Summer Secrets at Streamside Cottage

by Samantha Tonge

  How could I speak about Frederick again to Trish without upsetting her? Perhaps I’d drop into The Pen Pusher and judge her mood.

  Taz didn’t want to settle in his bed so I left him staring out of the French patio doors. I went into the garden and sat by the stream, theories about the blurb running through my mind as quickly as the water. As the sun shone down and the water babbled, as the weeping willow branches gently shimmied in the breeze I could have sat there forever. Over and over the last line repeated in my mind. I got to my feet and paced up and down but no revelation or insight arrived. Time passed quickly until lunchtime and I went indoors and sat on the sofa, alone with my frustration. Ben’s car flashed past the front of the house. I ran to the front door and called down to his house, asking if he fancied a sandwich. I couldn’t explain the compulsion that made Ben the person I wanted to talk to about this.

  Apparently, he’d had a busy morning and been collared by his ex-girlfriend’s parents.

  ‘They are on my round, both retired but they’ve just set up a dog-walking business.’ He sat at the kitchen table, and stared out of the window for a second. ‘My ex… she’s just got engaged.’

  I nodded sympathetically. Finding that out must have been a shock.

  ‘We split up because she’d met another bloke at the gym – it’s not a hobby we shared. Her mum and dad didn’t want me to hear from anyone else. She lives in Manchester now, having given up her job for him and is temping until a permanent position comes up.’ Ben sighed. ‘I wish her well, really I do, but I think she’s rushed into that commitment just like she and I did. They’ve only known each other for six months. I can’t even imagine going on a date with a stranger, not yet.’

  I broke eye contact with him as my stomach squeezed. Then I tried to imagine what it would feel like if Ash met someone else soon after our break-up. Perhaps he had. Oddly, it didn’t feel as bad as I’d have thought. Ben gave me a sheepish smile and I wanted to envelop him in a hug; it would have seemed so right.

  I couldn’t explain the familiarity I felt towards him without it being earned.

  He took another bite. ‘I guess whirlwind romances do exist outside of book covers. Anyway, enough about me, what did you need to discuss?’

  I told him about Frederick’s novel. ‘I’m not sure what to do next,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to push Trish to talk, the break-up hit her badly.’ I didn’t tell him she’d held something back.

  Ben rubbed his hands together and sat up. ‘Let’s see what I can find out.’ His eyes twinkled as he went on his phone and I couldn’t help smiling as I made cups of tea. Ben’s was almost cold by the time he looked up. ‘He’s doing a book signing tour kicking off with the launch next Thursday. Perhaps he’s stayed true to the cottage’s location and based the story in Hertfordshire because the first stop is at Chapter and Verse, the Independent Bookshop of the Year, down the road in Henchurch. Tickets cost fifteen pounds on the door which includes a copy of the book.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s the perfect opportunity to meet him face to face and find out everything you need to about that blurb.’

  ‘Thanks, Ben, that’s a good idea.’

  He glanced outside. Sunshine poured in the French patio doors.

  ‘Fancy coming with me to the forest? It’s a great afternoon for taking photos and it’s so peaceful there. Just what I need after this morning.’

  I looked out and studied the weeping willow once more, the shape of the leaves, the curve of the branches. My fingers twitched as I recalled how it had felt to sketch Caroline’s acorn design.

  ‘It’s no biggie if you don’t,’ he quickly added.

  ‘No, I’d love to, thanks. Just let me get ready, I’ll be five minutes.’

  He beamed. ‘Meet you outside. I’ll just change and grab my camera.’

  We stopped at Blossom’s Bakes on the way and Ben grabbed a bag of cookies. Once we arrived at the bench, in the forest, I applied more sun cream, even though there was more shade. Ben offered me a cookie and we sat eating.

  ‘However often I come here, it always looks different,’ he said and wiped crumbs from his mouth. ‘That’s one thing I love about living in England – the distinct four seasons. There’s always a new berry or flower to admire and I love capturing the changing weather.’ He swigged from his water bottle, got up and took out his camera.

  I watched him for a while, crouching down to snap mushrooms and looking skywards to photograph chinks of sunlight forging their way through the tree canopies. An oak caught my eye and I thought of Caroline. Tentatively I took out my sketch pad and a pencil. I opened it and stared at the blank page before drawing a sprig of the oak leaves. Then I turned my attention to a cluster of dandelions on the ground. Quicker and quicker my hand moved. I drew peeling bark, a pile of soggy leaves, spider webs and spongy moss. I turned the page and sketched the fanned-out appearance of ferns. A bush caught my eye punctuated by bright tangerine berries. Within minutes I’d transferred their image to the page.

  My pulse raced. This felt good. It felt right. My eyes tingled… it had been so long since I’d dived into the moment creatively, like this. I’d forgotten how drawing really made me feel… like me.

  Ben came over and hovered by my shoulder. ‘Do you mind if I look?’

  I paused for a second and then turned the sketch book his way. He sat down and studied my work for a few moments. ‘These are really good, Lizzie. I love how you’ve caught the light on that bark. That’s one of the things that excites me most about taking photos – how light can be so transformative. And also, how I capture a moment in time that will never be repeated.’

  ‘I feel like that about my tattoos,’ I said and nodded. ‘They represent a moment in time for whatever the client wants, or needs.’

  We looked at each other and smiled, a moment in time where we both felt exactly the same. Then we sat in a comfortable silence for a while. With my permission Ben took a couple of shots of me as I sat on the bench, gazing at nature. He talked about how he’d recently snapped Jill gardening and how her face lost years as she lost herself in her passion.

  As the sun began to set, reluctantly I packed away my sketch pad. We headed back, Ben making me laugh as he talked about the times he’d borrow his mum’s camera as a small boy, and never failed to take a photo that didn’t have his finger across the lens.

  We came to the cottage.

  ‘How about I make us something to eat?’ I said, not wanting to call it a day. ‘I know Taz would appreciate a guest.’

  22

  7 years ago

  The Koi fish symbolises perseverance in the face of adversity

  I stood in front of my easel, in the white-washed art room that smelt of floor cleaner. My fingers twitched as if they knew what was about to happen. The stick of charcoal felt smooth in my hand. It looked so unremarkable yet, given the right inspiration, could produce magic. I was three weeks into my first year at university. The theme for this first term in the art society was Impressionist portraiture.

  Sitting on a table the society’s third year president, Tom, took off his jumper revealing a beautiful orange Koi fish tattooed onto the front of his arm. I’d admired the lines and depth of its colour the week previously. He’d had it done on his return from visiting Japan in the summer, just before coming back to re-sit all his exams after stress had caused him to fail.

  ‘Right guys, the Impressionists painted what they felt about a subject, rather than trying to create an accurate depiction. They focused on visual impression, according to how the colour and light shifted. Let’s take that a step further and simply focus on the personality that we feel shining out from our partner.’

  I’d had a full morning of lectures and almost hadn’t come but didn’t want to let Ash down. We’d partnered up out of necessity. Everyone else seemed to have joined with a friend. Several from Ash’s art course attended but he hadn’t got to know them well yet. My hand moved across the paper, conjuring up the strong nose, the eyes lit by humour and thin l
ips that always looked as if they were on the verge of laughing. Full lips were the modern trend. I’d never got it. Ash’s represented his quick-witted observational comments and added angularity and strength to his face.

  I focused completely on the drawing, grateful to escape my worries – like how I’d shown myself up last night not knowing how to drink a Jagerbomb. Earlier my flatmates had teased me about having never travelled on a bus. Heidi gave me a hug and said it was sweet. She did the same when I washed my red t-shirt with white underwear and my bras and knickers came out pink. I’d tried to make Mum let me help out more at home but she always said it was her job. Mine was to study hard.

  Standing out was no bad thing, but only when it was your decision.

  The rub of charcoal against paper filled the silence along with the wall clock’s ticking. Ash attempted to chat about the foam party the students’ union was running at the weekend. Perhaps he regretted teaming up with me; I wasn’t as entertaining as Megan who impersonated celebrities or Jay who’d share his Red Bull. Yet we’d inadvertently found ourselves shopping together after the first lesson and last week we’d gone for coffee after the meeting which always took place on a Wednesday when we had the afternoon free – apart from Ash’s football practice but that wasn’t until six. I’d ordered my usual decaffeinated black Americano but he persuaded me to try something Mum would have said was bad for my nervous system and teeth. A caffeinated hazelnut syrup latte quickly became my favourite.

  I’d also bumped into him at a club and we’d danced together briefly. I was in a t-shirt and jeans. My parents had reassured me that was all students wore. Maybe back in the seventies but everything was different now. For a night in town the girls in my flat wore tight dresses and high sandals. They used eyebrow pencils and applied highlighters.

  Their make-up bags sounded more like stationery cupboards.

  Heidi had insisted on curling my brown hair. It was so long I only ever tied it back in a ponytail, like Mum and her smart chignon. According to her, busy people didn’t have time to think about styling when they got up in the morning.

  I took down my sheet from the easel as we swapped over. Ash started to draw but after five minutes he stopped.

  ‘What’s wrong today, Lizzie?’

  ‘I’m just tired.’ Uninvited tears arrived in my eyes.

  Ash packed away both our sheets into his folder and made our excuses to Tom who gave a knowing look. I felt better thinking it was nothing unusual for First Years to break down. Ash placed an arm around my shoulder and guided me down to the student canteen. He had a rakish elegance – an unassuming air that I often found myself thinking about.

  We snagged a table in the corner. ‘Hot chocolate, whipped cream, marshmallows, all the trimmings, no arguments,’ he said, making a drink sound more like a dish from a Michelin starred restaurant. He disappeared to the counter and came back with the two steaming mugs plus burgers. I took a mouthful of the rich brown liquid and immediately felt cheered.

  ‘How much do I owe you?’ I said, enjoying the light-hearted ambiance of cutlery on plates, of coffee machines grinding beans and frothing milk, of students chatting earnestly or larking around.

  ‘I got it on my canteen card. You can treat me next week.’

  Something apart from the hot chocolate warmed my insides. For the first time in days a sense of home infused me.

  ‘So what’s going on?’ asked Ash. He’d already eaten half his burger. His dark eyes pierced through my evasiveness. ‘Is there someone back home? Are you missing them? One of my flat mates is on the phone twenty-four seven to his girlfriend.’

  ‘No, nothing like that.’ My cheeks flushed. ‘I’ve never had a boyfriend.’

  Ash laughed. ‘Yeah, right.’

  I stared at my drink.

  ‘Wow, you’re not joking? Sorry, I’m just surprised.’

  I took another sip of hot chocolate. ‘I wanted to go out with a boy at school once, called Jake. We got to know each other in Year Eleven. He worked hard and was polite, we studied together. I thought my parents would be impressed.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘They found out that his older brother was in prison for dealing. Even though his parents ran a successful business and he volunteered in a charity shop, they refused to believe Jake and his family wouldn’t mean trouble.’

  He tilted his head. ‘No one’s perfect. What sort of man were they waiting for?’

  Good question.

  ‘They… they were just being protective.’

  ‘So, why the tears today?’

  ‘This morning, I got an essay back.’ My voice wavered. ‘A fail.’

  ‘Bad luck.’ He took off his suede jacket. ‘Stinks, doesn’t it? But that’s what the first year is all about.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘A levels were different from GCSEs and a degree is new again. I don’t think it’s realistic to expect that everyone will do great straight off. I mean, the first year of Sixth Form college was hard enough, wasn’t it?’

  ‘I stayed in the school Sixth Form… but I dunno, it seemed okay to me. Truth is I’ve never failed at anything.’

  Ash stopped chewing. ‘How’s that even possible?’

  Another good question.

  ‘Mum and Dad always helped me plan my study timetables. They’d go over my homework, help me revise and check I’d done everything I needed to every night.’

  ‘But that was just when you started high school, right?’

  ‘No, up until the end of the Sixth Form.’

  His eyebrows shot into his hairline. ‘That’s pretty hands on.’

  It was? It had never really struck me that other parents didn’t get involved with homework. ‘I did fail a biology test in Year Seven once. Dad went mad.’

  ‘Ground you, did he? Mum used to take my gadgets away for a whole week if I failed a test she thought I should have passed.’

  ‘No, he wasn’t mad with me. He went into the school and told them he and Mum didn’t pay their extortionate fees for me to get marked down. They changed the grade and it didn’t happen again.’

  Ash let out a low whistle. ‘The benefits of private schooling.’

  Heat crept up my neck. ‘I guess so, but as high school progressed, I got tutors, worked hard. It was rare for me to ever get less than an A.’

  ‘So what went wrong this time?’

  ‘I’ve been trying to stick to the timetable Mum and Dad helped me with. They spent ages and I’m really grateful but—’

  ‘Whoa, tell me you’re joking. They are still doing that stuff? And you’re still letting them?’ Ash pushed away his plate. ‘Lizzie, come on, you’re one of the most sensible people I’ve met here. You can do that for yourself.’

  I squirmed in my seat. I could?

  ‘So why do you think their plan didn’t work?’

  ‘They meant well but it just doesn’t fit with student life. The plan sets aside evenings for study, but I’m often out or cooking with flatmates. And they always drilled into me never to study much after eleven, so that only left early mornings and lunchtimes plus a couple of hours after lectures. I just didn’t have enough time to put into the essay as I wanted.’

  ‘I’m not surprised. Lizzie. Working late into the night is a bona fide part of university life. I’m talking coffee, caffeine tablets, whatever it takes.’

  I looked at my burger. How was Ash to know I was vegetarian? Not that I’d ever decided that for myself. Mum and Dad just said it was healthier but I’d always loved the smell of frying bacon if we passed a café in town.

  ‘I reckon you’ll feel your way into a study plan that suits you best, as the term progresses – and only you can do that. Your parents aren’t here to see how you live, so how can they possibly know what’s best? I’ve already realised going to the library suits me as there are too many distractions in the flat.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about it like that. You must think me pretty lame.’

  His han
d covered mine. ‘You’re kind, generous, intelligent, funny, even if you don’t mean to be. Last week in art soc you gave your water bottle to that guy who was suffering a hangover. When I bumped into you clubbing the other night, once you chilled, I couldn’t keep up with your freakish dance moves.’

  I laughed.

  ‘It’s okay to get a fail sometimes, Lizzie. You’ve got everything going for you. I just think you’ve never been used to taking risks.’

  ‘All risks are dangerous. My parents work in insurance and have always told me that.’

  ‘Really? Take… Bill Gates. He dropped out of college to found Microsoft. That could have backfired. And think of Neil Armstrong, setting the first human foot on the moon. He didn’t know what would happen and when the rocket took off there was every chance the mission could have failed or even worse, but nevertheless he followed his heart.’

  I took in every word.

  ‘You just need a bit of self-belief. You can do this, like the thousands of other students who muddle through. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Half the time none of us really know what we’re doing, but we’re learning.’

  I lifted the burger roll and took a bite. My taste buds clung to the smoked flavours and juices. Heaven. Already one risk had paid off.

  ‘Not even you?’

  ‘You’re talking to the person who a couple of years ago dabbled with online dating. I lied about my birth date to register. A woman asked me to send her a dirty picture.’ He covered his eyes with his hands. ‘I sent her a photo of me in my muddy cricket kit.’

  I managed to stop giggling a few minutes later and we went outside. The October sun had found space to shine despite being stalked by a large cloud. My hair had come loose and I took out the bobble and re-tied it tight.

  ‘Nice hair,’ said Ash.

  ‘I’d love to get it all cut off.’

  ‘What’s stopping you?’

  I met his gaze.