Return to Bluebell Hill

by Rebecca Pugh

  ‘Oh… How wonderful.’ Jessica tried to inject as much as enthusiasm as possible into her voice. Even so, she knew she didn’t sound as ecstatic as she should. ‘That’s great news. Really, it is.’ She covered her face with her hands. Now she just sounded sarcastic. She cleared her throat and waved at Eleanor as she strode down the corridor. ‘So, what happens next then?’ She almost didn’t want to hear the answer, but that anybody else in her position would, to appear eager to move things along.

  ‘If you’re happy to move things along quickly, then we’ll arrange a time and date to meet at our offices. The people intending to buy Bluebell House will be present, as well as you and I, and we’ll sign the papers. It’s simple really, nothing complicated involved. Once that’s done, Bluebell House will be out of your hands for good. I bet you can’t wait, can you? It’s all very exciting, and I know that this is exactly what you’d been hoping for from the very start. I think this is one of the fastest moving sales that I’ve ever come across, and I’m utterly delighted to be the woman overseeing it. Bluebell House is gorgeous, and I knew it would be snapped up quickly as soon as I came to take a look around. Those pictures that I took were just wonderful. They really showed off Bluebell House all of its charming glory. But anyway, I’m running away with myself here.’

  Jessica thought back to the very first time she’d spoken to Deb on the phone, not long after she had arrived back in Bluebell Hill. She’d been eager to get the ball rolling with the sale of Bluebell House. She’d barked her request down the line, of wanting to find buyers as soon as possible, as well as insisting that the process was a quick one, rather than dragged out and lengthy like so many house sales these days. But now? ‘No, I can’t wait,’ she said, with little enthusiasm. She would have happily waited.

  ‘So, shall we arrange a date and time for the signing of the papers?’ Deb asked cheerfully. She was completely oblivious to Jessica’s flat tone, surging forward with the sale, instead. Still, Jessica reasoned, Deb had no reason to think that she was teetering between sticking firmly with it and changing her mind. In Deb’s eyes, she’d done Jessica a momentous favour in getting everything done so quickly and with so little fuss. Jessica supposed if anything she should be offering to be the estate agent a celebratory drink. Unfortunately, that would not be happening.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘How will Monday suit you? Let’s say 10am?’

  Swallowing, Jessica realised that was only four days away. ‘Great. Perfect.’ She needed to wrap this up quickly before she did or said something stupid. ‘Can’t wait. Looking forward to it, Deb. See you then. Bye now.’

  ‘Bye for n—’

  Jessica ended the call quickly and left her desk for lunch. She needed some fresh air to clear her head and get her thoughts straight. It seemed lately that every time she finally managed to get them into some sort of coherent order, moments later they were all jumbled up again, and it was beginning to drive her insane. She supposed that was how mothers felt, wasn’t it? Tidying up after their children, sighing happily as they looked around their spotless house, and then as soon as their back was turned, the mess was back again, refusing to ever go away.

  ***

  After work that evening, Jessica’s thoughts turned to Rueben and Esme, over in Bluebell Hill. It seemed like a world away from the hectic scene of London. She was on the estate agent’s website, flicking through the images of Bluebell House, staring at each one for longer than necessary. She wasn’t sure why. She’d started off with social media and somehow gravitated towards the house. With a glass of wine in one hand and her laptop balanced atop her crossed legs, she found herself back at the beginning of the collection of photos, but decided to go through them once again.

  She picked up her phone and dialled Esme’s number on impulse. After catching up with each other on general day-to-day life, she got to the point of the phone call.

  ‘So, Esme, what were the viewers like? Were they nice?’ It suddenly felt important to her that if the interested family were to move in, they needed to be nice people. Really nice people. People who would love and admire Bluebell house. People who would enjoy the views across the fields as much as she had during her stay. There was nothing like sitting on that big, old porch with a rich cup of coffee, early in the morning, watching as the sun rose and enhanced the colour of everything that it touched.

  ‘Well, I’m not quite sure, dear,’ Esme replied.

  Jessica frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  She heard Esme’s sigh and suddenly became alert. ‘Do you want the honest truth?’ Esme asked her, her tone serious now.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I do. Tell me.’ Jessica shifted herself up on the sofa, desperate to Esme’s verdict on these buyers.

  ‘They were not nice people,’ Esme began hesitantly. ‘When I arrived that morning to greet them, they arrived in a flashy black Range Rover and walked straight past me, as if I were invisible and not actually there. I had to call them back, which was slightly embarrassing, to introduce myself. Apparently Mrs Dawson had seen me but guessed I was the cleaner. She didn’t apologise for making such a rude remark but I let it go. Just about.’

  Jessica’s lips pursed at this. How dare anyone treat Esme that way?

  Esme continued. ‘From the moment I set eyes on them, I couldn’t quite imagine them living in Bluebell House. They were so pristine and well put together, and that goes for their twin boys, too. Not once did any of them crack a smile. They walked round Bluebell House, completely silent. They didn’t ask any questions about Bluebell Hill, about the other residents. I tried to tell them about the bluebell woods and how beautiful they look in the summer, but they weren’t interested. Oh, they loved the kitchen, though. I suppose that’s one good thing. When I led them outside to the back, the boys were told off for standing on the grass in their shoes. Mrs Dawson wasn’t pleased with it at all, and Mr Dawson told me of his plans to completely pave over the grass, for future parties etc. It seemed like he had already started making plans for the place, none of them particularly pleasant.’

  ‘What?’ Jessica shrieked, unable to keep the volume of her voice down. ‘He can’t pave over the grass! It’s grass! It’s supposed to be there, and there’s loads of it! What’s he going to do? Pave the entire thing? Is he insane?!’

  ‘I think that’s what he had in mind,’ Esme muttered, clearly not impressed with the idea of it herself. ‘I’m certain he mentioned having a swimming pool built in, too. Which obviously I was horrified at, but I kept my quiet. It wasn’t my place to tell them how I felt about it.’

  Jessica clenched her jaw at the sheer cheek of it. A swimming pool? Where the bloody hell did the Dawsons think they were moving to? Beverly Hills? They couldn’t pave over the garden. It would be awful. She tried to imagine the length of green grass transformed into cold, hard slabs and frowned. It was a horrible image. Ghastly, even. Not nice at all. But, what could she do? Once she passed it over to them, they could do whatever they wished with it. It would no longer be anything to do with her. She’d have no say in their plans. The thought made her shudder, although whether from fear or anger she wasn’t quite sure. Maybe an equal measure of both. ‘What did they say at the end of it?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘That they loved it. That they couldn’t wait to move in, and Mr Dawson had big plans. He kept saying he was going to bring it to life and up to date, make it more modern. Whatever that means. Mrs Dawson wasn’t keen on the porch either. She said it looked too American for her liking. Ruined the house. Those were her words exactly.’

  ‘But the wraparound porch is one of the best things about Bluebell House!’ Jessica cried, before she could stop herself. ‘Well, you know, it’s just really nice,’ she added quietly. ‘Looks traditional… and stuff.’ She closed her eyes. Bluebell House without a wraparound porch? What was wrong with these people? How could they not love the wraparound porch?

  ‘You can still change your mind, Jessica. It’s not concrete yet, you know, dear.’
/>
  ‘No. I can’t, Esme. If it’s going to be done, it needs to be done quickly. I don’t want to hang around. The thing is, whoever moves in, they’re going to find the same things wrong with it. It is an old house and probably could do with being modernised, but…’

  ‘But what?’ Esme asked curiously.

  Jessica tried to figure out what it was that she was trying to say. But what? But it was incredibly beautiful as it already was? And the thought of someone slapping down slabs and turning it into some horrible modern day monstrosity filled her with a fiery rage that she couldn’t quite explain? ‘Nothing. It’s nothing. Thanks, Esme. I’d better go. Oh, before I do, how’s Rueben?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know, dear. I haven’t seen him for a while.’

  Jessica’s heart sank. ‘Oh.’

  ‘I suppose he’s just busy with the gardens. He usually is this time of year. I’m sure he’ll pop round soon enough. When is the meeting for the signing of the papers?’

  ‘Monday morning. At the estate agent’s office.’ Dread filled her stomach at the thought of meeting the Dawsons. ‘I’m sure it will be fine though,’ she said quickly in an over-bright voice. ‘Well, of course it will be. Once it’s done, it’s done, and I can get on with my life without the responsibility of Bluebell House on my shoulders.’

  ‘Right then. I’ll leave you to it, dear.’ Esme didn’t sound too convinced.

  ‘Okay. Chat to you soon, Esme.’ And Jessica didn’t feel like she could convince Esme that selling Bluebell House was what she wanted to do, anyway.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The night before the meeting at the estate agent’s was a horrid one, to say the least. As she had been doing so often recently, Jessica tossed and turned the whole night through, unable to get comfortable, unable to relax enough to close her eyes and drift off. It was like she just couldn’t switch off. No matter what, Bluebell House and the potential buyers were constantly there, in the forefront of her mind, taunting and teasing her, refusing to let her sleep. It was like she was living in a nightmare and she just couldn’t escape from its clutches.

  She’d received an email from Helen over the weekend, wishing her luck for the impending meeting with Deb and the Dawsons. They’d sent a few emails since Jessica had landed back in London. It had been lovely to see Helen’s name in her inbox and comforting to know that she’d been thinking of her. Jessica had replied with a brief message, not feeling in the mood to get chatty, but knowing she’d make it up to Helen once everything had been dealt with. She had realised that she wanted Helen to be a part of her life. She had no family left except her birth mother, and even though there was a long road ahead for both of them, she was willing to walk down it with Helen beside her, as well as Esme.

  As for Rueben, she wasn’t quite sure what to do. She hadn’t heard from him since their phone call. He’d seemed distant and not at all interested in the circumstances that were unfolding when they’d spoken, and the female giggle hinted at perhaps Rueben finding someone else to spend his time with. It was her own fault really. She’d left without saying goodbye, so what had she expected? If it had been the other way around, she probably would have felt the same, too. Discarded so quickly, unwanted and not important. She felt the familiar pang in her chest as she thought about him sharing a kiss with someone else in the bluebell woods. Despite what she’d done, that moment was one of her favourites, one she’d think about for years to come. After all, it wasn’t every day you were kissed passionately beside a sea of enchanting bluebells, was it? Something straight out of a fairy-tale.

  When she woke up on the day of the meeting, she dressed quickly and guzzled down three cups of coffee in quick succession. She wanted it all over and done with as soon as possible, and the sooner she got there and the papers were signed, the sooner she could get back and carry on as normal. Something didn’t feel right, though. She was edgy, not with it at all. She shook her head to try and clear away the mugginess but it made no difference at all. Everything seemed to be so much more difficult than usual. Even getting out of bed and boiling the kettle had seemed like a challenge in itself. Before her life had been turned upside down, she’d been full of life in the mornings, savouring her coffee, primped and prepared for the day ahead. But today, today she felt like the living dead. There were bags beneath her eyes from the sleepless nights. Her skin was beginning to look pale and dull. It had lost its usual glow and anything that involved effort was quickly tossed aside. All in all, if it hadn’t been for the importance of the meeting, she would have happily crawled back up the stairs and hidden away in bed, refusing to acknowledge reality until the entire thing had all blown over. She needed a holiday. Abroad. Somewhere far, far away.

  ***

  Arriving at the estate agent’s London office, Jessica realised her legs were a little wobbly. Perhaps from the lack of sleep. She felt drained of her energy. She felt unsteady as she ascended the red-brick steps and buzzed herself in. It was a small building, tucked away nicely on a busy side-street, with clear glass windows either side of the red door. She gave her name and appointment time to the receptionist once she was inside and took a seat on one of the padded chairs that were lined up against the wall. The leaves of the potted plant beside her were beginning to turn brown at their edges. She stared at it for a while, until the door buzzed and an expensive-looking couple arrived at the desk. They were told to take a seat and glanced at Jessica as they approached, choosing to sit down a couple of seats away. With a dull ache in her chest, Jessica realised that they must be the Dawsons, exactly how Esme had described them. Dressed impeccably from top to toe. Wanting to be polite rather than ignorant, Jessica turned to them and held out her hand, despite having already taken a particular disliking to the pair of them. They were going to look so ridiculously out of place at Bluebell House she almost laughed at the thought of it. Then, with a gulp, she pictured the lush green grass being covered with the expensive slabs, the blue shimmer of the swimming pool, and guessed that they wouldn’t look so out of place after all, especially once they’d added their own little touches to the place, snatching away the magic of Bluebell House itself.

  ‘Hi, I’m Jessica.’

  The Dawsons turned to Jessica curiously, eyeing her hand as if it were about to bite them. They smiled, clearly thinking she was some crazy person to just be introducing herself to two completely random strangers, and pretended to fall into a hushed conversation between themselves. Ah, Jessica realised as she turned away with her cheeks flaming, hating how rude they were. They didn’t think she was the owner of Bluebell House because she wasn’t dressed the way they’d probably been expecting. She glanced sideways at the expensive suit that Mr Dawson was dressed in. Charcoal grey, shiny black shoes, recently trimmed beard and hair. The heels on Mrs Dawson’s feet were shiny and looked to be brand new, and no doubt of some insanely expensive brand that she’d never be able to purchase for herself.

  Jessica turned to the clock on the wall and willed the time go by faster. She eyed the minute hand and watched as it ticked. How much longer was she going to have to sit here in purgatory? She wished she had brought a friendly face along with her. Sarah would be at work though, and Esme and Rueben were too far away. They would have made her feel better about the whole thing, without a doubt, although perhaps Rueben wouldn’t have appreciated yet another phone call from her. He was probably with his new giggly girlfriend anyway, taking her to visit the bluebells in the woods. She felt her stomach lurch at just the thought of it. Those woods would now always be a special place in her mind, and imagining him taking another woman there was a stab to her heart, painful and searing. She couldn’t think about it for too long, otherwise she’d end up vomiting into the plant pot beside her chair.

  Deb strolled into the reception area at ten on the dot. Brisk, dressed smartly in a navy blue suit and with a folder tucked beneath her arm, she approached the three of them with a wide smile. ‘Morning, folks!’ she trilled happily, completely oblivious to Jessica’s
stomach turning somersaults. ‘Mr and Mrs Dawson, this is Jessica McAdams,’ Deb announced indicating to Jessica.

  Shocked, the couple turned towards her and looked at her from top to toe in confusion. ‘She owns Bluebell House?’ Mrs Dawson hissed, nudging her husband in the ribs. ‘Why didn’t you say?’ she asked Jessica.

  Jessica didn’t miss the studying of her clothes, face and hair from Mrs Dawson. She was clearly sizing her up, wondering how such a young, un-immaculate woman had come to own such a grand, old house in the gorgeous area of Bluebell Hill. She just about managed to resist snarling back.

  Before she could open her mouth to reply and inform them that they could have easily asked if she were the owner of Bluebell House rather than sitting there and ignoring her rudely, Deb cut in, wanting to get to business.

  ‘It doesn’t matter now. I’ve done the introductions for you.’ She laughed and began to walk off before the others had even stood from their seats. ‘Shall we step into my office?’ She led the way down the grey carpeted corridor and pushed open a door right at the very end. ‘Come in, come in. Everyone take a seat!’ Deb rushed around to her side of the desk and began to shuffle papers and gather anything that she would need for the meeting. ‘Once you’re all comfy, we can get started! No point wasting time, isn’t that right, Jessica?’

  Deb’s eyes were alight with the prospect of a successful sale under her estate agent eyes. She was making Jessica feel even more nauseous that she been before. She was like a vulture, eyeing her prey, ready to swoop in and make the deal before it got dragged away by some other animal.