by kendra Smith
Maddie stood up, walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. A few moments later she heard the hotel bedroom door shut as she sank to the floor, clutching her knees.
31
‘Right, darling, let’s get in and have a look – a look at your new home. Yours, Maddie.’ Rachel squeezed Maddie’s hand. Taffie barked at her heels. It was a grey November day with a light, misty drizzle that hadn’t let up all the way down from Hampshire.
‘Shh! Taffie! I’ll take you on the beach later!’ She bent down and tickled him under the chin. Thank God for her companion Taffie. The last week had been awful. She felt stung about what Greg thought her capable of doing. She’d had to tell the school that she was leaving, and she’d cried herself to sleep on a few occasions – quietly, as Rachel and Alan were in the next room. It was nineteen years ago all over again…
Stop feeling sorry for yourself, a new voice was commanding. Maddie looked at the front door. Her front door. She and Rachel were on the doorstep, a silver Yale key in her hand. They’d just been to the estate agents and he had fiddled about at the back of the office and returned with a big A4 jiffy bag with the key for the cottage, the instructions for the boiler, and a leaflet from the council about the bins.
The cottage was detached and small; it was perfect. It was hers. A shiver ran up her spine. There were two bedrooms upstairs with dormer windows and a large bathroom. Downstairs was a lounge that ran the width of the house with a vast window overlooking the back garden. At the bottom of the garden a low stone wall outlined the end of the property and provided some shelter from the sea winds and waves, which would often spill up onto the path running along the other side. The path meandered around the coastline for several miles, and in places stone steps led right down to the beach.
The kitchen-diner wasn’t big, but there was a window there too, overlooking the bay with another spectacular view. There was a back door, and a loo downstairs, and a tiny under-stairs cupboard. Outside, the cottage was white pebble dash with a red-tiled roof. Next to her mossy-green-painted wooden door a black anchor was nailed to the cottage wall. It was slightly wonky. Maddie touched it with her finger and noticed that the nail was rusty. She gently moved it upright – and it moved right back again. Olive’s old cottage.
Although it was achingly familiar, it didn’t feel like Maddie’s home – yet. She’d never lived anywhere alone. It had always been her and someone else, even at university she had been in halls, then a flat share, then – well, back home with Mum and Dad, and then along had come Tim, then looking after Ed. Alone? The thought terrified her. The world seemed to be full of confident people, and Maddie wasn’t really sure how to become one of those yet. C’mon, she said to herself, you can do this.
Now, Maddie put the key in the lock and turned it. She’d had a look at the old survey when the lawyers had got in touch. The roof was very old and the boiler was temperamental, apparently, but other than that it was sound. She’d thought about this more and more on the trip here. Her plan was to renovate the cottage, and sell it, make some money, then move. She wasn’t really quite sure where – wherever the tides of time would take her – but she wanted a clean break from various parts of her life. More travelling perhaps? But for now, she pulled her shoulders back as she opened the door. She needed to sort out this neglected cottage and make it her home.
Tim had been sending her a few text messages, many of which didn’t make sense. He’d called her yesterday late in the evening when she was packing up her few things. He’d been sobbing on the phone. Why had he got things so badly wrong? He’d mentioned the debt-collecting company, had said he was sorry about a thousand times – things you don’t know about – and talked about a support group, but she hadn’t been able to get to the bottom of what he was actually telling her as he cut the call early. Taffie had been barking at the cat and she couldn’t hear properly, made more difficult because Tim kept breaking down. Why had all their years of marriage come to this?
Tim had told her that he’d saved what he could. That there were some boxes of her things in storage for her to collect but most of the furniture he’d had to sell. Rachel and Alan were going to bring their trailer down at the weekend and load up some of the bigger things the liquidators didn’t want, plus her boxes of personal items.
Maddie wiped her feet on the threadbare mat and flicked on the hall light. ‘It’s freezing.’ Rachel stepped into the hall with her. No wonder the cottage felt cold; it had been empty for eighteen months. The lawyers had mentioned there were a few bits of furniture, but that much of it had been cleared out, on Olive’s instructions. Maddie had been down a few times, just to keep an eye on things, but it wasn’t the same as somebody putting the fire on, turning up the heating and airing the place properly.
The bare bulb in the ceiling fixture cast a dim glow over the narrow hallway and seeped into the lounge at the end. Rachel and Maddie stood side by side in the lounge doorway.
The room had dark floorboards which, although dusty, were good quality. Cobwebs hung across the ceiling and the curtains were torn at the ends. Maddie started to make a mental list of all the cleaning equipment she was going to need. There was one sofa and a small table. She wandered into the kitchen and found an old fridge and a small table. No chairs. Going up the tiny stairway, she reached the two bedrooms at the top and stood and looked at the view from the main bedroom out across the bay. This had been Olive’s room. The view was magnificent from here. She could see a couple of tiny sailing boats, and a ferry chugging silently past on the horizon, leaving a fuzzy foam trail in its wake.
There was a small bed with a burgundy velvet padded headboard. She could just imagine Olive sitting on the bed, her reading glasses askew, looking out to the bay. What dreams had she thought about here? What plans did she used to make before Stan passed away, before her illness started, before she couldn’t cope?
Maddie stood by the window and let the silence envelop her. She ran her finger over the windowsill. It was full of dust. The place needed some serious cleaning. She looked out to where the dark sea met the milky sky and wondered what the next chapter held for her. Then, she abruptly turned around, marched down the stairs to write that shopping list.
*
‘Found it!’ Rachel said as Maddie walked into the kitchen. ‘The kettle.’ She held it up. ‘I think we both need a cup of tea.’
Maddie thought it was the best suggestion she’d heard in a long while as she watched the ever-practical Rachel place a small plastic bag on the table and pull out teabags, biscuits and some milk. She glanced at the French doors leading out to the garden, the weak winter sun highlighting the dust and grime smeared across the panes of glass as she typed out a list of what she needed on her phone.
Rachel handed her a mug. She put her phone in her pocket and took the mug from her. It had been Olive’s favourite – seagulls, flying high above waves. The waves were faded now and the white breakers had blended into the white background of the cup. She could hear Olive whisper: Enjoy life.
What had gone so wrong with Tim? He’d always made the decisions. She’d let him, she supposed, ever since – well, she was his wife. But who she really was she’d forgotten. Maybe she was about to find out. She traced the outline of the gull on her mug with a fingertip.
‘Hey, how long are you going to twiddle that in your hand?’ Rachel laughed, then they both stood in the silent kitchen letting the strangeness surround them.
‘What do you think, then?’ Maddie looked over at Rachel and took a sip of tea.
‘I think it’s great.’
They took their tea through to the front room and, as there was nowhere to sit in the kitchen, both sank down onto the brown corduroy sofa, releasing a whoosh of dust. Maddie looked around at the walls, at the fading woodchip wallpaper and sighed.
As if reading her mind, Rachel piped up: ‘Don’t worry, pet, my Alan can come down and help.’
She leant back on the sofa. ‘I’m a bit nervous. I’ve never be
en on my own. I don’t know if I can do it.’
‘Of course you can do it!’ Rachel sat up. ‘Infuriatingly capable, beautiful, clever, talented, brilliant person that you are! You don’t need Tim – and certainly not now, with whatever he’s up to. You’ve got this house, you’ve got Ed, you’ve got Taffie—’ she bent down and tickled his chin ‘—and you’ve got yourself, Maddie, that’s the most important part. This is a golden opportunity for a new start. You’ve got skills you probably don’t know you have. People believe in you, Maddie. I believe in you. Don’t feel sorry for yourself. I know you can make a go of this.’
‘Thanks, Rachel,’ sighed Maddie, leaning over to give her a hug. Then she smiled. Because somehow, even though she felt a weight of responsibility for the cottage, it felt right. It was as if she’d been sleepwalking for a long while. Suddenly, she felt awake again. Dusty, mind, but definitely awake and up for the challenge.
32
November had somehow eased itself into early December and Maddie had been slowly getting to grips with parts of the cottage. She had concentrated on a small rockery out the back in the garden before the weather turned, but now it was time to tackle inside. She felt very alone some days. Missing Ed was like a dull ache in her heart. And she missed Olive. Being in the cottage was comforting in a way, but it was also a stark reminder of how precious life was. Perhaps Olive knew that Maddie would need the cottage. Perhaps Olive knew her better than she realised.
The weather had been gradually deteriorating; once or twice she had struggled to take Taffie for a walk till much later. Only when the storm clouds had rolled away and left the beach with that newly washed look had she ventured outside. The odd day had been exceptionally bitter; as the cottage was right on the bay, it was exposed to the full fury of the sea and wind’s wrath. She’d only ever stayed in the summer. It was a different story now. Wind would howl up from the sea and batter her bedroom window.
One day, she’d gone back to bed in the afternoon and pulled the duvet up by her chin, listening to the rain pattering on the window as the wet tears slid down her cheeks. She hadn’t bothered with supper that night, just drifted into a fitful sleep, woken only by Taffie crawling onto her bed, nervous about the wind too, and she welcomed the warmth of his little body next to her.
But usually she tried to keep to a routine – up by 8 a.m., taking Taffie for a walk along the beach, back to the cottage, then to the hardware store in Ryde, picking up supplies for the day’s work then working most of the day, till she collapsed, exhausted, with a bowl of soup on the sofa, listening to the radio. There was no TV in the cottage, and she spent her evenings either reading or sewing cushion covers with the radio on.
She’d joined the local library nearby, and struck up a little friendship with the librarian, Flora, who let her borrow more books than she was meant to. And she’d handed Maddie a flyer recently, one that had come down from the noticeboard. Part-time café assistant needed at the Shore Café. Mon, Weds and Fridays 10 a.m.–1 p.m.
‘My mate Sue works there, said they haven’t had anyone who’s any good – maybe you should go along? You’ve been scanning the job board for weeks.’
It was true. Maddie knew that she would have to work whilst she was there. She did have some money left from school; when she’d told them she was leaving, there had been a collection and a present of a few hundred pounds. But it wouldn’t last forever. And she wanted to save what Olive had left her for a rainy day. There may not have been any mortgage, but there were bills to pay.
*
She decided that day she would tackle the woodchip wallpaper in the living room. She was going to scrape it all off and repaint the walls underneath. She’d hired a steamer for the day and it had to be back later, so she needed to get through as much as she could.
The walls were dreadful. The wallpaper looked like porridge and she wanted to have smooth, lemony walls. Maddie put the steamer on and looked at all the tools she needed laid out on the table. A scraper, a wallpaper perforator, old cloths, and some newspaper on the floor.
She started on the largest wall, opposite the window. She rolled the perforator across the wall, applied a little pressure and could feel it puncturing the wall behind. Next, she placed the hissing steamer over the wall and started to slowly steam the wallpaper, then slide the scraper satisfyingly behind the wallpaper. Scrape, scrape, scrape. She yanked a huge piece of wallpaper off. What had Tim done? Why was the business in such a mess? Who was he with?
After about three hours she shrugged her aching shoulders and stood back. She was nearly done across two of the walls. All she needed to do was finish the final wall after lunch. She was proud of what she’d achieved.
She made herself a quick coffee but just as she was pouring in milk, there was a huge hissing noise and a loud bang. She ran into the lounge to see the steamer had exploded and water was spraying everywhere; she covered her face and quickly pulled the plug out from the socket. Bloody thing. She’d have to take the blasted thing back to the store.
She tied up her hair, pulled some woodchip shaving out of it, grabbed her coat, and lugged the machine outside and – with tremendous difficulty – into the boot of her car. The store was only about fifteen minutes away.
*
‘But it isn’t working. And I don’t want it to explode all over me!’
‘Madam, there is a safety mechanism that means that doesn’t happen.’
‘Well, clearly it has happened!’ This was exasperating. She knew she was raising her voice, but she was tired and a bit terrified it would happen again.
‘Is there a problem?’
It was the smell she recognised at first: sandalwood and the ocean. She spun around.
Greg was standing right behind her at the Customer Service Desk.
‘Yes, madam here clearly has a problem operating the machine,’ the assistant said.
‘I do not have a problem “operating the machine” as you put it!’ Maddie almost stamped her foot in frustration.
‘Clearly there’s a problem with the machine and if there are issues with the safety device, I’m sure you don’t want her to put up bad reviews on your website, nor have the company accused of issuing faulty equipment that might harm their customers? This island’s a small one and word gets around.’ Greg stood behind her talking to the spotty chap – Declan by the look of his ‘how can I help’ name badge.
Declan seemed thrown by this. ‘I need to speak to my manager. Wait here.’ And he walked off with a sniff.
Maddie didn’t quite know what to say. On the one hand she was relieved that she had some help with the situation and she was worried the wretched thing would explode on her again, but on the other hand she was furious. She could handle this herself.
‘Thanks, Greg,’ she said steadily, looking into his eyes and glancing at the little scar under his eyebrow. ‘But I think I can manage this.’ She jutted her chin out.
‘Can you?’
‘Yes, I bloody well can! What’s wrong with everyone? Just because a woman is complaining about some equipment doesn’t mean I can’t fix the situation!’ She found her voice rising.
‘Hey, calm down.’ He went to reach out and touch her hand but she snatched it away.
‘Maddie, look, we need to talk. We really do. I’m sorry I upset you at the reception. I said—’
‘You said enough, Greg. Look, I’m trying to build a new life here, OK? I had no idea you would be here. I—’
‘Want to be left alone?’
‘Yes.’ Did she?
Declan was back. ‘Madam, we can hire you another machine, it’s slightly bigger, and I’ve checked the safety mechanism myself. We do value our customers.’ He’d obviously had a word with his supervisor.
‘OK, I will need it till tomorrow.’
She was still aware of Greg standing behind her so she took a deep breath and then tried, shakily, to put the new steamer onto her trolley. It was a ton weight. Greg’s hand reached out and he lifted it onto the t
rolley easily for her. Damn him.
‘Thanks,’ she muttered.
‘Look, Maddie.’ He grabbed her wrist. His dark eyes were on fire with frustration. ‘I’m only trying to help. Don’t you think it’s been hard for me?’
‘Hard for you? Are you joking?’
‘Maddie, listen. I know you are angry with me – look, where’s your husband? What’s going on? Why are you here? Why are you on your own?’
‘Well, that’s a disaster! Tim – he—’ She suddenly stopped. She hadn’t really wanted to say anything, but it was instinctive. She could feel herself well up and she bit her lip to concentrate. She just didn’t want to falter, not in front of Greg. She took a deep breath.
‘My aunt died. She left me the cottage, Maris Cottage, the one—’
‘By the beach, yeah I know. Anchor by the front door, sweet place. Look, I just… Here, take my number.’ He reached in his pocket for a scrap of paper, grabbed a pen from the desk and scribbled it down. ‘Here.’
She stood, fixed to the spot, as Greg held the little piece of paper in his hand. It was such a small gesture, yet bizarrely significant. His number.
‘Maddie, take it. Whatever you think of me, it’s not how it looks. Just take this in case you need any help.’ And with that he thrust his number into her sweaty hand and walked away. She watched the broad shoulders, the long legs and the tuft of dark hair poking out from underneath his woolly hat, that little bit of hair she used to grab on to and curl around her index finger when they kissed.
‘Your receipt, ma’am.’ She shook herself.
There was no way she was going to contact him. How could he think those things of her? But then she felt a stab of guilt, about one of the biggest secrets she was holding from almost everyone – including him.
33
‘Maddie, will you calm down?’
Tim was standing in her tiny kitchen holding a mug of tea. He’d been banging on the door of Maris Cottage for about ten minutes and then she’d finally let him in. It was freezing. Sleet was blowing horizontally outside. Little ice balls were hurling themselves against the glass panes of the French doors leading out to the garden, then sliding slowly down to the bottom of the pane, exhausted with the journey. She knew how they felt. Today Maddie had planned to finish off the walls in the lounge. She was in tracksuit bottoms, an old cardigan and battered trainers. She pulled her cardigan tight around her and stared at the fridge, at the job advert for the Shore Café under a blue magnet. She looked at Tim.