by CJ Morrow
She wondered what her mum would say when she told her. Ella gasped. She wouldn’t be telling her mum anything, how could she? She took a deep breath.
Sam messaged twice more before Ella got home. The last message said that she was popping round on her way home from work. Interesting. Ella’s place wasn’t on Sam’s way home. Was she really so desperate to know the facts.
‘What have you done?’ Sam gasped as Ella opened the door to her. No hello, no how are you.
Ella shrugged. ‘Only what I should have done weeks ago. And it feels so good.’
‘Yes. But…well…you…’ Sam was stuck for words, but she soon found them again. ‘I did caution you not to do anything you might regret. How will Gubbins be able to give you a good reference after this?’
Ella shrugged again. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want the sensible voice of reason. She wanted support. She wanted to be cheered. She wanted to be told that she had done the right thing. She wanted to be congratulated.
‘It’s not too late,’ Sam said, sitting down on the sofa bed, still unmade from Ella’s late start that morning. ‘I think if you apologise Gwynnie will have you back. You can put this behind you and forget about it.’
‘What? What are you saying? I’m not apologising. If there’s any apologising to be done it has to come from them – Gwynnie and Tiffy.’ Ella folded her arms. ‘No way am I apologising.’
Sam sighed quietly. She stood up, folded her arms. ‘Well maybe you’ll feel differently in the morning. You need a job Ella, it’s not as though you’ve got any other money, or a partner to support you.’
‘Well maybe I have.’
Sam frowned.
‘Maybe I’m going to go and live in my cottage and live off the income that goes with it.’
‘Ha. On your own? Take all that on, on your own. You said you couldn’t do it.’
‘Maybe I won’t be on my own.’
Ella could tell by Sam’s expression that she didn’t believe Ella had anyone, didn’t believe it for a minute.
Sam moved towards the door. ‘Message me in the morning when you come to your senses.’ She left without saying anymore, not even goodbye.
Now Ella did feel bad, but not over of what had happened with Gwynnie and Tiffy but because of Sam, her best friend who seemed incapable of supporting her. One thing was for sure, there was no going back to Gubbins and Ella would not be apologising to anyone.
Ella went to bed happy to the point of intoxication, and she slept the sleep of the smug.
In the morning Ella woke up early and felt her heart sink. Oh my God, what had she done? Pull yourself together her stern inner voice said. What’s done is done and you had complete control. You did it. Now live with it. She dragged herself out of bed, the pep talk still running at high speed in her head. It kept up its constant babble in the shower and as she made herself meese toast – well why not, she had the time – and got dressed. She had done all this before she looked at the clock; it wasn’t even eight am. If she left for work now she would be very early. Oh, the irony.
Ella cleared up her breakfast things, tidied and folded the sofa bed away, cleaned the shower room out, put her mini-vac over the carpet and even polished all the surfaces. She glanced around. It was tidy, but still tiny and still little more than a bedsit. She slumped down on the sofa and sighed. What now?
Spring Cottage. That’s what now, the stern voice said.
‘Okay,’ Ella’s little voice squeaked aloud. ‘Okay.’
The drive out of town was tedious; she was battling the rush hour traffic. Once into the countryside it became calmer. It was quieter for a start, so much so that she could hear the birds sing, even as she drove along. It was a bright, clear day and the countryside was starting to wake up.
‘Spring Cottage,’ she said, ‘it’s spring and I’m moving into Spring Cottage.’ She laughed to herself, reassurance, affirmation; it was meant to be.
There were more people about in the village as she passed the pub, the shop, the dreaded public toilets; someone even waved at her. She waved back, completely ignorant as to whom they were – probably one of the spectators from her toilet lock-in.
She pulled up outside Spring Cottage; it was her home now, she had no choice. Without a job, without a salary, she couldn’t even afford the rent on the grotty bedsit.
It suddenly hit her that she would need to move quickly. She didn’t know how she stood financially with work, how much they owed her especially as she had just walked out. She’d have to give notice on the bedsit; she’d have to move into Spring Cottage very soon, before the deadline expired.
She fumbled in her bag for the keys, still wondering what the biggest one was for.
The door opened and the musty smell enveloped her, urgh. Despite being here twice before, this was her first time alone. She turned her head to the side, took a deep breath of fresh air and marched in, closing the door behind her.
It looked just as awful. Just as run down and shabby. Well, said the stern voice, what did you expect?
‘Shut up,’ Ella said aloud, ‘you’re supposed to be on my side. And now I’m talking to myself. Again.’
She pushed through the rooms growing more and more despondent. Without Sam – she felt sick just at the thought of Sam – to point out the possibilities; and without Hal – hot Hal – to make enthusiastic assurances, she couldn’t see any hope. She thought of the magazines now sitting on the front seat of her car, how the hell could she ever realise that vision in this place?
Pull yourself together. Get on with it.
Ella slumped down on the tatty sofa in the living room, then leapt straight up, it really didn’t smell good – that would have to go.
A loud rap-rap at the door made her jump.
‘Saw you here again,’ Walt said. He was wearing what Ella thought was a boiler suit, a dark blue canvas version of her onesie. With his head of thick white hair, he reminded her of a smurf. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
‘Hello,’ she said forcing a smile.
‘Bit of a job.’ He glanced around the room, went into the kitchen and whistled. ‘All a bit bad. Very run down.’
‘Thanks for that,’ Ella said, so quietly that she didn’t think he heard her.
‘Sorry dear, just stating the obvious, I know.’
She looked around the room, felt the hot pin prick of tears in her eyes. Go away, she thought, but she wasn’t sure if she was talking to the tears or Walt.
‘Place has been empty for years, so you’ve got accumulated filth, and they were very old, set in their ways, they weren’t much bothered with modern conveniences. I don’t think they even had a TV.’ He glanced around, his eyes stopping on the strange brown light switch. ‘Bakelite,’ he said, not that Ella had a clue what he was talking about. ‘You’ll need a full rewire.’
‘Mmm.’
Another rap at the door.
‘Here comes the cavalry.’ Walt beamed and rushed to open the door. Edna bustled into the room; she wore the same new canvas onesie boiler suit affair as Walt. Behind her were four other people, two men, two women, all very old and all wearing the boiler suits. The women wore flowery turbans on their heads; they carried mops, buckets, all sorts of cleaning materials. The men carried step-ladders, a tool box.
People were introduced but the names washed over Ella. She stood in front of them open-mouthed.
‘You might want to put this on,’ Edna passed Ella a new boiler suit, still in its packaging.
Someone produced a kettle and a box of mugs. ‘First things first,’ Walt laughed. ‘We’ll make tea while you get changed.’
Ella blinked. Felt her mouth drop open.
‘Hurry along dear, we need you to make a decision about the furniture. If we get it out front, Gilbert’s lad will pick it up in the van and take it down the dump. It’s hard to get skips down these lanes.’ Edna and the rest went into the kitchen leaving Ella on her own to change. ‘He’ll be here around ten,’ Edna called
behind her.
Ella had actually dressed in what she considered appropriate cleaning clothes, she even had an old pair of trainers on, but she could hardly refuse the boiler suit. She took off her jeans and jumper, kept her t-shirt on and pulled on the suit. It was large, very large; she wondered how big they thought she was. She rolled up the sleeves and legs – she was the short smurf.
‘You might want this too,’ one of the old ladies handed Ella a flowery scarf.
‘Umm,’ Ella said, eyeing it and wondering what the hell to do with it.
‘Duck down and I’ll do it for you. Reminds me of the land army, I was in the land army, you know. Happy days.’ The old lady smiled to herself, a faraway look in her eyes.
Ella wondered what the hell the land army was as she allowed the lady to turban her hair.
‘During the war,’ Edna said, answering the question on Ella’s face. ‘When the men were away fighting, the women worked the land, farming.’
‘Oh. Right.’ During the war? How old were these people?
‘Phones off,’ Walt shouted and everyone pulled their phones out of their pockets and switched them off. ‘Especially you, Ella. We don’t want you distracted by Facebook every two minutes. We know what you young uns are like.’ He gave her a big beaming smile which stopped Ella in her tracks, stopped her from objecting and she obliged, switching her phone to silent.
‘Furniture first,’ Edna said, corralling Ella as the others drank tea in the kitchen. They marched around the house, Edna making a list as Ella made decisions. The sofa and chair had to go, the dresser was staying, the bed frames could stay but the mattresses had to go, in fact anything vaguely fabric or soft, had to go. ‘Mice,’ Edna said, ‘you’ve probably got ‘em, or had ‘em.’ She laughed. Ella didn’t, it wasn’t funny.
Walt and the two old men carried the furniture out and dumped it in the road and Ella found herself in a front bedroom with Edna and assorted buckets and cloths, while the two other old dears – that’s what Edna called them, the old dears – worked on the other front bedroom.
‘Who’s Gilbert?’ Ella asked as they began their mammoth task.
‘The man with the van.’ Edna chuckled as though she’d made a joke. ‘Village builder, might be handy for you.’
‘Yes. Probably will.’
They scrubbed and they cleaned, they found the inevitable big spiders but Edna just scooped them up and flung them out of the window.
Ella had just moved onto cleaning the window when she caught sight of ‘Gilbert’s lad’ loading the last item of furniture onto the truck. He was tall, muscular, as you might expect from a builder’s son, wore black jeans and a tight, white t-shirt, had very short dark hair. Ella wondered how old he was, from the back it was hard to tell. She stopped what she was doing and watched him intently; he was alone, so presumably he had loaded everything into the van by himself.
‘Ah, he’s finished,’ Edna’s voice said, suddenly standing next to Ella. ‘He’s a good lad.’
‘Yes. It’s very good of him. How old is he?’
Edna looked out of the window, studied him. ‘Young,’ she pronounced. ‘Young and fit.’
Ella did a double take then realised that Edna didn’t mean fit like Ella meant fit, she meant able, strong.
‘He might be your age,’ Edna’s parting shot, as she left to get a bucket of clean water.
In the next bedroom the old ladies had started singing, Ella didn’t recognize the song. When Edna came back she asked her.
‘Oh, I don’t know. One of their golden oldies, I expect. They’re very old ladies, those two, you know.’
Ella smiled, didn’t press it, because everyone here seemed ancient, except maybe for Gilbert’s lad, but given Edna’s approximation of age, even that was doubtful. He was probably seventeen, or he could be forty-seven. Ella hoped there were some people in the village nearer her own age, desperately hoped it, because she was stuck here now.
The song in the next room changed.
‘I know that.’ Ella stopped, listened wide-eyed as the old ladies sang Mr Brightside by The Killers in their warbly old lady voices.
‘No. I don’t. ’ Edna shook her head. ‘It’ll be some old war time song.’
‘No. It’s not. It’s The Killers.’
‘I wonder where our lunch is?’ Edna said, changing the subject and going out onto the landing, calling down to the kitchen. When she came back she informed Ella it was on its way.
‘Lunch? I hadn’t even thought about lunch.’
‘We have to feed the men, and the old ladies will be flagging now, I’m quite hungry myself.’ But the old ladies didn’t sound as though they were flagging, they moved onto Jumping Jack Flash by The Stones and Edna joined in. When it had finished, she laughed. ‘Glad they’re finally singing one I know.’
Somewhere in the depths of the cottage a whistle sounded and suddenly Edna and the old ladies downed tools and trooped into the bathroom to wash their hands, with Edna urging Ella to do the same.
Downstairs in the kitchen the men were already sitting around the table and tucking into soup and fresh baked bread. The aroma made Ella’s stomach growl.
‘There’s pea and ham or chicken broth,’ Walt said, nodding towards the two big vats in the middle of the table.
‘Where did they come from?’ Ella asked, sitting down and thanking Edna for the bowl of chicken broth she was passing her.
‘Pub,’ Walt said.
‘But who’s paid for it. I need to reimburse someone.’
‘Oh no,’ Walt said, patting Ella’s hand. ‘They’re happy to donate it. It’s in everyone’s interests that you settle in. Call it a welcome present.’
‘Well, I’m very grateful. And I’m very grateful to you all too, giving up your time to help me. You’re all very kind.’ Ella felt a tickle in the back of her throat. She swallowed hard, she was not going to cry, she didn’t even know why she wanted to.
A jug of cider and glasses were produced and Walt proposed a toast. ‘To Ella.’ He raised his glass. ‘The long-awaited, much welcome, young and beautiful new owner of Spring Cottage.’ Everyone repeated the toast.
Ella blushed; she was many things but beautiful had never really been one of them.
The men all had second helpings of the soup and soon it was all gone.
‘Is there no pudding?’ One of the old men asked.
‘No. Not today,’ Walt said, standing up.
‘Well, that’s a shame. I was looking forward to a bit of spotty dick and custard.’
‘And a good sleep after it.’ His wife tutted. ‘That’s probably why there isn’t any.’
The old ladies laughed and gave each other knowing looks, then the meal was quickly cleared away and everyone was back at their allotted tasks. Ella wondered where these old people got their energy from, because she was starting to tire.
By late afternoon all the bedrooms were cleaned and the wallpaper had been stripped off the stairs and most of the downstairs rooms too. Ella stood and surveyed the work. It certainly looked better without the peeling wallpaper. The men had even rubbed down the woodwork. Downstairs required a lot more cleaning, but Ella now realised that upstairs only required repainting since most of the bedroom walls had only ever been painted.
‘Which room will you have as your bedroom,’ Edna said, as they walked around admiring their efforts.
‘The one at the front with the little fireplace. Do you think it works?’
‘Might need the chimney sweeping,’ Walt said, from the landing. I’ll give the man a ring.
‘Thank you. But won’t that undo all our hard work. Ella had visions of black soot everywhere.
‘Better not.’ Walt laughed and Edna joined in. ‘I’ve sent the old people home now. It’s been a long day for them.’
‘It’s been a long day for me too,’ Ella said. ‘I can’t thank you all enough.’
‘It’s been a pleasure.’ Walt clapped a big hand on Ella’s shoulder. ‘It really has. Seeing this o
ld place coming back to life is bringing a smile to everyone’s face, the whole village.’
‘Tomorrow we’ll polish that brass bed up ready for you. So you’ll just need to get a new mattress.’ Edna pulled the turban from her head.
Ella thought of the beds from her mum’s place, the ones she’d sold for a pittance because she hadn’t had anywhere to put them. Her own bed had only been a couple of years old. She wandered back into the bedroom, her bedroom to be, looked at the brass bed, it suited the cottage perfectly, but she wondered how comfortable it would be with its springy base. She laid her hands on it gingerly, it seemed firm. She sat on it, laid down; it actually felt okay.
‘Better with a mattress on it.’ Walt laughed from the doorway.
‘Would you like to eat with us or do you have plans?’ Edna was starting to unbutton her boiler suit. Ella followed suit and wondered which room she’d left her clothes in.
‘No. Really. You’ve been so kind, but I have to catch up with my friend Sam.’
‘Let’s have a quick look at the garden before you go,’ Walt put his arm out, pointing the way.
The garden. Ella’s heart sank. She hadn’t even thought of that.
‘Stick to the walkways,’ Walt instructed, they’re not too muddy.
Ella followed Walt up and down the garden. What struck her was the size of it, enormous. It was ten times the size of her mum’s garden. Walt was pointing things out, telling her plant names, it was in one ear and out the other for Ella; he might as well have been speaking a foreign language.
We’ll need to get started on it soon,’ he said. ‘We’re just in time to get the main crops in.’
‘Crops?’ Ella could hear the alarm in her voice. ‘I don’t know anything about gardening, never mind crops. Can’t I just leave it for now?’
‘Such a waste, it’s been wasted for a few years. We did try to keep it up after your aunt and uncle died, but without the…’ His voice trailed off. ‘Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.’ He patted Ella on the back and turned towards the cottage. ‘Oh dear, look.’ He pointed to some green shoots which appeared to have been cut off just above ground level.
