A Cottage in the Country

by Linn B. Halton

  "They're fine with it, but we can't have access to the house just yet. The funds are in the system, so they've assured me it will be any moment. As soon as I have the keys I'll be on my way. Can you…erm…do me another favour?"

  He doesn't respond. Funnily enough, I don't seem to have any pangs of guilt about lying to him, which I presume will absolve him of any blame if anything goes wrong. That still doesn't prevent me from feeling awkward imposing like this.

  "There are several deliveries on their way. They've all been told not to deliver before one o'clock, but key release by then is looking doubtful now. If they turn up, could you see if the garage is unlocked and ask them to leave the parcels inside? I'm not expecting you to check the boxes or anything, but if they won't leave them without a signature, could you sign for them? I accept the risk is mine if they mess up, but I simply don't have any other options."

  On my last two visits the garage has been unlocked. After all, it's empty and I mentioned to Sarah that I would be grateful if she could make sure no one locked it, just in case we had problems today.

  Heavy breathing accompanies the silence as Mr Trent rather reluctantly hurries off to check the garage.

  "It's pouring with rain here, you do know that?" he mutters. "They have the sandbags out down on the lower road again, so it doesn't look promising."

  Promising?

  "In what way?"

  "A repeat of the big flood they had last winter. The road through the village was closed for the best part of three weeks."

  Flood? What flood? A feeling of utter panic hits me square in the gut and then starts to spread outwards. No one mentioned anything about flooding. What if the deliveries can't get through? What if I can't get back to the cottage even when I have the keys in my hand? Pull yourself together, Maddie, panicking isn't going to change anything. You can only deal with one thing at a time and it's too late to back out now.

  "Nope, it's not locked. You're in luck."

  Luck has nothing to do with it. I thought ahead and anticipated this scenario, although in my head it was worst-case. How can it take over three hours to move money from one account to another? I thought it was instantaneous these days. They type in the details, press the enter key and there you go!

  "Thank you for checking. I really hope that I'll be there before any of the deliveries arrive. The oil tanker isn't due until later this afternoon. How long will it take you to replace the pipe?"

  Heavy breathing and rustling indicates that he's walking back to his van.

  "Maybe an hour. It depends. Once the new pipe is in I'm going to have to flush through the system, so I'll need to turn on the central-heating boiler."

  "Oh, right. Well, I'm glad it's outside. You could possibly have it all done by the time I arrive, then! That's brilliant news."

  He makes a sound that doesn't sound very encouraging.

  "Nope. You'll need to turn on the heating first to fire it up. The thermostat is inside the cottage and I assume the electricity is off at the moment?"

  This is one of those awful 'doh' moments. He must think I'm a total idiot.

  "Yes, yes, of course. Sorry, too many things going around inside my head at the moment. If you can start on that pipe, I'd be very grateful."

  "It's still raining," he mutters, before the line goes dead.

  "Why me?" The pitiful half-sob that comes out of my mouth is unbidden and I look around to check that it wasn't so loud that pedestrians around me heard it. Fortunately, no one seems to be looking directly at me, but I'm going to have to pull myself together. You can get through this, Maddie, I whisper from behind gritted teeth.

  CHAPTER 11

  "Mum, it's me. How's the move going?"

  It's lovely to hear Matt's voice, but I thought it was the estate agent and my stomach does a backwards flip. Tick-tock. It's nearly two o'clock and my back is beginning to ache from sitting in the same position for the longest few hours of my life. Even my damp clothes are now almost dry, but I've had to keep the window open a little because of the condensation.

  "Fine. Lovely to hear your voice, darling, but it's rather difficult to talk right now as I'm expecting a call to pick up the keys at any moment. I'll ring you in a day or two when I'm sorted. Promise! Love to you both."

  I feel awful cutting him off like that, but if I stay on the line I'm likely to burst into tears. As I put the mobile phone down on the passenger seat, it immediately kicks into life again.

  "Ms Brooks?" It's a voice I don't know. "We have key release on Ash Cottage. If you'd like to call in whenever it's convenient…"

  "I'll be there in three minutes."

  Jubilant is an understatement. Ecstatic doesn't really do it justice, either. As I hurtle back through the windy lanes to Ash Cottage, the windscreen wipers are barely coping with the downpour. Until the car begins the downhill cruise into Bybrooke, any mention of flooding is still the very last thing on my mind. And then I hit it. As I round the last bend before the first of the cottages on the outskirts of Bybrooke come into view, I see the sandbags. Water is literally spewing out of what looks like a hole in the ground and as it runs down the side of the road it doesn't have to travel very far to be consumed by a lake of grey, muddy water. Part of the grassy bank to the right-hand side of me has been washed away and traces of the rich, red soil run in swathes, mixing with the general pool of murky water. I slam on the brakes, the car slewing to a halt just in time. In front of me are at least a dozen vehicles blocking the road. I pull the woolly hat down over my ears and step out of the car with determination.

  "How deep's the water? Is it possible to get through?" I level the question at a group of guys with shovels, all busily filling sandbags from a trailer.

  "It's passable at the moment and you'll be fine, as your four-by-four isn't too low to the ground. It's only about two feet deep in the middle, but it's rising fast. The culvert is blocked again, but this time we think it might have totally collapsed."

  A couple of heads turn in my direction, giving curt nods and I feel sorry for them. Despite wearing heavy waterproofs, this sort of rain seems to find ways in and I seriously doubt they are cosy and dry beneath their gear.

  "Best get through while you can." One of them chips in.

  "Is there another way into the village? I live up there – Forge Hill. I'm moving in today, actually, and I have deliveries booked."

  Several of them stop shovelling and give me a look of pity that starts alarm bells ringing in my head.

  "There is access from the top road, but the lanes are quite narrow and I'm not sure a twenty-six-tonne delivery lorry would be prepared to use that route. The smaller ones could get through. This is the main road and, unless we can keep that water level down, the possibility of another closure seems inevitable. You chose the wrong day to move in, Miss, that's really bad luck."

  He gives me a grimace, shaking his head to disperse the rivulets of water running off his cap and down his face.

  "Thanks, and sorry to have held you up. Are you local?"

  He indicates with a nod in the direction of the first cottage on the slope down into the village.

  "Lived here nearly ten years. We thought last year's flood was a one-off. Seems we were wrong."

  Glancing across, I can see that the sandbags were too late to save the water flooding into the ground floor of the property. It's a quaint cottage, quite modest and obviously his pride and joy. My heart goes out to him.

  "I'm so sorry. I really hope the rain lets up soon."

  He gives me a smile and a nod, appreciating my acknowledgement of his dire situation.

  "It's in the hands of the gods." His response is sobering. "Take it steady driving through, use a low gear and you'll be fine."

  It seems wrong to wave as I drive past the men. All eyes are on my vehicle, checking the water level doesn't come up above the door line. I put up my hand in a stiff acknowledgement and they all raise theirs in return.

  As I continue to drive very slowly through the wor
st of the flooding, I lose count of the number of properties I see that have been affected. The waters rose too quickly for many of them to get the sandbags in place before the inevitable happened. As the road begins to level out, a couple of fire tenders are parked on the verges and a dozen firemen are unreeling hoses to start pumping the water away. Turning off just before them to climb up Church View, for the first time I feel thankful for the hill and the hairpin bends. Just as you swing the car around one of them, the next one looms up. On the few occasions I've driven up here to date, I've nervously done the climb in second gear, ignoring anyone behind who might be feeling frustrated that I won't speed up. If it's not grappling with the steering wheel to keep the turns tight, it's avoiding cars coming down the hill at speed. There are a couple of places where the two lanes are very narrow and, with a brick wall on one side and a drop on the other, there's no room for mistakes.

  Pulling up outside Ash Cottage I'm conscious it's nearly three o'clock and there are two very fed-up guys sitting in their vans. They might be relieved to see me, but I doubt either of them really wants to jump back out into the rain. Neither responds to my wave, so I hurry on down to the cottage. This time there's no thrill – instead my eyes are everywhere checking to see whether the water running down from the top of the hill is likely to cause a problem. Whether it's because the garden is terraced, I'm not sure, but I'm relieved to see that there doesn't appear to be any sign of water building up. The plumber is now two paces behind me, eager to get inside as I fumble with the keys.

  "You're lucky," he shouts over my shoulder. "All the water from Forge Hill seems to be directed down a large pipe that runs alongside the road and down through the hedge bordering your garden. If it wasn't for that, part of your garden would have been washed away by now."

  I swing open the door and stand back.

  "I'm Martin," he says. "We have a problem."

  Great! I hope we can fix it!

  "The new pipe is in and the oil tank is full. The driver left this for you," he hands me a soggy envelope. "But I'm not convinced we're going to be able to fire up the boiler. I need to access the central heating thermostat to confirm that's the case."

  As we stand dripping, Gareth appears with the first box in his hands. The cardboard already dark as the rain soaks in. We move out of his way and I point to the sitting room.

  "You can stack everything in there, thank you. And I'm so sorry for the delay."

  He gives me a half-hearted smile on his way past.

  "Martin, I'll turn on the electricity and the controls are in the dining room. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for some heat. It feels even colder in here today, if that's at all possible." The temperature outside seems mild by comparison. Who in their right mind would leave a cottage without heating for over a year? Presumably, only someone who had no intention of moving into it!

  He doesn't reply, but heads off to find the controls, as I reach up and pull down the cover to expose the meter. Pulling a pen and some rather soggy paper from my pocket, I note the meter reading and flick the switch.

  "The thermostat seems to be working, that's a good sign," Martin says, as he heads off out into the rain again.

  I pop back to my car to get the supplies box, taking a moment on the way back to peer in through the garage window. Yes! I can see a large stack of boxes heaped in the middle of the floor.

  "I'll have coffee and biscuits ready in just a few minutes, guys," I call out as both men pass me, going in opposite directions.

  Then, that little thrill hits me. It might be one of the worst days ever to move into a new property and each task might feel like pushing jelly uphill, but the plan is beginning to come together. Even in the rain that view simply takes your breath away. Nature is glorious, no matter what it decides to do.

  I throw off my sopping-wet hat and coat, then walk through into the kitchen with the box. I can't stop myself from peering into the bathroom just in case of leaks. Thankfully, everything looks fine. It smells distinctly musty, but there's no visible sign of water ingress. I'm beginning to relax a little, glancing at my watch and wondering about the modem and the telephone line. But, first things first.

  Martin appears in the doorway just as I'm stirring the coffees.

  "Problems."

  That must be the most annoying word in the dictionary. I plaster a fake smile on my face, silently praying he isn't going to say I don't have any heating.

  "You don't have any heating. The boiler has seized up, tight. No one in their right mind would leave a heating system turned off for a whole year without firing it up every now and again to keep the parts moving. Ridiculous!" He scowls, although I don't think it's actually directed at me. He can see the shock on my face as I pull my scarf tighter around my neck against the damp and chilly air.

  "Is there a solution?" I'm not even sure I understand what he's saying. Surely if something is stuck there are ways to un-stick it?

  "I have a mate who has worked on this model before. He's coming over in a bit to see if there's anything he can do. He has a few spare parts in his van that might help, but he says if it's more than seven years old then it might be worth considering replacing it."

  "How much would that cost?"

  "Well, if you're going for that option then I'd suggest upgrading it to a combination boiler, so it supplies you with hot water as well. I had a quick look at your emersion tank upstairs and it's not even full size. I have no idea how you would fill a bath tub – it would take forever. In total I'd say you were looking at around three thousand pounds."

  My mouth suddenly goes dry and I think of my one-thousand-pound contingency budget.

  "How long would it take?"

  "Well, by the time we ordered everything and with installation, best part of three weeks, but with the holiday that would affect delivery, so you'd be looking towards the end of January."

  Tears well up as I can't even contemplate living here and feeling as cold, damp and miserable as I do at this precise moment. Already the chill has seeped into the core of me and all I can think of is diving in to find the box in which I've packed the warm clothes.

  "I don't know what to say. I simply can't be without heat…it's not even an option."

  "Look, let's see what happens when my mate arrives. We'll replace the fuel jet, as it's probably blocked with muck from the damaged fuel line. If we can get a steady, clean flow of oil going through, then who knows, we might be in luck. There is another alternative. We could just replace the motor and hope that does the trick."

  My watery smile is one of hope, as I can see how hard he's trying to come up with a quick and easy solution.

  "Thank you, really. Here, at least the coffee is warm and help yourself to biscuits."

  He reaches across, giving me a look of appreciation.

  "If my mate thinks it's worth replacing the motor, it might take a few days to get hold of one. In the meantime, I have several electric fan heaters in the van that I can let you use. You won't freeze, but it will ramp up your electricity bill, I'm afraid."

  Gareth joins us, relieving himself of his soggy outer coat. With three bodies squeezed into the small kitchen, I fancy it's beginning to warm up a little. Suddenly another voice floats through from the conservatory.

  "I seem to have arrived at the right time. One delivery of garden chairs for you, madam." Ryan's head pops around the door and he looks like a lonesome cowboy. Sporting a wax jacket and what appears to be a Stetson, big blobs of water continue to drop down onto his shoulders.

  "Perfect timing," I laugh, glad to hear his voice. "I'll make you a cup. And now I have chairs, my goodness, this is about to feel less like roughing it and more like a home."

  It is meant as a joke, but none of the men laugh.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  CHAPTER 12

  Ryan was only popping in, but ended up staying until after the plumbers left at four-thirty. I felt sorry for them, working outside with no shelter from the rain, but suddenly there
was a plume of smoke and a humming sound.

  "It's working," Martin's smile was more one of relief, I think, that they could finally pack up and go home. "There's no guarantee it won't suddenly stop, but I suggest you keep the heating on continuously for the time being. I'll show you how to fire it up in case it trips out again, as there might still be a little muck in the pipes. You only have to take off the outer cover and there's a button to press. If it doesn't fire within three presses, then it's seized and you'll need to call us out to see if we can manipulate it again. I'll get those heaters for you just in case. My mate has managed to track down a replacement motor and it's going to cost around five hundred and fifty pounds. The problem is that I seriously doubt it will be delivered this side of Christmas. If we can keep this one ticking over and it lasts that long without breaking down, it might not even be worth considering replacing it. With the new parts we've put in, and once the fuel coming through is completely free of muck, you might be lucky."

  I settled up with him, adding a big tip and thanking him profusely for putting himself out under such awful conditions. Ironically, the rain began to ease a little as I waved off the two vans.

  Ryan was on his mobile, trying to find out why the phone line was still dead. No engineer has appeared and the modem was still sitting in a box on the shelf.

  "This is a business line," his voice was firm and purposeful. "The letter I'm looking at clearly states that the service will be connected today. If there's a fault on the line, then surely a new connection has priority? I think I need to speak to a supervisor or the complaints department. Please put me through to someone who can escalate this matter."

  Well, I wouldn't argue with him and I guess from the ensuing silence he's been put on hold.

  "Dammit…" he pulls the phone away from his ear and moves his mobile around, checking his signal status.

  "Has it dropped out again? It never occurred to me that the trees would be such a problem when it comes to using the mobile. Thanks for getting onto the phone company. I'm just off to the garage to start carrying down the parcels. I'm going to start assembling the bed frame." He looks frustrated, pulling on his coat and heading out to walk up the hill and see if he can get a better signal.