A Dream Come True

by Margaret Carr

  A DREAM COME TRUE

  By

  Frances M Carr

  Copyright

  © 2012 Frances M Carr

  Frances M Carr has asserted her rights in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  Published by Frances M Carr

  First published and printed in 2008

  First published in eBook format in 2012

  eISBN: 978-1-908886-01-9

  (Printed edition: 978-1-408-44142-8)

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the Publisher.

  All names, characters, places, organisations, businesses and events are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Ebook Conversion by www.ebookpartnership.com

  Contents

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  About the Author

  From the same Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  Cassie Rennington climbed down from the bus and gazed around her. The same names ran across the same shop fronts. The seat still stood under the beech tree in the centre of the green as a new generation of ducks waddled back to the river on the far side of the village. The bus pulled away and Cassie set off for the junction at the bottom of the street. Here set back from the road stood St Peter’s church and next to it the vicarage.

  Long since deserted by parishioners, the church stood on a slight rise and was surrounded by an iron fence at the front while a high wall enclosed what had once been a graveyard but was now a wilderness of overgrown shrubs and trees. The inscriptions had been recorded and the headstones removed. A for sale sign had been uprooted and lay against the fence.

  A wide drive through stone pillars led around the church and across overgrown lawns to a large square house. A green band across the for sale sign read, sold and Cassie held her breath as she arrived at the heavy front door and withdrew a key from her pocket. She was home.

  Thirty-six years ago she had been born in this house, twelve years later they had left it after her father had died of a heart attack while at his pulpit. She had always dreamt of returning but for many years that was all it had been, a dream. Now she was back and nothing would ever take her away again.

  She turned the key in the lock, the door groaned as it slid slowly inward and Cassie stepped into the hall. There were coloured glass panels on either side of the door and these cast shadowed patterns across the tiled floor. The mahogany staircase rose in bare splendour before her.

  Of the two rooms one on either side of the hall one was the lounge the other the dining- room while at the back of the house beyond the stairs lay the library and the large room that had been kitchen and living-room to herself, her mother and the four boys.

  Her father had spent most of his short life in the church or the library as she remembered. Her mother lived long enough to see her children through college and the oldest boy married with her first grandson on the way, before giving up and dying of cancer.

  Cassie let her bags drop to the floor. Memories were cascading through her mind as she ran fingers around the smooth dome of the newel post. Walking through into the library she was shocked at the sight of the shelf lined walls stripped bare of their books. Had it always been such a dark room, she wondered and with a sigh turned to leave.

  There was a small conservatory between the library and the kitchen which, with broken glass panes and old pots with shrunken contents, was looking very sad and derelict. The long kitchen with its fire range at one end and a dart board still on the wall at the other hit Cassie so hard that tears trickled silently down her cheeks to fall unnoticed from her jaw.

  While staring across the ceramic sink and out of the window to the long garden and orchard at the bottom, she was disturbed by the sound of grinding engine gears on the other side of the wall. What on earth was happening in the graveyard, she wondered. As she made to turn away there was a sickening tearing sound, the engine died, and as she watched, a large conifer began to tilt in her direction.

  Agape in horror she saw it crash through the six foot wall, bounce once and come to a quivering halt against a pear tree. She ran for the back door, realised she didn’t have a key to unlock it and ran back into the hall to retrieve the envelope from the estate agent. Once back at the rear door she scrabbled in the envelope until she found a key that fit, then flung open the door and headed out into the garden.

  A tall man with dark hair was standing at the base of the tree rubbing the back of his neck.

  ‘What on earth do you think you are doing?’ Cassie shouted through the gap in the wall.

  ‘Sorry about this, I was trying to clear ..’

  ‘Have you got a licence for that thing?’ Cassie cried, staring in disbelief at the yellow giant of a machine on the other side of the wall.

  ‘Look, instead of screaming at me through this gap why don’t you come around and we can discuss what we are going to do about it.’

  ‘We …’ Cassie was lost for words. After scowling furiously at him she flung out her arms and stamped back into the house. Marching through the house she kicked her bags to one side, left the front door open and heading down a narrow cinder path came to a small wicket gate. The path continued up to the vestry door, which of course was locked. Continuing along the wall of the church she came to the wilderness at the back.

  A large double gate at the rear of the property was open onto a narrow lane. Just inside the gate stood a beautiful cream and brown caravan. On the doorstep of this vehicle sat the man, responsible for the demolishing of her wall, tugging boots from his feet. A lot of shrubbery had already been cleared by the yellow monster sitting across her path.

  He had the cheek to wave to her as she ploughed her way through loose branches and rutted soil.

  ‘Can I offer you something to drink?’ He stood up as she came to rest in front of him.

  ‘No thank you,’ she snapped. ‘What I want to know is what you are going to do about my wall.’

  He turned back into the caravan. ‘Tea, coffee or beer?’

  She felt silly talking to an empty doorway so climbed up into the van. ‘I’ve told you, nothing thank you. Will you see to the removal of that tree and the rebuilding of my wall or do you want me to get estimates from local builders to do the job?’

  Shrugging his shoulders he helped himself to a beer, pulled the tab and walked off to the sitting area of the van.

  Furious, she followed him.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, sit down. If we are going to be neighbours then we had better learn to get along. I’ll saw up the tree and remove it myself then I’ll try and find someone to help me build up your wall.’

  Plonking herself down on a seat she said, ‘It will have to be a proper job, I don’t want some amateur effort that will fall down six months later.’

  ‘It will be a professional job, I promise you.’

&
nbsp; ‘Are you the contractor?’

  ‘I’m the owner, I’ve just bought the property and I’m hoping to …’

  ‘Then what on earth are you thinking about hiring a machine like that when you’re obviously not qualified to drive it.’ Cassie noticed a nerve jerking along his jaw and decided that enough was enough and a hasty retreat might be the better part of valour. She stood up to leave.

  ‘I’m planning on renovating the church. There’ll be a lot of noise and mess for a while I’m afraid, I hope it won’t be too inconvenient for you,’ he said, totally ignoring her earlier comment. He stood up as he said this and placed his beer can on a nearby table.

  ‘You’re going to live in the church?’

  ‘I am.’

  * * *

  Once outside she turned to face him. ‘Will you be extending out here?’

  ‘No, this will be the garden.’

  ‘You won’t feel uncomfortable sunbathing over …’

  ‘In a graveyard,’ he gave her a quizzical look. ‘No, what could be more suitable for a garden.’

  ‘Quite,’ she said, feeling the uncomfortable one now.

  Back in the house she carried her bags upstairs then wandered from room to room deciding which one she would have for herself. The large front bedroom that had belonged to her parents and whose windows looked down the front drive was attractive but ghosts held her back. The second front room had a window looking over to the church and this she didn’t like.

  Finally the one she chose was a back bedroom that had two windows—one looking down the back garden and a side window that looked over the wall to the fields and hills beyond, and in the distance the river where they had paddled when they were children. This had been her room all those years ago and would be hers again she promised herself.

  The van with her belongings, the only ones she had wanted to keep, would be arriving at two o’clock. It felt strange to think of that man tearing out the heart of the church to make a home in it. How would he do it, she wondered, would the alterations be all internal and if so would he need permission. She could check at the council offices to see if they had any plans. Surely as a concerned neighbour she had a right to ask.

  She wiped her fingers along the windowsill, the place needed a good clean. She went back downstairs with a notebook and pen. In the lounge she sat in the window seat and began to scribble down a list of all there was to do and organise in the following weeks. From her seat she would see the van when it came.

  The van duly arrived and disgorged a bed, table, two chairs, a rocking chair, a chest and several boxes. The bed, chest and two of the boxes were taken up to the bedroom, the rest deposited in the kitchen. Rummaging in one of the boxes she unearthed pans, a kettle, cooking utensils and some food. She used the packing to try out the range and to her surprise it took hold straight away. Quickly she fed it some more then with a firm mouth marched outside and up to the fallen tree.

  The man was back at work sawing away at the top of the tree.

  ‘I would like some of that for my fire.’

  He looked up from his task.

  ‘I don’t think you need it, look,’ and he pointed over her shoulder.

  Cassie let out a squeak of fear as she watched the flames shooting from the chimney pot.

  The man had dropped his saw and was running over to the kitchen. Cassie chased after him. Turning on the kitchen tap he thrust pans beneath the water then swung them over to the fire where he threw the contents on to the range. This doused the fire in the grate but as he explained, the chimney itself was still on fire.

  ‘Didn’t you think to get it swept first goodness knows how many years’ soot has accumulated up there.’

  ‘What do I do now will it go out by itself?’

  ‘Other than call the fire service, how the devil do I know, an old house like this could have wood beams criss-crossing the chimney, if they catch hold the whole place could go up.’ He flung the pan back into the sink.

  They moved out into the garden and looked upward. ‘Well the pot’s not red, that’s a good sign, if you ask me you’ve been very lucky. It should die down itself.’

  ‘Thank you for your help,’ she mumbled and slunk away into the kitchen. Inside she leant back against the closed door and breathed a sigh of relief.

  Later she kicked herself for not bringing her old electric fire for after the sun went down it grew quite cold. All the utilities had been turned on before her arrival but of course the vicarage had never had central heating. Now she lay shivering beneath her duvet, the ticking of her alarm clock on the chest echoing in the otherwise empty room.

  The following morning it rained. Cassie set to with a vengeance refusing to be disheartened. Sweeping and scrubbing, the immersion heater had given plenty of hot water and she had brought the cleaning tools with her. She was cleaning windows when a little dirty white van rolled up to the front door. A small man jumped out and rang the bell.

  Frowning, Cassie ceased what she was doing and went to answer the door.

  ‘Alf Manners, Mrs, come to do the chimneys.’

  He turned back to his van but halted when Cassie called, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Manners did you say, but I didn’t book you.’

  Oh, I know that Mrs, it was the bloke next door, said if I didn’t come you’d as like as not set fire to the whole damn place.’

  ‘Well I like that,’ Cassie steamed.

  The little man was watching her expectantly. ‘Do you want them done or not, Mrs, I’ve got plenty more jobs to be doing.’

  She sighed and signalled him inside.

  ‘There’s some stock of work here, Mrs,’ he said after touring the house and arriving back in the kitchen.

  Cassie nodded. ‘Do your worst, Mr Manners, we might as well start off with a clean sweep.’

  ‘There won’t be any mess mind but it’ll cost you a fair bit.’

  ‘That’s all right. The, er, man next door, how did he know about you?’

  Alf Manners grinned. ‘I’m a fan of him, I’ve been helping him out, bits of jobs and that.’

  ‘A fan?’ Cassie asked, bewildered.

  ‘Aye, I go to all his concerts, well the ones round about anyway.’

  ‘Concerts?’

  The little man stood back away. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t recognise him.’

  ‘Should I?’

  ‘Marc Dominic, the Domino they always call him because he wears black and white at performances. Why, he was on telly two weeks ago being interviewed on that tea time show.’

  ‘He’s a pop star?’ Cassie whispered.

  ‘He’s a guitarist, writes his own music, lovely stuff, you must have heard of him.’

  Cassie was shaking her head slowly, trying to digest all this new information about her neighbour.

  CHAPTER TWO

  With her basic cleaning finished Cassie’s next job was to find a plumber. This was harder than she had anticipated. So on seeing Alf Manners’ van outside the church one morning she decided to go over and make enquiries of him.

  The main door stood open so she stepped inside and called his name. There was a lot of banging and sawing going on and in the end she had to shout hard to make herself heard. A voice called from upstairs and as she waited for someone to appear she glanced around at the barely recognisable church.

  All the furnishings had been stripped out, skirting and floor boards were up in many places and the whole looked as if it had been attacked by vandals.

  ‘Would you like a look around?’

  His voice startled her. ‘I was looking for Alf.’

  ‘You wouldn’t be trying to steal my helper would you?’

  ‘No, I only want to ask his advice. I need a plumber.’

  He leant back against the wall, hands in pockets, and nodded his head. ‘Well you’ve found one, Alf does all the plumbing around here unfortunately he has his hands full at the moment.’

  ‘Alf is a plumber?’

  ‘That’s right.’

 
She stiffened up, angered at the half smile flitting across the man’s mouth.

  ‘Well perhaps he can tell me of someone else who could help me.’

  Glancing down at the tips of his workman’s boots he said, ‘It will be a lot more expensive getting someone from town.’

  ‘No problem, can I speak with Alf?’

  ‘Alf,’ he called back up the stairs. ‘The lady wants a word.’

  There was the thump of dropped tools then Alf appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘What can I do for you, Mrs?’

  ‘The lady wants the name of a plumber.’

  Angry at his interference Cassie called up, ‘Mr Domino says you are too busy to help me …’

  A howl of laughter came hurtling down the stairs and Cassie scowled at the man who had turned his back to her.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ she demanded.

  ‘The name’s Marc Dominic,’ he replied.

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  ‘You called me Mr Domino.’

  ‘Oh well, whatever.’

  ‘I’ll be over lunch time, see what you need, Mrs,’ called Alf, the laughter still in his voice.

  She nearly told him not to bother, the rude little man then she thought better of it and made to leave.

  ‘Sure you wouldn’t like to see round the place?’

  ‘No thank you.’

  Alf arrived in his van then sat chewing a sandwich and drinking from a flask before clearing them away and pulling out a newspaper. He read that for all of ten minutes then folded it and placed it on the seat next to him among numerous other bits and pieces.

  Cassie watched from her position in the window seat. When at last he climbed from the van she left what she was doing and went to meet him.

  ‘Which fires will you be blocking up, Mrs?’

  ‘None of them. I want the central heating as back up only.’

  ‘Expensive back up, the piping is in fairly good nick for such an old house, radiators in every room then?’

  ‘Towel rail in the bathroom.’

  ‘What about the kitchen, do you want anything in there, don’t usually bother in kitchens, but it is a big room.’