‘He looks really sorry about everything that happened and he says he wants to put things straight between you. He’s really worried about you, Beth. He’s looking for a second chance.’
‘No way! Why would I risk me or Leo being in the firing line the next time he loses his temper?’
‘Oh, I know,’ said Carly, ‘I was just passing on the message.’ There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation. ‘He nearly cried,’ added Carly.
‘He could be bawling his eyes out for all I care. I’ll never go back. Carly, please don’t get suckered in by him. He’s a tricky bastard.’
‘No, of course not. You are completely right. He’s a bastard. A very charming and handsome one, but a bastard all the same.’
Beth hadn’t shared everything with Carly, so the fact that Beth and Nick’s relationship ended so abruptly had been a shock to her. She’d talk to Carly about it when she had eventually sorted it all out in her own mind but for now Beth was still trying to make sense of it all herself.
When the call was over Beth started to think about the treehouse. It sounded like a lovely place, but then so had Willow Cottage but now it was a disaster she was stuck with. Perhaps she could knock down bloody Willow Cottage and build a treehouse in the willow. She was pretty sure it would cost less and it would definitely be easier than sorting out the mess she currently had to deal with.
Beth was drowning her sorrows in a particularly large glass of Chardonnay as she sat in the B&B kitchen mulling over the full structural survey report. It didn’t make for an entertaining read. She felt sorry for herself. She knew it was a bit pathetic but she couldn’t help it. It was like she’d been dropped into someone else’s life and it was alien. Everything here was almost the opposite of what she was used to: before she had a clean, sleek and modern home and now she had a tumbledown filthy wreck. She used to have a good job, now she was playing at being a property renovator – and doing it very badly, she thought, as she ran a thumb over her reddened palms that were sore from the splinters. And love it or hate it she was used to the noise, bustle and vibrancy of London and now she was in a village that was so sleepy and inactive if it were a person it would be lying on a slab with a tag on its toe. She was the proverbial fish out of water or in her case she was the middle-class mum out of Waitrose.
She was also trying very hard not to think about Nick. It was bugging her that he’d been in touch with Carly but it niggled her more that Carly had obviously listened to him. Nick was charming and that was a wonderfully effective mask to hide behind.
This was all Nick’s fault. If he had only been all the things he had promised to be, and not the hateful manipulator with a swift backhand, then right now she and her little boy could be sitting in the apartment she loved, and had worked so hard for, with the man of her dreams. Because, before Nick had shown his true colours, that was exactly what he had been. At first when Nick had done things for her she was flattered, pleased that someone was thinking of her and it had made her feel special. The few thoughtful gestures had become more and more frequent until virtually everything outside of her work was sorted out for her by him, making her feel cosseted. It was a while before she noticed that her independence was evaporating, almost unnoticed, like a puddle in the sun. Perhaps on some level she was missing Nick too. She started to feel anxious as the memories forced their way into her conscious mind and she washed them away with a large slug of wine. There was no point going over the past. Beth realized she was grinding her teeth and stopped herself; it was a nervous thing she seemed to have developed, thanks to Nick, and she needed to break the habit.
She looked around the B&B kitchen – it was painfully twee. Frilly floral curtains hung at the small window and were tied back with ribbons, the units were all pine which overpowered the small room, on top of the wall cabinets was a collection of pottery jugs in various gaudy colours, most of which clashed spectacularly with the migraine-inducing magenta walls. Beth knew she was being uncharitable but she was used to clean lines, minimalism and good design, none of which was evident here.
She looked round the kitchen again. It was all superficial. The kitchen wasn’t a bad size; but was overcrowded by cupboards and overwhelmed by colour and chintz. She could easily change it given the chance, it was only one room. That was it. She could easily change one room. Willow Cottage was the same; she needed to look at it as a series of single rooms, one thing at a time, rather than one massive insurmountable disaster. The cottage might have a lot that needed changing but, with the exception of the roof, there didn’t appear to be anything structurally wrong. Yes, it needed repointing – thanks to Jack she now knew what that meant – it needed rewiring and a damp course but that was all doable. She took another swig of wine. That was the last time she was going to feel sorry for herself; from now on, she was going to change things bit by bit and she was going to start with moving out of the B&B.
Jean failed to hide her obvious disappointment at losing her guests and she seemed rather concerned about Beth’s plans.
‘Honest, Jean, we’ll be fine. We’ve loved it here but it makes sense to move out now.’ Beth needed to have a much tighter hold on her money than she had done up until now. The B&B had been ideal but in a prime Cotswolds location it wasn’t cheap. Beth had no regular income so for the first time in a long while she had to get used to living on a budget.
Leo shook his head as he followed his mother to the car and they drove away. Beth swung the car past the pub car park, pulled up outside the cottage, jumped out and flung open the boot. An earlier trip into town had allowed her to stock up on a cleaning product for every known surface type, as well as two long-handled brushes of differing brush coarseness, and a mop and bucket with spare heads. She also had industrial quantities of bleach, most of which was destined for the toilet and bathroom.
‘Right, we are only cleaning one room. That’s all. We’ve got all day. Ready?’ Beth was bubbling with enthusiasm. Leo was not.
‘But it’s just the two of us and it’ll be soooooooooo boring!’ Leo’s shoulders slumped dramatically forward.
Beth’s plan was that since the living room appeared to be watertight even if the upstairs landing wasn’t, they could get that one room liveable and then work on the rest bit by bit. The electrician was due to start rewiring in a few days and she had already called Kyle the builder to fix the pointing. She had felt so proud when she had explained what pointing was, though Kyle hadn’t seemed that impressed. Beth gathered up armfuls of cleaning products and headed towards the cottage with a spring in her step. Leo huffed and harrumphed behind her. She nearly dropped the whole lot when Ernie jumped out of the willow tree.
‘Hello,’ he said, his voice brittle. She hoped he hadn’t been there all night.
‘Good morning, Ernie. We’re going to give the cottage a spruce up. Well, the living room at least.’ Ernie grinned and, without asking, he followed Beth and Leo inside. Beth ignored the feeling of Great Expectations as she bobbed under a large cobweb in the hallway and went through to the musty-smelling living room. There was a wide windowsill that, like the rest of the room, had a layer of dust on it. After a lot of shoving and grunting on Beth’s part she finally managed to open the window. She put on the mask that Jack had given her and handed the other to Leo, which he put on and briefly found entertaining before quickly returning to being bored.
Beth wiped down the windowsill and laid out the cleaning products.
‘Let’s start at the top and work our way down,’ she said, her voice bright.
Leo pointed at the bulb hanging from the light fitting. ‘I can’t reach up there. Can I go and explore somewhere?’
‘No, Leo, I need you to help. You can sweep the floor.’
‘What?’ Leo looked alarmed but reluctantly took the brush from his mother and despite it being taller than him he started to slowly push it around the floor.
The next couple of hours were a slow torture as Beth dusted, brushed and scrubbed to the background white
noise that was Leo’s whining. Ernie had given up and gone to sit under the willow tree. Beth flung another bucket of black grime-saturated water over the big plant in the back garden and filled the bucket up again from the outside tap. She straightened her back and watched a couple of cabbage white butterflies dance around the out-of-control purple buddleia before disappearing. It was a lovely sunny day and it did seem to make the countryside come alive, even the horses in the field looked a bit more frisky today. She would have liked to have been sat outside in the garden – even in its overgrown state, it was more welcoming than the inside of the cottage – but she had work to do, so lounging in the garden would have to wait. She picked up her half-full bucket and went back inside. She stopped in the living-room doorway and surveyed the room. It looked a little better than it had done. It certainly smelled better. The floor had sturdy-looking floorboards that now looked a dark oak colour and Beth could already start to visualize what they would look like offset against white walls and with a cosy rug placed on top of them. Leo was sitting on the window ledge looking thoroughly bored.
‘One more mop over and we’ll get some lunch. Okay?’
They decided to try out the delights of the pub for a change and see if they had a less heart-disease-inducing menu than the tearoom. As it turned out, it wasn’t too bad; not a gastro pub but good honest home-cooked food, and there were two salads on the menu. It was the right weather for salad, with the gentle breeze and persistent sunshine, and what better way to eat it than in the pub garden. There was a lonely swing there that Leo made a run for and he only got off it when his food arrived.
Petra, the landlady, came out with a third plate and a knife and fork and set it down next to Beth.
‘You don’t mind, do you?’ asked Petra. As Beth was about to protest, Ernie joined her on the bench seat and started to tuck into his pie and mash dinner.
‘No, it’s fine,’ said Beth, with a smile.
While they were eating, a small boy with a mop of black hair came outside and stood hugging a football. As Petra ferried past another round of meals he asked her something.
‘No, Denis, you can ask him yourself.’
The boy sidled over towards the table where Beth, Leo and Ernie were eating and stood a few feet away, hugging his football tighter still. Leo looked up and the boy smiled.
‘I’m Denis, you wanna play football on the green?’
‘Yeah,’ said Leo, shovelling the last piece of chicken into his mouth and clattering his cutlery down onto his plate and the remaining salad. ‘Can I go, Mum, pleeeeeeease?’ said Leo, as he stood up.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Beth, craning her neck to see if she could see enough of the green from where she was sitting.
‘He’ll be fine,’ came Petra’s gentle voice behind her. ‘Denis is my son. Everyone knows him and he plays there all the time. People round here keep a look out for each other.’ Beth didn’t like to say that it was the people round here that bothered her the most.
Beth wasn’t sure but Leo was already pushing back his chair and his face was a contortion of pleading expressions.
‘Okay, just for a few minutes.’ But Leo was gone before she had finished the sentence. Ernie finished his food, laid his knife and fork dead centre on his clean plate, and left without a word.
Beth sat alone and looked around her. Everyone else was chatting, lots of groups of people and couples. She had no idea who was local and who was a tourist. She wasn’t sure what category she was in. She didn’t feel like she belonged here but she had nowhere else to go.
Petra’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘I’ll watch the boys if you want to get on. I’ve seen you working at the cottage.’
‘Cleaning mainly but it’s okay. I’ll get Leo to give me a hand.’
Petra raised an eyebrow. ‘A boy that cleans?’
Beth laughed. ‘Well, no, not exactly.’
‘Then let him play. Look, he’s having fun with Denis.’ Beth watched as the boys raced after the ball and wherever they kicked it they seemed to be celebrating a goal. It was good to see Leo smiling and Beth realized she hadn’t seen him do that much since they’d been in Dumbleford.
‘Okay, if you’re sure.’ Beth headed back to the cottage for round two of cleaning the living room, her first step at conquering the cottage and, if she felt very brave, she might blitz the bathroom too.
Beth switched her phone to music and with some of her favourite teenage tunes belting out she got to work. She found it was a lot easier to clean when you were singing and also doing the odd dance move with the duster. She was giving a particularly energetic rendition of ‘Is This The Way To Amarillo’, including overenthusiastic waving of thumbs over her shoulder, when she thought she saw something out of the window. She didn’t hear anything because it wasn’t possible over her screeching.
Beth turned the music down and crept to the window: she couldn’t see anyone but she suddenly felt self-conscious and smoothed down her hair. She went to the front door, just to check, and there on the doorstep was a black kettle barbecue. Beth looked around but there was nobody about, not even Ernie. The barbecue was a little battered and whilst she was pondering what it was doing there she lifted up the big dome-shaped lid. On the very clean grill inside was a sticky note, which read:
‘I was chucking stuff out and thought of you – Jack’
Blunt as ever, she thought. She picked up the note and saw that under the grill was a bag of charcoal and she smiled. The barbecue looked quite old but it would definitely do the job and there was nothing quite like eating outdoors to pick up your spirits. It was a nice gesture. Perhaps the villagers weren’t so bad after all, even Jack.
Chapter Nine
After they’d eaten as many barbecued sausages as they could manage, Beth and Leo had settled down for their first night in Willow Cottage. Camping stuff wasn’t exactly ideal to be sleeping on but it was better than the bare floorboards and, despite all of Leo’s complaining, he was now actually enjoying the indoor camping experience. The day she had left London Beth had loaded the car at high speed and once again she acknowledged she had grabbed an odd assortment of things, including the camping stuff that had been waiting to go back in the loft, her mother’s cuckoo clock, her glue gun, and a large canvas photo of Leo as a baby as well as a few items that would actually be useful to them. The thin camping mattresses weren’t the height of comfort but they would do until Beth had managed to order some beds.
The room was cool, but not cold, so they snuggled into their sleeping bags and chatted for a while as the upturned torch lit up the cracked ceiling and gave a mystical glow to the room.
‘Good day?’ asked Beth.
‘Okay.’
‘Are you and Denis friends?’
‘Kinda, I guess. It’s cool that he lives in a pub; he gets fizzy drinks and crisps whenever he likes!’
‘Mmm, does he go to the local school?’
‘Yeah, he’s a year older than me but he says we’ll be in the same class … and I can sit next to him if I want.’
‘That’s kind. So are you liking it here now?’ asked Beth, shifting a little in her sleeping bag like a fat maggot so that she could see Leo’s face better.
He pouted as he thought for a bit. ‘I like Denis and Doris and I like the food at the tearoom but,’ he paused and took a deep breath. ‘I miss my friends back home and the computer and my tablet and my Lego and my other toys and climbing club and …’
Beth could feel her heart squeezing with every new item added to the list. ‘Once we’re a bit more settled we can get some new things and I’m sure there are some local clubs we could find out about.’
Leo didn’t answer. He was chewing his thumbnail and looked like he was pondering his mother’s response. Outside it started to rain, the droplets making a soothing pattering sound against the old, but now very clean glass.
‘Could we get a big computer? Like the one Nick had and wouldn’t let me use? And a massive telly that does everything?
’ Leo was staring at his mother, without blinking.
‘Not right away but we’ll see,’ said Beth, ruffling his hair. ‘I think it’s time us indoor campers got some sleep, don’t you?’
Leo started to settle and then he sat bolt upright. ‘Did you bring a telly?’
Beth shook her head, ‘No, sorry. They were all screwed to the wall, remember?’
‘No telly?’ Leo’s eyes were wide with horror.
‘Only until we get things sorted out. Okay?’
Leo was already shaking his head and muttering to himself. ‘No telly …’ He looked around the room at the shadows he was making as he moved. ‘There aren’t any ghosts living here, are there?’ Leo looked pensive. ‘You know, like Wilf or Elsie?’
‘No, don’t be silly. They were lovely people, why would they haunt this place?’
‘Dunno, it’s really old and old places always have ghosts.’
‘Only if you’re really lucky,’ said Beth, zipping up his sleeping bag.
‘Ok-ay,’ intoned Leo doubtfully and he burrowed down further into his sleeping bag until only the very top of his head was visible. Beth leaned over and kissed him and then set about trying to get herself comfortable. She had worked hard on cleaning the living room and felt better for it. The builder and the electrician were scheduled to get started on the essentials list in a few days’ time. Things were starting to head in the right direction. Beth closed her eyes and began to drift off to sleep as the rain outside started to pelt out a soothing rhythm on the window.
Beth wasn’t sure how much later it was when she stirred and brushed something off her face as another splosh landed on her forehead. She opened her eyes to see a steady stream of drips coming through the ceiling above her. She shuffled quickly out of the way and out of her sleeping bag. She turned to look at Leo. He looked like he was dry and still sound asleep. Beth clenched her teeth; this was irritating but it wasn’t the end of the world. She grabbed the bucket and stuck it under the drip. Then she found a bin bag, made three holes in it and shoved it over her head; the last thing she wanted was soggy pyjamas. She tied another one around her head like a turban, popped her sockless feet into her boots, picked up her keys and the torch and crept out of the cottage.
Escape to Willow Cottage Page 8
