Summer Secrets at Streamside Cottage

by Samantha Tonge

  That was why I needed to find answers in Leafton.

  ‘I never knew. I wish we’d been able to talk about it,’ he said.

  ‘Me too. I should have explained.’

  ‘And I should have been more understanding.’

  We held hands for a moment.

  Also I worried there was something really wrong with me. There had to be for Mum and Dad to have let go. I’d hurt them and I didn’t want to hurt Ash. That’s why it had been so important to visit Streamside Cottage. To find out something – anything – that would help me quash those fears.

  ‘Looking back that proposal was just my way of trying to fix us, but we were too broken by then. I can see that now.’

  I smiled. It was the same old Ash. Fair, calm, caring.

  ‘I just want you to know,’ I blurted out, ‘you were the best boyfriend ever. How you made me realise I had the power to control my own destiny, you helped shape me as a person. A corner of my heart has your name on it, and always will.’

  ‘Oh Lizzie…’

  ‘Strong and dependable, you steered me through stormy waters. I’ll be eternally grateful.’ I squeezed his fingers.

  He paused. ‘Grateful enough to have a tattoo of my name?’

  ‘Never.’

  We smiled at each other in an easy way and for a second, I felt how I used to with Ash – as if everything was going to be okay. Without thinking I leant forwards and was about to place my lips on his. Ash leant forwards too. But for some reason I thought about Ben and just couldn’t.

  I drew away. ‘Sorry… I don’t know…’

  ‘I’m sorry too, I got caught up in the moment.’ He gave a lopsided smile and took away his hands. ‘Look, I’ll go.’

  ‘No, look, stay the evening. Why not head off first thing tomorrow? We can have a catch up. Come on, let’s go out the back, I’ll show you the garden, it’s beautiful.’

  We spent the rest of the day sharing news from the months we’d been apart. His brother’s wife was pregnant with their second child and his little niece and his mother couldn’t have been more excited. We got takeaway and talked about how we’d both, secretly, had thoughts, on and off, about how maybe, just maybe, we weren’t the perfect match after all.

  ‘Call it shallow,’ he said and smiled, ‘but I like nice clothes and dream of owning a big house. I’ve always sensed that’s not how you feel.’

  I’d nodded. ‘I sensed that difference between us too. I can’t think of anything worse than wearing a pair of designer stilettos and having more than one bathroom to clean.’

  It felt so good to talk honestly with each other, as if we were both closing a door on our past together that had been left just a little bit open.

  I made up the spare room for him. He got up at the crack of dawn to avoid the rush hour back to London.

  ‘It was great seeing you, Ash,’ I said as I stood on the doorstep. I was still wearing my pyjamas. ‘Thanks for stopping by. I- I’m going to be okay, if I can just find some answers here.’

  ‘Keep me posted?’

  I nodded. We hugged.

  ‘Oh, what did you want to tell me, when you popped into the tattoo studio?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh yes, I forgot that.’ He gave a sheepish grin. ‘It was really just to thank you for the job I told you about last night, that I’ve landed at the hospital. Being an art therapist on an eating disorders ward is going to be so satisfying. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted and will give me the experience I need to one day set up on my own. You always encouraged me, Lizzie. What you said about me yesterday… well you too… you were the best girlfriend ever.’

  ‘It’s everything you deserve,’ I said. ‘Really. I’m so proud of you. I wondered how you landed that car.’

  He grinned. ‘Not mine, I’m afraid. My cousin owed me a favour so I asked if I could take it out on a trip. It drives like a dream. But who knows?’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe I’ll have my own one day.’

  A car drove past as we hugged again. Ben. I pulled away from Ash and waved but he can’t have seen me.

  Ash glanced after the hatchback. ‘That… Ben was he called? Seems like a decent bloke.’

  ‘He’s been really helpful.’

  We looked at each other. Smiled. I waved him off, feeling an uncomfortable knot in my chest, that had been there since we broke up, unfurl.

  27

  Now

  In 1999 Mattel created the Butterfly Art Barbie doll that had a butterfly tattoo on its stomach.

  I walked down the high street the next morning, heart thumping. I’d just passed by the estate agency and Caroline had come outside to catch me. Apparently, sprucing up the cottage had attracted the attention of potential buyers, with its clean windows and hanging basket. Indeed I had tidied up the front garden and washed the front curtains, putting a vase of flowers from the back on the window sill. She wanted to thank me for brightening the place up – said she felt unexpectedly confident that, at the end of my month’s stay, the cottage could be quickly sold; that the owner, Aunt Fiona, had finally agreed it was for the best seeing as Caroline didn’t think it would be a long process. In fact, Caroline was sure one interested party would ring back any minute to ask to view it and wanted to warn me she might be contacting me to arrange it.

  What if I still hadn’t got the answers I’d wanted? At the back of my mind I’d been thinking that maybe, just maybe, I could stay on an extra week or two if I still needed time. Now it looked as if that might not be possible.

  In fact… I swallowed. The thought had crossed my mind, more and more frequently, that living in Leafton, not leaving at all… it felt appealing. The rural setting, the beauty of the garden and the forest, I found it so inspiring. I was making friends and slowly felt wounds from recent years beginning to heal. My artistic passion had returned and I could see myself happily working from the cottage.

  I sighed and entered the supermarket and past people queuing at the post office area. I was hoping to catch Neve going on a morning break. She might have news about the photo I’d found. It made no sense to me. Why would anyone want a permanent reminder of two buildings that weren’t picturesque or historical, that didn’t have a friend or family member standing outside them? Neve had just come off the till. Keen for some relief from the cool air con, she collected the photo and her purse from her locker and bought a packet of two muffins. We went out the back of the shop, into the sunshine. A worn bench crouched near the delivery entrance. Gratefully we sat down and drank bottled juices as the breeze nudged a discarded vape canister across the ground. She’d had a busy morning with one staff member ill and Alan confined to the office, a load of preparatory guidelines having come in for Christmas stock.

  So much of modern-day life demanded forward planning – as if wishing your life away was the construct for good organisation.

  Perhaps dreams existed to take us back into the past and redress the balance.

  Last night, once again, I’d been taken back to my childhood. I was playing with my best friend Jimmy Jammy. I didn’t see a clear face, just felt him force my fingers flat so that a centipede on his arm could switch terrains and move from his hairy skin to my smooth palm. Eventually I passed it back and he started to laugh, said it tickled. We returned the tiny creature to the grass, saying how cool it would be if we had multiple pairs of legs, then all of a sudden I was sitting on a carpet in front of a mirror. My reflection actually stroked my fringe and asked if we could play hairdressers. The dream had felt like everything my life wasn’t at the moment – stable, carefree – with a sense that the girl in the mirror was looking out for me, until Mum and Dad suddenly appeared in it, looking upset. Their distraught expressions made me feel sick for a few seconds, as I woke up with a jolt.

  I took a muffin and the photo from Neve.

  ‘I was going to ring you tonight,’ she said. ‘I searched online like you and sure enough couldn’t find out anything about a company called G & B. Of course, the photo was taken twenty or so years before
we had the internet.’ She ate a chunk of muffin. ‘But the fact that there is no mention of the company at all online makes me think it went bankrupt or closed down for some other reason. Notes for live registered businesses are kept at a place called Companies House, but after twenty years are either destroyed or moved to The National Archives. Tonight I was going to access the latter’s website, on the off chance records might be held there.’

  ‘But…?’

  She smiled. ‘Granddad dropped in early this morning. His washing machine has leaked and he wanted Dad to take a look before work. I’d already asked some older neighbours about The Best Inn and one mentioned visiting a branch in Luton forty minutes away. That was going to be another line of enquiry – driving out there at the weekend to see if any of the buildings in the town centre matched.’

  ‘I really appreciate this,’ I said and stared at the black and white image on my lap.

  ‘However, Granddad recognised it immediately. The restaurant from this picture was located nearer, in St Albans. He’d visited often because Grandma had a bar job there before she got pregnant with Dad. He’s sure that’s the one because he’s never forgotten the large brass pine cone door knocker on the outside of the building next door. The employers, all financial whizzes, used to have lunch where Gran worked. She asked them about the knocker once.’

  ‘Pine cones represent the Third Eye, don’t they?’ I asked, thinking back to one of my clients.

  ‘Yes, but any supposed foresight didn’t help the business. An employer was embezzling money and even though he was brought to justice and jailed, the company went bust in the eighties. That’s why there’s no trace of it on the internet.’ Neve looked at her watch. ‘I haven’t helped much, have I? None of this explains why your parents bought a cottage in Leafton to rent out.’

  ‘You’ve been brilliant. I really must take you out for lunch again as a thank you. Do you know if G & B stands for anything?’

  ‘Just surnames, of the chairmen, I presume. Green & Brown.’

  We stood up.

  ‘I’d almost forgotten, there was just one thing that’s odd. If you look really closely where the two buildings join, halfway down the photo someone has drawn a symbol in biro.’

  Squinting I stared at the photo and saw a sideways eight like the one on the trunk of the weeping willow. Of course. How could I have been so stupid? Neve was right to use the word symbol. That was no horizontal number. It was the infinity symbol. What could it mean?

  Deep in thought I went back to the cottage, to grab something to eat before heading off for the book signing. As I reached my drive Ben’s car pulled up outside his house. He got out.

  ‘Ben, wait!’ I called and hurried down to his driveway. He stood in his baggy black shorts and red top. Perspiration had made his spiky hair curl.

  ‘Do you still want to get lunch in Henchurch? I could do with the company.’

  ‘What about your friend? That was your ex, right? I saw you and him, on the doorstep this morning.’

  ‘He decided to get off, before the rush hour, you see—’

  ‘Right, well, I’m not sure, Lizzie. It’s been an exhausting morning at work. I had more promotional leaflets than ever in with my letters and parcels today.’

  ‘Oh. Never mind. I understand. I’d better get back and work out the route. I’m not known for my navigational skills, it’s a miracle that I made it to Leafton at all.’ I smiled and turned around, a twinge of discomfort in my chest.

  ‘Wait a minute.’

  I turned back.

  He shrugged. ‘I suppose I could do with shopping. If we scrub lunch that will give me time to relax. If you like I’ll pick you up in a couple of hours. You can head off straight to the signing and I’ll meet you afterwards.’

  My chest twinged again. Had I got the signals wrong between me and Ben? I thought there had been some sort of… chemistry. I couldn’t think of a better word.

  True to his word, Ben drove outside around two and hooted. We didn’t talk much on the way, with the radio on. We parked up and walked down Henchurch high street. The town was bigger than Leafton, with rows of fancy bistros either side, plus branded stores and idiosyncratic gift shops.

  I studied his face. ‘Ben, have you really never lived in London? I could have sworn we’d met before I arrived in the village.’

  ‘Nope, I’m a Leafton lad through and through, with one of those indistinct faces you could mistake for any other, even though it’s covered in freckles. That’s what Mum says. She means it as a compliment. Apparently being a postman is the perfect job for me as she reckons I’ve got the gift of the gab that puts people at ease. Apparently my dad was like that.’

  ‘Have you ever met him? Andy, isn’t he called? Your mum told me his name.’

  ‘Yes, we’re in touch.’

  Silence fell between us again. I didn’t understand. He was usually so open.

  ‘Did you see him as a little boy?’ I ventured.

  ‘I first met him when I was three.’ He paused. ‘His parents hadn’t approved so he waited until he was eighteen to make contact, but by then he’d fallen in love with someone else and is still married to her.’

  ‘That must have been hard for Jill.’

  His face softened as we continued walking. ‘Yes, it broke her heart. He had to move right down south with his job but sent money when he could and as a child I saw him a couple of times a year. Mum was good like that – she never let her own feelings get in the way.’

  ‘Do you see him now?’

  ‘Yes, and I’ve got a step-brother who’s just started Juniors. It’s his ninth birthday next month, I’m shopping for his present. In fact, I’d better get off. Text me when you are ready to meet,’ he said in a matter-of-fact voice.

  ‘Okay, thanks again for the lift.’

  ‘Good luck,’ he said and went off in the opposite direction. I stood and watched him for a while.

  Then I continued down the high street, rehearsing what I was going to say to Frederick, keeping everything crossed that he’d have something enlightening to share before Caroline sold the cottage.

  28

  Now

  One of the most common reasons for tattoo removal is mistranslation

  I arrived at Chapter and Verse bookshop and people were filing out, women mainly. I looked at the poster in the window. Frederick was handsome but it was as if he’d gone from B to A list since I’d seen his website photo. He’d lost weight, along with the arrogant expression and the hair dye wasn’t so harsh, and he’d acquired a tan. I went in and squeezed past readers excitedly chatting and admiring the inscriptions inside their copies of Unspeakable Truths. It was a decent-sized shop with a small but welcoming café at the back, ochre table covers matching the shop’s walls. Above its glass counter a blackboard listed literary-themed treats such as Rainbow Fish Rocky Road. A narrow staircase on the left wound upstairs to fantasy and horror fiction like a spiral galaxy leading to another world. Colourful book spines jammed the shelves. Frederick sat behind a table next to the till. I went up to the pay desk and took a copy of his book from a tower of paperbacks.

  ‘I’m sorry but the event’s over,’ said Ian. That’s what his name badge said. He wore a bow tie printed with quills.

  ‘Do you think he’d just sign this for me? I’d be ever so grateful.’

  Ian caught Frederick’s eye. The author consulted his watch and nodded.

  ‘Thanks,’ I mouthed to Ian and took my copy over to be greeted by an overpowering whiff of aftershave.

  ‘Cool tattoos,’ said Frederick, ‘especially that paintbrush. Many years ago, I had an artist girlfriend who had a palette tattooed across her back.’ He opened the book. ‘What would you like me to write inside?’

  ‘Oh, just your name. That’s fine. Thanks.’

  With a flourish he signed, handed the book back to me and put the lid on his pen.

  I hovered. ‘I come from Leafton.’

  He stood up and stretched.

&
nbsp; ‘You based the story there, didn’t you?’

  Frederick put down his pen. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m currently staying in Streamside Cottage. It used to belong to my parents,’ I said quickly. ‘Lizzie Lockhart. Pleased to meet you.’

  He hesitated before reaching out a hand. ‘Then I owe your family a thank you for the inspiration. I’ve lived in lots of different locations to write my novels – a prison cell overnight, a five-star hotel for a month, a council flat tower… can I just say that your cottage was one of the prettiest.’

  ‘Would you mind a quick chat about your time there? I won’t keep you long. You see—’

  His face flushed. ‘Do you know Trish?’

  ‘Yes, but that’s not why—’

  ‘How about one of our famous hot chocolates, Frederick?’ called over Ian. ‘I think you’ve earned it.’

  ‘Cheers, that’d be great.’ He ran a hand through his movie star hair. ‘Want to join me?’

  Ian let us use the staff room and whilst waiting for our drinks we chatted. It was a relaxing space with pastel walls but Frederick sat on his chair as if the upholstery were made of nettles. He asked about my tattoos again and I told him how I’d dropped out of university. He talked about Leafton and the view from the cottage. Ian brought in two mugs and the sweet-smelling cocoa soothed my nerves.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘My behaviour was… unconscionable.’ He loosened the collar of his black shirt. ‘I only came out of rehab two months ago. I never fully admitted to Trish that I was an alcoholic and I’ve spent the last few weeks making amends to everyone I upset during that period, but when it comes to her, I don’t know what to do – whether to make contact or simply let her forget all the hurt.’ He shot me a direct look. ‘She’s told you everything?’