As they drove into Stow-on-the-Wold, Shirley took her eyes off the road again and turned to Beth. ‘So, where are we going exactly?’
‘Charity shops, please.’
‘Charity shops?’ repeated Shirley, with more than a hint of a question in her voice. Shirley continued to look at Beth, who was amazed that they were still going in a straight line and hadn’t hit anything.
Mercifully, Leo stepped in to provide an answer. ‘I want to make a guy to go on the top of the huge bonfire they have on the village green.’
‘Oh, now you’re talking!’ said Shirley, and she swerved the car across the road and headed towards a neat line of parked cars. Shirley appeared to be braking but very little was happening to slow the car down. Beth closed her eyes as she imagined the cars all concertinaing as they hit the first one. The car halted without a crash and Beth opened one eye.
‘Here we are then,’ said Shirley, her tone relaxed. ‘See you back here in thirty minutes.’ Shirley got out of the car as if everything was completely as it should be. Beth gave herself a mental shake and hoped her heart rate would eventually return to normal. She got out and collected Leo and a sullen-looking Doris from the back seat as Shirley opened up the back doors and retrieved the wheelie trolley. Just in time, Beth managed to steer Doris away before she saw her nemesis.
A short walk brought them to a jam-packed charity shop. Doris sat outside and looked forlornly through the glass door. The charity shop was a whole new experience for Leo and he was amazed at the eclectic mix of clothes available. The first pair of trousers he chose were orange and in a size that reminded Beth of their tent. She was trying to dissuade Leo on the basis of the huge amount of stuffing that would be required when he found some average-sized bright red cords that he loved even more. A white shirt, with long pointy ends to its collar, and a black suit jacket completed the ensemble. Leo was disappointed that they didn’t have the right style of Guy Fawkes hat but Beth was able to persuade him that they would make one along with a papier-mâché head. She wasn’t totally sure how, but that was a problem for another day.
Whilst browsing Beth also found some denim dungarees in her size that would be a much better option for decorating than her skinny jeans. She discovered the hat section, and like a child in a sweet shop, she marvelled at the variety that was there. Beth had always had a thing for hats; she loved them and found herself smiling as she picked some out. She put on a navy beret and looked in the mirror – it really suited her but her smile faded as she remembered why she had stopped wearing hats. It was one of many things Nick had encouraged her to change about her appearance. She held on to the beret as she rummaged through the others.
Armed with their purchases, they returned to the Morris Minor at the same time as Shirley and the wheelie trolley. Doris went apoplectic and Beth struggled to restrain her as she barked frantically and lurched at it.
Shirley calmly rolled her eyes, put the trolley in the boot of the car and went round to the driver’s door. ‘Well, get in then.’
Being in the car with a large dog barking at full volume was no fun. Leo had his hands tightly over his ears as Beth hung on to Doris’s lead from the passenger seat whilst Doris was hanging over the top of the back seat only inches away from the trolley. Shirley seemed oblivious as she manoeuvred the car into the path of a bus and they started the treacherous journey back to Dumbleford.
‘Doris! Be quiet!’ shouted Beth, but she was barely audible. Doris briefly glanced over her shoulder, her expression one of a plea for support. ‘Come on, Doris, be a good dog.’ Beth tried to mollify the animal to no avail. After an ear-splitting fifteen minutes they arrived back in Dumbleford, sailing through the ford again at speed and creating a mini tsunami that made the ducks take flight once more.
Shirley drove the car around the green and up to the large Tudor house that dominated it, and then confidently down the side of the property, directly into a large open garage at the back. As the darkness of the garage enveloped them, Doris paused for a moment, giving Beth a chance to hook the lead onto the handbrake as she scooted out of the car. She leaned back in through the rear door, released the lead and was then able to drag Doris out. She was keen to get her as far away from the trolley as quickly as she could.
‘Thanks for the lift, Shirley.’
‘You’re welcome,’ said Shirley, heading for the back of the vehicle. Beth pulled Doris away and turned round to see Leo picking up conkers from under a giant horse chestnut tree.
‘Come on, Leo,’ she called, as she took in the large garden and equally impressive rear view of the house. Beth had lots of questions she wanted to ask Shirley but now was not the time. Beth vowed not to make assumptions about people after this, although she knew she probably would.
Chapter Fifteen
Carly shut the kitchen window as the flat was starting to feel chilly. ‘It sounds like Beth and Leo are going to have fun on Bonfire Night,’ signed Carly. ‘Shall we go out somewhere?’
‘No, thanks,’ replied Fergus.
‘But there are some really good displays in London. They had a funfair at Wimbledon Park last year and the fireworks at Alexandra Palace are meant to be spectacular.’
‘Too many people. Too much noise,’ said Fergus, with an apologetic shrug. Whilst his confidence was good at small social gatherings he was still not great in a crowd. The indistinguishable noise was often overpowering and always seemed to outweigh any enjoyment. He had become much more confident over the last couple of years as his sign language and lip-reading skills had improved but there were still some things he shied away from.
Carly was a little downhearted; she liked fireworks night. It had always been a big thing when she was a child and there was something about fireworks that she found mesmerizing.
Fergus was fiddling with his phone. ‘Nick texted me today.’
‘What did you do?’ asked Carly.
‘Deleted it. Did you get one?’
Carly nodded slowly. ‘Yes.’
‘What did you do?’ asked Fergus, tilting his head slightly and making his dark hair flop to one side.
‘I said I’d meet him for a coffee.’
Fergus’s eyes widened. ‘Why? He’s a shit who hit your friend.’
‘I know, but I feel sorry for him.’
‘You shouldn’t. There’s no excuse. I’m not happy about you seeing him on your own, Carls.’
Carly wasn’t used to the laid-back Fergus making statements like that and she chuckled. ‘Why? Because he’s a good-looking charmer?’
‘No, because he hits women. I’ll come with you, if that’s okay?’
Carly felt a little glow of something inside. Despite all her values of being an independent woman, there was still something powerful about a man who wanted to protect you.
Carly pondered what he’d said and Fergus waited. ‘Okay. Fine. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about what we talked about in the restaurant.’
Fergus pulled a face. ‘Going to Ireland?’
Exactly as she thought, he had forgotten. ‘No, about us being happy.’
‘I’m still happy.’ He pulled her into a hug and squeezed her tight. He relaxed his grip a little and kissed her tenderly on the end of her nose, making her smile. ‘I love you, Carly Wilson,’ he said.
Her hands were trapped in the hug so she spoke instead. ‘I love you, too.’ He smiled broadly. ‘I know you said you were happy just as things were but I’ve been thinking. Do you want to take the next step?’ She knew she was talking fast.
He was squinting at her lips, which probably meant he hadn’t understood her or it meant he had understood and that was his reaction. The silence stretched between them. Sod it, thought Carly, time to change the subject.
She pulled her hands free. ‘Shall we watch a film?’
‘No, football is on.’ He was still looking puzzled and still focusing on her lips as if they held the answer. Carly subconsciously licked her lips and the spell was broken. Fergus let her go and settled himself on the so
fa and Carly’s shoulders sagged. Where did she go from here?
Jack and Simon were now regulars at Beth’s house most evenings as they worked on the kitchen. The units appeared to have been the easy part and they were all put together in a couple of nights. Fitting them to the exacting standards of Jack and Simon was another challenge. They had both approved of her choice of cabinets, doors and worktop which she liked to think didn’t bother her but if they had not been impressed she knew she would have taken it personally. Having left behind a state-of-the-art stainless steel and black gloss kitchen in London, she knew she had to choose something that fitted with the cottage’s history as well as feeling up to date. What she had chosen was simple grooved oak doors painted in an off-white shade with worktops in natural oak stave – it was the best she could afford.
She had managed to salvage the sink and the men were measuring and remeasuring before they committed to cutting a sink-sized hole in the longest length of worktop. Jack’s lean muscles tightened under his T-shirt as he moved the worktop to a better angle. Beth found herself mesmerized and, realizing, she hastily looked away. ‘Anyway, I have a guy that needs stuffing,’ she said quickly and left them smirking over their fresh cups of tea and custard creams as she retreated to the living room.
Leo had given the finishing touches to the papier-mâché head and hat before he had gone to bed and they were drying on the windowsill in the living room. Leo had worked hard on the project and seemed to have absorbed a great amount of detail about Guy Fawkes in the process. This was especially true of Guy Fawkes’s death. It didn’t seem to worry Leo, unlike the thought of ghosts, but she’d caught Leo giving a particularly graphic description of hanging, drawing and quartering that seemed to distress Ernie more than a little.
The ladies of the Women’s Institute had provided oodles of straw for anyone making a guy so, having stitched up the leg holes on the red cords, Beth was now ramming straw into them which was strangely satisfying. She’d found that the physical work on the cottage made her tired but it was a very different sort of tired to the mentally drained feeling she had experienced in London. Like most roles at that level, her job had been high-pressured and stressful but she now acknowledged the level of stress she had been experiencing at home. The creeping invasion of Nick’s control over all aspects of her life had been gradual but tenacious. She didn’t like dwelling on it and even less admitting to herself that she had been totally duped by his charisma and doting nature. He had loved her, she didn’t doubt that, but she could never have predicted how that would manifest itself. She forcefully rammed some more straw into the trousers.
By the time she had finished stuffing and sewing the guy, she was beyond tired.
‘Do you want to have a look?’ Jack’s face peered round the door.
‘Do I?’ said Beth, leaving the guy’s headless body propped up on the chair by the window as she went to inspect the kitchen.
‘Wow! It looks like a kitchen!’ She had been aware of them moving things from the hall but she was still surprised to see the white goods in their allotted places and the worktop fitted. ‘This is amazing. It is such a professional job. Thank you, both.’ Simon was still checking the fit of the worktop to the wall but he visibly puffed with pride at Beth’s praise.
‘We’ll fit the washing machine tomorrow night, okay?’ said Jack.
‘No, it’s Bonfire Night. You guys need a night off!’ She laughed at her own pun and then felt a little foolish when they didn’t join in.
‘It’s okay,’ said Jack. ‘Leave the cottage unlocked and I’ll pop in.’
Beth’s face gave her answer. It wasn’t so much about the people of the village, she was getting used to them and their quirky ways; it was her general fears and there was nothing that would convince her to leave it unlocked.
‘Why not do the washing machine then come to the fireworks with me and Leo. I’ll buy you a hot dog,’ she said with a tilt of her head. Jack was pulling faces. ‘And you, Simon. Petra tells me they have a beer tent too.’
‘If you insist,’ said Simon. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He shut his neatly packed toolbox and left.
Jack was rubbing his chin. ‘Yeah, go on then. I’ll need to take Doris home before the fireworks because they freak her out.’
‘Great. Do you fancy a coffee?’ she asked, flicking the switch on the kettle.
Jack checked his watch. ‘Yeah, milk no sugar, please.’ He sat down at the small table and they looked awkwardly at each other until the kettle started to boil and Beth busied herself with making the drinks.
She ferried the drinks to the table and sat down.
‘Thanks,’ he said, taking the mug. ‘Are you going to paint the walls in here?’
‘I think I’ll try my hand at tiling above the worktop and paint the rest.’
He nodded his approval. ‘The walls are fairly even so tiling should be okay.’
They looked at each other across the table. The silence fizzed between them and Beth felt her temperature start to rise. Perhaps a cold glass of Chardonnay would have been a better idea?
‘How’s your friend? Carly, was it?’ he asked, then took a sip of coffee.
‘Oh, she’s fine. Still a bit embarrassed about getting drunk but otherwise fine.’ Beth tried to think of something to ask him but her mind was a blank.
Thankfully, he broke the torturous silence. ‘You and Petra seem to get on well.’
Beth nodded enthusiastically; here was a subject she could gabble on about. ‘Yes, she’s lovely. And it’s nice to have another single mum around. She gets what it’s like to be on your own. Don’t get me wrong, I’m quite happy on my own. I like being single. It’s just that you can’t have a day off and hand over to someone else because there isn’t anyone. But there also isn’t any chance of someone letting you down because there’s just you and if you don’t do it then it doesn’t get done.’ She realized gabbling on probably wasn’t a good idea as she watched Jack’s eyes slowly widening as she speeded up. She hugged her mug and had a drink to stop herself talking.
‘Yeah, I guess,’ he said, looking like he was still trying to process all that she’d said.
‘Petra seems to have settled well into life here.’
‘She has, so there’s hope for you yet,’ said Jack, with a warm smile. Beth found she was smiling back at him. Their eyes locked and Beth found it hard to look away.
Feeling the colour rising in her cheeks, Beth quickly finished her coffee. ‘Now, can you give me a hand with something, please?’
‘Sure.’ He stood up and followed her into the sparse living room. ‘I know you’re not a charity case but do you want some furniture for in here?’ he said, looking about.
Beth looked at the virtually empty room. It wasn’t huge but it was made to look so much bigger by the empty open fireplace and the single chair currently occupied by the guy.
‘No, I’m okay, thanks. It’s the walls that have got me stumped. They need to be plastered or dry-walled? Is that right?’ She was still learning the terminology.
Jack walked to the nearest wall and ran his hands over it and then studied his hand. ‘These are sound walls. I can’t see any damp.’
‘But look at this crack,’ she said, walking to the opposite wall and pointing at a meandering fracture in the old plaster. Jack came over and stood close; he ran his finger ever so slowly along the line the crack took. Beth found herself transfixed as her eyes followed his finger inching its way slowly down the wall.
‘I can patch that. You then put on a primer and finish off with a good quality latex paint. It won’t be a perfect finish but it will look fine.’ Jack took his hand away. The spell was broken. ‘It’s a character property, Beth. Let its character shine through.’
‘Mmm, I’ll think about it. Now, hold on to this,’ said Beth, handing him the guy’s head, ‘while I try to sew it onto its body.’
After a few minutes Beth was getting neck ache and she hurried the last few stitches. ‘Right, give it
a tug.’ She wanted to check that the head was going to stay on.
Jack had a good hold of the head and pulled hard as she pulled at the same time, wrenching the head from the body. Beth was about to complain but a face that had appeared at the window was screaming hysterically. ‘Ernie!’ said Jack as he threw the head to Beth and ran out of the cottage after the old man.
‘Terrific,’ said Beth as she watched through the window and hugged the head under her arm.
More screaming started behind her, making her jump. It was Leo and he looked suitably terrified by the ghostlike image standing with its head under its arm. It never rains but it pours, she thought, as she dropped the head and went to comfort her son.
All next day, the village green was a hive of activity as people delivered all manner of burnable items for the bonfire and the ladies of the WI, and associated husbands, supervised the building of it. Apparently there were too many risks associated with building it before the day of the bonfire, which Rhonda was only too happy to reel off to Beth as she collected her coffee.
‘Number one, the weather. Two, hibernating hedgehogs. And three, the idiots that light it early. All of which have let us down in the past.’ Maureen made what Beth thought was a noise of agreement but it could have been wind; it was difficult to tell.
‘Have you got a stall tonight?’
‘Oh, yes. Sausage rolls and hot dogs, we always do very well. So does Shirley and her mulled wine,’ said Rhonda with glee.
‘I bet she does,’ said Beth, thinking about how much it must cost to run the biggest house in the village.
‘Now, I wanted to talk to you about cottaging,’ said Rhonda, her tone suddenly serious.
Beth’s eyebrows arched and stayed there. ‘Cottaging?’
‘Yes,’ said Rhonda emphatically.
Beth opened her mouth but her brain was unable to supply a coherent sentence so instead she simply asked, ‘Why?’
Rhonda frowned. ‘I thought you’d know about all about cottaging? Should I Google it?’
‘No!’ said Beth forcefully, the thought of what might appear made her blink rapidly. Her mind started to whir and she hit on a possible explanation. ‘Do you mean renovating a cottage?’
Escape to Willow Cottage Page 14
