A Dream Come True

by Margaret Carr

  The anger at the loss of her misplaced furniture had receded as she gazed around what had been achieved in the old church. Now it reared its head again as she realised he had been home after all.

  ‘Why on earth didn’t you redirect my furniture instead of letting them leave it here?’

  ‘Ah, so you didn’t come to see my home.’ He filled a nearby kettle and plugged it in. ‘Can I offer you something to drink?’

  ‘No thank you.’

  ‘I wasn’t in when your stuff arrived. I was collecting the children from school. Mae thought the delivery was mine, I should have come around earlier to tell you it was here.’

  ‘The thing is what am I supposed to do about it now? I have just had a blazing row with the removal people who won’t accept responsibility and have point blank refused to come back. The things are too heavy to carry across and it’s still pouring with rain.’ As she flung this last sentence to him Cassie was near to tears.

  He placed a cup of tea in front of her before returning with milk and sugar.

  ‘Best antidote for a bad day I find.’ He sat down opposite. ‘Don’t worry about the stuff I’ll have it sent over first thing in the morning.’

  She sniffed and blew her nose, flinging back the forelock of wet hair as she did so. A round dark face with curly black hair and big brown eyes peeped around the door. Then the soft voice of Mae called from the hall and the face disappeared.

  Cassie stared at the man across the table hardly daring to believe what she was thinking. That amused twist was back on his lips as he looked up from his tea.

  ‘I have to get back,’ she stammered.

  He rose with her. ‘But you haven’t seen the pool area or the upstairs yet.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you but perhaps another time.’

  He saw her to the door and watched as she fled down the path.

  The furniture arrived as promised the following morning in a large yellow hire van. The two men who accompanied it seemed well versed in furniture removal, much to Cassie’s relief for many of the pieces were valuable antiques. They had been bought, and some restored at various times in the last eighteen months and all had been put into storage until the house was ready.

  As each piece was placed where she had visualised it, the dream came nearer to reality. The rain had stopped and the ground was drying nicely, making the men’s work that much easier. When they were finished and had driven away in their van, Cassie rolled up the dust sheets and moved around the house admiring each room in turn.

  She placed stationery in the drawer of the small walnut writing table in the lounge. A normally sunny room, she had picked out a pale Wedgwood blue décor, while in the dining room the rich mahogany dining suite glowed against pastel green. China from a box in the kitchen was placed in a cabinet and a beautiful crystal candelabrum occupied the centre of the table.

  In the hall she had picked out a paler shade from one of the floor tiles for the walls, with a deeper shade for the stair carpet. She had toyed with the idea of replacing some of the wallpaper but turned it down in favour of paint. The house looked so much lighter she knew she had made the right decision.

  The kitchen was furnished now with a large wooden table, six wheel backed chairs, an extremely large kitchen press and an American fridge freezer to complement the pantry. The small conservatory had been turned into a downstairs cloakroom, while in the library Cassie’s books looked lost scattered across the many shelves. It was time for her evening meal.

  She returned to the kitchen and as she sat down at the table and helped herself to the chicken salad she had prepared earlier the excitement of her success faded. Once again she asked herself, ‘What now?’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The twins from next door had red hair and freckles and were chasing something across her garden when Cassie first met them. She was attempting to cut the hedge on the far side of her property when the pair dashed past in hot pursuit of a flash of green.

  ‘What is it?’ she called. ‘What are you after?’

  The green streak tried to shoot up a tree only to fall to the ground again. It twisted mid air and ran straight for Cassie. That’s when she saw what it was and lunged forward catching it against her chest. Quickly she pulled up her sweater to enfold the terrified cat.

  ‘What on earth’s happened?’ she asked the panting twins as they came alongside her.

  ‘It got in the way when we were painting,’ said the boy.

  ‘It made a mess in the van,’ said the girl.

  ‘We were going to wash it,’ they both chipped in.

  They were all walking back to the house. Cassie hesitated, not wanting them all trouping through her beautiful hall. So she steered them around to the back and into the kitchen. Here she stood the cat in the sink and for the first time took a measure of the damage.

  The poor thing was covered from head to tail in slimy green gloss paint. What in heavens name was she to do? The cat meowed pitifully. Cassie set the children to do her bidding as they gathered scissors, cloths and turpentine. Then she set to work clipping and scrubbing the reluctant cat. It was a terrible mess when she had finished and set it down on the floor. It fled straight under the kitchen press and refused to come out.

  ‘How can we take her home if we can’t get her out,’ demanded the boy.

  ‘Well you will just have to leave her here,’ Cassie said.

  The girl began to cry so Cassie offered them a biscuit each. ‘What are your names?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m Donald and she’s Dorothy,’ the boy replied.

  ‘And how old are you?’

  ‘We’re ten, but I’m the oldest.’

  ‘And do you always speak for your sister?’

  ‘Usually,’ he agreed, ‘she’s shy.’

  Cassie had to smile at his cheeky boldness. ‘Well, I think you had better go home now and own up to the dreadful mess you must have left behind you.’

  Donald screwed up his nose and Dorothy looked near to tears again, but they left without a word and once the door shut behind them Cassie was down on her knees at the press trying to find the cat. Later she placed a saucer of milk and a dish of tuna on the floor next to the press and left the cat to recover.

  Next morning she came into the kitchen to find a beautiful if somewhat raggy tabby sitting on her windowsill in the sunshine. Cassie wouldn’t have believed it possible for last night’s wreck to turn out so well.

  ‘We shall have to give you a name if you are going to stay around,’ Cassie told the cat. ‘What do you think of Marquis? That was the cat in Puss in Boots.’

  ‘More like Danger Cat, if you saw the mess in my van.’ Marc’s voice boomed through the window. The cat jumped down with a screech and Cassie placed a finger against her lips. ‘You’re frightening it,’ she scolded.

  ‘I’ll do more than frighten it, I’ll wring its neck,’ he said, as she let him in through the back door.

  ‘It couldn’t have been the cat’s fault. What were your children doing with gloss paint anyway?’

  She scowled after the fleeing cat who had retreated to the press.

  ‘I had some old paint stacked under the van and the twins found it. They have been punished and won’t do it again.’

  ‘Sounds like you were negligent leaving it there in the first place,’ she scolded.

  He was smiling at her and she gave her loose hair an angry tug into place. ‘I called to see if you had incurred any damage dealing with all that paint. It couldn’t have been easy cleaning up after them.’

  ‘No harm done,’ she said, glancing suggestively at the door.

  But he wasn’t taking the hint. ‘I thought you might show me around the changes Alf and family have made. He did tell me but I would very much like to see for myself. Then perhaps if you’re free, in say an hour, we could go out in the car again.’

  Cassie bit her lip. How could she have let herself get into this kind of position? She had invaded his home, there was no getting away from that,
and become beholden to him for driving escort, now whether she wanted to or not the least she could do in return was to show him around the house.

  He said little as they wandered around from room to room, then after glancing into the library and new cloakroom they were back in the kitchen.

  ‘I was wondering what a single woman like yourself could possibly want such a large house for?’ he answered to her enquiry as to what he thought of the house.

  ‘I was born here and always dreamt of coming back one day.’

  ‘You’re a vicar’s daughter,’ he asked, his voice tinged with surprise.

  ‘My father died when I was twelve, that’s when we left.’

  ‘Excuse me for asking, but do you work?’

  She felt like telling him to mind his own business but said coolly, ‘I’m a teacher.’

  ‘Round here?’

  ‘Not at the moment.’

  ‘Well, if you are looking for work I might be able to help, what subjects do you teach?’

  Cassie could feel the hysteria mounting if he didn’t go soon she was going to scream. ‘English and Geography, but I don’t need any work at the moment, thank you.’

  At last he took the hint. ‘I’ll come back at ten and we can take that drive,’ he said, before letting himself out of the door.

  * * *

  ‘I’m going away tomorrow. When are you due to take your test?’ he asked on their return from a satisfactory drive.

  ‘In a fortnight the twenty-second.’

  ‘Well, the best of luck.’

  ‘Who looks after the children while you’re away?’

  ‘I have a very reliable workforce and Mae is good with the children.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Cassie said. ‘I haven’t seen any signs of a workforce,’ she mumbled to herself once he was out of sight. It would be just like the man to think Mae could handle everything for him and she didn’t seem old enough to leave to such a heavy responsibility. Perhaps she would pop over there from time to time just to make sure she was coping.

  As it happened, when next she went round to the church, now called Pete’s Park, her ring on the modern push bell was answered by a tall dignified man who asked her, her business. Taken aback, Cassie managed to stammer that she was a neighbour and that she had called to check on the children.

  ‘Would that be Miss Cassie?’ the man asked.

  ‘Cassie Rennington yes.’

  ‘Please come in, Miss Rennington. Mr Dominic left strict instructions that you were to be made welcome should you call. The name is James Munro and I have worked for Marc in several capacities for many years. We also have Mrs O’Conner who cooks for us and there is the girl, Viki, she escorts the little ones.’

  Cassie could feel embarrassment wrap around her like an ill fitting blanket.

  ‘Ruthie and Sam are out for the afternoon but the twins are upstairs with Mae, shall I call them?’

  ‘No, no, please don’t interrupt them. I can see the children are well catered for, Mr Munro.’ And as tactfully as possible she made her departure. That will teach you to go poking your nose into things that don’t concern you, she scolded herself.

  It was October now and she had passed her driving test with ease. There had been no sign of Marc Dominic, nor his family, apart from the occasional passing in the street and she had not ventured again to Pete’s Park.

  Hard work had put the garden to sleep, quiet but respectable with enough new bulbs to promise an enjoyable spring. The cat, while not the most sociable of creatures nevertheless remained faithful and rarely ventured beyond the confines of the garden.

  The house, even with only the one resident, still demanded constant attention and to this end Cassie had hired a woman from the village who was glad of the extra money to come in twice a week and do the rough.

  She, in turn, had volunteered her services to tutor children on long stays in the local hospital. This and her new-found fascination with her family history kept most of her time occupied.

  Until one day in the middle of the month when she met Mae in the village high street dragging a little dog along on a lead. The dog looked sad and unhappy and Mae looked angry. She turned to watch the girl storm past and wondered where she was going.

  When Cassie realised the cat was here to stay she had discovered a veterinary surgery three days a week in a room behind the paper shop. Here she had taken the cat for a check up and his injections.

  Now, as she watched Mae cross the green she realised that this was where the girl was going.

  She turned into the butcher’s to buy some mince for dinner and when she came out Mae was coming back across the green without the dog. Cassie was uncertain as to why she was following the way Mae had gone but some instinct had her entering the vet’s door.

  The girl at reception recognised her and greeted her warmly.

  ‘Excuse me, I hope you don’t think me rude, but a girl was just in with a little dog and I thought I recognised it, is something wrong with it?’

  The receptionist’s face straightened. ‘Oh, no,’ she said, ‘beautiful little scrap, such a nice nature and all, what a shame.’

  ‘Shame,’ Cassie echoed.

  ‘Yes, she explained one of the children had bought it without permission. She brought it in to be put down, but we won’t if we can possibly help it, we’ll try and find it another home first.’

  Cassie was shocked at her neighbour’s callousness. ‘Poor little thing.’

  The receptionist’s face brightened. ‘I don’t suppose …’ she gave Cassie a pleading look.

  Cassie came to with a start. ‘Oh no, I couldn’t, I have a cat.’

  The receptionist was laughing. ‘We have six cats and two dogs and three geese. It’s not true what they say about cats and dogs you know, they do learn to tolerate each other when they live in the same family. I’m sure your cat would accept the little chap, he’s so friendly, wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

  Cassie didn’t see how the receptionist could vouch for that seeing as how she had only just met him herself.

  When she produced him from a cage in the back room like a rabbit from a hat, Cassie jumped back startled. When, after a few snuffles and tail wagging, he sat down on the counter and looked at her, she could feel her heart melting.

  He went into the vet and was pronounced a fit and healthy eighteen-month-old cross Westie. He was a grey brown colour and his coat was straighter than a true Westie but he had the perky attentiveness of the breed. She decided to call him MacBeth because of his Scottish ancestry, and left with MacBeth and all his furnishings, collar, lead and a large bag of dog food.

  Marquis took an instant dislike to MacBeth and flew up the front of the dresser knocking down several cups and saucers on the way. Cassie felt like sitting down and crying. When was she going to learn not to let her impulsiveness rule her life?

  Taking a firm hold on herself she did the only thing she could think of and, opening the back door, shooed them both outside.

  After she had made herself a cup of tea and calmed down she went out to find them. The cat was sat on top of the wall. It gave her a reproachful look and a complaining meow but wouldn’t come down.

  MacBeth she discovered barking and yapping excitedly at the side gate. On the other side of the gate Sam sat on his hunkers fondling the little dog through the bars.

  ‘Sam, does anyone know you’re here?’

  He shook his head. ‘I heard him bark and I knew it was him.’

  ‘Are you the one that bought him?’

  ‘Yes, I saved up my pocket money and the man in the shop said he would keep him for me.’ He looked up at her then, his large brown eyes filling with unshed tears. ‘But Mae stole him from me. Did she bring him to you?’

  Cassie hadn’t the heart to tell him the truth, so she agreed with him.

  ‘I’m glad you have him. I know you’ll look after him and I can come round and see him all the time, can’t I?’ he asked, suddenly unsure.

  ‘Of course you can, bu
t you must tell your father where you are going first.’

  He nodded enthusiastically. ‘And can I take him for walks and play in the garden with him?’

  Cassie laughed. ‘Sometimes.’

  Mae approached like a shadow and scolding him gently, led him away.

  The next day a large bunch of flowers arrived. Attached to them was a card that read, Sorry I missed the driving test. Thank you for saving the dog. Marc Dominic.

  Cassie wasn’t quite sure how to take this. Did he mean he wanted the dog back that Mae had taken it without permission? So, armed with the new telephone books she decided to ring him up and ask him. Her call was answered by Mr Munro.

  ‘I’m afraid Marc hasn’t returned from his tour yet, Miss Rennington. He isn’t due home until the end of the week.’

  ‘Then who sent the flowers, Mr Munro, and how did he know about the dog?’

  ‘The flowers would be Interflora, Miss, and he would know about the dog from the wee lad. He rings the children every night.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, feeling foolish.

  After replacing the telephone she picked up the flowers and took them into the kitchen. Did she have a vase, she didn’t think so. No-one had ever sent her flowers before. She buried her nose in them and was disappointed that they had very little smell. Still, they looked beautiful and she decided there and then to go out and buy a vase for them.

  On Sunday afternoon, coming home from visiting a friend in the next village, she was surprised to find Mae on her doorstep.

  ‘Hello, what can I do for you?’ she asked as she climbed out of the car.

  ‘I have told Marc I do not want the children coming into your garden now you have the dog in case they get bitten.’ She spoke softly but that did not hide the sting in her words. ‘It is a pity you did not think to ask me before you took the animal into your home. It had already bitten Ruthie. Please do not encourage the children to visit.’

  Then she was gone, leaving a stunned Cassie staring after her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Cassie had been feeling down for days. It wasn’t that she missed the children exactly, for she didn’t see all that much of them really. It was just the idea that they had been forbidden to come. That she was considered a risk to them.