The Little Cottage in the Country

by Lottie Phillips

  They jogged up the couple of steps into the warm, steamy café and Anna instructed the twins to stay put at the small table at the front, overlooking the square. She ordered three giant cookies and three hot chocolates.

  ‘You want cream and sprinkles on those?’ the girl asked her.

  Freddie hated cream and Antonia detested sprinkles (she thought they were ants in chocolate form) so Anna tailored her order accordingly. When she looked over to the children, her heart leapt at seeing Richard sitting in a chair chatting to them.

  She paid and walked over, placing the tray on the table. Oh bugger. Why had she agreed to cream and sprinkles on her own hot chocolate?

  ‘Hi,’ Richard smiled. ‘That looks nice.’

  ‘Hi.’ She sat, her back to the window, opposite Richard and meekly pushed the twins’ drinks in their direction and took her own mountain of cream and sprinkles. ‘Normally, I drink espresso. And I bought three cookies because I told them they could have one and a half each and…’ She was bulldozing again.

  He smiled. ‘I’m intruding.’

  ‘No, no, not at all. I’m writing an article for The Post about the hunt…’ She indicated her notepad and pen. ‘And we thought we’d get a bite to eat. I mean, I thought I’d get the children,’ she corrected herself, ‘a bite to eat.’

  ‘Um…’ Richard’s gaze was fixated on something over her right shoulder. ‘I think someone’s trying to get your attention.’

  Anna swivelled in her seat to find Diane and her mother on the arm of possibly the grungiest protestor she had ever laid eyes on. They were waving manically at her, the young man in the middle grinning, and then they proceeded to dance around him as if he were a maypole. Diane then wrenched the camera from around her neck and started snapping away. She had promised Barry photos of ‘authentic rural life’. Anna wondered how many photos Barry needed of Larry.

  She closed her eyes briefly, wishing they would go away and actually march.

  ‘Isn’t that Diane who I met yesterday in Waitrose?’

  Anna was forced to turn back around. ‘Um, yes, it is.’

  ‘Who is…?’

  ‘My mother,’ she answered quickly, shooing them away.

  ‘Grandma Linda looks silly,’ Freddie said, chocolate around his mouth.

  Understatement of the year, Anna thought, wondering if this would be the last straw for Richard. She wouldn’t have blamed him if he suddenly decided against them visiting the farm for the safety of his employees and the animals.

  ‘A guy we met in the Rose and Crown last night who turned up instead of the speed daters who were supposed to be there… Anyway, he mentioned this protest and I thought it would make a good article.’ Anna realised there were actually about a million things he could query in that sentence alone, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he sat back in his chair and grinned.

  ‘Don’t tell me. It was Larry.’

  ‘Yeah, how did you know? He organised the whole thing and said you’d kill him if he you found out.’

  ‘Larry, Larry, Larry,’ Richard chanted, still smiling. ‘He’s always uses his anti-hunting stance to woo the ladies.’

  ‘Oh, well, it worked.’ She thought of Diane. ‘Though, I think Diane fell for him at “hello”.’

  ‘Well, they look like they’re having fun.’

  Anna looked around once more. They were, in fact, chanting now and enthusiastically waving placards in the air. Each protestor had been given two letters each and, once they had finally adopted their positions, these read: ‘CHANGE! BAN THE HUNT’. Anna watched in alarm as her mother, currently holding the ‘E’ and the ‘H’, left the group momentarily to hop across the street to a man selling wind-up caterpillars. Diane, Larry and the dirtiest-looking-protestor-known-to-man gave up and the group lost ‘CHANGE’ altogether.

  Anna took a deep breath and was desperately wracking her brain for something witty or sexy to say when the café’s door flew open and her mother, pulling up her plus-fours to a place even Simon Cowell had never reached, rushed over to her. The café was filled with a blast of cold air and the other customers looked irritably over at them.

  ‘Darling, I’m having such fun! I bought the twins these caterpillars to remind them of the day their grandma become a revolutionary.’

  ‘Really?’ Anna raised her eyebrows. ‘You think this is history in the making?’

  ‘Oh, darling, we’re causing quite the stir out there.’ She looked at Richard. ‘Oh, didn’t realise you had company. I’m Linda. Anna’s mother.’ She smiled. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Richard.’

  ‘Ah, Richard.’ Her mother turned and gave her an elaborate wink. ‘The one Diane was telling me all about. You know, you could do worse than ask my daughter on a date?’ She chortled merrily, the warmth of the café causing her cheeks to flush. ‘Don’t they say “Always look at the mother first”. Well, here you are, darling, and can it get any better than this?’

  That was it: Anna knew then and there her love life had been officially terminated.

  Another customer entered the café, an older man in salmon-pink trousers and a blue shirt, and tried to sidle past her mother, but her mother’s plus-four-covered bottom was in the way.

  ‘Pardon,’ the man said.

  Her mother whipped her head round and laughed merrily. ‘Oh, sorrrrrrrrrrry, I was,’ she paused, ‘twerking.’

  Oh bugger. Her mother actually just used the word ‘twerking’ in reference to herself. Anna said a silent and quick prayer that Linda didn’t know about the wrecking ball too. As the man went to close the door, Anna could hear her name being chanted from across the road.

  ‘Oh look, how delightful,’ her mother sang out. ‘Diane is such a hoot.’

  Dread formed in the pit of Anna’s stomach and she looked outside once more.

  Nine protestors were pointing up at their placards, laughing uproariously. Their message now read: ‘BAN THE UNT’. Anna, seeing Diane ready to pop up with the letter ‘C’, nearly passed out with embarrassment and placed her hands across the twins’ eyes.

  Her mother dumped the caterpillars on the table and left, giggling like a schoolgirl. Anna couldn’t even look Richard in the eye but, when he spoke, she was forced to.

  His shoulders were shaking uncontrollably and he had tears in his eyes, as if he might choke. Oh bugger. He was having some sort of attack: the shock of the last ten minutes had been too much for him. She started to get up to alert someone. The twins were staring at him, wondering, like her, if he was going to make it.

  ‘Anna,’ he said, spluttering, ‘that has to be one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.’ Once his breathing had returned to normal, he touched her hand. ‘Would you do me the huge honour of coming to dinner with me?’

  Her eyes grew wide and she stuttered, ‘Me? Dinner?’ She grinned, her cheeks warming. ‘Yes, that’d be lovely.’

  ‘Good, good.’ He smiled. ‘I knew you’d agree.’

  ‘You did?’ She was mildly surprised.

  ‘I hoped,’ he corrected himself, and she returned the smile.

  Freddie looked at Richard’s hand on her own and put his on top, Antonia following suit. They thought a game of hand-slap had just started up and that was how she accepted his invitation, nodding happily, as if in a dream, over the raucous shrieks of her children as they tried to get their little hands to the top of the pile.

  The Harvest

  Anna had been walking on air the entire weekend, Diane and Larry had watched Alice Cooper videos on YouTube for the whole of Saturday, and her mother had kept Tony company in the garden. Anna couldn’t swear by it but she thought Tony was taking longer than was probably necessary to complete the list of jobs. Every hour or so, her mother would walk into the kitchen and fill her in on the last sixty minutes of one-sided conversation.

  Today, Diane had done her mother’s make-up and Anna thought she looked like a carved-out pumpkin: a sea of orange foundation, broken up by two dots for eyes and a toothy smile. Perhaps
appropriate, given the season.

  ‘Darling,’ she gushed, returning to the kitchen again, ‘he’s doing such a good job. I’m just going to make him another cup of tea and take him his favourite.’ She was carrying the post and put it on the table.

  ‘Favourite?’

  ‘Chocolate digestive.’ She snorted. ‘Hobnob. What a funny name. I’d never really thought about it before, but, come to think of it, do you think it’s some sort of sexual innuendo?’

  Anna looked up from the kitchen table, where she was busy making chocolate Rice Krispies with the twins. ‘What? A Hobnob?’

  ‘Yes, you know, because it’s got the word kn—’

  ‘No,’ Anna said quickly. ‘I think it’s just the name of the biscuit.’ She cleared her throat. ‘When do you think you might be, um, heading back to Bath, Mum?’

  Her mother turned, a pained expression plastered across her face. ‘And I thought we were getting on swimmingly. I was only thinking last night that you, Diane and me are the perfect team.’

  ‘We are?’

  ‘Yes, don’t you think so?’

  Anna smiled. ‘Of course, though you know the kids go to school tomorrow, so you won’t be able to spend as much time with them.’

  ‘I hate school,’ Freddie said.

  ‘Well then, we’ll get more time together and won’t that be nice?’ Her mother had finished brewing Tony’s tea and busied herself arranging the biscuits in a domino effect on a side plate. ‘There.’

  ‘How do you know they’re his favourite? Did he actually speak and tell you that?’

  ‘No,’ her mother admitted. ‘We have a game. I have to list whatever we’re talking about and I can tell by his face whether he likes it or not.’

  ‘Isn’t that a bit exhausting?’

  ‘No, darling, I love the silent type.’ She started to walk from the kitchen. ‘Open the post, Anna. There’s a very grand-looking envelope on the top there.’

  Anna saw that there was indeed an orange (in fact, it looked like a sampler for the foundation her mother was wearing that day) envelope with gold writing. It was addressed to her.

  ‘What is it, Anna?’

  Anna tore it open and looked up. ‘I’ve been invited to a drinks party at the Spencervilles’ home, Ridley Manor. An annual harvest celebration, apparently.’

  ‘Oooh, marvellous. When? What shall I wear?’

  Anna set it down on the table. ‘It says plus one.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Her mother beamed. ‘You’re single and I’m your plus one.’

  Diane entered the kitchen. ‘Who’s Anna’s plus one? For what?’

  ‘For this.’ Anna handed her the invitation.

  ‘Uh, hello. Why is your mum the plus one? Why can’t I be the plus one? I got here first.’ Diane shot Anna’s mother a look. ‘No offence, Linda, but I so deserve this more than you… Anna owes me.’

  Anna and the twins stared at both of them, arguing like children, and Anna put her hand up. ‘Stop.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m not going, anyway, so I won’t need a plus one. And if I did, maybe Richard would agree to go with me.’

  ‘When is it?’ her mother asked.

  Anna skim-read the invite. ‘In just under a week.’

  Her mother and Diane exchanged looks.

  ‘I am going on a date on Wednesday night, you might remember, so who’s to say Richard wouldn’t agree to come with me?’ She puffed out her chest. ‘Besides which, I don’t trust the Spencervilles, especially that Horatio, so why should I lower myself to attend their party?’

  ‘Are you sure you’re not muddling feelings of affection for Horatio with disliking him?’ Diane arched an eyebrow.

  ‘He makes me so…’ She tried to think of the word. ‘So aware of myself.’ She grew a bit hot under the collar and tried to regain composure: he wasn’t even in the room and yet she couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was highly irritating, she thought. Lost in her own reverie, she continued, ‘He’s just so cool about everything, you know? He, like, has it all sorted and I reckon he pities me and I don’t want his pity, I want…’

  ‘You want?’ Diane smiled.

  ‘I want something else,’ Anna said defiantly.

  Diane shot her an ‘I rest my case’ look.

  Her mother shook her head and walked off, muttering, ‘Always told her father she was too picky.’

  The twins, bored of stirring the Rice Krispies and melted chocolate together, had started to spoon it into their mouths.

  ‘You two go and play and I’ll put these in the cupcake wrappers.’

  Needing little persuasion, they slid off their chairs and ran outside.

  ‘You know one reason why you should go?’ Diane said, her face growing serious. ‘It would make a great story for your column.’

  Anna nodded. She hadn’t thought of that. ‘True.’

  ‘Then you can take me.’

  ‘Or Richard.’

  ‘You’d have more fun with me.’

  ‘No offence, Dee, but I’m not sure how it would look.’

  Diane sat down and mindlessly stuck the wooden spoon into her own mouth and chewed. ‘Fine, your loss.’ She paused. ‘This is good. Do you mind?’ She indicated the mixture.

  Anna looked in the bowl and shook her head. ‘There’s only a bit left anyway.’

  Her mother breezed into the kitchen and, by the looks of it, Tony had demolished the entire plate of Hobnobs. Anna was fully expecting the handyman to leave this job a textbook example of morbidly obese.

  He wouldn’t be alone, she thought, as Diane smacked her lips, finishing off the last of the mixture. ‘Perfect.’

  ‘So,’ her mother announced, ‘I have news.’

  ‘What?’ Anna dared to ask.

  ‘The woman who lives down the lane, her name’s Rosie. She’s a love. We just had a long chat about you, darling, and Rosie thought you two were an item.’

  ‘Who? Us?’ Anna said. ‘I rest my case about the plus one to the party.’

  ‘Yes, you and Diane.’ Her mother nodded.

  ‘What?’ Diane jerked her head back. ‘Hope you told her I wouldn’t touch Anna with a barge pole.’

  ‘No, didn’t want to waste my breath because then she tells me about the most fun thing ever.’

  ‘More fun than the march?’ Diane said.

  ‘Yes, totes.’ Anna’s mother grinned. ‘You’ve heard of that cheese-rolling competition in Gloucestershire? The one the council have tried to stop? Well, turns out Oxfordshire has a competition of its own and I’ve signed you up, Anna. Told Rosie that, despite us not being very sporty, we’d be game.’

  Diane threw her head back and laughed. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Well, she was telling me that this is the first year they’re letting women do it.’ She paused, flinging her arms out wide. ‘Giant pork pie rolling.’

  ‘Mum!’ Anna could have throttled her. ‘Why would I want to make an idiot of myself in front of all the locals and my neighbours?’

  ‘Rosie told me,’ she said, growing serious, ‘that it would be a really good way to start meeting the locals.’

  Anna looked through the window at her children. It was about time she tried a bit harder to fit in. Cutting through her thoughts, her phone buzzed.

  ‘Compton, it’s Barry,’ he said, breathless. ‘Loved the article on the speed dating. Who knew that Compton Big Knickers could look so good in a black dress? I’m looking forward to the article on the protest.’ She could hear him smiling. ‘Diane sent over great photos of some really quite scary-looking characters.’ He paused. ‘People are loving it. We’ve had great feedback. In fact, people think you’re a bit of an adventurer, Compton.’

  Anna smiled, despite herself. Anna Compton, great explorer.

  ‘Thing is, I need something even more juicy, something that really shows off the eccentricity of old Trumpsey Blazey.’

  Anna looked at her mother and thought, why the hell not?

  ‘Well, actually, I’m just about to enroll myse
lf in a pie race.’

  ‘Compton, I don’t think people in London need a reminder of an egg and spoon race.’

  ‘No, this is different.’ She explained that it would apparently entail rolling down a hill with a pie strapped to her. Sometimes she wondered if she had entered a mad house.

  His breathing quickened with excitement. ‘Now, that is good.’

  ‘Yes, although I’m not trying to be the laughing stock here, Barry.’

  Her mother overheard.

  ‘Darling, why change the habit of a lifetime?’ She chortled.

  ‘Who was that?’ Barry asked, and she could almost envisage him craning his neck.

  ‘My mother.’

  ‘So you’ve got Diane there, your mother and the children?’ He chuckled. ‘Now that is very much like the Waltons.’

  There, she couldn’t disagree.

  Barry paused. ‘Diane let out that you’ve had some problem with a chap called Horatio Spencerville?’

  Anna shot daggers at Diane’s back.

  ‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ she said. She didn’t need the world knowing about how this man was getting under skin.

  ‘So, you’ve both been invited to a party?’ he pushed.

  ‘No, I was invited to a party.’ She paused. ‘How much does Diane tell you exactly?’

  Barry grew gruff, ignoring her question. ‘Anna, at the moment your column is proving one of our biggest successes. If you give me more, I can give you a pay rise.’

  She took a sharp intake of breath. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. Think about it, Compton.’ He had her pinned down. ‘You owe your children at least that.’

  He hung up and she looked at Diane, her mother and the children playing, confused. How was her London life following her to Trumpsey Blazey? She had naively dreamt of pies in Agas and, now, looking at her bank balance on her phone, she realised Barry was giving her an opportunity she actually couldn’t ignore.

  The next morning, Anna’s stomach churned as they approached the sea of tweed and frills outside the school gates of Trumpsey Blazey Primary. She looked down at her torn jeans, speckled with chocolate from yesterday’s baking-fail (chocolate Rice Krispies was a form of baking to Anna’s mind), her biker boots and, most ashamedly, her fleecy top that actually belonged with her PJ bottoms. The twins appeared uncharacteristically happy at the thought of going to school and, in many ways, Anna was envious of their break from the chaos at Primrose Cottage.