The Cottage of New Beginnings

by Suzanne Snow

  ‘That’s really kind of you. And thank you for breakfast, sorry I’m not very hungry after all.’ Annie reached for her purse, her hair falling forward and framing her face. She gathered it together, quickly scooping it back into the clip and taking the key from the table, aware all the while of Jon’s silent gaze on her as she finally turned to him, simple good manners winning out. ‘I hope you have an interesting day.’

  He stood up and stuck out a hand as she neared him and she paused, caught unawares by his impulsive gesture. His fingers closed around her palm and she felt the soft roughness of his skin on hers as she looked at him.

  ‘Thanks, Annie. It was great to meet you properly,’ he said gently, that blue gaze never leaving her own. ‘I’m sure we’ll see one another around the village before long. And I still owe you that apology.’

  She nodded, completely aware of his strength as he held her hand and then their arms fell away. She excused herself, practically running into the yard as Elizabeth called goodbye. When Annie spotted the goose scavenging near a barn, she really did have a reason to sprint home and it wasn’t just because she was afraid of being bitten by the wretched bird. It was only when she was safely back in the solitude of the cottage, she remembered she had left behind the basket and her longed-for shopping at the farm.

  Chapter Four

  The following morning her new furniture arrived early and Annie hovered while the delivery men hauled the new fridge-freezer and washing machine, along with two small sofas, into her little house. Elizabeth appeared amid it all, bringing a steak pie and the basket of food from the day before, leaving Annie practically drooling as she thanked her, waving goodbye from the garden when Elizabeth hurried off to go shopping for new guests. Once inside Annie laughed in delight; already the cottage was beginning to look more like a home again.

  She wasn’t sure what she was going to do about plumbing in the washing machine as she’d forgotten to pre-book it, and after the delivery men had left, taking away all the packaging and the twin tub, she made her way to the outhouse in the hope of finding some tools to help with the job. She reached cautiously along the shelves in the darkened space, spluttering as she disturbed years of dirt and spiders long settled in gloomy corners. At the very back of the shed, long forgotten, she stumbled on Molly’s ancient shopping bicycle, its tyres flat and useless and the saddle split. A basket hung limply from one handlebar and in her mind she saw Molly riding the bicycle, sailing off into the village to visit friends or collect shopping, and Annie’s eyes filled with tears.

  Once she emerged from the outhouse – no tools to be found – she desperately wanted a bath. She had a meeting at school that afternoon and really didn’t want to turn up with cobwebs in her hair looking as though she’d been living up a tree protesting about cruelty to bats or something. Back upstairs in the bathroom she was thrilled to find hot water pouring out of the tap and threw in a generous splash of Jo Malone’s Blackberry and Bay bath oil to celebrate, anticipating the pleasure of a good soak. She still couldn’t open the window and steam was already clouding the mirror, but Annie didn’t care as she climbed in the bath and closed her eyes blissfully.

  Before long, the water became cool, waking her from her half-asleep state and she reached for the tap and turned it on, lying back in anticipation of the warmth to come. But moments later she realised there was no more hot water and sat up, cool air already draping itself over her warm body. She climbed out and wrapped herself in a huge white towel, wondering crossly what could have gone wrong now. She ran downstairs, dripping water onto the stone floor in the kitchen while she peered at the Rayburn.

  Shivering now, she realised it must have run out of oil and looked around the kitchen, trying to remember where she would find the storage tank. She dashed outside into the sunshine, barefoot, her sopping wet hair hanging down her back. The tank was behind the outhouse and the oil monitor confirmed what she already knew: that the tank was empty, and she had nothing left with which to cook, heat the cottage or the water. And it was Friday morning already. The weekend seemed to stretch ahead as though it were months, not merely two days, as she thought about how she would manage without the Rayburn.

  ‘Hello, anyone home? Annie?’

  Startled, her heart began to beat faster as she pressed herself against the wall, the rough stone cold against her back. She knew that distinctive voice, hoping he would simply give up and go away if she stayed hidden. After a moment or two she cautiously peered around the side of the outhouse and, aghast, saw Jon emerging into the garden as he called her again, realising she must have forgotten to lock the front door. She clutched the towel tightly, desperate for him not to see her like this. But there was no escape, not unless she hurdled the back hedge and she disliked being amongst loose cattle even more than handsome men she barely knew. As every step he took brought him closer to her hiding place, Annie tried to summon a nonchalant expression and emerged to face him, both arms wrapped around her body to keep the towel firmly in place.

  She tried to look as natural as possible, pretending it was quite normal to find her soaking wet and practically naked in her own back garden. She saw his eyes widen in astonishment, and the surprise disappeared as a much more sensual expression darkened the blue depths as he smiled incredulously. She knew her face was undoubtedly scarlet and found it very difficult to cling to the idea that the towel offered much of a barrier to all she was certain he was imagining.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ The smile became a distracted grin as he turned his back towards her. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you. The door was unlocked, so I guessed you were in.’

  ‘I was just checking the oil,’ Annie said hastily, aware that her voice sounded shrill and a pulse was leaping madly in her throat. ‘Excuse me, I need to change.’

  She hurried past him, relieved he had allowed her enough privacy to dart back into the house and she raced upstairs. A torrent of thoughts flew through her mind as she wondered why he was here, what reason could have brought him to her. She dragged on the first pair of jeans she found and a little yellow top, scooping her hair into a ponytail, and returned to the kitchen more slowly than she had left it. Jon was still in the garden and she knew he was waiting for her to invite him inside.

  ‘Hi,’ she said casually, taking a moment to observe him until he spun around. The classic fit jeans – with a pager attached to the belt – suited his long legs and a plum-coloured shirt seemed to highlight the unusual blue of his eyes. His sleeves were carelessly rolled up, revealing muscular arms darkened by softly curling hair.

  ‘Hey.’ He followed Annie back into the cottage, both of them sidling past the washing machine and fridge pushed casually into place but still managing to clutter up the little kitchen. She hovered beside the table, not quite sure what to say, when Jon broke the silence.

  ‘I just had a look at the oil tank – it’s empty.’

  Annie nodded. She was finding it hard to meet his eyes; she couldn’t forget that she had just been standing in front of him barely dressed, and was already beginning to glow at the memory.

  ‘I can give you a number to call and order more. It’s probably too late for delivery today but if you call by mid-afternoon, they should be able to bring it tomorrow morning. You should switch the Rayburn off until the tank’s refilled, and it’ll probably need bleeding again.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied, rubbing the back of one leg with a still bare foot. ‘I will.’

  ‘Annie, look, I owe you an apology. The other day…’

  ‘No really, let’s not go back there. I can’t believe I missed the sign.’

  ‘You didn’t do it on purpose and I should never have spoken to you like that. I’m really sorry. We’d had a very difficult rescue the night before but that’s still no excuse. Do you think you’ll be able to forgive me?’

  She wasn’t about to let him see how much he already affected her, so conscious of his tall body close to hers and the slightly playful tone lowering his voice. She found it ha
rd to think straight when she looked up and saw the frank expression on his face. ‘Thank you. It’s nice of you to come and say so.’ She saw him glance around the room.

  ‘Looks like you’ve got work to do,’ Jon said casually. ‘Do you need some help?’

  ‘No, thanks,’ she said hastily, refusing his offer. ‘I can manage.’

  ‘Sure? It won’t take me long to get them working.’ He pointed to the shiny new appliances on the other side of the table.

  Annie hesitated, common sense telling her to accept his offer as she had no other options to fall back on right now, unsettled by the growing realisation that she didn’t really want him to leave just yet. ‘Okay, thank you. If you’re sure it’s no trouble? That would be really kind.’

  Jon grinned, the gesture deepening the lines around his mouth, the blue irises a quite different shade to the other day. ‘I’ll go get some tools and be right back.’

  She pressed herself against the dresser as he squeezed past. His arm brushed her shoulder as he headed for the door, and she closed her eyes, breathing in the faint scent of spicy citrus drifting in the air. He was back in less than twenty minutes, with a grey jumper over the plum shirt. Annie hid in the study when he insisted that he could manage on his own. She busied herself taking books from the shelves to dust and wondered about Jon nearby the whole time. Twenty-five minutes later, he stuck his head around the door and grinned when she looked up. She smiled warily as her stomach flipped over.

  ‘Done,’ he said briskly, dumping a small toolbox in the hall. ‘I’ve switched them both on.’

  She noticed a dark smudge on his face, suddenly imagining reaching up to remove it with her finger. She dismissed the idea at once; such thoughts were madness. ‘Thank you very much.’ She got to her feet, pushing a pile of books on the floor to one side. ‘I really appreciate it.’

  ‘You’re welcome, I think it was the least I could do.’ Jon was still in the doorway, leaning against the frame. ‘Do you want me to text you the number of the oil company we use? They’re local.’

  ‘That would be so helpful, I’m still trying to find out everything I need to know about the cottage.’

  He stepped aside as she headed into the sitting room, a quick jolt of surprise making her wonder if he was asking for her telephone number on purpose. She tried to squash the flare of excitement as she gave him her number and he quickly stored it in his mobile. He seemed in no hurry to leave and they stood in silence for a moment as Annie considered what to do next. This was the point at which he would go, or, and this was definitely the more exhilarating option, she would offer him coffee. And then she felt ridiculous – were it anybody else she would have made it by now.

  ‘Would you like coffee?’ she asked brightly. She knew he would accept even before he nodded yes, and he followed her back to the kitchen. Annie busied herself filling the Nespresso machine with water, realising she was running low on capsules and that meant a trip to town to restock. She didn’t imagine the post office would run to selling them just yet. She found a couple of mugs and took a pint of milk from the cool bag where she was currently storing it.

  ‘So how do you like the village?’

  ‘I love it,’ she said, her voice pensive as she slid one of the mugs onto the coffee machine, glancing across to him. ‘But I haven’t spent any time here recently, not since Molly had to move into the nursing home. Everything seems so different without her, especially the cottage. Would you like black or white?’

  ‘Black please. Espresso is perfect.’

  Annie waited a few seconds while the machine poured the coffee into the too-large mug and then pushed it across the table to him. ‘Sorry. Haven’t found the espresso cups yet.’ She turned away to make her cappuccino and a few moments later joined him at the table, sitting opposite.

  ‘Did you stay with Molly often?’

  She smiled wistfully. ‘Most of my school holidays.’ Annie glanced around the kitchen, remembering how it used to look, not this altered appearance she was already beginning to create. ‘My dad was an engineer before he retired and worked abroad for most of his career. I travelled with my parents until I was eleven, when they moved to Singapore and decided I should go to boarding school. There was some reason I couldn’t go out to see them during the holidays and so I came here instead. Molly always made the cottage seem like home and I loved her for it.’

  ‘I guess I would’ve been at university by then.’ Jon cradled the mug between long fingers as he watched Annie steadily. ‘You must miss her. I heard she was such a presence in the village in her day, although she didn’t get on with everybody. She had her beliefs and stuck to them, whatever people thought of her. My father was very fond of her. Although they disagreed from time to time, they both had the good of the village at heart. I’m sorry I didn’t know her that well, she left not long after I came here.’

  Annie beamed at his summary of Molly’s character. ‘That sounds exactly like her. She was often on the warpath with somebody, but she was kind, thoughtful and wonderful to me.’ Annie paused, replacing her mug on the table, remembering Elizabeth’s words about him. ‘Have you worked on the estate for some time?’

  Jon didn’t respond immediately, and she felt her brow furrow as she tried to understand the expression in his eyes as they looked at one another. Eventually he gave her a wry smile as he quickly shrugged his shoulders. ‘Kinda. I was born here but moved to America when I was five.’

  I’m sorry, she wanted to say but wasn’t sure if she should. He sounded pensive and she understood there was regret in his simple answer. Then he said something that completely floored her.

  ‘And I spent six years working with a Christian mission in Kenya.’ He laughed at her amazement. ‘That always surprises people,’ he said dryly, putting his empty mug on the table as he leant back in his seat to watch her. ‘But it’s also true.’

  ‘A mission?’ Annie wondered if she had misheard him, her shock at his revelation enough to distract her from her surreptitious perusal of his broad shoulders.

  His eyes flickered with amusement. ‘Yes. I went on a couple of trips to South America when I was at university, and after I graduated the short-term trips just kept getting longer. I came home to Thorndale four years ago.’

  Annie took in the information, trying to match it to the man sitting opposite her and knew she wanted to know more; he had awakened her curiosity with just a few words. He glanced at his watch and she wasn’t surprised, just a tiny bit disappointed, when he looked at her and she saw the coming goodbye in his eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry, I have to go.’

  She was taken aback by the reluctance in his expression as he stood up and pushed his chair underneath the table. She followed him through the sitting room, watching as he ducked to avoid the wooden beams. At the front door Jon spoke first, sounding impulsive.

  ‘I guess cooking tonight is out of the question as you’re out of oil. We have a youth centre on the estate and you’re very welcome to come over later and join the team to eat, if you’re not already busy.’

  Annie tried to make her expression unremarkable, knowing that prolonging her time in his company would be decidedly risky. At least she was meeting Kirstie and wouldn’t have to make do with cheese and biscuits for supper.

  ‘Thank you.’ She switched her glance to the scruffy garden beyond the front door. ‘That’s very kind of you, Jon, but I’ve got so much to do, and I already have plans.’ And unable to help it, she went fishing as she returned her gaze to his. ‘But you must have plans with your family too, you won’t want me tagging along.’

  Jon shook his head and her eyes somehow became lost in his own as he replied. ‘My dad and stepmother are away right now, so no family plans.’

  She swallowed, feeling her knees tremble as she heard what he was trying to tell her. She stepped back against the bottom stair, half hoping he would go so she could restore her scattered thoughts. ‘Thanks for your help earlier.’

  He said goodbye as h
e turned into the garden, hesitating before lifting his hand in a casual wave and walking rapidly away. Annie closed the door and it was only when he had disappeared that she realised he hadn’t really explained the reason for his sudden visit, not entirely sure that an apology for the other day was the whole of it. She pulled her phone from her pocket and shrieked: she had no idea that time had passed so quickly, and raced upstairs to get ready. Fifteen minutes later, changed into a simple shirtdress, her still damp hair twisted into a respectable plait down her shoulders, she leapt into her car.

  The meeting at school was interesting and she inspected her new classroom, already stripped bare for next term. She did her best to concentrate as the headteacher showed her around again and introduced her to some of her new colleagues on their final inset day, but she couldn’t get Jon out of her thoughts, shocked to have become so easily distracted by him.

  The afternoon was already disappearing when she drove back into the village, her phone beeping with messages. She pulled over outside the Howards’ farm to read them, surprised when she opened the one from Jon. Don’t forget, he’d written, followed by the telephone number she needed for the oil company. She called the oil company straight away, relieved to arrange a delivery for the following morning and dithered for nearly five minutes before sending a simple thank you to Jon in reply. It would have to do. She returned to the cottage, laden down with piles of stuff to organise into lesson plans and projects for her year, dumping it all in the study for now and heading upstairs to get changed to meet Kirstie.

  Chapter Five

  ‘Here, get this Prosecco down you, Annie Armstrong, and tell me why you’re back in Thorndale after all these years.’

  ‘Aren’t you having one too?’

  Kirstie shuddered as she placed a glass of sparkling wine on the table in front of Annie and pulled out her chair to sit opposite. ‘I am not! Horrible stuff, makes me feel sick.’

  ‘So what have you got?’ Annie looked at the other glass Kirstie had set down. It looked very appealing, all fresh, green, and summery, and she tried to focus on that and not Kirstie’s question.