Coming Home to Cuckoo Cottage

by Heidi Swain

  Chapter 5

  I woke in something of a daze, completely confused as to where I was and what I was doing there. I could hear the shrill telephone ringing out, but when I went to grab it, it wasn’t there. I shot up in bed and the room finally swam into focus as I threw back the covers and raced down the stairs. The answerphone cut in just as I reached the bottom step and I was pulled up short as Gwen’s voice filled the hallway, requesting that whoever was on the end of the line should leave a message, and if she thought it worth her while, she would return the call later.

  ‘Hello, Lottie, this is David. I’m just ringing . . . ’

  I quickly snatched up the phone.

  ‘David, I’m here,’ I puffed. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t near the phone.’

  A quick glance at the clock told me I’d had a good eight hours’ sleep, but the way my head was spinning it felt like a lot less.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he said, his tone concerned. ‘You sound out of breath.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘A bit shocked to hear Gwen’s voice, but otherwise I’m absolutely fine.’

  ‘Yes,’ he mused, ‘funny, isn’t it? You might think you’ve covered all bases, but then something unexpected comes along and hits you like a bolt out of the blue.’

  I got the distinct impression that he was speaking from experience, but I didn’t feel I knew him well enough to ask directly.

  ‘Yes,’ I said instead. ‘I think I’m destined for quite a few thunderbolts during the next couple of months.’

  ‘But you’re sure you’re OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’m fine, although,’ I added, knowing that I couldn’t not mention it, ‘I rather wish you’d warned me that the town gossips have been out in force.’

  ‘Ah,’ he sighed, ‘I was afraid Chris might have let something slip. I am sorry, Lottie. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to burden you with it. Given what Gwen said about your potential reluctance to make such a big change, I didn’t think it would help to have you worrying about silly tittle-tattle on top of everything else.’

  ‘Well never mind,’ I relented, my annoyance softening now I knew he had my best interests at heart. ‘I know all about it now so if anyone says anything it won’t be such a shock.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure it won’t come to that.’

  ‘And the cottage is simply beautiful,’ I said, keen to move the conversation on. ‘I had no idea that Chris and Marie had been working so hard.’

  ‘I take it he didn’t mention all their hard work then?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ I said. ‘If anything, he was keen to play their contribution down, but you only have to look around the place, and in the fridge, to know they’ve taken their caretaking duties very seriously.’

  ‘I can well believe it,’ said David and I could tell he was smiling. ‘And how did you enjoy the quiche?’

  ‘How did you know about that?’

  ‘I was the one who recommended it,’ he said proudly. ‘Jemma, who owns The Cherry Tree Café here in town, is the queen of quiches as far as I’m concerned. In fact, all her baking is second to none. If it wasn’t for her I’d be a mere shadow of the man I am today.’

  Yes, there was definitely a sad story beginning to come into hazy focus around David Miller.

  ‘I think I need to pay that café a little visit after our meeting at the bank,’ I said, thinking back to the pretty façade I had spotted the day before. ‘I assume our meeting is still going ahead. You haven’t phoned to cancel, have you?’

  ‘Oh no,’ said David. ‘The meeting is still on. I just wanted to make sure you were all right and ask if you would like me to drive out and pick you up. Chris seemed to think you might need a lift. In fact, he was asking around in The Mermaid last night, trying to find out if anyone had a little car they were looking to sell.’

  My stomach rolled miserably at the thought.

  ‘Oh dear,’ I groaned. ‘I really should have put my foot down about that, shouldn’t I?’

  ‘I take it you don’t want a car then?’ David guessed.

  ‘No,’ I told him, ‘absolutely not.’ I was about to add that I didn’t need a ‘fella’ either, but I didn’t know if Chris had announced that to the pub as well, so quickly stopped myself. ‘And thank you for asking, but I don’t need a lift today either. I’m going to cycle to town. I’m looking forward to it.’

  ‘Well, as long as you’re sure,’ said David doubtfully. ‘It’s really quite a trek on two wheels, you know.’

  ‘Honestly,’ I said. ‘I do appreciate the offer, but I can manage.’

  ‘All right,’ he said, ‘but if you change your mind, just give me a call.’

  As I stood at the kitchen counter eating toast and honey and looking out at the garden, I realised I had forgotten to ask about Minnie. David enlightening me all about Chris’s super-speedy car hunt had taken me by surprise and I had to acknowledge that even though I was now living in splendid isolation, there were going to be certain aspects of my life that were destined to be more visible than ever before.

  Another quick glance at the clock confirmed that I had some time to fill before my meeting in town and so without further ado I pushed my concerns about living in a goldfish bowl aside and rushed upstairs to dress, my mind full of the exciting possibilities the empty barns might have to offer.

  Knowing full well I wouldn’t want to wrangle with it before I set off for town, I decided to wrestle the gate open before I became too engrossed in exploring the barns. Thinking back over the distance, I had to concede that cycling to Wynbridge was perhaps going to be a bit more of a challenge than I first thought, especially in the high summer heat which I could already feel building up.

  Yet again it took a fair amount of cajoling and some less than friendly persuading to yank the gate open and I had just tempted it as far as I could when I heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. Given the shocking state of the road surface and the narrow nature of the lane, it sounded to me as if it was being driven far too fast and then, sure enough, the very same truck which had squeezed snugly by Chris’s van roared by, its horn blaring and a man’s hand waving briefly out of the open window.

  ‘Idiot,’ I muttered.

  I was as much annoyed that the blast from the horn had made me jump as I was by the speed at which the truck was travelling, and made a mental note to see Chris later and ask if he knew who was likely to be behind the wheel.

  ‘Hello!’

  So outraged by the speeding truck, I hadn’t noticed another vehicle approaching and spun round to discover an ancient yellow minivan parked on the verge.

  ‘Hi there!’ called the driver, as she climbed out of the car and rushed towards me with her hand outstretched. ‘You must be Lottie.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, with a nod. ‘Hello.’

  The fact that she already knew my name confirmed exactly what Chris had been saying about everyone expressing an interest in the future occupant of the cottage, but at least she hadn’t called me ‘cuckoo’. I stepped up to shake her hand, but the woman, who was around my own age with short, dark hair, pulled me into a hug instead.

  ‘Welcome,’ she said warmly. ‘Welcome to Wynbridge. How are you settling in?’

  ‘Oh,’ I flushed, surprised by her demonstrative introduction. ‘Very well, thank you.’

  ‘I’m Maggie,’ she said, taking a step back and leaving a slight trace of spicy incense in her wake. ‘Although everyone calls me Mags, and this is my son, Edward.’

  ‘Although everyone calls me Ed,’ he called, from his seat in the van.

  ‘Hello,’ I said, bobbing down to wave through the window.

  ‘I’m sorry we can’t stop and chat properly,’ said Mags, ‘but I have to get to work.’

  ‘And I have to feed Jack,’ said the curly-haired boy, who was probably ten or eleven, as he pointed to a large cardboard box on his lap.

  ‘That’s his latest addition to the menagerie,’ Mags tutted, rolling her eyes. ‘Yet another mouth to feed.’
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  ‘Puppy?’ I asked.

  ‘Jackdaw,’ said Ed. ‘With a broken wing. Mum has said I can keep him.’

  ‘Mum most certainly has not,’ said Mags. ‘I swear my son’s got Durrell blood,’ she laughed, shaking her head, the sun glinting off her pretty crystal earrings.

  I didn’t quite know what to say. I don’t think I could have been more surprised had the boy announced he had a baby dragon on his lap.

  ‘Well, thank you for stopping to say hello,’ I smiled. ‘Do you live far away?’

  ‘Just up near the crossroads,’ she said, pointing along the road. ‘We’re almost your nearest neighbours.’

  ‘Well, that’s good to know,’ I said. ‘I haven’t visited here for a while so I’ve kind of lost track as to who lives along here now.’

  ‘We’re just next door to George,’ she explained. ‘So you aren’t completely on your own. Anyway,’ she said, pointing back to the car, ‘sorry I can’t stay longer, but I’m a bit behind this morning. What with having to wrangle Jack into submission on top of everything else.’

  I walked with her to the minivan and laughed as the box on Ed’s lap began to rock and energetically sway as she turned over the engine.

  ‘Can I come and have a look at your field?’ he asked when he spotted me watching his newest pet’s antics.

  ‘Ed!’ scolded Mags.

  ‘Please,’ he added by way of apology. ‘Gwen always let me. I used to come all the time.’

  ‘Well, in that case, come whenever you like,’ I told him. ‘As long as your mum doesn’t mind, of course.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Mags, gratefully. ‘He’s really missed having this place to explore.’

  ‘Well, you’re both welcome any time,’ I said.

  I was surprised to find myself so keen to invite them. Ordinarily I was more guarded when meeting someone for the first time, but there was such warmth and comfort emanating from this woman and her interesting son that I knew I could do far worse than having them as neighbours.

  ‘Pop in whenever you like,’ I added.

  With a toot on the horn, Mags released the handbrake and I watched her drive away at a far more sedate pace than the rogue truck I’d seen earlier.

  With the lane empty again, I walked down to the yard and stood for a minute watching the pairs of swallows speedily darting in and out from under the eaves of the smallest barn and wondered what it was exactly that Ed wanted to look at in the field.

  When I used to visit, I would spend hours drawing pictures of the hedgerows and collecting leaves and the odd discarded eggshell to take back to the cottage for Gwen to display on the fireplace. I rather liked the idea that Ed would want to do the same sort of thing, and if the box on his lap was any sort of indicator, then I was sure that he would.

  Mindful of the time, I slid back the bolt of the barn door which was closest to the field and heaved it open. I knew there were arched windows at the end, but they had always been boarded up. My heart began to pick up the pace again as I imagined the shutters coming down and the space filled with light. This would be the ideal spot to create an office area for the administrative end of my potential new business venture, should I decide to go ahead.

  As predicted, the space was empty and currently cloaked in gloomy darkness with nothing more than a few cobwebs for decoration and a furtive, frantic scrabbling from somewhere towards the far end that made me yelp, take a step back and quickly close and bolt the door again. I might have enjoyed collecting nature’s spoils as a youngster, but I’d never been a fan of rodents. I knew that permanent country living was going to put me in close proximity to any number of furry friends, but so long as they agreed to keep their distance and stayed out of the cottage, we’d get along just fine.

  The second barn, which was bigger than the first, was also empty but this one didn’t have any windows and I wondered how easy it would be to have a couple put in along the back wall. Letting in the light would no doubt transform the space and the panoramic view across the fields that ran behind would be spectacular.

  My eyes roamed the lofty interior, imagining it set up as the perfect place to showcase my completed renovation and makeover projects. I made a rough estimate of the square footage and calculated I was going to need quite a few conversions to make any kind of impact. For the first time since John and Eric had suggested the idea, I felt a tiny, but definite, twinge of doubt.

  The thought of setting up my own business had been thrilling in theory and seemed like the perfect way to utilise the wonderful space Gwen had given me, but when actually faced with it, I wondered if I had it in me to see it through. I was used to working away in the background, but this venture would mean putting myself firmly at the forefront of things and I wasn’t at all sure I had the confidence for that. My initial exuberance felt a little thwarted as I slammed the door shut and moved on to the last barn.

  Gwen had always called this one ‘the big shed’, which it was when compared to the size of the other two, but calling it a ‘shed’ was something of a misnomer because it really was too grand for such a mundane title. It had the same boarded-up arched windows as the smallest barn but also boasted a practical and well-stocked workshop area at the back and sliding wooden doors which opened along runners, currently hindered by a build-up of weeds and stones.

  After a minute of clearing and struggling I managed to wrench them apart, just far enough to squeeze through, and there, to my utter amazement, sat what turned out to be just the shot in the arm I needed.

  ‘And you’re absolutely sure they belonged to Gwen,’ I asked David on the telephone for what must have been the fiftieth time.

  ‘Quite sure,’ he patiently confirmed again. ‘She spent quite a lot of time looking for them online and when she found one she was interested in Chris would take her to look it over. Then, if it was as good as the advert suggested, she would snap it up and he would tow it back to the cottage, usually on a Sunday afternoon. They actually went as far as Birmingham one weekend as I recall.’

  ‘Online?’ I choked. ‘Birmingham? We are talking about the same Gwen, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes,’ laughed David. ‘I know it sounds a bit off the wall even for her . . . ’

  ‘A bit off the wall!’ I spluttered.

  ‘But the girls in the Cherry Tree used to help her with the computer side of things, and to be honest, I’d always assumed you had played some part in the venture yourself, Lottie, because she told me, quite specifically, that she was buying them with you in mind.’

  ‘No,’ I said, my head in a daze. ‘I had absolutely no idea about them. No idea at all.’

  ‘I can’t believe she never told you,’ he said confusedly, ‘but then I probably should have guessed she hadn’t when you didn’t mention them at the will reading.’

  ‘Believe me,’ I said, biting my lip and wondering what exactly Gwen had envisaged for them, and for me for that matter, ‘I’m just as surprised as you are, but thank you for explaining everything. I’d better go and get on.’

  ‘Yes, you’ll need to set off soon.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be there,’ I said, glancing out at the sun which was still ruthlessly beating down from a cloudless sky. ‘I might have to find somewhere to cool off for a minute by the time I arrive, but I’ll make it.’

  ‘And you really are sure you don’t want me to come and get you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, giving his offer an undeserved eye roll, ‘thanks, but I’ll be fine. I’ll see you later.’

  I rushed back down to the barn and squeezed through the gap in the door, my heart racing wildly, but this time more from excitement than shock. One tiny Bailey and three pretty little Cheltenham caravans, one in each corner of the barn, sat looking at me, all as cute and gently curved as each other and, from what I could see, all in good condition, on the outside at least. Taking a closer look, I soon worked out that the little quartet hailed from around the mid- to late-sixties and I wondered if Gwen had been thinking along the same
lines as John and Eric when she began collecting them.

  This, I couldn’t help thinking as I ran a hand over the bodywork of the one closest and peered through the window, was just what I needed to launch my idea on an incredibly grand scale. I knew from trawling internet sites and trade magazines for myself that these were all highly sought-after vans, hugely in demand and incredibly en vogue. Gwen had certainly known her onions when she parted with her cash and passed on a truly golden opportunity for me to start ‘thinking big’, as she and Gran had so often encouraged.

  I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would be able to utilise my skills on these pretty vintage projects and turn them into something even more highly sought after than they already were. With a last lingering look I reluctantly closed and bolted the door, thinking that I needed to pick up a padlock in town, and rushed back to the greenhouse to collect the bike.

  It was in no fit state to ride, of course. It was covered in dust and cobwebs and the tyres were flat and a little on the perished side. Determined not to give in and call David, I dragged the rust-riddled contraption outside, undid the pump which was strapped to the frame and began to inflate the tyres as if my life depended on it. Ten minutes later they were considerably firmer, but for how long?

  Struggling to catch my breath, I set the pump aside and ran back to the house. If I really got my skates on I’d have time for a quick shower, and if the wind was behind me I might even make it as far as Wynbridge before nightfall, assuming the tyres didn’t give up before I did of course.

  Chapter 6

  Clunky, that’s how Grandad would have described the pipework and plumbing at Cuckoo Cottage, I thought, as I listened to the strange rattles and bangs as the shower sprang into life. Evidently it was going to need working on or possibly even replacing. I was already developing quite a mental list of things that needed my attention, what with oil for the gate and padlocks, and now the shower. I really needed to harness my grandmother’s passion for lists and start writing things down.