Amelia Grey's Fireside Dream

by Abby Clements

  ‘Bliss.’

  This summer there hadn’t been time for a holiday, not even our usual trip to a music festival. Sitting by the stream and reading, letting a sunny afternoon drift by, sounded idyllic.

  ‘Thanks for bringing me down here,’ I said to Callum. ‘It feels special. I hope we can get the garden back to how you remember it. Although who knows when we’ll get round to that with so much to do on the cottage.’

  ‘I’d be happy to get it started, if you’re looking for someone. Spencer and I are both after a bit of outdoors work. Or we could give you a few tips if you want to do it yourself.’

  ‘You’re a gardener?’

  Callum smiled. ‘I’m a whatever-turns-up man. Or I have been for the last few years, anyway.’

  ‘As it happens, a whatever-turns-up man is exactly what we’re looking for. When would you be able to start?’

  ‘Whenever you like – next week?’

  ‘Sounds good. I’ll just need to have a chat with Jack first, work out our budget – which I wish was infinite, but sadly isn’t.’

  ‘Sure. In terms of getting starting, we’d need to cut the grass first, bring the place into submission a bit, and then you could decide how you’d like the new garden to look. Do you have any ideas?’

  ‘Not really.’ I shrugged. ‘But I’d like to keep some of the wildness, I think. Not too tidy, with flowerbeds – I loved the poppies and sunflowers that were here back in July.’

  ‘We could run a loose pathway through, with paving stones,’ Callum said, pointing, ‘and have a wildflower garden to the left, then perhaps a trellis for the honeysuckle up nearer the house.’

  ‘Great. I can’t wait to get started. Isn’t it going to be weird for you, though, to see us updating the place? Taking out some of the old fittings?’

  ‘Are you joking?’ Callum said. ‘I can’t wait to see what you do. We’ve been nagging Gran to let us change the cabinets and give the place a clear-out for years. In fact, I’ll happily join in with a sledgehammer.’

  *

  Callum and his cousin Spencer, a twenty-something version of him in baggy jeans and a T-shirt, spent the morning moving boxes and bags and loading them into a van, chatting loudly and laughing together. I made my way past them and into the kitchen. I’d gathered a basket full of blackberries and some apples from the front garden. In the pocket of my apron were bunches of lavender – I bound them with string and hung them up high over the Aga.

  Under a mug by the window, I found the crumble recipe that Eleanor had left and looked over the ingredients. We had all of them in the small box of supplies we’d brought with us. There wasn’t much I could do in the house until Callum and Spencer had cleared it, and baking always soothed me. I washed the fruit under the tap in the stainless-steel sink.

  My gaze fell on a spiral-bound notepad. On the first page was a shopping list, with groceries – vegetables, flour, butter – written in curved black script.

  Curious, I dried my hands and turned the page.

  There, the words were curved and larger.

  I didn’t want to do it. I had to.

  I shut the notepad and put it back where I’d found it. These weren’t my things to be looking through.

  *

  ‘Hi, Amelia,’ Jack said, arriving home and putting his bag down in the hallway. ‘How did it go today?’

  ‘Good,’ I said. ‘Really good actually.’

  ‘Really good?’ Jack echoed. ‘You’ve changed your tune.’

  ‘Come with me and you’ll see what I mean.’ I took him by the hand, ignoring his slightly startled expression as I led him through to the living room.

  ‘Wow,’ he said. The bare bones of the cottage – the blank canvas we’d be working on – were now visible. The room was clear and full of warm evening light. There was no rickety old bed, no piles of clothes and trinkets. Callum and Spencer had carried off the whole lot in a couple of hours, spiriting it away in a rented lorry and then coming back to scrub and clean every surface. Yes, there were broken floorboards, and the window frames were rotten in places. But it looked like it could be a living room now, one day.

  ‘Wow, what a difference, eh?’ Jack said. ‘Did you do this?’

  ‘God, no,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘The owner’s grandson, Callum, and his cousin came around. They took all Mrs McGuire’s things away and put them in storage. Callum was really apologetic.’

  ‘OK,’ Jack said.

  ‘She’s losing her memory – that’s why she wouldn’t let go.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Poor woman. Well, that’s good that they were able to sort everything out today.’

  ‘They were brilliant. Come and take a look upstairs.’

  I grandly threw open the door to our bedroom, and the brass handle came loose in my hand. ‘Oops.’ I put it down on the floor and led Jack forward into the room. ‘Don’t let that put you off.’ The owner’s sewing equipment and bric-a-brac had all gone and the room was clear and clean. Only a couple of our boxes stood in the middle of the floor.

  I snaked an arm around Jack’s hips. ‘It’s our place now, Jack. Really, all ours.’

  *

  After Jack and I had excitedly discussed our ideas for the bedroom, I got the crumble out of the Aga and scooped us both out generous portions. I added some vanilla ice cream to each bowl and passed one to Jack.

  ‘This is incredible,’ Jack said, taking a forkful.

  ‘All home-grown. I used a recipe I found in here before the guys cleared it. I think it must be Callum’s grandmother’s.’

  ‘Well, it gets a big thumbs-up from me.’

  ‘I’ve asked Callum and his cousin to come and help us out with the garden, get things kick-started out there. I know we didn’t put aside much for it, but their rates are reasonable, and I reckon they could do a lot in a couple of weeks. Is that OK with you?’

  ‘Sure,’ Jack said. ‘Although I think we’ll need to keep it fairly limited. I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from your dad?’

  ‘I haven’t heard from him, no,’ I said, ‘but I haven’t checked my balance for a while. He might have paid some money into the account. Anyway – enough about that. How was it, your first day commuting from here?’

  ‘I’m sure it will get better.’

  ‘Oh, that doesn’t sound good.’

  ‘It wasn’t great. The train was delayed, then diverted, so I ended up arriving at London Bridge over forty minutes later than I planned to.’

  ‘That’s really bad luck.’

  ‘I wish bad luck was all it was. There was a sign up in the station about some upgrade work they’re doing. You know the high-speed rail link that we’re hoping will add value?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘I guess we should have thought more about the impact of the works in the short term. It seems as if trains may be running slow or rerouted during the months that the work is going on.’ He looked tired, and the strain showed a little around his eyes.

  ‘Only a hiccup,’ I said.

  ‘Exactly,’ Jack said, forcing a smile. ‘That’s what I thought. Anyway, we need to think about how you’re going to get around now, too.’

  ‘Interesting you should say that. I mentioned to Callum today that we were thinking about getting a second car but couldn’t really afford it. He says he has an old banger we can use – for the time being, that is. He’s been meaning to sell it but can’t quite bring himself to, I think. I’d just need to sort the insurance.’

  ‘That sounds like a good solution,’ Jack said.

  ‘Great. I’ll tell him yes, in that case.’

  Chapter 8

  The Kitchen

  On the Mood Board

  Traditional wooden cabinets, dried wild flowers in antique glass bottles on the windowsill, retro appliances: Smeg fridge (red). Gingham? Cath Kidston-inspired florals. Shabby-chic dresser (white), teapots, copper pans. Fitted kitchens from Moben catalogue – Note: dream kitchen! Wooden table and chairs with hand-sewn seat cushions.
Aga with pan cooking on top.

  Tuesday, 10 September

  From the bathroom window, I saw Spencer pull up in his truck and Callum park alongside him in a battered green Morris Minor. So, this was the car he’d mentioned to me. I was excited at the prospect at being able to get around easily on my own. I rinsed my mouth out, put my toothbrush down by the yellow sink and went downstairs.

  I saw an envelope on the doormat, addressed to me and Jack. It looked like Suni’s handwriting. Inside was a card with a quote from one of our favourite books, I Capture the Castle: ‘I Write This Sitting in the Kitchen Sink …’

  I opened it and read her message.

  Hope you’ve found somewhere more comfortable to sit in your new house. Happy New Home! Love from Suni and Nico x

  I smiled, and looked around for somewhere to put it. With no furniture I opted for a windowsill by the stairs. Her baby was due any day now. I hoped she was doing OK.

  I opened the door.

  ‘Hi,’ Spencer said cheerfully, from over by the van. Callum was unloading garden equipment and waved hello. ‘Your chariot’s arrived.’ He laughed, pointing back at the car. ‘Shall we just go through to the back and get started?’ He looked apologetically at his muddy wellies. ‘I can take these off before I go inside?’

  ‘No, it’s fine. You can get in round the back – the fence is down. Not that it would really matter anyway; the cottage is going to get a lot dirtier over the next few weeks, when we get started on the work.’

  ‘Morning,’ Callum said, joining us, rake in hand. ‘Here are the car keys. She’s all yours.’

  ‘Thanks so much. It’s really kind of you – and it’s going to be a complete lifesaver. I don’t know how we thought we’d cope out here with just the one car between us.’

  ‘No worries. I’m glad she’ll be in safe hands. Right, shall we go out there and have a chat about what you’d like to do?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said, leading the way.

  We stepped over the broken fencing and out into the garden. ‘So, I’ve been thinking and I really liked the idea of the wildflower garden. Let’s keep the ferns at the back by the stream, and all the wisteria on the house at the moment.’

  ‘What else do you like … flowers? Any particular colours?’ Callum asked.

  ‘Hmm, I’m not really an expert. But I like bluebells and daffodils.’

  ‘Great, good starting point. OK, how about we get some bulbs? Bluebells I can get from my own garden, and I can pick up some narcissi and daffodils – we could have them up here, so that you can see them from your kitchen window. You’ll have to wait for them, of course, but that’s the joy in gardening.’ He smiled. ‘You need a bit of patience. We could put in some late-flowering plants like clematis and Japanese anemones, so you have something to look at now.’

  ‘That sounds perfect.’

  ‘Anything else you’d like? Dream big and we’ll see what we can do.’

  ‘I know what I’d really love,’ I said, ‘but we could never afford it.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘A summer house out here.’ I remembered the one at Arcadia cottage, with its cosy window seats and bookshelves.

  ‘And that’s not in your budget at the moment?’

  ‘No, no way.’

  ‘Dreams are important,’ Callum said. ‘Why don’t we leave a patch of the garden clear for that, near a grassed area, and then, in the future – who knows?’

  ‘That’s a good idea, yes.’

  ‘Great. Well, we’ll be clearing the place today, and then tomorrow or the day after I’ll get down to the garden centre so we can get started.’

  ‘It’s going to be a busy day for you,’ I said. ‘Sounds like you’ll be needing some tea and biscuits.’

  I went inside put the kettle on. As I waited for it to boil, I looked through the window and watched Callum and Spencer discussing where to start.

  I put some biscuits on a plate and took that and the mugs outside for them.

  ‘Thanks,’ Spencer said, descending on the biscuit plate.

  ‘If you need anything just give me a shout.’

  ‘What are you working on today?’ Callum asked, brushing a strand of sandy hair out of his eyes as he followed me back indoors.

  ‘The kitchen. I’m going to pick out some new fitted units, and get some wooden shelving installed.’

  ‘So it’s farewell to those old gems?’ he said, pointing to the green cabinets. ‘Or should I say good riddance?’

  ‘More like the latter, I think.’

  ‘It’s about time. You know what, Amelia, I have a feeling if you take this flooring up there might be something better underneath. Do you mind if I …’ He bent to inspect a corner that was peeling back.

  ‘Go for it. Whatever we do, this is coming up,’ I said, scuffing a toe against it.

  He peeled back a tile and beneath the gummy layer of glue it looked like there was stone. ‘It’s the original flagstones,’ he said.

  ‘Really?’ I bent down to join him and take a closer look.

  ‘It’ll all need a really good scrub, but I imagine the whole floor is like this.’

  My skin tingled with the excitement of the find. ‘That would look stunning: the original flagstones, maybe a rug under the table to warm things up a bit.’ I glanced around the kitchen, seeing it in a different light.

  ‘No idea why Granny Ellie covered them up,’ Callum said, shaking his head. ‘I guess it was trendy or something.’

  ‘How’s is your gran? Is she settling into her new place all right?’

  ‘Not too bad,’ Callum said, getting to his feet. ‘She’s getting used to it, at least, although she’s been in a terrible mood since we moved her. The main thing is she’s somewhere we can all look in and keep an eye on her, which puts our minds at rest, especially Dad’s.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ I said.

  ‘I should get started on the garden.’ Callum picked up his tools. ‘I can’t let Spence have all of the fun out there.’

  *

  As Callum and Spencer worked outside, I texted Sunita from the kitchen.

  Thanks for the lovely card, Suni. How are you doing?

  Not long now x

  Her reply came back a moment later.

  Glad you liked it. All good. I feel enormous but very ready to meet the baby now. I think Nico might be starting to freak out, though – he was out drinking till 3 a.m. last night. I’m trying not to be worried about that Xx

  I thought of Nico’s excitement whenever I’d heard him talk about the pregnancy. Surely this was just a temporary hiccup, his way of working through things. I replied,

  Nico will be fine, Suni. Try not to worry. You are a strong, brave woman. Keep me posted on everything and call me if you ever want to chat xx

  That morning I browsed websites looking for the perfect fitted kitchen, my pulse racing as I imagined how it would transform the cottage. My favourite had wooden cabinets with a traditional feel, the option of an additional brunch bar, and gorgeous cream counters. I pasted the links into an email and sent it over to Jack with a note – What do you think of these?

  A short while later, as I was fixing lunch, and reply pinged back. I dashed over to check it:

  Hello, A. These kitchens look great. And I hate to put a dampener on things … but have you seen the prices? Can we really afford them? Jx

  I put down my plate with a pang of disappointment. Couldn’t he see how worthwhile it was spending a bit more? I typed a message back.

  Just this one thing, Jack? I think it’s worth splashing out. The kitchen is so important to both of us. Imagine the fun we’ll have cooking in here. Don’t you think it’s worth getting something a bit special? Ax

  Jack replied a moment later.

  I’m not completely against it, just think we need to be realistic x

  If we could just get that money back from my dad, we wouldn’t have to worry. I went back to my laptop and typed in my online banking details. I scrolled through the r
ecent deposits – beside my final salary payment from St Catherine’s was one from Dad.

  I smiled to myself. OK, so it was a couple of months later than we’d agreed, but he’d come through. I was about to message Jack when I saw the amount: four hundred pounds. It was only a fraction of what he owed us.

  There had to be a note explaining when the rest would come, but there was nothing in my inbox from him.

  I picked up my mobile, took a deep breath and called him.

  ‘He-llo,’ he answered, in a sing-song voice.

  ‘Dad, hi. It’s me.’

  ‘Hi, Amelia. Great to hear from you. I was just saying to Caitlin, it’s been a while since I heard from that elder daughter of mine. Are you coming over to pay us a visit?’

  ‘Not right now. We’re kind of busy at the moment, what with the cottage and everything.’

  ‘This new house of yours, eh? Congratulations. A quick trip to Ireland, though – I’m talking about a weekend here. Your sister would love to see you too. I know I said I’d come and visit, but with things so busy with work, it’s been hard to find the time. Will you come here?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Christmas?’ Dad said.

  ‘Look, Dad, we haven’t really thought about Christmas yet. I’m actually calling about … Thanks for the money you sent us through.’

  ‘No problem at all,’ he said. ‘There’s more where that came from. It’s just with your stepmother’s haircuts, and Mirabel always wanting something new or other, I haven’t been able to put much by over the last few months. But you know I’m good for it.’

  ‘It’s just … I mean, that’s OK. But we do need it,’ I said, taking a breath. ‘I mean, for the renovations and everything.’

  ‘Sure, sure. You’ll get it soon enough. But you don’t need much for that really. Me and Caitlin did this place up for just a couple of hundred quid, and it looks OK, doesn’t it? Do you remember?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, recalling his three-bedroom flat on the outskirts of Dublin. The woodchip wallpaper and striped carpets. The plastic shower curtain that had seen better days. ‘Yes, of course. I know we can do it. But—’

  ‘Don’t you worry, Amelia. You always were one to worry, but it’ll come right.’