The problem is that I'm so very tired. I haven't had a good night's sleep since I accepted the offer on the cottage. I will be glad to leave, but I just can't seem to get stuck into what needs to be done. Ryan is too busy at work to help out and, besides, it's not such a huge task for one person.
The cold feeling I had when I first moved in last December is back, despite the fact that outside the temperature is very pleasant now as the spring sunshine warms the earth. There are times I've even checked that the central heating is actually working, but since the motor was replaced it hasn't let me down once.
Weird things have been happening, or maybe the tiredness has made me careless, putting things down and then forgetting where they are. Stupid little things that make me cross with myself, like Aggie's heart-shaped pebble, for instance. I still kept it in the downstairs bathroom after having the work done. Why would I move it? But obviously I did, because yesterday I found it sitting on the coffee table. I can't ever recall feeling so all over the place before, that I became this confused. Should I be worried? Is this some sort of short-term memory problem?
Last night was the worst yet. I was in a deep sleep and awoke, feeling that someone was shaking me. As soon as my eyes flicked open it stopped and I realised that it was simply a dream. I sat up, loathe to fall back into something that felt weirdly unsettling, although I couldn't recall very much of the detail. Sitting there listening to the silence, I didn't feel comfortable. Is this how it's supposed to be when you are hurtling towards moving day? Is this how you mentally divorce yourself from a place you've come to love and think of as home? In my married life we'd only ever had the two houses when the boys were young. Leaving our first house was hard, but we'd needed the extra space. I was, I think, happy to let go. I can't recall feeling anything as disturbing as this before.
The air is so chilly that my arms feel cold to the touch and I lie down, snuggling the duvet around me.
Sleep comes in fits and starts. I'm working in the garden and helping someone to cut down one of the old apple trees. It's hard work and the sun is so hot it must be summer, but I'm laughing a lot as the pile of debris grows into a mound. I'm standing there, looking at the view that is no longer obscured by the gnarled old boughs before I sink into a peacefully deep sleep.
This morning my head is fuzzy and a dull pain keeps creeping across my forehead, wanting to settle over one eye. The sound of tapping on the conservatory door makes me groan slightly, as I'm in no mood for company.
It's Terence's face I see beaming back as me.
"Good morning, Terence, how are you?"
This man always has a smile on his face and it's impossible not to be cheered by that.
"Great – and you?"
Even raising a smile hurts and he notices the wince, despite the fact I'm trying to hide it.
"Oooh, suffering a bit there, I see."
"I think this headache wants to turn into a migraine. I've not been sleeping very well lately – too much churning around inside here," I tap my forehead and he grimaces sympathetically.
"Well, sometimes it's a warning to slow down a little. Maybe I'll come back another time. You should take a couple of painkillers and lie down for a while."
"I might take the tablets, but I have to focus on packing today. Time is running out. What can I do for you?"
He seems a little hesitant and I wonder if he's on an errand and Joanna's sent him round.
"Well, Joanna was wondering…with the sale going through and all that, did you ever discover who owns the strip of land at the back? She's concerned that someone will fence it off and we'll lose our back entrance. I've told her not to worry; it's been like that for so many years it's unlikely to change now."
"Come inside, Terence."
He steps in, wiping his feet at least a dozen times on the mat and I'm sure Joanna would have made him take off his shoes.
"It didn't bother me too much when I moved in, as you know. I was given a box of old documents that they found when they cleared out the cottage, but I've been through them and didn't spot anything relating to the boundary at the back. However, I think Lewis Hart might know a little more."
The moment I utter those words, I regret it. Terence's eyebrows shoot up, as now his interest is peaked.
"He does?"
"Sorry, brain fuzz today. What I meant to say was, perhaps he knows a little more about it. After all, he seemed to spend a lot of time visiting Aggie, from what I gather."
Terence grimaces, sympathetically, then smiles.
"He called in a couple of times a week, right up to her death. I've never mentioned this to anyone before, especially Joanna – poor Lewis, she just likes to watch him working – all that solid muscle. She's harmless, of course, but she can be a pain. Anyway, Aggie once told me she was going to leave Ash Cottage to Lewis. I would never have repeated that, because you know what people would have thought. It would have ruined Lewis' reputation. Whatever his intentions, she couldn't have managed during those final months without his help. I know you won't repeat it. It's a shame nothing has turned up about the boundary, though, if only to appease Joanna."
He raises his eyebrows once more, but this time in exasperation.
"Thanks for sharing that, Terence, and my lips are sealed. I'm moving out this weekend, by the way. Back to city living."
"As long as you are happy, that's all that matters. I wish you well, Maddie, and I'm sorry to lose you as a neighbour. If ever a place tested someone and their commitment, Ash Cottage did that to the extreme. Old Aggie always admired people who had resolve, those who didn't give in easily. Seems the old girl had a bit of a time letting go herself."
He fixes me with a look. There's a question behind that stare, but I have one of my own.
"Have you seen her?" I can't stop myself asking the one question to which I don't really want an answer.
"Once, in the garden. You?"
"Once, last night."
"One of the mysteries of life is death."
On that cryptic note, Terence turns the handle on the door and without as much as a backwards glance, he makes his way out and up the winding path.
My head is spinning with pain, anxiety and thoughts I can't even pull together in any particular order.
"What do you want from me?" I mutter, as I make my way to the kitchen to grab some painkillers and a glass of water. "Do you hate what I've done, is that it? So you wanted Lewis to have Ash Cottage and I'm about to make that happen. Doesn't that make you happy?"
I start to sob; the pain in my forehead is now shooting down and stabbing into my left eye. A wave of nausea engulfs me and I retch into the kitchen sink. This is a full-blown attack and it's too late now to take anything. My body slowly slides down to the floor and I huddle in a heap, my head pressed up against the cool surface of the kitchen unit. The pain comes in waves, accompanied by the nausea, and it's like a drum beat. Each time it's a pounding that reverberates through every single part of me and the pain is excruciating. Random thoughts ping into my head and are lost before I can even focus on them.
I close my eyes, no longer able to bear the light and curl up into a ball, tucking my head down onto my knees. The only clear thought I have is a feeling of tremendous unhappiness that I can't seem to shake off and I'm beyond confused.
CHAPTER 39
"What the hell are you playing at?"
As soon as I heard the sharp hammering on the door I knew it was Lewis Hart. It's a visit I've been expecting. I can hear every single word quite clearly, even through the double-glazed panel. Turning the key in the lock I swing it open wide and walk back into the conservatory.
"The cottage is no longer up for sale. I've changed my mind. It happens, sorry." I cradle my arms around my body, creating a barrier against the anger he is unable to control.
"Sorry? It happens? You're messing with people's lives and all you can say is sorry?" He raises his hand, stabbing one finger in my direction, accusingly.
"My plans have ch
anged due to unforeseen circumstances."
A movement at the doorway makes me look over Lewis' shoulder. It's Terence. He steps inside, gingerly, glancing from Lewis to me and back again.
"Is everything all right here, Maddie?" His voice is tentative. He's not sure what's happening and that makes two of us.
I glance at Lewis, wondering if everything is all right or whether I should be worried for my safety.
A few moments elapse and the silence is strained.
"I shouldn't have come, I apologise, but I was gutted to hear the news that you've pulled out of the sale."
Terence's jaw drops and he immediately turns to face me. I nod, giving him a little smile of reassurance. "I'm fine, Terence, thank you for checking. Mr Hart is understandably upset and deserves an explanation. I'm about to make some coffee, would you like one?"
Terence shakes his head. "If you're sure you're okay, I'll leave you to it," he nods at Lewis, fixing him with a stare, "Lewis."
Lewis steps forward, "Sorry Terence, I was bang out of order." He puts out his hand and Terence responds, shaking his hand firmly.
"I'm not the person you should be apologising to…" he replies soberly and exits, shutting the door behind him.
"Sorry," Lewis says, spinning around to look at me.
"Is that all you can say?" He sees fit to apologise properly to my neighbour, but, it seems, not to me.
"For a nice lady you sure don't pull your punches! Was this a wind-up from the start because you knew how much this cottage means to me? I suppose you're going to hang onto it now and rent it out. Get a nice little income and not give a damn that it will be filled with a stream of people who will form no attachment to it whatsoever. That's cruel, lady."
His words stop me in my tracks, but I don't want to answer to him or offer an explanation. I turn and walk into the kitchen, flick on the kettle and grab two mugs.
I half-wonder if he'll take the sight of my back as a cue to leave. I can feel him standing in the doorway, watching my every move as I noisily bang down the mugs and vigorously stir the coffee. I want him to know how angry I am that he has the cheek to take the moral high ground. He hasn't even had the decency to be straight with me. I expected him to be disappointed, of course, and maybe demand that I foot any abortive costs, but this is still my property until the contract has been signed. When I spin around he's standing less than an inch away from me, so close I can feel his body heat and before I know it his mouth is all over mine. He's pressing me up against the kitchen units as if he wants to devour me and my body begins to respond. As it does, he recoils in horror.
"Oh, my God, I'm sorry! I mean… I don't prey on women. I'm not that sort of guy…I didn't come here to exact revenge. I don't know why I came here. It's just I'm absolutely gutted…"
We both take a second to compose ourselves and then I turn, pick up the mugs and hand him one. We walk through into the conservatory and sit in silence, looking out onto the panoramic vista that today is bathed in warm, spring sunshine.
"You lied." I don't turn to look at him, I just let my words settle and keep looking ahead.
"Some things just can't be shared. I don't know what you think you know, but I've come to ask you one thing. I helped you out when you were stuck, I mean, really stuck. I'll admit that a part of me was hoping you'd change your mind about living here because you'd miss the buzz of the city. But I never meant for things to become … personal. If I could undo what happened, I would, but it seems I'm unable to control myself when I'm around you. I'm glad things are going well and you are moving on, but please, don't rent out Ash Cottage or sell it to someone else just to lash out at me. Our paths will never cross again, I promise you, but I can't lose this place for a second time. I just can't."
The desperation in his voice is heart-breaking.
"I'm not doing this to get back at you for lying to me, or for taking advantage of the situation. Ash Cottage is going to continue to be my home."
Lewis is staring at me, but I keep my head focused on the trees and the white doves circling and swooping as they flit between their dovecote and a shed roof.
"That's it, then."
"I know your secret."
"How?"
"You didn't think I'd guess there was something going on here? That I wouldn't go back and revisit Aggie's box with her life history, lying there in pieces like a jig-saw puzzle? I found your birth certificate, hidden in the folds of the plans for the conservatory. I know it wasn't there originally, because I remember pulling them out, so I knew you'd been through everything. But why didn't you just take it, when you didn't hesitate to take the document relating to the strip of land at the back?"
"I'm many things, Madeleine, but I'm not a thief. I took nothing at all. Look, it was a mistake coming here. It's just really hard to let go of Aggie's cottage. I have to stop doing that…"
"Doing what?"
"Talking about it as if it's still hers; or that there's any chance it will ever be my home. It's bricks and mortar, she loved it while she lived here and now it's time for everyone to move on."
He pushes back his chair to stand, looking down at me with acceptance.
"No one in the Forest knows Aggie's secret; I'd appreciate it if you could find it in your heart to let it remain buried. As for the other thing…you're an amazing woman, Madeleine Brooks, and Ryan is a lucky man."
I stand, facing up to him to let him know that I am an amazing woman and I'm not going to fall apart because suddenly I know exactly what I'm doing. And what I want.
"And you are an amazing man, Lewis Hart. Aggie knows that, and now I do, too. This is my home for the rest of my life and Ryan has had a lucky escape. I think he's getting over his mid-life crisis and will soon be jetting off to the sun for a life of partying and thrill-seeking. I, on the other hand, will be here – just a lonely, single woman with no one to help her to get this jungle of a garden into shape. That's rather a shame, don't you think?"
He hasn't moved a muscle. His face is set, as if he doesn't know what's happening and he doesn't understand what I've said.
"Goodness, Lewis. For an intelligent man you can be rather dense at times. This is the point at which you get to speak. Where are all your words, now? Do you have anything to say to me at all? Anything?"
"About what?"
"I know that Aggie was your mother and I know that her intention was to give you Ash Cottage. Yes, it's important, but I'm straight on all of that. I want to hear what you have to say. Is there anything you want to tell me, or were you just using me that night I threw caution to the wind?"
"You want me to explain myself?"
"Yes. I want words."
He looks at me and then turns his head away, gathering his thoughts. Then he begins pacing back and forwards in front of me.
"Okay. I can do this."
It's not clear whether he's giving himself a pep talk, or the words are for my benefit and he's asking me to wait a moment. I have all the time in the world and I'm really enjoying seeing him squirm. He does one more cross in front on me and stops, running his hands down over his thighs and along the side seams of his jeans; the ones that are covered in paint, cement and every builder's material known to man.
"I like you." He stands there, looking at me expectantly.
"That's a start, continue."
He does a double-take. Suddenly one brow lifts and he screws up his eyes as if he's smarting from some sort of head pain.
"A lot."
He appears to relax.
"I want meaningful words. Not just the first thing that comes into your head."
"Really?"
"Really."
He paces around in a circle this time. One rotation and once more he's standing in front of me, his face a shade of grey and there are beads of sweat on his forehead.
"At first I thought you were the most annoying woman I'd ever met. But now I know differently."
I open my eyes wide with surprise, steeling myself not to laugh, but to
look appalled.
"And that's supposed to what … make me feel grateful? To be some sort of backhanded compliment? You were on the right track: you just used the wrong 'L' word."
He frowns, then stands up straight and this time he looks me directly in the eyes.
"Miss Madeleine Brooks I'm in love with you. There, now will you please let me off the hook?"
"For goodness' sake, just kiss me! I've had more meaningful conversations with Terence's cat."
When I finally pull away, I look up into his eyes, "All I want is someone who really needs me as much as I need them. You can handle that, right?"
"Yes, ma'am." His words are spoken with army-like precision and a firm sense of commitment. However, there's something hidden behind those wonderful eyes of his.
"What?"
"I think I loved you from the moment I first saw you. I also knew you'd be trouble, and I was right."
I want all of the love and passion you have buried deep inside of you, Lewis. But you're not ready to hear that right now.
"Well, don't go forgetting that after you move in. I have every intention of keeping you very busy indeed, Mr Hart. I think you are going to need a new decal for that white van of yours – Maddie's Man Who Can."
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
With grateful thanks to my wonderful editor, Charlotte Ledger, for constantly looking over my shoulder, keeping me on track, and believing in my characters. Of course, every novel is the result of a much wider-team effort, so a 'high-five' and grateful thanks to everyone involved at HarperImpulse.
And a big hug to my very own 'Man Who Can', Lawrence. While this is a work of fiction, some of the events linked to the move and the deliveries etc affected by the awful floods, were based on actual incidents we experienced in 2013. I stress that all of the characters are fictitious, but the cottage is very real. We are very happy living in our dream cottage, on the edge of the Forest of Dean, as renovation work continues.
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