take your breath away.
Fergus pulled her close and hugged her. She held her breath. ‘This way.’
The steps at the Underground were nothing to the ones she was facing now. The sign told her it was 528 steps to the Golden Gallery. She gulped hard, pointed at the sign and then at her shoes.
‘It’s okay, we’re not going all the way to the top,’ Fergus told her with a cheeky smile.
At about the 150-step mark it got better because the burning feeling in her toes was replaced by a numb sensation, which was still painful but didn’t make her wince with every step. Fergus gave her reassuring glances every so often as he almost jogged up the steps in his well-worn trainers. Carly forced a grimace onto her face. Dear God, this had better be worth it, she thought.
She was about to admit defeat and resign herself to a life of spinsterhood when Fergus beckoned her up the last few steps and into the first gallery. They stood by the balustrade. The views in all directions were breath-taking and the ornate dome above them was resplendent in symmetrical perfection. Carly did her best to ignore the smug-looking faces peering down on her of those that had climbed all the way to the upper gallery. She was certain they would not have done it in heels like hers. She tried hard to ignore the throbbing in her feet and blanked out the thought of the descent that was yet to come.
Fergus guided her to the wooden seating that ran around the gallery walls.
‘This is the Whispering Gallery,’ he told her and she nodded. She had forgotten all about it until he said but now she could hear the echoes of a foreign language as another couple shared their messages into the architectural phenomenon. Fergus kissed her gently and then walked around to the other side of the gallery.
Some children appeared and proceeded to share obscenities around the walls until their parents emerged at the top of the steps and intervened. The walls echoed with the sound of their stifled giggles. Carly was glad of the sit-down and so were her feet. She so wanted to take off her shoes but she dare not remove them in case she couldn’t get them back on.
Eventually the gallery was silent. Fergus sat on the far side of the dome. Carly felt her heart rate quicken and she took a deep breath. Fergus gave her a little wave and she saw him put his face to the wall. This was it. She closed her eyes and listened to his melodic Irish accent magically emanating from the wall behind her.
‘I love you, Carly Wilson,’ he said and she felt a tear form. ‘And to prove it to you … I’m taking you away for a magical weekend in a treehouse.’
There was a very long pause. Carly didn’t want to open her eyes. She played the words around her head again but it didn’t matter – whatever she did, that was definitely not a proposal of marriage. She opened her eyes to see Fergus giving her a thumbs-up from the other side.
‘You utter tosser,’ she said with feeling into the wall and, for the first time, she was grateful that Fergus was deaf.
It was early evening and Leo was gently purring in his sleep. Beth looked around the small room with its ancient wardrobe, candlewick bedspreads and plastic framed scenic pictures on the wall. Jean was lovely but staying here was slowly draining the life from her. She needed a plan and she needed to take action. Perhaps a trip to the pub was exactly what she needed.
Jean was more than happy to babysit Leo and seemed thrilled that Beth was taking her advice, so Beth slung her bag on her shoulder and headed out. There was a breeze but it wasn’t cold. The sun was setting and Beth stopped for a moment to take it in. The colours were majestic; the soft orange hues melding with a deep yellow glow as the sun slowly melted into the silhouetted countryside. The only sounds were the light wind rippling through the trees and a few birds squabbling over where to roost for the night.
The scary pub sign was creaking gently and Beth pulled her eyes away. As she reached the pub, she could hear the welcoming chatter inside. She truly hoped it wouldn’t stop as soon as she entered like it did in all good horror films. The heavy old door took a bit of shoving and unbeknownst to her a large man inside the pub had seen her approaching and had got up to give it a pull just as she gave one more hard push. The door opened swiftly and as it disappeared from beneath her touch Beth stumbled inside with a clatter of heels on wooden floor but thankfully she managed to stay upright and avoided falling to her knees. The large man was awfully apologetic, as was Beth who had almost landed in his lap. Beth recovered quickly and realized that nobody was really watching, they were all thankfully engrossed in chatter.
Pulsuz fraqment bitdi.
