Willow Cottage, Part 3

by Bella Osborne

  Jack looked suitably shocked. ‘And do you think he’s capable—’

  ‘No! He’s all talk. He’s manipulative and a liar but I don’t think he’s capable of murder.’

  ‘Still, it’s a very nasty threat.’

  ‘Well, he’s a very nasty guy.’ Beth took a long slug of wine. ‘Not a lovely guy, like you.’ As she realized she’d said it out loud her eyes widened. She felt such an idiot. Jack was giving her an odd look and she knew colour was rising from her neck.

  ‘You’re lovely too, Beth,’ said Jack, his voice husky and he tentatively laid his hand on hers. Her eyes darted in the same direction as her heart started thumping wildly at the unexpected contact.

  She pulled her hand back. Jack was with Petra now, that ship had sailed. ‘I think I should go to bed. Alone,’ said Beth, retrieving her hand.

  A big grin spread across Jack’s face. ‘Okay. Watch out for marauding dogs.’

  ‘Yes, right. I’ll do that,’ she said, pointing firmly at him. He was still grinning at her. ‘Good night,’ she said decisively and headed for the stairs.

  ‘Night, Beth,’ said Jack, and he watched her disappear.

  Rosemary had nodded off and the newspaper was a crumpled mass in her arms as she was slumped against the side of Fergus’s bed. Cormac was reading a magazine on photography that he had found in one of the waiting areas. Carly’s phone vibrated again as yet another text came in. She ignored it. She had been glued to the tablet for the past hour or so. So much for the internet; it hadn’t provided her with anything useful about bringing deaf people out of comas, or whatever the doctor had called it, all it had done was distract her with videos of cute kittens. She was close to giving up and returning the tablet to a fidgety-looking Cormac but Cormac’s words had bugged her into action. ‘There’s always something you can do,’ was what he had said and despite the doctor reassuring them that everything was being done she was on a mission to do something herself. She hadn’t known what that something would be when she had started to search randomly on Cormac’s tablet but as she clicked on a link she realized she might have found a very small and tenuous something. Carly scanned the screen and tried to take in all the details.

  She scrambled around in her handbag, almost dropping the bag as she pulled out a small notepad and pen, then copied down pages of information from the screen in fast scrawly writing and handed the tablet back to Cormac.

  ‘Now what are you up to?’ asked Cormac with a shrewd look in his eye.

  ‘It’s what you call a very long shot,’ said Carly. ‘I’ll be just outside making some calls.’ She leaned over and kissed Fergus, being careful not to knock any wires. She took his hand and signed ‘back soon’ and left his fingers in the ‘I love you’ sign.

  The first few numbers she tried either couldn’t help her or were answer machines where she had left messages but had little hope of a response – it was bank holiday weekend after all. This was the longest of long shots, the river Nile of long shots she thought, and it made her smile. Her smile was fading when she turned the page of her notebook to see that she had tried all the numbers she had written down. She thumbed through the pages; each number had a neat tick or a cross next to it. That was it, that was all her long shots fired into the darkness.

  She walked the few steps to a seating area and slumped onto yet another plastic chair and looked at her phone. There were a couple of messages from Beth, all encouraging and none of them asking for an update because she knew as soon as there was news Carly would be in touch. She sent her a quick ‘there’s no change’ message and then placed her phone on the notebook and put them on the empty plastic chair next to her. Carly gave a big stretch, her neck sore from leaning over the tablet and her back aching from sitting in the same position for hours.

  She closed her eyes and tried to clear some space in her brain to think. She was also trying very hard to not think about what Fergus being comatose really meant. Was it the same as a coma? She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t let herself consider all the people that spent months or years in a coma or those that simply slipped away. Her thoughts were broken by the jarring sound of her phone vibrating off the notebook and onto the plastic chair. She answered it quickly.

  It was one of her long shots returning her call. The brief conversation was much simpler than she had thought. Once she had explained the situation the man on the phone offered to meet her outside Warren Street tube station in about twenty minutes. Carly ended the call with her faith in the kindness of strangers a fraction restored.

  Thirty minutes later she was dashing back into ICU clutching a small plastic bag. Cormac stood up as she came in. ‘I’m doing a tea run, did you want one of those fancy pants cuppas that you usually have?’

  ‘Wait a minute, I might have something,’ said Carly, touching his arm for a second. ‘It’s only a small something, but it’s worth a try.’

  Rosemary came to as Carly fussed around Fergus. ‘What’s wrong?’ She looked at Cormac.

  ‘Nothing’s wrong, Rosie, we’re trying something out for our boy, here,’ he said and they both watched as Carly fiddled with a small white device, placed it on Fergus’s chest and then plugged its cable into Fergus’s iPhone. Carly stared at the screen for a moment until she had located the icon that said music, clicked it and then chose one of Fergus’s playlists. She knew they were still on there because he often reminisced about his love of music and the playlists he had made for each and every occasion. He didn’t have one for this situation so she went with ‘best tunes’ and pressed Play.

  She couldn’t hear anything, which was good because none of the patients in ICU would have welcomed a blast of music at this time of day. She placed her hand on top of the device to check it was working and she could feel it vibrating. Carly sat back down and Cormac and Rosemary followed her with their eyes.

  ‘So, will you be explaining what that wee box is?’

  ‘It’s a vibrating speaker,’ said Carly proudly. ‘If it was attached to something hollow you would be able to hear it but, well, as Fergus is …’

  ‘Dense?’ said Cormac with a chuckle.

  ‘Precisely. The sound is a vibration and hopefully one that he will recognize. It’s a long shot …’ said Carly.

  ‘But it’s something,’ said Cormac, his eyes glistening as he patted Carly’s hand.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Easter Monday dawned and Beth was woken by an overexcited camper jumping onto the bed, still encased in Jack’s sleeping bag like a giant marauding caterpillar. ‘Oof, Leo!’ groaned Beth as Leo rolled across her bladder; there were more pleasant ways to be woken up. She reached out a hand to the bedside cabinet and checked her phone to see if there was anything from Carly but there wasn’t.

  ‘It’s the Easter egg hunt today!’ said the caterpillar, unzipping itself and bouncing back across Beth before flying out of the bedroom. There was the sound of clinking mugs downstairs followed by the thud of large paws on the stairs as Doris bounded into the bedroom and jumped on top of Beth.

  ‘Seriously?’ she said as Doris tried desperately to show her love by washing any body parts that Beth had foolishly left uncovered.

  ‘Doris, down!’ commanded Jack and Doris slunk off the bed and out of the room. ‘Coffee?’ said Jack, placing the mug on the bedside cabinet. ‘How’s the head?’

  ‘The migraine is long gone now. Thanks for the coffee.’

  ‘I meant after the wine last night but either way that’s good to hear. Leo’s helping me make pancakes so I’m thinking you’re probably safest up here until we serve them, okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ agreed Beth, picking up her mug and hugging it. She was thinking how lucky she was to have a friend like Jack and then her mind started to wander and she thought how much luckier Petra was to have a boyfriend like him. Although he was lucky too because Petra was a lovely person and obviously very understanding if she was happy for another woman to stay the night.

  After pancakes she and Jack tidied up t
he kitchen and then went to join the throng of people that had gathered on the village green. A large area had been roped off for the Easter egg hunt and Easter egg bunting swung jauntily between the posts. Leo made straight for Denis and they went to add their names to the list and pay their entry fee as Petra came to join Beth and Jack.

  ‘How’s the headache?’ asked Petra.

  ‘It’s fine now, thanks.’

  ‘And the cottage?’

  ‘Don’t ask! After the egg hunt I’ll go and have another attempt at tidying up.’

  ‘It’s drinks in the pub afterwards. It is traditions,’ said Petra, taking in Beth’s pained expression. ‘But if you want to clean up I can have Leo.’

  ‘I’ll be going to the pub after the egg hunt,’ butted in Jack, ‘so he’ll be fine.’

  ‘Thanks, guys, that would be great.’ Beth noticed the looks that passed between Petra and Jack but couldn’t quite make out what they were alluding to. The now familiar woman from the WI and her leather trousers stood on a makeshift stage of a few hastily arranged pallets and took the microphone.

  ‘Welcome to Dumbleford Easter Egg Hunt. Thankfully the weather is a little drier than it has been but to be on the safe side you are going to be looking for these.’ She held up two coloured plastic eggs. ‘These can be exchanged up to a maximum of five with my colleague Shirley over there.’ Shirley and the wheelie trolley were positioned behind a table that was stacked up with Easter eggs far higher than Shirley’s headscarf. ‘The colour of the egg denotes the size of egg you collect from Shirley.’ The crowd of excited children muttered happily. ‘Three, two, one, go! Happy Easter!’ she bellowed, causing the microphone to screech as the bunting was cut and the children charged into the previously out-of-bounds space. Thanks to the long grass the eggs weren’t as obvious to find as you would have thought. Beth was laughing at the children’s uncoordinated approach.

  ‘I would be sweeping up and down so I knew where I’d looked,’ said Beth.

  ‘Nope, I’d be exactly the same as those two,’ said Jack as he watched Leo and Denis sprinting in random directions and diving into the grass regardless of whether there was an egg there or not.

  ‘Thank the Lord for the washing machines,’ said Petra as Denis stood up with a huge grin on his face, a yellow egg in his hand and green and brown streaked down the front of his outfit.

  Leo was fifth in the queue to exchange his five coloured eggs for chocolate ones as the WI lady joined Shirley to give her a hand. He left the table with one good-sized egg, three different bite-sized ones and a bag of mini chocolate eggs. Beth took his photo as he approached; it was a picture of happiness. ‘Did you see, Mum? Did you see, I beat that boy to the red egg and it was for a big one.’ He held it up proudly. ‘It’s for you!’ he said, giving her the egg.

  Beth tried hard not to cry. She didn’t want to be the embarrassing mum but it was tricky when they caught you unawares like that with a spontaneous show of affection. ‘That’s really kind, thank you Leo. How about we share it?’

  ‘Okay,’ agreed Leo quickly. ‘I’ll look after it.’ He took it back as Denis appeared out of the crowd with a similar armful of chocolate swag.

  They all walked off the green together and Petra, Jack and the boys peeled off to the pub as Beth waved to them and walked on the few extra yards to sort out her kitchen. Once inside she realized she must have stepped over the post when she had come in yesterday, so she picked it up and headed down the hallway. Beth looked around at the state of her once-perfect kitchen, surprised to see that the water had receded and a very wet silt-strewn floor with warped oak boards was left in its place. It wasn’t anything different to what she was expecting but it still gave her a twinge of irritation. A brief sort-out of the post gave her a pile of bills, another of junk mail and the makings of another headache.

  Beth got out all the things she would need to clean up the kitchen as her headache cranked up a notch. She got a tall glass of water and some painkillers from the cupboard. She swore as she stumbled a little on the small step as she left the kitchen. She felt so tired all of a sudden and a bit sick if she was honest – perhaps this was what a migraine felt like? In the calmness of the living room she took two tablets and a long slug of water before putting the glass and tablet packet on the windowsill and sitting down. The sofa was a welcome relief as she arranged the cushions into a pillow and curled up for a quick nap. She’d managed to sleep it off yesterday so perhaps she could do the same now? Despite her pounding head she quickly drifted off.

  Jack watched Leo make the few steps from the pub to Willow Cottage and disappear from sight thanks to the willow tree that was now in full blossom, its furry-looking catkins giving it a white ethereal hue. Jack knew Beth was in the cottage so he was happy that Leo was being safely handed over. He strolled back inside the pub.

  ‘Come on, what is it?’ asked Petra as he slid back onto his bar stool.

  ‘What?’ said Jack.

  ‘The thing that is weighing you down, I can tell.’

  Jack straightened his back in a half-stretch. ‘I don’t know … actually, I do know. It’s Beth.’

  ‘One minute,’ said Petra as she went to serve a customer. Jack watched as she took down the long food and drinks order. After a few minutes she came back.

  ‘You are worrying about Beth. This is not a surprise,’ said Petra as she busily sliced a lemon. ‘She is not herself right now. I think she has too much worry and this gives her the headaches.’

  Jack was pondering what she’d said. ‘Yeah, she has had a lot of headaches recently.’

  ‘It is the stress,’ said Petra, waving the small knife. ‘You and I never have the headaches because we have no stress and the fresh air it helps too,’ she added. ‘She is cooped up in the cottage working for too many hours.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jack slowly. ‘You know I did have a headache.’ He was trying to think when it was because Petra was right, it was a rare thing for him to have one. ‘I was taking off the foot boards on the cabinets in Beth’s kitchen.’ He leaped off the bar stool and sprinted for the door.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ called Petra.

  ‘That bloody boiler!’ he yelled back as he flew out of the pub. His heart was pounding as he dodged round the cars in the car park, jumped through the willow tree and ran to the cottage. Thankfully Ernie wasn’t there or he would have scared the life out of him. Jack tried the front door and when it was locked he started banging on it. ‘Beth! Leo!’

  He darted to the side to look in the living-room window and the sight he saw made his pulse instantly quicken. Beth was lying on the sofa looking pale and unconscious.

  ‘Beth! Beth!’ he shouted as he slammed his hand on the glass. There was no response.

  Acknowledgements

  Huge THANK YOU to Charlotte Ledger and Caroline Kirkpatrick who came up with the original bones of the idea for this book and have done an amazing job as joint editors. Thanks to my agent, Kate Nash, who is always on hand to steer me in the right direction and special thanks to Kim Leo and Alex Allden for my stunningly beautiful cover.

  Special thank yous to my terrific technical experts: Sarah Butt and Helen Cottingham and all at Rugby Deaf Club for sharing their experiences and making me feel welcome. Thanks to Charlotte Hancock for her Primary School Guidelines advice and Eamonn Finnerty from the Belgrade Theatre, Coventry for information on signed performances. Thank you to Helen Phifer for guiding me on police procedures and Ruth Hooton for checking my Irish.

  Special thanks to my amazing grammar guru Chris Goodwin.

  Without the support of my writing friends from the Romantic Novelists’ Association (RNA) and in particular the Birmingham Chapter, I would have gone crackers long ago – so thank you for maintaining what is left of my sanity. Thank you to my other fabulously supportive group of writers at Gill Vickery’s Writing Fiction class. More thank yous to everyone at Boozy Book Club for your support and, of course, the wine and nibbles.

  A massive thank you to
my writing fairy godmother, Katie Fforde, for being on hand when I needed her.

  Thank yous and hugs all round to the amazingly supportive blogging community, the unsung heroes of the book world – you are all amazing!

  Mammoth-sized hugs of thanks to my wonderful family for always being there and for helping me enjoy the real world as well as my make-believe one. Thank you to my husband and daughter who never complain and have managed to feed themselves when I was ‘in the zone’. Special thanks to my Minecraft guru, Grace.

  Lastly thank you to all the lovely readers for taking the time to read my book.

  The final part of Willow Cottage is coming soon!

  Over the course of the seasons, will Beth have found that broken hearts can truly be mended?

  Click here to buy.

  Bella Osborne

  Bella has been jotting down stories as far back as she can remember but decided that 2013 would be the year that she finished a full-length novel.

  In 2016, her debut novel, It Started At Sunset Cottage, was shortlisted for the RNA’s Contemporary Romantic Novel of the Year and the Joan Hessayon New Writers’ Award.

  Bella’s stories are about friendship, love and coping with what life throws at you. She likes to find the humour in the darker moments of life and weaves these into her stories. Bella believes that writing your own story really is the best fun ever, closely followed by talking, eating chocolate, drinking fizz and planning holidays.

  She lives in The Midlands, UK, with her lovely husband and wonderful daughter who, thankfully, both accept her as she is (with mad morning hair and a penchant for skipping).

  For more about Bella, visit her website at www.bellaosborne.com or follow her on Twitter @osborne_bella.

  About the Publisher

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  HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.

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