The clawfoot tub was now in place in the centre of the room, with a fluffy white bathmat beside it, the fabric soft under my feet. Fresh white towels were folded neatly in piles on the wooden dresser, with one on the antique towel rail, ready to use. The floorboards were stained to a deep chestnut, and the walls were painted in a simple white that set off the timber beams and posts. I’d draped the small window with light muslin curtains, and the sun shone through the coloured glass of the bottles I’d arranged on the sill, casting blue and green patches of light onto the floor. At last, this bathroom was the haven Jack and I had dreamed of.
I looked over at the bathroom cabinet I’d left clear for his things. I’d bought this bath because Jack and I had loved the one we saw in Arcadia Cottage, because we’d joked how it would be big enough for two. I slipped the towelling robe off and dipped a hand into the water to test the temperature. I’d been so sure that the bath would make our lives complete – and yet now there was no one to share it with, no one to laugh with or talk to. Jack had gone.
I climbed in.
Chapter 17
Rachel and Fred’s Farm
Livestock
Chickens: eight
Cows: five
Horses: three
Alpacas: six
Wednesday, 30 October
‘Rachel, hi,’ I said, when I got through on the phone. ‘It’s Amelia, Rosie’s daughter. I know this is out of the blue, but I have a bit of a favour to ask. It’s to do with your farm.’
‘Would you like to visit?’ Rachel said warmly. ‘You’re welcome any time.’
‘Actually, I was wondering if you might let my sister, Mirabel, help out for a couple of days.’
‘We’d love to have her!’ Rachel said. ‘It would be great to have a hand around the place, and we can teach her a few things about farm life as we go. Just bring her round. We’ve got a few things here she can borrow: waterproof trousers, wellies – that sort of thing.’
‘That’s brilliant. I really appreciate it. We’ll be round at ten.’
Mirabel was sleeping soundly when I looked in on her in the spare room. ‘Wake up, sleepyhead,’ I said, gently shaking her.
‘Mmmmhgruuunahhh,’ she muttered, turning to face me and rubbing her eyes.
‘Big day ahead,’ I said.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked, propping herself up on her elbow.
‘Get some jeans on, and I’ll explain on the way.’
After a quick cup of tea in the kitchen, I drove Mirabel over to Rachel and her husband’s place, fifteen minutes away from our cottage. On the journey she was silent, gazing out of the window, and I listened to the local news on the radio. We pulled up outside the farm.
‘No way,’ Mirabel said, looking across the courtyard and towards the stables. ‘There’s absolutely no way you’re sending me in there.’
‘That’s a shame,’ I shrugged, ‘because they’re expecting you.’
Rachel, dressed in jeans and an Aran jumper, came out of the farmhouse as if on cue. ‘Hello,’ she said cheerfully. We got out of the car and she walked up to Mirabel and shook her hand. The smell of manure was hard to ignore, and Mirabel’s hand went up to her nose, covering it. ‘You must be our angel of a helper.’
‘That’s Mirabel,’ I said with a smile, ignoring the grimace my sister was making at me. ‘Thanks for agreeing to this, Rachel.’
‘It’s a pleasure – and as I said on the phone, we’re so grateful for the help.’
I could sense Mirabel’s desperation to escape. Rachel motioned for her to come into the house. ‘Let’s get started then. I’ve got some clothes for you, and then I can introduce you to the animals.’
Mirabel shot daggers at me as Rachel gently led her away by the arm.
‘Sorry,’ I mouthed. Then, out loud, ‘See you later!’
‘Fred’ll drop her back when we’re done,’ Rachel said.
‘Thanks so much Rachel,’ I said. ‘See you later. Call if you need anything.’
*
Back at the cottage, I looked up from the sewing machine at a knock on the spare bedroom door.
‘Sorry to disturb you,’ the joiner said, putting his head around the door. A man in his sixties, with grey hair and ill-fitting clothes, he’d become a familiar presence in the cottage over the past few days. ‘But I wanted to tell you that I’m all done downstairs now. Would you like to come and have a look?’
‘Great.’ I got up from the desk. ‘Of course. How have you found it?’
‘Not bad. Quite a typical job for this area, I’d say – these old cottages all have similar issues, so I had most of the materials at the workshop. The banister spindles were the trickiest part to source.’
We reached the top of the staircase and he bent down to touch the new ones he’d put in. ‘Quite an unusual design, this one.’ He ran a finger over the acorn engraving that spiralled down the wood. ‘Beautiful though.’
He had also repaired the steps that I’d got in the habit of skipping over so that I didn’t put my foot through them. ‘I was thinking of carpeting these stairs,’ I said, ‘but actually they look nice how they are, don’t they?’
‘I’d leave them be,’ the joiner said, ‘but that’s just me. I always like things done the traditional way. Bit of a boring old fart, the wife says.’ He laughed.
We walked down to the living room, where I’d seen him working on the window frames over the past few days. ‘Replaced almost all of these,’ he said. ‘Normally I like to keep some of the old wood in place, but I’m afraid yours were just too far gone. It’s made a big difference though, I think, to how the whole room looks.’
I looked at the living room, our living room – it was barely recognizable from the day that Jack and I had moved in and found it full of Mrs McGuire’s clutter. Now the windows were clean and sparkling, with smart new wooden frames that fitted in with the style of the cottage perfectly. The floor was all ready for a rug to be fitted – I had in mind an oatmeal-coloured one I’d seen in a shop.
I went over to the windows and peered at the frames more closely. The colour match of the wood was really good. ‘They look great,’ I said. ‘Just what we’d hoped for. Thank you.’
*
I was painting the hallway later that day when my phone rang. Still wearing my paint-spattered overalls, I walked through into the kitchen to answer it.
‘Amelia!’ Dad’s voice, playful and warm. My reaction was normally instinctive – an immediate smile and a comfortable feeling of being reconnected with him. But today I didn’t feel that. I just felt numb.
‘Dad, hi.’
‘Hey there, darling. How are things? How’s your sister coping at boot camp?’ he asked, with a laugh in his voice.
‘Really well,’ I said, holding back the full story. I realized that my loyalties had shifted. ‘She’s helping out on a friend’s farm today.’
‘Well I’ll be damned. How did you manage that – chloroform?’
‘She’s been helping out with a few things, actually. I think she’s grown up a lot, Dad.’
‘Do you? We certainly haven’t seen any of that.’
‘She’s becoming more responsible,’ I said. ‘Not sure I’d say she was quite there yet, but she’s only sixteen after all.’
‘She’s not bad. But thanks for letting us have a break, eh. She was really giving us a headache!’
‘Dad,’ I said, steeling myself. The thoughts and emotions that had been whirring in my head and stomach for days were fighting their way to the surface now that I could hear my father’s voice. ‘There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.’
‘Sure. There’s no need to sound all serious, sweetheart.’
‘Maybe there is.’
‘OK. Well, fire away then.’
‘Daughters aren’t there for you to pick up and put down when it suits you. That goes for Mirabel, and it goes for me too.’
‘What’s all this about, Amelia? What’s brought this on?’
I brea
thed deeply and tried to keep my voice steady. ‘Let’s just say I’ve had a wake-up call.’
‘Has your mum said something to you?’
‘No. In fact, you should be grateful to her – she’s never said a word against you.’
The other end of the line fell silent. It was the only time it had ever happened in a conversation with my dad.
‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Amelia. I’ve always tried to be there for you, but obviously sometimes it’s difficult living further away like this. But you’re always welcome to visit, you know that, and I try to get you things to show that I care.’
‘I don’t want jewellery and I don’t want empty promises. Not any more. I want honesty from you.’
‘I’ve always been honest with you, sweetheart.’
‘Have you?’ I said, a trace of venom creeping into my voice. ‘Really, truly – have you?’
He fell silent again.
‘What’s all this about? Everyone makes mistakes, sweetheart. I can’t undo the things that I might have done wrong.’
‘No, you can’t. I understand that. I love you, Dad, and what went on with Mum is in the past now. But I need things to change between you and me, here and now.’
‘OK. What is it that you want?’
‘I’ve always respected you, and I now need you to respect me. Where I want to start is with the loan. I don’t want empty promises. Jack and I lent you that money in good faith, and now we need it back. When can you pay us?’
‘It’s been tricky,’ he said. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘I want a date.’
I heard him draw in his breath.
‘Sure,’ he said at last. ‘By Christmas. I’ll have it in your bank account by then.’
‘You swear?’
‘Yes. I won’t let you down this time,’ he promised.
‘Fine. I’m trusting you on this,’ I said.
‘OK. Bye, Amelia.’
After saying goodbye, I pressed the disconnect button on my phone and put it down on the side.
I breathed deeply and sat down. Then, slowly, a smile crept on to my face. I’d done it. I’d finally done it. From now on, I was going to be in control.
*
At just gone six, I heard the door knocker downstairs and went to answer it.
Mirabel was standing on the doorstep with a man with a grey beard, who I vaguely recognized from the village.
‘Hi, you must be Fred. I’m Amelia,’ I said, putting out my hand for him to shake.
‘Pleasure to meet you,’ Fred said. ‘But I won’t be shaking hands if it’s all the same.’ He held up his mud-covered ones. ‘Thanks for lending us Mirabel for the day. Absolute star, she’s been.’
‘Thank you. I’m pleased to hear it,’ I said, trying to catch my sister’s eye, but she was staring at the floor.
Fred said goodbye to Mirabel and walked back towards his muddy Range Rover.
‘God, that was awful,’ she said as soon as front door was closed.
‘What did they do to you?’ I asked, feeling the tiniest hint of satisfaction that Fred and Rachel hadn’t gone too easy on her.
‘First I had to muck out the horses. All this dung, it was gross.’ She lifted her checked shirt and sniffed and it. ‘Seriously – I still smell of it. It was completely disgusting. Go on, have a smell if you don’t believe me.’
‘I’ll take your word for it. Give me those clothes and I’ll stick them in the wash.’
Mirabel sighed. ‘Then, when I’d done the mucking out, I had to brush the horses.’
‘That doesn’t sound too bad.’ I said.
‘Actually, that part was OK. They’re going to be in a county show at the weekend, and Rachel wants them to look their best.’
‘Did you get to see the alpacas?’
‘Yes. They’re pretty actually, but really shy. Whenever you get close to them they just run away.’
‘Well, maybe once they get used to you. Perhaps tomorrow when—’
‘I’m not going back there tomorrow,’ Mirabel pronounced.
‘Oh really?’ I said nonchalantly. ‘That’s interesting.’
‘You can’t make me.’
‘I know I can’t.’ I shrugged. ‘But I also know Rachel and Fred will be pretty disappointed if you don’t go back.’
Mirabel sighed and then stomped up the stairs to her room.
Chapter 18
The Living Room
On the Mood Board
Period fireplace with a fire lit, cream rug, wicker basket overflowing with logs. Cosy red sofa with cushions. Antique armchair. Curtains in gold and red.
Thursday, 31 October
I fiddled with the thermostat in the kitchen. We’d barely had the heating on since investing in a new boiler, but today we were going to need it. There was a fine frost on the hedges and trees outside, and hailstones were rattling against the windowpanes. In my pyjamas, dressing gown and furry slippers I was shivering in the kitchen. I heard the boiler flare up and the heating click in, then pressed my hand against the radiator, impatient to feel it heating up.
Mirabel came in with one of my woolly jumpers on over her nightie and leggings. ‘Flipping freezing in this cottage.’
‘I know. I’ve just put the heating on. Fancy tea and some crumpets to help us warm up?’
‘Yes, please.’
I put the kettle on and took a blue and white polka-dot teapot off the dresser.
After Mirabel’s attitude the night before, I was surprised to see that she was up early of her own accord.
‘You’ll soon get warmed up, working with the animals,’ I said, testing the waters.
‘I suppose so.’
‘You’re OK about going to the farm again today, then?’
‘Yes. Nothing better to do around here, anyway.’
‘Fine. Well, I’ll give you a lift in an hour or so.’
‘Actually, do you think … I mean, Rachel said I could help get the horses ready on Saturday for that show, if there’s time before my flight … Would that be OK?’
I hid my smile. ‘I think we could probably manage that, yes.’
*
When I’d dropped Mirabel at the farm, I came back to the cottage. In the living room, Spencer was crouched down with a hammer in his hand, fixing a piece of skirting board.
‘Hi,’ he said, glancing up at me. ‘This skirting’s come loose. Thought I’d tidy it up a bit.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘That seems to be the way with this place – you fix one thing and then find another.’
‘I know what you mean. I love old houses though, don’t you? I wouldn’t swap mine.’
‘I’ve had my moments of doubt. But I’m a convert now, I have to say.’ I glanced back out into the hallway, in case I’d missed Callum somehow. ‘Is, er …’
‘Callum around?’
‘Yes,’ I said, unconsciously smoothing down my hair. ‘I was hoping to talk to him about something.’
‘He’ll be back in a sec. He’s just out in the garden on the phone.’
‘Oh. Right,’ I said, nodding.
‘I sent him out there.’ Spencer smiled and rolled his eyes heavenward. ‘Got sick of hearing all that romantic stuff.’
My breath caught. ‘Romantic?’
‘Don’t worry, it’s not interfering with his work. It’d take more than a new woman on the scene to shake Callum’s focus. I say new, but actually I think there’s some history with this one.’
‘Oh yes?’ I asked, trying to sound like I didn’t care.
‘Spanish girl. I think she’s the reason he’s planning to travel out there.’
Spain. Of course. The trip Callum had told me about. The one I’d thought showed just how carefree and spontaneous he was, without ties to anyone, anywhere.
‘Right,’ I said. My stomach twisted. Of course there would be a woman in Callum’s life. Why had I assumed there wasn’t?
Sensing a presence behind me, I turned to see him in the doorway, his m
obile still in his hand.
‘You’re not listening to Spencer’s gossip, I hope?’ he said with a smile.
I made my excuses and left the room quickly, heading upstairs to my bedroom. Sitting down on my bed, I thought about what Spencer had just told me. I felt like a complete and utter fool. Embarrassment crept up onto my cheeks, which burnt red-hot.
And yet at the same time I felt oddly relieved.
All this time I’d thought there might be something between me and Callum – I’d convinced myself I’d felt some chemistry there, that the attraction I felt towards him was reciprocated. Yet while I’d been thinking about him, he’d been thinking about someone else entirely. His talk of Spain had seemed like a hippy, bohemian escape – a symbol of the freedom that my life no longer contained any trace of. But that was a story I’d invented – his plan to travel was dictated by love and caring, as much as my life was.
Or at least as much as my life had once been. Those priorities had fallen to the bottom of my list lately, and I’d let that happen. In my quest for happiness and a perfect home, I’d all but disregarded what I already had – my love for Jack and his for me. I’d allowed myself to picture what another man could offer, the alternate self I might be if I wasn’t a wife, a homeowner … or, as Jack seemed to see me, a mum-in-waiting.
I’d been cold and selfish, and it was no surprise he’d ended up stepping away from me. I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to come back. But I knew now what I needed – more than that, I wanted him.
Was there still time? If there was a chance of saving this relationship I had to try – and it was down to me to make the first move. I got out my laptop and started typing an email.
Dear Jack,
Do you remember how things used to be between us? I’ve been thinking, and I’d really like to get back to how we were …
*
Later that afternoon I went to pick up Mirabel from the farm.
‘She’s worked really hard today,’ Rachel told me, as we all stood together in the courtyard.
Mirabel scuffed the toe of her welly on the ground. ‘It was quite fun,’ she said, quietly. ‘I learned a lot, actually.’
‘With just two days to get the horses ready for the show it’s been great to have your help, Mirabel,’ Rachel added, putting her arm round her. ‘I think Dora and Brodie are going to miss you when you go.’
Amelia Grey's Fireside Dream Page 22
