Summer Secrets at Streamside Cottage

by Samantha Tonge

  19

  6 years ago – the holidays

  Tattoo inks can cause allergic reactions that may surface years later

  I went down into the hallway in my new leggings and t-shirt. Scones and coffee? I couldn’t wait for this.

  Mum tutted. ‘You dress in such drab colours these days and in this humid weather it’s important to keep ventilated. If you aren’t careful you’ll come out in a heat rash. Why not wear one of your smart dresses from the Sixth Form? I thought we’d have afternoon tea in Harrods for a treat.’

  ‘Mum, these clothes are comfortable and they’re new.’

  ‘Then at least change those dreadful boots. You’ve hardly taken them off since you came home two weeks ago and are you sure about that purple streak in your hair?’

  ‘It’s just a phase, she’ll grow out of it,’ I’d heard Dad say last night, as if the dye were a new toy.

  ‘We’ve discussed this, Mum. Please respect that I have my own style.’ My voice had trembled the first time I faced their disapproval of my choppy short cut. But each time I defended my point of view it strengthened my resolve, like when faced with their shock that I was no longer vegetarian. Dad lectured me about the level of fat in burgers and horror stories about where takeaways sourced their meat and said I was setting myself up for cancer or heart disease.

  My parents seemed to have forgotten their diet hadn’t always been restricted. When forging their careers in their twenties, Dad had proposed to Mum during one lunch hour. They often told the story of how they met for lunch near work and Dad ordered her favourite Beef Wellington and tightly rolled up a paper serviette so that the diamond-studded gold band could act as a surprise napkin ring.

  I followed Mum towards the front door.

  ‘I’m surprised that you’re up in time,’ she said. ‘Getting back at two a.m., it’s no wonder you’ve got dark shadows under your eyes after your first year at university.’

  ‘I told you not to wait up. I’m perfectly fine in a taxi.’

  ‘Not on your own.’

  I’d tried to compromise so that she and Dad wouldn’t worry. At university I’d often not be back before four.

  Last night my school mates Phoebe and Amelia couldn’t believe the change in me. We drank cocktails together and I showed them photos of Ash. It was good to feel like an equal when, finally, I could participate in chat about relationships.

  ‘What are we celebrating, anyway?’ I asked brightly as Mum picked up her handbag.

  ‘I’ll tell you when we’re there,’ she said and took out her car keys.

  ‘Mum! Don’t do that.’ I turned her around and wrapped my arms around her waist. ‘You know how much I love you but this is really mean. Come on, spill the beans.’ I pulled puppy dog eyes and for a few seconds we laughed together like we used to before I left for university.

  ‘Patience is a virtue, Elizabeth.’

  ‘Pretty please?’

  ‘Oh for goodness sake, okay, if you insist…’ Her eyes shone. ‘It’s not been easy but finally my boss said yes. I’ve arranged work experience for you in the office. You start the day after tomorrow and it runs until the end of the summer.’ Gently she pushed me away and grasped my hands, the biggest smile on her face that I’d seen for ages. ‘It’s going to be so much fun, you and me working together.’

  I didn’t blink.

  ‘A wonderful surprise, isn’t it? The pay’s decent and Greg said he’ll put you to work with a wide range of colleagues to teach you as much as possible about the basics of the insurance industry. It’ll look so good on your CV and who knows, you might decide it’s the area of finance you’re most interested in. We can lunch together and you’ll meet my friends.’ She looked at her watch. ‘So we need to get moving. I’ll buy you a new wardrobe, you’ll need shoes, blouses, a trouser suit perhaps and—’

  ‘Hold on. Mum. I really appreciate what you’ve done, thanks so much, but…’ I let go of her hands, ‘… there’s no way I can accept.’

  A confused expression crossed her face as I told her I’d got my job in the clothes shop and they’d kindly increased my hours for the next three months. I’d only just found out and felt so excited. Yet my stomach twisted. I hated to see Mum hurt.

  ‘I love working there and am so lucky Ash pointed out the advert. The pay’s not bad and it’s the perfect flexible job for during term time.’

  ‘But Dad and I have told you countless times to ask us if you’re short.’ She shrugged. ‘Just hand in your notice.’

  ‘I’m not doing that. It’s about time I earned my own money.’ I clenched my fists. I had to stick up for myself. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree it would be wrong to let my boss down at the last minute. I’m really grateful, Mum, but it’s time I started sorting things out for myself.’

  We still went for afternoon tea and chatted about anything but my job. I complimented the new lipstick she was wearing. She normally loved it when I noticed things like that but hardly smiled. We didn’t have our usual jokey argument about which should go on the scones first, cream or jam and we had a small glass of champagne but it didn’t feel as if there was anything to celebrate.

  20

  Now

  Tattoo is one of the most misspelled English words, often being spelled as tatoo

  I stood in the hallway and stared. The woman removed her floppy hat, the sunglasses and passed me her mackintosh as if she were some fawned-over fifties film star.

  ‘Caroline?’ Trish was right. I should have guessed from the pungent perfume that almost eliminated the whiff of tobacco.

  ‘Sorry for barging in but the height of discretion was necessary.’

  I willed myself not to say the obvious.

  She closed the front door and brushed down her trouser suit, not that it needed fluff removing. In the tattoo parlour I often saw people’s behavioural ticks that surfaced when they felt uncomfortable. Like talking fast, twirling hair, stroking their phone or rubbing their nose.

  ‘About the cottage,’ I said, ‘I’m still not exactly sure when I’ll be leaving but—’

  ‘I haven’t come about that.’

  ‘Oh. Right. May I ask… why the disguise?’

  ‘It’s not a disguise. I just don’t want everyone knowing my business.’

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Something stronger?’ she asked hopefully. Tentatively she went into the lounge and surveyed the room, shoulders hunched as if she expected the roof to collapse. Eventually they relaxed. ‘There’s a lot of room for improvement but you’ve definitely smartened up the place.’

  ‘Are you here because you’ve heard about the kitten and want to adopt it?’

  ‘Good lord, no.’ She pressed her fingers on the sofa before sitting down.

  I came back armed with two glasses and a bottle of wine. Caroline poured whilst I fetched Taz to sit on the sofa with us. She eyed him suspiciously and put one of the cushions between them. With her immaculate executive lines, the professional no-nonsense demeanour, she reminded me of Mum, until she spoke her next, barely audible sentence.

  ‘I want a tattoo.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  She looked at the door leading to the hallway as if worried someone might hear.

  ‘I’m not sure what to say. I thought you didn’t approve.’

  ‘I don’t. Not completely. Ink work everywhere, on show – it’s not appealing, but something simple, classy, discreet… you see I’ve got this new boyfriend.’

  Caroline got divorced five years ago. Her husband had an affair. She threw herself into her career to get over it and then two years ago started dating again – mostly with men half her age, according to Jill.

  ‘We’ve been dating for just under six months. He’s… a little younger than me.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Twenty-one years to be exact, he’s just turned thirty.’ She hugged her knees and a helpless smile crossed her face, the telltale sign that told me what she was going to say next. ‘I want his name tattooed on my body, across my lower ba
ck. We’re going on a beach holiday together in four weeks’ time. It’ll be a surprise.’

  ‘That’s a bit… permanent. What if you split up?’

  ‘We won’t,’ she said quickly and sipped her wine.

  ‘Why all the cloak and daggers?’

  ‘My boss Julie, she wouldn’t approve and I’m pushing for a promotion. It’s hard on my own and I can’t miss out again, so I’m doing everything I can to look polished and bring in business. I know the tattoo won’t be on display but even so… I think it would taint her view of me.’ Caroline gave a sheepish smile. ‘You met her at the party.’

  ‘I’m sorry but I don’t think it’s a good idea. People usually regret such personal tattoos and have you thought… is there the smallest possibility that he might not welcome it?’

  ‘He’ll feel flattered.’

  ‘Six months isn’t that long. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be as serious about the relationship as you but I wouldn’t be doing my job properly if I didn’t make you consider all the possibilities. What if he isn’t and finds the tattoo a bit overwhelming.’

  ‘He is serious,’ she said sharply and topped up her glass. Tentatively she tickled Taz’s ears. ‘We had an argument recently and split up for a few days, but we’re back together. This will be a symbol of my commitment to him and it’ll make me seem younger; show him that whatever his family think, the age difference isn’t a problem.’

  Oh crap – the fixer tattoo. I’d seen it many times before, the hope that a tattoo will repair a broken relationship. I’ve inked couples who’ve been through a rough patch and just got back together, but the sniping in the treatment room made it obvious they’ll soon regret their matching designs. One irritable couple each had the half of a heart inked onto their wrists – they were both back within a month for laser removal.

  ‘I’m sorry, Caroline, I just don’t feel comfortable about it.’ And I thought back to the tattoo I’d nearly coloured in the wrong colour and Katya’s face when she’d come into the room to give me a message and, having overheard me chat about the details of the design earlier, pointed out that I’d selected the wrong ink. I’d let her down and let down myself too. What if I made another error?

  And yet… My stomach fluttered.

  ‘I’m a paying customer.’ She folded her arms. ‘Don’t you have to do what I ask?’

  ‘No, because I care and a client being happy with my art, forever, is more important than what I might earn.’ I sighed. ‘Look, Caroline, find another tattoo artist. I- I’m not right for this.’

  Her arms dropped to her sides. ‘Look, I’ve thought this through. Designs on backs are sexy. Please, I’d rather go to a tattoo artist I’ve got to know a little. It’s a dangerous business, I’ve Googled it. I could end up with a misspelt name.’ She leant forward. ‘Or catch some awful disease.’

  ‘Not if you go to a reputable parlour and in any case, I haven’t got any sterilising equipment here. I’d have to send off for disposable needles and they could take a week to arrive.’

  ‘Will that still leave enough healing time?’

  ‘Yes, all being well you only need two weeks. It’s not the easiest place to have a tattoo, though. You’d have to try to sleep on your side for the first couple of nights and—’

  ‘Whatever it takes.’

  I remembered the initial period of officially dating Ash, that all-encompassing excitement, the belief that nothing nor no one could ever break our bond. I didn’t date with my head or heart those first few months. We’d made do with just kissing in the beginning. Ash sensed I was only just finding myself. But once I felt more solid in terms of who I was, Ash and me, we had sex – a lot.

  ‘What else symbolises your relationship, say… the place you first met or got close?’ I’d missed talking to clients, helping them to dig deep and come up with the perfect design for them. ‘I once tattooed a man who got to know his girlfriend whilst backpacking around Asia. He had a map of Thailand across his back with a heart marking the town where they met.’ I shrugged. ‘Or has he ever given you a particular flower? Or—’

  ‘We did have our first kiss under one of the oak trees in Leafton Forest. He picked some acorns off the ground afterwards and we shared them to remember the moment. I still have them in a bowl at home. He’s soppy like that.’ Caroline stopped stroking Taz. ‘He makes me feel good, Lizzie. There’s nothing wrong with celebrating that, is there?’

  I put down my glass and smiled. ‘What about a sprig of oak leaves, then, with a few acorns?’ My stomach fluttered again, like it used to when I worked. I hadn’t felt like this for such a long time. Perhaps Katya was right, being away from London was just the tonic I needed. ‘You could get it done in black or add shades of brown and green.’ It was such a popular tattoo to have and would also have meaning if they ever split up. Acorns are symbolic of something new growing into something strong, so it would symbolise Caroline moving on from her divorce. I showed her my portfolio to give her ideas and she pointed to a design someone had on their foot. Hungry, I made us cheese sandwiches and then sketched out a wider version to go across the bottom of her back. It was as if I’d never had a break from my art.

  She scrutinised the drawing and the lines on her brow disappeared. ‘I love it. Can you book me in?’

  I swallowed, still hesitant, still doubting myself. ‘Feel free to take this sketch to another artist.’

  ‘Please,’ she said. ‘I won’t trust anyone else.’

  I took a deep breath. I couldn’t help but feel excited.

  We decided on her next day off in the middle of next week and then enjoyed general chit-chat whilst we finished eating. I helped her back into the mackintosh and she put on the hat and glasses even though it was dark outside now. Taking out her cigarettes she hurried off. I locked up the house, realised how tired I was, and Taz swiped me as I put him into his bed. Angrily he meowed as I yawned and turned off the kitchen light. It immediately went silent and stayed quiet as I shut the door. I stood outside in the hallway just waiting for one meow before I went upstairs. Nothing. I opened the door to check he was all right.

  Something furry touched my foot. I turned on the light and gazed down. Blue eyes stared up.

  ‘No,’ I said.

  Taz pawed at my toes.

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake!’ I picked him up in one arm and the litter tray in the other. He settled on my bed whilst I checked for hazards like loose wires. Firmly I closed the bedroom door. Because I didn’t have many belongings or furniture it was easy to kitten-proof the area. I washed and brushed my teeth and by the time I got back, Taz had snuggled up to one of the pillows. I climbed in between the sheets with my phone and Taz nestled into my neck. I pulled him off and settled him further down the bed but clumsily he made his way back and once again collapsed under my chin. For the first time since sleeping here I was glad for the company, after hearing Trish’s story about the teddy bear and how she’d hinted that she hadn’t yet told me the full story. What if she was withholding even more disturbing details?

  Yet the building itself still felt kind. There had to be a logical reason for the teddy bear and blood.

  Eventually the kitten’s breathing slowed and with another yawn I went on my phone and ordered a batch of disposable tattoo needles, a small part of me still wondering if I was doing the right thing, tattooing again. An advert caught my eye about a parlour in London. I did miss aspects of the capital like my favourite fried chicken takeaway, the impressive skyline and the shopping. Perhaps it was no surprise that a glamorous author like Frederick found it hard to settle here. Yet Ben’s face came into my mind, along with friendly Neve, the free iced bun from Tim, the beautiful forest and the cottage’s postcard pretty garden.

  As each day passed, I sensed my grip on London life slowly loosening and amiable Leafton’s grasp becoming tighter.

  21

  Now

  The 2018 Melbourne Literary Festival featured a pop-up tattoo parlour inking literary memorials
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br />   I opened my eyes as a wet nose bumped the end of mine. For a brief moment reality merged with my dream. I’d been rubbing noses with my reflected friend. Mum had told me Eskimos did that. I’d run into my bedroom and stood in front of the mirror, touching it with my nose and turning my head from side to side. Then Jimmy Jammy appeared and told us it was yukky. The last moments of it got stranger as my reflection jumped out of the mirror and the two of us chased him downstairs and into the garden, threatening to do it to him.

  I yawned and stared at the ceiling, letting the room come into focus. Taz butted my chin. I recalled yesterday – Trish and everything she’d said about Frederick. I picked up my phone from the pillow and out of curiosity I went onto Amazon to read the blurb for his new book. Nothing caught my eye until the end.

  I re-read the last sentence.

  It was a very tenuous link.

  Probably nothing.

  When Sal moves to Riverside Cottage she has dreams of starting again. Her marriage to Brad is on the rocks after his one-night stand. He wants out. She wants in. Sal find out she is pregnant so reluctantly he finds them a new place to live.

  A new beginning.

  However, her dreams of idyllic countryside living soon turn into nightmares when she and Brad get to know Charlotte and Martin.

  Sal questions her own sanity. And fears for her life.

  Why would he take an expectant mother to live in a place that would be best hidden from a child?

  The novel was inspired by Streamside Cottage and spoke of hiding the place from a child, just like my parents had hidden the cottage from me when growing up.

  As I washed Taz’s bowls, thoughts that didn’t make sense whirred around in my mind. I brushed my hair, pulled on skinny jeans and my favourite t-shirt. I recalled the photo of Frederick I’d seen on his website. There was no doubt he was attractive with the thick black hair and strong jawline. Yet he wore a tight leather jacket that hinted at the extra pounds of middle age and a forced expression that said ‘I want you to believe I’m a Very Important Author.’