by Elise Noble
“In Eleanor’s bed?” Maddie suggested.
“That’s a bit weird, don’t you think?”
“It’s only for a night. Dave can bring your bed over tomorrow.”
My bedstead and mattress, the only furniture I had left, were sitting in the back of Dave’s van. He’d planned to come with us today, but an emergency at work meant he’d had to change someone’s fuse box instead.
“I think I’ll just sleep on the sofa. It’s big enough.”
Maddie wrinkled her nose. “It’s kind of grubby.”
I agreed, although it was difficult to tell with its hideous pattern. “Then let’s find something to cover it up.”
The light was fading fast as we rummaged through the cupboards. Maddie hit the jackpot downstairs with a set of blue-and-orange polka-dot bed linen, while Mickey found a box of matches in the kitchen drawer and lit a few of the candles from Aunt Ellie’s nicknack shelf.
The usable rooms were soon bathed in a flickering light, and we gathered in the lounge. I sagged against the wall next to the door while Mickey thumped Maddie on the back as she had a coughing fit.
“Must be all that dust. Drinks. We need drinks.”
That meant venturing back to the kitchen. “I’ll go and look for something.”
One cupboard held a jar of Nescafé, while I found three chipped mugs in another. The rack next to the sink yielded a new packet of scouring pads, and I made the most of them.
Coffee. I needed coffee. The kettle seemed safe enough, but just as I was about to turn it on, I remembered the lack of electricity. Heat and light were things I’d always taken for granted, and now that I was stuck in Lilac Cottage, I developed a new appreciation for the basics in life. It would have to be cold water all around.
“What are you doing for dinner?” Maddie asked.
“I haven’t thought that far ahead. Do you think there’s a supermarket anywhere near?”
“In this place? I doubt it.” She made a face. Maddie was as much of a city girl as me.
“How about going to the pub?” Mickey suggested. “We drove past one on the way into the village.”
“Great idea. My treat,” Maddie said.
I tried to protest, but she wouldn’t listen.
“Liv, you’ve got enough on your plate without starving as well.”
Mickey blew out the candles, and when we got outside, I put the padlock on the front door.
“You don’t need to worry about that,” Maddie said. “I can’t see anyone breaking in to steal an LED disco ball.”
“I left my laptop in the lounge, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Perhaps next time, you could hide it under the neoprene waist-trimming belt or that blanket thing with the feet.”
The three of us piled back into Maddie’s car for the short drive to The Cock and Bull. The twee country pub was a far cry from the sleek wine bars I’d been accustomed to visiting in the city, and the flashing sign outside still wished us a merry Christmas. Inside, someone had tried to go upmarket with a polished metal bar, understated lighting, and sleek glass tables, but then they’d spoiled it with leopard-print bar stools and a life-size reindeer complete with freaky red eyes.
“Cock and Bull?” Mickey muttered as Maddie tried to get the barmaid’s attention. “What kind of name is that?”
“Used to be called The Elusive Count,” the old man propping up the bar next to us said. “But the local kids kept crossing out the O.”
“The Elusive C… Oh dear.” Maddie screwed up her face. “Maybe the change was for the best.”
The man shook his head. “Wrecked this place, young Barry has. Ever since he took over from his father, it’s been new this, new that. Used to be a nice place for a quiet pint, and now look at it.” He gestured at the cactus on the corner of the bar. “The place is full of shite.”
“Now, now, Bernie,” the barmaid said, pushing a bowl of crisps in his direction. “Don’t you be scaring off the newcomers.” She smiled at us. “Haven’t seen you around here before.”
“I’ve just moved here. Into Eleanor Rigby’s house.”
“The old lady who died?”
I nodded. “She was my aunt, but I hadn’t seen her in a long while.”
“Sorry to hear that. If it helps, nobody in the village saw much of her either. Kept herself to herself. I’ve worked here for almost ten years, and not once did she come in for a drink.”
“I’ll try to be more sociable.” Otherwise my life in Upper Foxford promised to be a lonely one. “I’m Olivia.”
“Jean. I live down by the old railway station.”
“Those were the days,” Bernie said. “My father used to work on the railways, and his dad before him. Got any more nuts, Jeanie?”
“Only the wasabi peanuts, and you don’t like those.”
Bernie gave a long sigh. “Bloody Barry and his newfangled ideas. What’s wrong with dry roasted?” He fixed his gaze on me. “You don’t eat that rubbish, do you?”
Actually, I was quite fond of wasabi. “Uh…”
“Ignore him.” A voice came from over my shoulder. “Bernie’s not happy unless he’s complaining about something. Right, Bernie?”
“Easy to do here.”
I turned to look at the stranger and found a sandy-haired guy three inches taller than me, wearing an easy smile.
“So, you’re new to the village?” he asked.
“I moved into Lilac Cottage about six hours ago.”
“I’m surprised old Eleanor’s place has even got the electricity connected up.”
“It hasn’t.”
His eyes widened. “Then how can you live there?”
“Oh, I’ve got candles. It’ll be like camping.” Far better to brush off the situation than admit the truth; that I couldn’t afford to live anywhere else.
Maddie helped me out too. “We used to love camping when we were kids.”
We did, if you counted the blanket fort in Maddie’s bedroom. My mother refused to stoop lower than a five-star hotel, and as our budget wouldn’t stretch to that after my father left, we stayed at home while Maddie’s family made their annual trip to Butlins.
The stranger’s expression suggested he didn’t believe my story, so I tried to change the subject. “I should probably introduce myself. I’m Olivia, and this is Maddie and Mickey.”
He held out a hand for us to shake. “Warren Hannigan. Artist and taxi driver extraordinaire.”
“An artist? What do you paint?”
“Landscapes, mainly. There’s plenty of inspiration in the countryside around here.”
“Have you lived in the village long?”
“My parents moved here when I was fifteen.”
And I guessed his age at twenty-five now, so he’d been there a while.
As we chatted, I could feel eyes on me from all around the pub, and being honest, it creeped me out a little. In London, people kept themselves to themselves, and this attention felt unnerving. Anyone making eye contact in the city was immediately branded a pervert or a nutter.
I risked a glance behind, and the couple at the nearest table studiously averted their gaze.
“Everyone gets curious about strangers,” Warren said, following my line of sight. “It’s not often an outsider moves in.”
An outsider. The interloper. The new girl at school. Still, at least Warren was talking to me, and in time, hopefully the rest of the crowd would too. I had to think positive. The other option was to move back to London and live on Maddie’s sofa.
Mickey’s stomach grumbled, and that reminded me why we’d come to The Cock and Bull in the first place. Food. And we needed to eat soon because Maddie and Mickey had to drive back to London this evening.
I mustered up a smile for Warren. “Well, I hope I’m not an outsider for long. Do you know where we can find a menu in here?”
He reached behind the bar and came back with a handful. “Here you go.”
“Is the food good?” Maddie asked.
; There was a long pause before he answered. “It’s…different.”
“Different in a good way?”
“Uh, you’ll see.”
We did indeed see. It was as if Heston Blumenthal had visited the local supermarket with his eyes closed, then taken LSD before he started cooking.
“What’s oat risotto?” Mickey asked.
I peered over his shoulder. Oat risotto with celery. Oat risotto? Porridge. “Celery porridge.”
“Who puts celery in porridge?”
“The same person who pickles octopus,” Maddie muttered. “Where are the chips?”
I quickly scanned the rest of the page. “Fillet steak with mushroom ketchup and sweet potato fries?”
“I guess that’ll have to do.”
Warren tapped me on the shoulder as I headed for a table with Mickey and Maddie.
“Just a tip—come here on Wednesdays. Wednesday is curry night. Barry tried to do away with it, but there was a mutiny, so it’s here to stay.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that.”
Despite the strange dishes, I drew out dinner for as long as possible, picking at my salmon with crispy beans and quinoa. The thought of going back to Lilac Cottage in the dark didn’t exactly fill me with joy. I even ate dessert—creme brûlée with what looked like Weetabix sprinkled over the top—but it was only putting off the inevitable.
“You’ll be okay,” Maddie said when she dropped me back. “The pub wasn’t so bad, apart from the food. I mean, Jean was nice, and I think Warren likes you.”
“Really?”
After the Edward debacle, I’d been off men. But did I truly want to spend the rest of my life alone?
“Oh yes. I caught him looking at you a couple of times.”
“I’m not sure he’s my type.”
“And who is your type?”
“Well… Edward, I guess.”
When we’d started dating two years ago, he’d seemed perfect. Even our initial meeting had been the modern version of one of the fairy tales I loved so much.
I’d been waiting on a crowded Tube platform at Barbican one hot summer’s day when delays were long and tempers were frayed. A woman laden with shopping bags had sent me flying, and I would have fallen onto the tracks if Edward hadn’t caught me. My heart had been racing as I looked into his hazel eyes for the first time, and not just from my near miss. My white knight had arrived.
With no sign of a train, he’d wrapped an arm around my shoulders and led me to a boutique wine bar near St. Paul’s. I could still remember the warmth that spread through me at his closeness.
“Champagne?” he’d asked. “You’re the kind of girl I should celebrate meeting.”
“Really?”
“You’re quite a catch.”
Mother always told me I would be, but I didn’t think she meant literally. Edward had ordered a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and a platter of light snacks, conversation flowed along with the alcohol, and when we shared a cab home, we’d bypassed my flat altogether.
Back at Edward’s place, we’d spent half the night discussing the literary greats over glasses of crisp Sauvignon Blanc. He’d charmed me, although not out of my knickers, I hasten to add. Not that night, anyway. It turned out we shared many of the same interests—long walks on a Sunday afternoon, visiting the many art galleries London had to offer, and the spectacular architecture of England’s stately homes.
When a stunning bouquet arrived at my flat the day after, complete with a gift card for a year’s joint membership to the National Trust, I realised Edward had stolen my heart. Life changed. I was no longer Olivia Porter, single girl in the city, but one half of Edward and Olivia.
If Mother had been alive, she’d have been thrilled. Edward ticked all her boxes, and mine too, or so I’d thought. Somehow, I’d missed the “cheating bastard” option hidden away in the small print.
He’d broken my heart, torn it right out, and do you know what the worst part was? I still missed him.
“Forget Edward,” Maddie said. “Edward was an arsehole.”
“I guess.”
“Livvie, don’t do this to yourself. You’re making a fresh start, and look at you—you’re a property owner now.”
“You know, the camping idea looks more attractive at the moment.”
She leaned forward to give me a hug. “Keep your chin up. I’ll come back tomorrow with chocolate, and we can make a start on the tidying.”
“Thanks for everything, Mads.”
“This’ll work out fine, you’ll see. A couple of months down the line, this place’ll be a proper home and you’ll be breaking the hearts of all the men in the village.” She gave a little squeal as she straightened. “This is so exciting!”
At least one of us was happy. As I waved her and Mickey off, then closed the front door, I couldn’t dismiss the feeling of foreboding that overcame me.
Would my move to the country be the fresh start I needed or the biggest mistake of my life?
CHAPTER 10
AUNT ELLIE MAY have spent half of her life on the sofa, but it wasn’t as comfortable as it looked. No matter which way I turned, a broken spring stuck into my back, and the seat sagged at one end.
Even so, I couldn’t blame my lack of sleep entirely on it. My mind hadn’t stopped churning all night, creating nightmares about the stacks of junk and the state of the kitchen. Although if the oven did blow up and burn the house down, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. The flood at my old flat had taught me one important lesson: buy insurance. I’d spent the last of my savings on a policy, and for a moment I considered “accidentally” knocking one of the candles over myself. At least that would solve the tidying problem.
The sheer volume of junk in the house made me cringe. I hated clutter. Hated it! It’d take me months to clear this lot. Years, maybe. Even if I managed to sell everything on eBay, I’d still have to package it up and take it to the post office—no mean feat without a car. Oh, and in between that, I needed to carry on with my web design clients because I couldn’t rely on online auctions for my bread and butter. Did Lilac Cottage even have a broadband connection?
If not, I’d be spending an awful lot of time nursing a coffee in the local branch of Starbucks. If there was a Starbucks. Here in the sticks, I’d probably end up with Bernie in The Cock and Bull, which at least had free Wi-Fi even if it didn’t have edible food.
Despite being exhausted, I forced myself to get up as soon as the sun rose. Without electricity, I couldn’t afford to waste any of the precious daylight hours at this time of year.
Okay, start small, Olivia.
That meant tackling the third bedroom first. Most of the jewellery seemed to be in there, and hopefully that would bring in enough cash to pay for the basic repairs the house was crying out for. I’d already discovered the upstairs toilet didn’t flush properly. What other surprises were lurking beneath the mess?
I spent the first few hours of the day carrying items down to the kitchen, where I’d set up a makeshift photo studio in front of the window with a white sheet draped over the open door. By the time Maddie and Dave arrived just before noon, I had thirty-two items catalogued and up for sale on eBay, and aching thighs from all the stairs. Who needed that weird exercise machine?
Maddie bounded in through the open door. I couldn’t lock it from the inside, but last night, I’d dragged the shelves next to it across so if anyone tried to get in, Aunt Ellie’s collection of junk would spill all over the place and wake me up.
“We’ve brought your bed,” Maddie called.
Oh, thank goodness. I greeted her with a hug. “You’re a star. I was dreading another night on that sofa.”
Dave kissed me on the cheek and looked around. “Maddie said it was bad, but not this bad. Bloody hell, look at the size of that spider.”
I sprinted outside after Maddie, who leapt into Dave’s van and locked the doors.
“You didn’t tell me there were spiders,” she screeched through the glass.
“I didn’t know. Honestly. Look on the bright side—at least it wasn’t Margot.”
Dave leaned out of the doorway. “It’s okay. I’ve flushed it down the loo.”
A little coaxing got Maddie into the house again, and between the three of us, we wrestled Eleanor’s ugly old bed downstairs. No doubt I’d have a hernia by the time the cottage was habitable.
“Now what?” I asked. “We can’t leave it there.”
Dave had propped the mattress up against the front wall, and it created an eyesore.
“We’ll have to take it to the tip,” he said. “Any idea where that is?”
“I don’t even know how to get back to the main road.”
“Tell you what—me and Maddie’ll get rid of the bed while you sort out lunch.”
Maddie made a face. “Liv, are you sure you don’t need a hand with the food?”
“No!” Dave and I both said, a tad too quickly. Maddie may have been my best friend, but there was a reason I did all the cooking. She made the chef at The Cock and Bull look like a genius, and Dave had to change the batteries in their smoke detector at least once a month.
“I’ll need you to lift the other end of the bed,” Dave told her.
While they putt-putted off down the lane with Dave’s van sounding in desperate need of a service, I went inside to fetch my purse. There must be shops in the village, right?
I knew there was nothing but fields and the odd cottage between Aunt Ellie’s and the pub, so I set off in the other direction on foot, searching for signs of civilisation. Oh, what I’d have given to find a branch of Waitrose or even a Sainsbury’s.
No such luck. Ten minutes later, I stumbled across a handful of storefronts in what passed for Upper Foxford’s high street. A betting shop, a tiny café sharing space with a hair salon, and opposite them, an Indian takeaway and a newsagent.
As I headed past a pet shop with rabbit hutches and a few struggling potted plants outside, I was pleased to see the newsagent doubled up as a post office, so at least I had somewhere convenient to take my eBay shipments. Anything that didn’t sell could go to the Age Concern charity shop next door but one, on the other side of a tiny pharmacy. The line-up was completed by Floyd’s supermarket, and that was where I headed.
