Escape to Honeysuckle Hall

by Rebecca Raisin

  ‘Help me, sweet baby Jesus!’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Are you drunk?’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘Go inside before you catch your death, Mercury can’t help you then.’

  ‘I’m joking, Es. There was a huge spider in the shower at the same time as me, a very vicious-looking one and I came out in a bit of a panic for the bug catcher, and well, I wasn’t thinking about my nakedness at that point,’ I say. ‘I’m no arachnologist but I’d say it was venomous, maybe even lethal.’

  She stares at me like she doesn’t believe me and remains silent.

  ‘I’m going to go inside now.’ I back away, slowly.

  It’s only later, when I’m tucked up in bed, that I realise I forgot to catch the spider. It’s probably inching its way around the cottage right now …

  What a day!

  Chapter 10

  Almost a week later, with the cottage rejuvenation nearly complete, I make a plan to head into town proper with Esterlita, who assures me the antique emporium has the most wonderful collection of furniture, even if the pieces are one hundred years old.

  We go in her catering van, a big trusty old thing, which she drives like she stole it. My breath catches in my throat as she takes corners in a straight line. Clearly, she doesn’t feel the need to brake when she can accelerate. The van swings perilously this way and that and I clutch the grab handle and send up a silent prayer that we make it to town alive.

  As we zoom past other cars, I see fear reflected in the drivers’ eyes. My pulse thrums so loud I can actually hear it, a cross between rattle and a moan, like I’m stuck in the death throes, halfway between here and the afterlife. I don’t dare speak in case Esterlita takes her eyes off the road and we careen to our deaths.

  I’m white-knuckled by the time we arrive. ‘Bloody hell, Es. Were you a racing car driver in your former life?’ My heart beats so loud I can barely hear myself think.

  ‘What?’ She scrunches up her face.

  ‘Were you trying to beat the land speed record or something? You were well over the speed limit!’ I open the door with shaky hands and fall to the ground, my jelly legs unable to hold me up. I kiss the mossy earth in thanks for my life.

  She waves me away. ‘Oh, you and all your rules, Orly!’ she says as if I’m the fun police sent specifically to ruin her day.

  ‘They’re not my rules!’

  ‘I’m good friends with Constable Jones – don’t worry.’

  ‘That doesn’t help if you lose control and hit a tree.’

  ‘You’re so boring, you know that?’ She exits the van, shaking her head and muttering.

  ‘Only because I like being alive,’ I say.

  ‘I’ve driven these roads for forty-plus years. Do I look dead to you?’

  I know we can go back and forth for hours when she’s not going to admit defeat, so I give in. ‘Right. Well, I also like walking – maybe next time we can take a nice relaxing walk into town instead?’

  ‘Not safe. You’ll probably get hit by a speeding car.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. Do you want to shop or do you want to argue?’ She folds her arms across her chest.

  ‘I’d prefer to shop while I’m still of this mortal coil.’

  ‘Good choice.’

  We head into the little antique emporium and I’m assailed with the musty scent of dust and the turpentine of furniture polish. It’s cosy and moody and packed wall to wall with antiques. ‘Oh, Es, these are lovely.’ I point to a couple of gilded bergère chairs upholstered in soft pink velvet.

  ‘They’re very … you.’

  ‘Pink and French – I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  ‘What else do you need?’

  ‘An armoire, a vitrine for my stamp collection, a—’

  ‘OK, just point. I don’t know what any of those are.’

  I laugh and point to the pieces. ‘OK, I see, very different from my house. I prefer shiny and slippery.’ I can only imagine what Esterlita’s house looks like because she prefers hanging out at my cottage. I expect her décor is an assault on the eyes as she does like bright, bold, contrasting colours and patterns, although I bet somehow it works.

  ‘I can see these would work in your cottage. I do like the gilding.’

  ‘Me too. I need a few bits and pieces for the guest room – one of those beautiful white Hollywood beds.’ Part of me is hoping Maya will come and visit soon so I intend to make the room an oasis. ‘And then I guess I need some Chesterfields or similar for the hall, and … I don’t even know where to start with the hall actually.’ I flick over a price tag, and sharply inhale. ‘I might need to do the buying in stages.’

  ‘Don’t worry about the price so much; you have the Firecracker with you. We won’t pay half of what’s on the price tag, trust me.’

  I grin, imagining Esterlita haggling with the poor shop assistant who’d probably give in just to get us out of the shop.

  ‘OK, I suppose a bulk buy does warrant some negotiation. But let’s just take it slowly so I don’t impulse-purchase.’ Esterlita has a way of badgering me to do things I don’t want to do.

  She clicks her fingers at a young man at the desk as if she’s Carly C herself. ‘These prices are highway robbery! Orly needs that, that other thing, that bigger thing over there.’ She does the duck lips and the poor guy tries to follow her meaning. His complexion turns red when she gets impatient. ‘No, not that one, that one!’ Again she points with her pout. We’ll be here all day at this rate.

  ‘Es!’

  ‘What?’

  I lean close and whisper, ‘Let me point, OK, and you can haggle.’

  ‘Sure.’ she grins. ‘This young man is Sebastian. He’s a good Catholic boy and I know his mother very well.’

  He’s probably about thirty years old and her words are more like a threat than an introduction as if she’ll be on the phone to his mum in a flash to tell her he’s not bowing to pressure.

  ‘Hey, Sebastian, it’s lovely to meet you. I’m Orly, and I’ve just moved into Honeysuckle Hall.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve heard all about you!’

  I narrow my eyes at Esterlita who suddenly studies her nails. ‘Hope it wasn’t all bad,’ I half-joke.

  ‘Nothing bad, just that you sometimes run around naked screaming.’ He blushes. ‘Some kind of London fad to bathe under the moonlight, or something. I wouldn’t mind joining you … purely for the health benefits.’

  I shoot daggers at Esterlita. How has she spread the story around this quickly? ‘Thanks for the offer, but no, it’s not a London fad thing. There was a very big hairy spider, you see—’

  His face falls. ‘You don’t need to justify yourself to me.’

  I’m going to kill Esterlita. ‘Quite. So how about you show me around.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘I’ll just stay right here.’ Esterlita plonks herself on a chaise longue and kicks off her heels.

  ‘Yes, erm, make yourself comfortable,’ Sebastian says.

  ‘A cup of tea would be lovely.’

  ‘Ah, sure, give me a minute, Orly. I’ll make tea and be right back.’

  ‘And don’t forget the biscuits,’ Esterlita says.

  I shake my head. ‘I’ll take a wander around. Don’t rush.’

  But Sebastian duly rushes off and I turn to Esterlita. ‘Bathing under the moonlight, Esterlita! Were you short of gossip or something?’

  ‘You said something about Mercury in retrograde, did you not?’ She shrugs. ‘And I had to make it scintillating, didn’t I? The spider angle is so boring. Don’t worry, this should get you the attention of every single man in town!’

  I let out a long sigh. ‘And you’ve got that thirty-something-year-old boy running scared! What are you like?’

  ‘To me he is a boy! And it’s all part of the complex rules of negotiation, darling.’

  I sigh at Esterlita and her foibles. I’ve never known anyone like her before and I doubt I ever will again. ‘Well, your m
ajesty, if you’re all set there I’ll take a look around.’

  She holds a hand out for me to kiss. ‘As you wish.’

  Her cackle follows me around the shop.

  Chapter 11

  I have more drop-ins from curious townsfolk and people who come to fix things at the property, but they all stay schtum about why the place never had any interest. I have that same niggle that everyone knows something I don’t. Maybe it’s just the way they treat newcomers? A small-town test, to see who has the mettle to stay before they’re taken into the fold. And if that’s the case, then I’m prepared to earn their trust slowly but surely, even though the running naked under the moonlight thing hasn’t endeared me to some.

  When Sophia, a young mum with kids in hand and a baby strapped to her front, drops in, I invite them to play in the garden while I make the stressed mum a pot of tea. ‘Sorry for dropping in like this,’ she says with a shrug. ‘We were meandering and found ourselves here. These long walks help burn a bit of their endless energy and they wanted to see who the new person was they’ve been hearing so much about.’

  They must be six and under, and they’ve been hearing about me? Or is it Sophia’s way of explaining away her curiosity? ‘No problem,’ I say. ‘I’m sure everyone is more interested in what’s happening with the hall itself, rather than me.’

  Sophia blows on her steaming-hot tea. ‘No, not really. It’s mainly you everyone is interested in. Especially after Freya stirring the pot.’

  ‘Oh?’ I say. I hadn’t really believed Esterlita’s soliloquy about Freya.

  ‘I don’t believe a word of it, of course.’ She darts a glance around the cottage as if looking for clues. ‘You’re not setting up a gentlemen’s club, are you?’

  ‘A what?’

  She blushes. ‘I don’t know exactly what she meant, but she alluded to late-night debauchery, that kind of thing.’

  It makes me uneasy that the local town gossip has it in for me. It can’t be good for business and it’s just plain mean. ‘No, I can assure you I’m not starting anything of the sort! I’m going to open up a camp, a wellness retreat, if you will. There’s nothing untoward about it! I haven’t even met Freya, so I’m not sure where she’s getting her information from?’ And what on earth is she implying when she says gentlemen’s club?!

  ‘That’s Freya, she’s got spies everywhere. Knows everything there is to know about people. Gives me the creeps, she does. Told everyone that I had too many children, that I was ruining my life, popping them out one after another like that, as if I’d done something wrong by wanting a gaggle of kids!’ Sophia’s face falls and I can see Freya’s acid tongue has caused quite a lot of damage to the young mum’s confidence.

  I open the biscuit tin and offer it to Sophia. Sugar helps in times like this. ‘Sounds to me like Freya envies you, Sophia. Usually that’s where malicious gossip stems from. As hurtful as her words are, I wouldn’t let them bother you. It says more about her than it does about you. Your children are lovely and I can tell you’re a fabulous mother.’

  ‘Thanks, Orly.’

  ‘No need to thank me, just telling it like it is.’

  We watch the kids run rampant outside and finish our tea and biscuits. All the while I think of the busybody Freya, besmirching people for no good reason. I’ll have to find out a little more about her and why she’s trying so hard to turn people against me. Perhaps she wanted the hall? One thing I know for sure is, bullies are usually jealous of something, and what else could it be?

  Sophia leaves as quickly as she arrived, the kids running backwards and waving, seemingly more energetic than when they arrived. I make a mental note to invite them back for a barbecue, so the kids can explore while Sophia puts her feet up for a bit.

  I clear up the tea things and then check my emails. Leo’s quote arrives. I hope to all that is holy I can afford it. I’m reminded of Esterlita’s dire warnings that this place is a money pit and I’d be better off marrying a rich man …!

  My finger hovers over the attachment as I freeze, unwilling to see the numbers now they’re here. What if I’ve underestimated the costs? You’ll find a way.

  If my plans are halted before they even start then I’ll buy some power tools and give it a red-hot go myself. An image of me wearing steel-capped work boots and a tool belt flashes into mind and I laugh. How hard can fixing windows be? I’ll probably lose a finger in the process but I suppose I have ten to play with – or are thumbs not classed as fingers? In that case I only have eight to play with. Risky …

  Just as I’m about to open the attachment a car pulls into the drive. I jump up in excitement and shock when I see it’s Maya. Scouring the front room, I know she’ll be surprised by the changes. She might even stay this time.

  Esterlita and I have made miracles happen, even though I had to give in and agree to let her scatter some cushions in the most hideous colours ever produced. They definitely take away from the cosy cottage vibe but arguing with Esterlita over aesthetics is infinitely more stressful.

  I race outside and greet Maya with a: ‘Whatareyoudoinghereohmygod!’ And launch-hug her like I’m channelling Bai.

  With an, ‘Ummmzfphwark,’ she manages to keep her balance and says, ‘What a welcome!’

  Holding her arms, I stand back. ‘Why didn’t you call and let me know you were coming?’

  ‘I took a gamble you’d be in, unless you’ve already found a new love and are off for few days of debauchery?’

  I cluck my tongue. You’d think I’d been a spinster my whole life the way these women talk about me! ‘No, I’ve been very busy setting up this brand-new venture, I’ll have you know. I don’t have time for washing my hair, let alone men.’

  She flicks one of my plaits. ‘I can see that. And I thought it wise to come and check your chicken bites were healing well.’

  I cup my face and groan. ‘I’m bloody triggered every time I see something out the corner of my eye. He’s stalking me, I know it!’

  ‘Who knew chickens were so calculating?’

  ‘Cluck Norris bloody well is!’ I shudder, remembering his beady little eyes and the threat in them. ‘How did you manage to get time off?’

  ‘Cluck Norris!’ She laughs and takes a small case from the back seat of the car. ‘I did so many double shifts I couldn’t remember what day it was. In fact, I still can’t. Monday, Thursday, Wednesday? I’m due for some leave so I thought, why not? I’ve missed you. Like crazily, stalker-fashion missed you. I propped up a photo of you on my phone at Bai’s and pretended you were there. Got a few strange looks too, I did.’

  I laugh. ‘I’ve missed you too.’ And I really have, especially when Esterlita has gone home after her usual twenty-minute goodbyes and my body aches from the manual labour and sleep still manages to elude me. That’s the time of night where I think about Harry, Maya, and my old life in London. Strangely, I miss the street noises and sirens that used to lull me to sleep but don’t miss the hectic London life itself.

  ‘Let me take you for a tour.’ I grab her hand and lead her inside. The entrance hall that was once a dark musty space is now a bright and airy linen-white, with golden hooks for coats and hats. A little potted fern blows in the breeze like its waving.

  ‘Wow, this is amazing.’

  ‘That’s not all.’ I lead her into the front room, and she gasps. ‘You did all this?’

  ‘I did, with the help of my neighbour Esterlita. You can thank her for those horrendously awful cushions, one of which is a close-up of a dolphin, jumping out of the water. She really loves dolphins and who am I to judge?’

  ‘Wow, I can’t believe the change! This is the prettiest little cottage I’ve ever seen. Before it looked like the scene of a crime. You’ve done wonders with it. I love the fireplace. And these gorgeous antiques, Orly, wow. All of your furniture from the apartment … is where?’

  ‘Sold. It didn’t suit here.’

  ‘You made the right choice. It wouldn’t have suited being Scandi. This is lov
ely, Orly, really lovely. You always had a flair for interior design.’

  ‘Esterlita got me a criminally good deal on the antiques by threatening the poor Catholic boy on the tills that she’d tell his mother some secret.’ Part of me still feels a little guilty at that until I remember Sebastian offering to join me naked under the moonlight for ‘health benefits’.

  ‘What was the secret?’

  ‘Oh!’ I lift a palm. ‘Once when he was seven, Esterlita caught him peeking up ladies’ skirts in church under the guise of collecting Bibles. She’s never let him forget it.’

  ‘When he was seven?’

  ‘He claims it isn’t true, said he was collecting Bibles and kept getting told to get out of the way of the priest, but he’s terrified of Esterlita.’

  ‘Wow, good bargaining power then.’

  ‘Yes, poor guy. I also bought a bunch of furniture for the hall but that won’t be delivered until the repairs are complete. Come and see the rest.’ I take her through the tiny cottage to the guest bedroom. I spent longest here, trying to get the colours and décor right, hoping Maya would visit and feel welcome.

  ‘This is just beautiful.’ The white Hollywood bed is made up with floral linen and lots of plush pillows and soft throws. There’s a reading chair and a bedside with a lamp.

  ‘I knew you’d like it. I wanted it to feel homey and cosy.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave, Orly. Seriously, I can’t believe you’ve done all this in the time I’ve been gone. It’s like I’ve stepped into a fairy tale. I’m just waiting for my cookies and warm milk.’

  I sling an arm over her shoulder, pleased as punch she loves the cottage and that she’s here for a little while at least. ‘How about a pot of tea and some cake?’

  ‘I could murder a pot of tea! So tell me everything that’s happened since we spoke last.’

  We head into the kitchen, which is bright and sunny now that the grimy cracked window has been replaced, and delicate lace curtains sway in the breeze. Maya props herself up on a stool at the small island bench. As I start to assemble tea things, the doorbell rings, and then promptly rings again. Esterlita’s calling card. She says no one ever hears the first ring. Since the bell is more of a thirty-second melody I’ve assured her she only needs to do it once, but she won’t be told. Besides, she doesn’t wait, she wanders right on in, just like she did that very first day, so the bell is moot anyway.