‘Like that, is it?’
‘It’s not great,’ I said. ‘But things might change. I interviewed for the Head of English post, and given that most of the other teachers who applied haven’t got much experience, I think I stand a good chance.’
‘I’m sure you’d do a great job,’ Sunita said warmly. She swept her black hair up into a topknot and tied it with a band. ‘Let us know when you hear back.’
‘What about you, Suni?’ I asked. ‘How’s it been finishing up at work? Are they going to have to prise the laptop off you in the birthing centre?’
‘No way. One more set of edits and I’m through,’ she said. ‘I’ve loved writing this latest book though. Even in the first trimester, when I was knackered, I was up late plotting it out.’
‘Gory?’ I asked, familiar with Sunita’s crime novels. I’d got to read her first three books at proof stage, with Jack sneaking looks over my shoulder as I stayed up past midnight, swearing I’d stop after just one more chapter.
‘The goriest yet,’ she said, taking a sip of her spritzer. ‘If I’m going to leave work for motherhood – at least for a while – I decided I should go out with a bang.’
‘Excellent.’
Gareth read out the answers to the quiz, and I marked the other group’s sheet, adding a couple of smiley faces for the ones they’d got right.
‘I told you it was Travolta!’ Sunita announced triumphantly, as Gareth read out the answer for number five. ‘I rock at pub quizzes.’
‘Well done, Suni,’ Carly said. ‘Good to see that degree in criminal psychology isn’t going to waste.’
Sunita sneered at her playfully, and we swapped our papers back with the table next to us.
I glanced around the pub where we’d spent so many evenings together, with its wood panelling, frosted glass and array of old-men regulars, and thought back to my conversation with Jack that morning. ‘Do you ever imagine living anywhere else?’ I asked.
‘What, outside Hackney?’ Sunita said, puzzled.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Maybe even a bit further afield than that.’
‘You don’t mean … ?’ Sunita said, eyes wide behind her glasses.
‘You’re not talking about … ?’ Carly added.
‘South of the river?’ they said at the same time.
I laughed. ‘Further.’
‘Where?’ Carly asked incredulously.
‘It’s just … I saw some beautiful country cottages online this morning, and I can’t get the idea out of my head. Pretty houses with thatched roofs and beams, and gardens we could do so much with.’
‘Gardens?’ Carly said. ‘You couldn’t even manage to keep that cactus I gave you alive.’
‘I did,’ I protested. ‘For a few months anyway. It was Jack who knocked the pot off the side and smashed it.’
‘But apart from a garden,’ Sunita said, ‘what could the countryside give you that Hackney doesn’t?’
‘A really chilled-out location, a spare room that would work as a study, a really big living room …’
‘A study, eh … ?’ Carly said, raising an eyebrow.
‘Yes,’ I replied firmly.
‘OK.’ Carly shrugged. ‘If you say so.’
‘Look, don’t get me wrong. I think it’s great what Suni’s doing.’ It was a shame that just at that moment she was pulling her knickers out of her bum and wincing. ‘But this isn’t about starting a family. I spend enough time with kids as it is. I just want us to have a better standard of living.’
‘You’re really serious about this move?’ Sunita asked, frown lines appearing between her strong dark eyebrows.
‘Are you?’ Carly said, looking hurt.
‘We’re just looking at a couple of places, that’s all.’
*
The next weekend, after a busy week at work, Jack and I drove out to the countryside. The satnav directed us past green fields, and Jack and I listened to a rare groove playlist on my iPod. We’d already stopped at one cottage that morning – only to find that it was so near the motorway you could hear the traffic noise from the house. It had been an easy no.
‘Nice to get away from the city for a day, isn’t it?’ I said.
‘Yes, you can breathe out here, can’t you? We’re nearly there, I think,’ Jack said, pressing a button on the navigation screen and looking at the map.
He turned off the A-road and down a country lane. As we caught sight of the house I drew in my breath.
‘You have now arrived at your destination,’ the female voice announced.
The cottage was nestled among green fields, with a few neighbouring houses scattered nearby. A well-tended front garden bloomed with forget-me-nots. Green wellies were lined up in the wooden porch as if resting after a long walk, and the front door window was stained glass. Sunlight glinted off the tiny coloured panes.
Jack pulled up in the gravel driveway and parked, turning the engine off. ‘Wow,’ he said.
‘God, it’s like something out of a film, isn’t it?’
‘It really is,’ he said, peering out. ‘I feel like a friendly flock of cartoon blue tits are going to lead us up the pathway.’
‘Mr and Mrs Grey?’ A voice from my passenger-side window made me start. I turned to see a redheaded young man in a navy suit peering in.
‘Yes, that’s us.’ I opened the door and got out to shake the man’s hand. ‘Amelia. And this is Jack. Nice to meet you.’
‘Likewise. I’m Darren,’ he said, shaking Jack’s hand. His smile was warm, and distracted attention from his badly fitting suit. ‘Welcome. Come inside, and I’ll show you around Arcadia Cottage.’
Jack and I followed Darren towards the house, and he unlocked the front door.
‘The owners, a young professional couple like yourselves, are out for the day – so there’s plenty of time for you to have a good look around, if you’re not in a hurry. It’s worth it, believe me. This is a very special property.’
Jack’s eyes went heavenwards and I gave him a discreet jab in the ribs. Just because Darren was an estate agent it didn’t make him a liar – he looked like an OK guy to me. He opened the door to reveal a hallway with wooden floorboards polished to an immaculate finish. We could see through into the kitchen, which had large windows and wooden cabinets, copper pans hanging neatly above them. My gut feeling had been right. This place was special.
‘See what I mean?’ Darren said.
‘It’s really spacious, Jack,’ I said, swinging my arms around me in the hallway. ‘I thought a cottage might be small and poky inside, but it’s not at all, is it?’
‘Come and take a look at the other rooms,’ Darren said, crossing the corridor. ‘The kitchen is a great size, and was recently installed – the owners updated all the electrics and put in a new boiler when they moved in three years ago.’
Jack nodded approvingly. I peeked out of the kitchen window at the manicured garden I’d admired on the estate agents’ website.
‘And the garden is a gem. Go outside and take a look for yourselves.’ Darren opened the back door, and motioned for us to pass. A stone path led through rose bushes to a neat green lawn. At the back of the garden was a wooden summer house shaded by a weeping willow. ‘Feel free to explore – and do take a look in the summer house. It’s a wonderful bonus.’
Jack and I went outside and walked up on to the lawn. After a few steps I turned round and looked back at the cottage: the grey stonework was every bit as attractive from the back.
‘We could have barbecues out here, Jack,’ I said. ‘Picnics in the summer – we’d both have a chance to fine-tune our gardening skills.’
He gave me a look. ‘Fine-tune?’
‘Look, we just haven’t had the opportunity yet, that’s all. Come on. Tell me this isn’t beautiful,’ I said, stretching my arms out to take it all in. ‘It even smells gorgeous – take a breath.’ The lilac climbing up the trellis gave off a sweet aroma.
‘OK, I admit, it smells nice.’
I smiled at this small victory.
‘Are you certain this in our price bracket?’ Jack asked.
‘We’d be able to afford it, yes. Especially if I get that promotion.’
‘Really quiet, isn’t it?’ Jack said.
‘In a good way or a bad way?’
‘Good, I think.’
We stood together for a moment beside the wooden summer house with its little desk and padded window seats. Strands of weeping willow swayed gently in the breeze.
This was it – this was the haven I’d been looking for, ever since I was young.
‘Let’s go in and see the rest of the place,’ Jack said, taking my hand.
*
Darren met us in the kitchen. ‘What did you think? Lovely out there, isn’t it?’ he said, his ginger eyebrows raised. ‘But the best is yet to come.’
As he left the room, I picked up my pace to keep up, eager to see the rest of the house. Jack held me back gently and whispered in my ear, ‘Try and play it a bit cool, eh?’
‘How’s this for an entertaining space?’ the estate agent said, showing us into an elegant dining room. Jack’s hand was clasped in mine, and I squeezed it hard, trying to hide my enthusiasm from Darren.
‘It’s cosy,’ I said, fighting the urge to squeal. ‘Is the fireplace original?’ I let go of Jack’s hand and crouched to peer at the attractive blue and white tiles.
‘Yes, and it’s in working order too. As you can see, the dining room leads directly through to the living room, and in the corner there’s another original fireplace, similar to this one.’
‘Imagine Christmas here,’ I said quietly to Jack. ‘Dinner at the table, and then wandering slowly through to relax by the fireside. How lovely would that be?’
‘It’s a practical layout,’ Jack said calmly. Beneath his restrained expression, I could see a glimmer of excitement in his brown eyes. ‘And the bedrooms?’ he said, turning to Darren.
‘Come upstairs. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.’
We followed him up the staircase. There were two good-sized double bedrooms and a smaller third one, all with lovely views out over the garden or surrounding countryside. The bathroom, which we saw next, had been sympathetically decorated in the style of the cottage, and was dominated by a large white free-standing tub with claw feet.
‘Room for both of us in there,’ Jack whispered in my ear.
‘Jack,’ I said, nudging him in the ribs. I liked the idea though.
On the way back to the stairs, we passed a nook in the upstairs corridor. ‘We could put Grandma Niki’s side table here,’ I said. Jack nodded, then gave me a smile that I hoped meant he could see what I could – that with our things in it, this place could really be a home for us.
Half an hour after we arrived, we were back in the lobby.
‘Thanks for showing us around,’ Jack said to Darren.
‘It’s a pleasure,’ Darren replied. ‘All the details are on this handout,’ he said, passing me a printed sheet, ‘but if you have any questions at all give me a call. Just to say, you might want to act fairly swiftly on this, if you’re keen. I’m expecting quite a bit of interest.’
‘OK.’ I glanced at Jack anxiously, wanting the place even more desperately now. ‘We’ll be in touch soon. Let us know if there are any updates.’
We stepped out of the cottage and walked back to the car. We got in and closed the doors.
A couple of feet away, a black Jaguar slowed down and parked at the foot of the gravel pathway.
‘Do you think they’re here for a viewing too?’ I asked.
‘Maybe,’ Jack said. ‘But forget about that – what did you think of the place?’
I took a final look at the cottage, trying to fix it in my mind. The lovely grey stonework and lilac flowers, the traditional windows and immaculately maintained thatched roof. I pictured the rooms we’d walked through – what they’d look like with our furniture in them, our framed prints and photos up on the walls. We’d finally have a place that would do justice to the antique dresser and chairs I’d inherited from my grandparents, currently in storage because there was no space for them at Addison Road.
‘I know it would mean a longer commute for both of us, we’d be further from our friends …’
‘But?’
‘But I love it, Jack,’ I said, excitement bubbling up inside me. ‘I can see us being really happy here.’
Jack fiddled with the car keys and looked away for a moment.
‘And you?’ I asked. My heart was in my throat as I waited for his reply.
Chapter 3
Only Half in Hackney
Saturday, 11 May
That evening, after we got back from viewing the cottage, I sank into a bubble bath. Candlelight flickered around me, and the room filled with the aroma of a Space NK candle Carly had given me for Christmas. I’d barely used it – a quick shower before I dashed out the door was normally all I had time for in the mornings. Our petite bathroom with its peach-coloured eighties fittings didn’t match up to the elegant white tub we’d seen in the cottage – the one big enough for two. Here, the matching basin, bath and toilet and magnolia walls looked particularly uninspiring. When Jack and I had moved in, we’d intended to do the room up, but like so many other home improvements, we had never got round to it.
I thought back to my conversation in the car with Jack. He’d talked about the cottage in a fairly detached way, but underneath I could tell he was starting to get excited. After two years our wedding seemed like a distant memory, and I thought we needed a new project. The best thing about Arcadia Cottage, of course, was that it was a project that was entirely manageable – it didn’t really need much doing to it. We’d simply be adding personal touches here and there, in order to put our stamp on the place.
I smiled at the thought of the house and the way I’d felt in it, and how I’d sensed Jack felt too. It was a home. There were a couple of things we needed to check first, but I was confident Jack would want us to offer.
I squeezed out some Sanctuary body scrub, rubbing the apricot-coloured particles against the rough skin on my knees. If one day the paparazzi become interested in my knees (it happens, although granted not often to teachers in east London), I like to think I’ll be ready.
I leaned back, my head cushioned on a towel, and visualized the cottage living room again. We could have the roaring fire I’d always dreamed of. Perhaps by Christmas we’d even be in there and ready for visitors, our presents wrapped and under the tree.
A knock came at the door, breaking my train of thought.
‘Amelia,’ Jack said, ‘your mobile’s ringing.’
I sat up and the water swooshed around me, some splashing onto the lino. ‘Do you know who it is?’
‘It’s your mum.’
‘Could you tell her I’ll call her back in a minute?’ I yelled through the door.
I washed off the grains that seemed to have adhered to every crack and crevice in my body and pulled a fluffy towel off the radiator to dry myself. I got another one for my hair and tied it up into a turban. As I pulled on a dressing gown I could hear Jack’s voice through the door.
‘Hi, oh hi, Rosie,’ he said warmly. ‘Yes, she’s just in the bathroom at the moment. No, don’t worry, you’re not interrupting anything …’
A few minutes later I padded down the carpeted corridor in my slippers to where Jack was. I peeked into the front room and saw him sitting on the sofa, watching an episode of Game of Thrones. I crept up behind him and planted a kiss on his head.
‘Hey,’ he said playfully, turning round. ‘You’re dripping all over me,’
‘You love it.’ I kissed him on the lips this time.
‘I do. I really must be a sucker,’ he replied. ‘Your mum said she was just calling for a chat.’
‘How was she?’
‘She sounded cheerful.’
‘OK. Right, I’m going to put some clothes on and give her a quick ring.’
‘Do you
have to?’ he asked, snaking a hand under my towel and touching the top of my leg.
‘One phone call and I’m all yours,’ I said.
I went into our bedroom and slipped on my pyjamas, chequered and so worn they were impossibly soft. They’d been a faithful companion of mine for so long that even Jack, who’d shown some resistance at first, had grown used to them.
I picked up my mobile from the bedside table, and pressed number two, speed-dial for my mum.
‘Hi, Amelia,’ she said as soon as I picked up. ‘Nice bath?’
‘Yes, thanks,’ I said, sitting back on the bed. ‘How are things?’
‘Great, thanks, sweetie. Don’t know why I was worried about retiring, it’s been wonderful so far. Art class, aqua-aerobics, Pilates … my schedule’s never been fuller. And Hazelton’s such a welcoming village.’
‘Glad to hear it. Seems like you’re really settling in.’ I thought about telling her about the house, but then stopped myself – it was early days, and I didn’t want to jinx it.
‘I am. I’ve made some good friends here. Will you and Jack come and visit soon, once the holidays have started?’
‘Sure, Mum,’ I said, feeling a pang of guilt that we hadn’t popped in on her when we were viewing the cottages. ‘What about the weekend after next?’
‘Perfect,’ Mum said, her voice lifting. ‘I’ll make you a birthday cake and we can have a little celebration.’
‘There’s really no need.’
‘Darling, it’s your thirtieth.’
‘Honestly, it’s fine. But, yes, it would be good to see you.’
We talked for a while, then said our goodbyes. I was about to get up and go back into the living room, when I thought of Dad.
His mobile sounded a dull tone, so I called his landline. His wife, Caitlin, picked up. ‘Hi, Amelia. How are things?’
‘OK, thanks. Good actually. Any chance Dad is around?’
‘He’s out at the moment I’m afraid, love. No mobile since … well, you know. I’m all on my own this evening.’ She sounded tired and stressed. ‘And Mirabel’s off in town somewhere, left without even letting me know where … Honestly, I bet you never gave your parents this much of a headache.’
Amelia Grey's Fireside Dream Page 3
