A Cottage in the Country

by Linn B. Halton

  That's awkward and sort of confirms my suspicions. I don't know what to think now about the fact that he's bending over backwards to help with a renovation that could have been his own.

  "He must have felt gutted to come back and find he'd missed out on Ash Cottage. I feel sad knowing that."

  Sarah hastens to reassure me. "He will have been grateful to have a job to keep his mind occupied, no doubt. I don't know how close he was to his mum, but a death brings out all sorts of emotions – especially at this time of the year. He's on our mailing list and something else will come up before too long. In his line of work he'll no doubt hear on the local grapevine if someone's thinking of selling, so he'll be one step ahead. It's a small community here. This case was complicated because of the number of beneficiaries involved. Everything took a little longer than expected to set up."

  "I'm glad I asked. I'd hate to say anything to upset him in any way. His mother's death must have been tough to deal with. He isn't the sort of man who finds it easy dealing with emotion, is he?"

  I wasn't expecting Sarah to respond to that, I was simply voicing my thoughts.

  "I think he's lonely, to be honest. I don't know why as he's made a few hearts pound among the single females and widows around here. I know Joanna next door is one of his biggest fans. The gossip-mongers are watching his every move." She laughs, raising her eyebrows at me, knowingly.

  I feel the heat rising up from my neck, gulp down the last of my tea and muster up a laugh that sounds suitable dismissive. A cough alerts us to the fact that Lewis Hart is standing in the doorway and the fact that he's soaking wet might not be the only reason why he looks like thunder.

  "Well, maybe the gossip-mongers need to mind their own business," he scowls and I'm surprised that his tone isn't quite as angry as I feared. Sarah gives Lewis a melting smile.

  "Oh, Lewis – you know what it's like in the Forest. Everyone knows everybody's business. It's a pastime. You aren't a local if someone, somewhere isn't talking about you."

  He smiles back at her and I wonder if there's something going on between them. The look of thunder disappears without a trace.

  "Well, you can start a new thread of gossip. After I've finished helping out Madeleine, here, I'll be disappearing for a while. My mother's house will need a lot of work doing to it before it goes on the market."

  Sarah looks disappointed and I try my best not to follow suit.

  "You'd better keep your fingers crossed," he glances in my direction. "That water level is rising faster than the pumps can shift it. What time are those deliveries coming today?"

  "They couldn't give a time for the white goods, only that it would be after twelve o'clock and I've booked the groceries for early this evening."

  He shrugs off his jacket, throwing it in the corner. "I need you ladies to move into the conservatory to continue gossiping, I have to finish off the framing for the fridge and freezer, now that the floor appears to be dry." He looks down at our feet, checking we haven't done any damage.

  We exit quickly and it feels as if we've just been told off. He's right, of course, we shouldn't have been walking on that floor and we definitely should not have been talking about him.

  As Sarah pulls on her coat, I notice she's wearing a wedding ring, so maybe that wasn't a look of interest that passed between them. Unless she's stuck in an unhappy marriage as I was, only I didn't appreciate that fact at the time.

  As she leaves, she looks at me with concern on her face and leans in to whisper something.

  "It's none of my business, but Lewis likes you, I can tell. He's abrasive, but sometimes it's a way for someone to hide their feelings. Don't let that put you off."

  As she straightens up and steps outside, I nod my head in thanks.

  "Hope you find some useful documents in that box," she adds, raising her voice slightly. No doubt keen to let Lewis know the purpose for her visit wasn't just to share a little gossip.

  I turn around, considering how to apologise to Lewis and he's standing there, in the kitchen doorway, staring at me.

  "Documents?" For starters it's unusual for anything to pull him away from his work. The other mystifying factor is that very little of what goes on around him seems to spark his interest.

  "The box. Apparently it was in one of the drawers when the house clearance people took the furniture away. They contacted Sarah, who asked the bank if any of the relatives wanted it. They said no, so she thought I might want to go through it in case there were any documents to do with the house."

  He looks rather shocked; his face starts to redden, as if he's angry.

  "Well, I'm not sure I'd want a total stranger going through my personal effects."

  He looks directly at me, as if he's challenging me.

  "I don't regard myself as being a total stranger, Lewis. I live in Aggie's cottage now and that gives us a real link. Her memories are between these walls and always will be. I'll be adding my own to those. We're all caretakers in this life, Lewis. We can think we own brick and mortar, but we are merely passing through."

  His jaw is set at a stubborn angle. I think he was expecting an argument and my answer surprised him.

  "You believe in all that stuff?"

  "Some of it. I've felt her here; it's subtle, but I talk to her to reassure her that we will put Ash Cottage back together and it will look lovely."

  I wonder if he's going to laugh or mock me. Instead he raises his hand to rest his chin between his index finger and his thumb, his elbow leaning on the arm wrapped around his waist. He looks rather like a Greek statue. I almost laugh, but restrain myself, as now is not a moment for hilarity. It's a classic thinking pose, although the body language suggests he's not comfortable with something. Maybe it's the topic of conversation or maybe it's being around me.

  "It's still an invasion of a person's privacy. I suggest you are mindful of that." He turns and walks back into the kitchen.

  I simply cannot understand this man who acts like a bear but has a side to him that is almost an unbelievable contrast. He's complicated, that's for sure. It makes me wonder what has happened in his life that he finds himself alone, putting up barriers and living far away from friends and family. It sounds as if warning bells should be ringing, but the reality is that I feel very safe when he's around.

  CHAPTER 19

  The day continues to go downhill. I climb the hill to talk to Ryan to see if there's any news about the house phone and check if there are any messages about the imminent delivery. Ryan hasn't heard anything, but I see there's one message. It's from Sarah to say that a wall has collapsed and the top road is now impassable. It took her over an hour to get back home, though, as down on the main road the fire brigade has brought in extra pumping equipment. They are only letting a few cars through at a time, now. I walk back down the hill feeling miserable and damp, wondering what else can possibly go wrong.

  Lewis has hardly said a word since Sarah left and I don't like to disturb him. I decide to take him in a cup of coffee and if he looks as if he's approachable, I'll pass on the news. It doesn't work and when I put the mug of coffee down for him, he nods in the direction of the window sill, dismissing me without a word.

  Walking back into the conservatory, there's movement outside and a bedraggled man with sack trucks and a pile of crates is approaching the door. Oh great, the food has arrived, but the white goods still aren't here. I hadn't realised it was five o'clock already – and that doesn't bode well. Food without a freezer is a disaster.

  "Hi, um…I have a slight problem. Can you hang on a moment while I find a key to the store room outside?"

  I grab my coat, woolly hat and the keys, as the poor guy struggles to turn around and follow me, the driving rain making everything much harder.

  We stack the contents, most of which has been bagged-up, in the corner and he ventures out for another load. I root around in my pocket for a tip. I have three pound coins and that's all, but it's better than nothing. Once the second lot of crates
are empty he accepts the coins with a grateful smile.

  "How's the road? Are they winning?"

  "It's breached some of the sand-bag defences, so they've called in some more volunteers to help out. They are still letting traffic through at the moment, but it's slow going."

  "Well, I hope your deliveries are finished soon."

  He gives me a look that indicates that's unlikely.

  "The van is full," he says, dourly. "No one wants to go out in this and people are beginning to stock up, expecting the worst." Shoulders slumped, he turns his sack trucks three hundred and sixty degrees and disappears into the wet, murky darkness.

  Where is this lorry? I now have almost two hundred pounds worth of food, half of which needs to go into a freezer within the next couple of hours or it will spoil. It's rather like a cold store in here, but it's only going to delay defrosting, not stop it.

  "Was that the food?" Lewis calls out, as I rush back into the conservatory.

  "Yes, it's in the store room. I'm going to ring the delivery company. I can't even contemplate the freezer not arriving…"

  It's too windy for an umbrella as I climb the hill, so I pull my hat down even further and trudge along miserably. They reassure me that all of my goods were loaded this morning and the lorry will make the delivery. He's keen to clarify whether the lane is large enough for the lorry to get through and there's enough room for it to reverse onto the drive. Why leave this sort of thing to the last minute, I wonder, although I'm pleased that at least he's in contact with the driver. He suggests that I wait another twenty minutes and then go out to wave them down in case there's any chance they'll miss the sign in the dark. It occurs to me that what they should have done is made my delivery the first one of the day – not the last.

  By the time they arrive I'm soaked to the skin. Even sheltering with my back against the garage door, I have to keep popping my head out every time I hear a vehicle. Three cars go by and each time just that few seconds of exposure and the rain seems to seep into every little crevice. Then a large white apparition looms up and I run out, frantically waving my hands.

  To say they aren't the most cheerful of delivery guys is an understatement, but they have due cause. Not only do they have a lot of appliances to deliver, the path down to the cottage is rather steep, even if it is flat. However, it winds back on itself, which effectively doubles the walking distance.

  They take the large, larder fridge down to the conservatory and then wheel the freezer across to the stone store room, as directed.

  "I hope that pile of food isn't for the fridge or freezer, Miss," the driver's mate nods in the direction of the stack of plastic carrier bags. "You have to allow at least six hours before you turn them on, to let the coolant settle."

  He leaves me standing there, open-mouthed. He's kidding, surely? If he isn't, then why didn't I know that? I poke a hole in the plastic covering of the freezer to fish out the instruction manual, which is taped to the side, and hurry back to the cottage with it.

  I can't even watch them when they begin to manoeuvre the range cooker down the slope on a wheeled dolly. There's a six-inch step inside the entrance to the conservatory, so they have to put straps underneath it and, with Lewis' help, they lower it onto the tiled floor. I paid for the unpacking and assembly service for the range, simply because it looked as if it was going to be complicated. As they begin unpacking it I make a well-deserved round of tea. Everyone except Lewis is damp and cold. When I walk back in with the tray I can't believe what I'm seeing.

  "That's not the one I ordered. It's the wrong colour!"

  All three guys turn to look at me. The lorry driver and his mate seem to think I'm joking.

  "That's forest green and I checked several times that this wouldn't happen. The one I ordered is olive green. I'm really sorry, guys, but I simply can't accept it!"

  Lewis turns on his heels and disappears into the kitchen. The two guys take their tea in silence. It's an awkward moment as they stare at me, unable to comprehend what I'm saying.

  "If it was black I'd probably accept it, but I hate forest green and I wouldn't have that colour if they were giving it away. It was the colour of my school uniform when I was at school, you see, and…" There I go, justifying myself when I've already told them it's not acceptable.

  "So what does olive green look like?" The driver is scowling at me as his mate begins a conversation I can only assume is going to be aimed at trying to get me to change my mind.

  "It's a soft green, a cream, really, with a hint of green. I've based the whole colour scheme of the cottage around it. That's why it's more expensive than the other colours and why I checked and double-checked the order code. I'll show you."

  I pull a notepad out of my bag and leaf through until I find the page with the order details. I hand it across so they can check it against the code on their clipboard.

  "Yep, yours is a different code. But we have the right cooker for the code we have on our delivery sheet."

  I'm still panicking about the frozen-food problem and this guy has the audacity to imply that I ordered the wrong one?

  "I have an order confirmation here somewhere that lists the code on that notepad. You'll have to take it back."

  Two sets of eyes peer at me as if I've lost my mind.

  "Well," the driver throws in, "we're not allowed to take anything back without the consent of the office."

  "Then you'd better give them a call. Mobiles don't work here," I add, guiltily. "You'll have to walk up the hill to get a signal."

  He looks at his mate and rolls his eyes, grabbing the clipboard from him rather roughly and heading out. After a long twenty minutes spent in total silence, he returns.

  "They need your authorisation," his tone is curt. "You'd best follow me back up to the top."

  I'm still damp from earlier on and longing to get out of these clothes and under the shower. Reluctantly, I pull on my coat yet again. The walk seems to get longer every time.

  "Hello?"

  "Good evening, Miss Brooks. It seems you aren't happy with the forest green range that has been delivered this evening?"

  "That's right and that's because I ordered olive green. I obtained the code from the manufacturer and I phoned twice to confirm that you had it in stock. On both occasions I was told that, yes, there was one in stock and it had been reserved for me."

  "One moment while I check your records."

  Food spoiling, food spoiling.…

  "Ah, yes, you're right. The problem is that we don't have an olive green range in stock and it will take up to sixteen weeks to get one from the manufacturers because they are built to order. It's not a standard colour."

  "I know that, that's why I was so particular about the code when I ordered it. I understand forest green is a stock item and if I'd wanted that colour I could have bought it elsewhere at least a hundred and fifty pounds cheaper. I ordered from you because your organisation said they had one olive green range in stock."

  A trickle of water runs off my collar and down my back, under my tee-shirt.

  "So you aren't happy to accept delivery of the forest green range?"

  "No and please cancel my order. I'm really annoyed about this, as it has wasted six whole weeks and now I won't have any cooking facilities over the Christmas and New Year period. I've been misled and I certainly won't be recommending your company to anyone in the future."

  I pass the handset back to the driver, who listens and makes a few grunting sounds.

  "We have to pack it back up and lift it up over that step again," he informs me, scowling again.

  I'm so mad that I have to walk on ahead. It's not fair that I should be made to feel guilty when none of this is my fault. I wonder how often they do this and get away with it.

  Returning to the cottage, I leave the two men to re-pack the cooker and seek out Lewis.

  "I have a problem."

  I hoped that he would dismiss the 'letting the coolant settle' comment and say that of course th
e fridge and freezer can be switched on immediately. That will still leave a couple of hours for them to get to the required temperature before I have to really worry about the condition of the food. It is freezing out there today.

  "I think you'll find they're right. Check the instructions."

  "Why on earth didn't you think to mention that?"

  Lewis looks at me, puzzled.

  "I never interfere. You're a fearsome lady when someone upsets you, do you know that?"

  He turns back to what he's doing and I'm left feeling exasperated and rather like a fool. Think, Maddie, think.

  "So," the driver levels at me, "are you keeping the rest of the delivery?"

  I pull my woolly hat back down over my ears and, still dripping, walk up to him. He takes one step back.

  "If you need my signature I suggest you get it now. I'm off to visit my neighbour."

  He marks 'x' in a couple of boxes on the sheet and thrusts the board and a pen under my nose. I duly sign and head back out into the cold, damp night.

  "Terence, I'm really sorry to bother you, but I have a big problem and I don't know what I'm going to do."

  "Come in dear lady. Joanna, we have a visitor."

  So far I've only waved at Joanna in passing, usually when she accompanies Terence on one of his walks, and I've spotted them from the conservatory as they turn to venture down Forge Hill. I'm careful to remain standing on the coir matting just inside the door, mindful that I'm in danger of creating a puddle.

  "Nice to meet you, Madeleine. It's a pretty name and a shame to shorten it. Goodness, we're beginning to think you're a jinx! It hasn't stopped raining since you moved in."

  We shake hands and I have the distinct feeling that Joanna doesn't approve of me for some reason. Terence seems oblivious, though, as I find myself starting to squirm a little.