Escape to the Country

by Sherlock, Alison

  Would he be as wild and crazy as everyone suggested? Was he out of control? The idea of a story on one of the world’s biggest superstars was beginning to become a reality. If she ever got to meet him, of course.

  Eleanor was still mulling over her yet-to-be told story as they went past a couple of rooms in the west wing, one of which appeared to be the dining room as it had a large table but it was still in a mess. Then they went down a couple of steps into the kitchen.

  She suddenly had a vast appreciation as to how derelict the whole place had been before the house had begun to be renovated. The kitchen cupboards were shabby and rotten, the hinges barely holding onto the doors. The sink was cracked. The tiled floor very uneven. The pine table in the middle was scratched and stained.

  ‘Isn’t it awful?’ said Annie, looking cheerful as she picked up her handbag. ‘But Sam promises me it’s next on the list.’

  ‘I would have thought the kitchen would have been the first thing to get done,’ said Eleanor, looking around in dismay.

  ‘You’re kidding,’ said Megan. ‘The whole place had no windows or heating for a long time.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Annie, heading for the door. ‘Time to celebrate!’

  Eleanor almost wanted to hang back, desperate to meet Tommy King and begin work on the story that would propel her back to London.

  But for the first time in a long while, she actually felt as if she had something to celebrate. Okay so she didn’t have a job, didn’t have her exclusive story and perhaps she didn’t even have a boyfriend or a home to call her own, but she had her friends, the very best friends in the world.

  And that, for now, was worth raising a drink to.

  *

  It was such a nice afternoon that they decided to sit outside in the beer garden of the Rose and Crown pub. Besides, there was really nowhere else to go out in Cranley for a drink. The pub was full of people stopping off after work, rolling up their shirtsleeves and shrugging off their jackets in the warmth of the sun.

  Eleanor poured out the drinks and then placed the bottle of Prosecco back in the ice bucket.

  ‘Congratulations,’ she said, holding up her drink.

  ‘Cheers,’ said Megan, as they chinked their glasses together.

  ‘Here’s to being together again,’ said Annie, with a wide smile.

  ‘And to your wedding,’ added Eleanor before taking a sip of the icy cold drink. ‘It’s been so long since I came here,’ she said, glancing around the other wooden benches and realising that she didn’t really recognise anyone.

  ‘We don’t really come here much these days either,’ said Megan. ‘There’s never any time – or money – to go out.’

  ‘Well, I don’t care where we are just as long as we’re together,’ said Annie, reaching out to squeeze Eleanor’s hand across the table. ‘You’re finally home. I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Yeah,’ drawled Megan. ‘What gives?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ asked Eleanor.

  ‘I mean you coming home. Now. In June,’ said Megan. ‘It’s not Christmas, Mother’s Day or anyone’s birthday. What’s happened? Is everything okay?’

  Eleanor was mortified. Was that how they saw her? And was it true?

  ‘I was just desperate to see you both after so long,’ she replied. ‘And with Mum breaking her ankle, I need to give her a hand for a while.’

  Her pulse drummed with the stress of leaving out the rest of the reason for her unexpected visit. She hated keeping secrets from them both.

  Megan took another sip of her Prosecco. ‘She is getting a bit accident-prone, bless her. First her wrist and now her foot.’

  Eleanor was nonplussed. ‘Her wrist? What are you talking about?’

  ‘She slipped on some ice during the winter and hurt her wrist,’ said Annie, frowning. ‘Didn’t she tell you?’

  Eleanor shook her head.

  ‘It was only a sprain,’ said Annie quickly, exchanging a quick look with Megan. ‘I mean, nothing for you to worry about.’

  Eleanor shifted in her seat. What else didn’t she know?

  She tried to recover. ‘And look at you now,’ she said, looking across the table at Annie. ‘You’ve made it. You’re going to be a, what is it again?’

  ‘A countess,’ said Annie, blushing. ‘But that’s years away. Only when Sam inherits the full title. I’m happy being plain old Mrs Annie Harris in the meantime.’

  ‘She’s in luurve,’ cooed Megan. ‘But he’s a pretty nice guy, so he gets my vote.’

  ‘I can’t wait to meet him again,’ said Eleanor. ‘I can barely remember him from when we were younger.’

  ‘He’s good enough for our friend,’ said Megan in a fake haughty tone, causing them to laugh. ‘And he’s got more blue blood than my Neal.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re lucky too,’ said Annie, ever the fair one. ‘You’re happily married with three beautiful children.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Megan with a sigh. ‘Remember we used to go to the health club and sit in the Jacuzzi with a glass of wine and think it was luxury? Now it’s having a bowel movement without someone shouting at me through the door wanting to come in.’

  Annie and Eleanor laughed, even though Megan didn’t join in quite so much.

  ‘Wait a minute. So now I’m best friends with a future countess and mother of the year?’ said Eleanor. ‘God, I’ve just realised. Am I the only unmarried spinster of the parish now?’

  ‘Probably,’ said Megan, nodding before looking at Annie. ‘So does that make me your maid of honour?’

  ‘Maid of dishonour, more like,’ said Eleanor, with a smile.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Megan, laughing. ‘Can’t wait for the hen party.’

  ‘I don’t care what you call yourselves,’ said Annie. ‘I just want you both with me on the day. And to help with everything before then. There’s so much to plan!’

  ‘Count me in,’ said Megan. ‘I need some romance in my life.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Eleanor, nodding.

  ‘What about Lucas?’ said Annie, with a gleam. ‘I thought you two had moved in together.’

  Eleanor sighed and shook her head, deciding to come clean about some of her life. ‘We’re taking a break. His decision.’

  ‘Oh no! You must be heartbroken,’ said Annie.

  Eleanor shrugged her shoulders. ‘That’s the thing. I should be, shouldn’t I? We were together for two years. But I’m not upset. Not really.’

  ‘Maybe you both need a break to think about what you really want,’ said Annie, giving her hand a squeeze.

  Eleanor nodded. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘And if he’s not the one, then you’re bound to meet some other rich banker the next time you go to one of those Bank of England parties, said Megan. ‘I mean, you’re out every night. I know you have to entertain for your job in the finance sector but even so, I’d kill for your social life.’

  Eleanor drained her glass, wondering how to even begin to tell them that she’d lost her job.

  ‘I can just imagine your flash apartment in the city,’ carried on Megan. ‘I mean, look at what you’re wearing. You’ve got it all. Fashion. Parties. Nightlife. It’s all come together for you. I’m so bloody jealous I could cry.’

  Eleanor knew that her apartment had been far from flash. It had been damp and cold. It had also had subsidence. But her friends, just like her mum, had always expected so much from her. Too much. A great career. A wonderful life in the city. She didn’t want to let them down.

  ‘Yeah, you’re this amazing career girl and all I want is a functioning kitchen!’ laughed Annie.

  Eleanor took a deep breath. It was time to confess about her so-called perfect life. But the conversation had already moved onto the wedding once more. Annie looked so excited and it was such a lovely, happy subject that Eleanor didn’t want to bring down their mood. So she decided she would definitely tell them the next time they were together.

  Unless she met Tommy King, of course. Because then she c
ould write up her exclusive story on him and she wouldn’t have to reveal any of her lies to her friends.

  Then she could carry on pretending. Forever, if necessary.

  Chapter 9

  Tom drank his coffee on the sunny back patio whilst sitting on a rusty bench, looking across the grounds at the back of Willow Tree Hall.

  He had woken up in his guest bedroom and been astonished to find it was late afternoon. The painkillers he was on had completely messed up his head and body clock. But his foot was still too painful not to be able to function without them.

  So, despite feeling drowsy most of the previous day, he had then found himself wide awake until almost dawn, watching rubbish on his iPad.

  It was also a bit strange sleeping in such a large place. In a way, it reminded him of growing up in the children’s homes. Aware of people sleeping all around him in different rooms. And of him being different, as usual. Standing out. A loner.

  Except this was a family. Which was also new to him. And that they were kind and affectionate towards each other. And to him too.

  But during dinner last night, he had found the questions and chatter almost too much to bear. And the food too.

  ‘How’s the mash?’ Annie had asked. ‘No lumps, are there?’

  ‘It’s great,’ Tom had replied. ‘I haven’t had a home-cooked meal like this since…’ Then his voice had trailed off as the only lump had then been in his throat as he remembered being at his gran’s house.

  The silence had stretched out across the table. He had glanced up briefly to see Arthur looking at him. Then the Earl had suddenly said, ‘Do you know, I think we have cygnets down by the river?’

  ‘Do we really?’ Rose had replied. ‘How sweet. I must go and see.’

  ‘Not in your high heels,’ Arthur had told her, with a soft smile.

  ‘I do have wellington boots, you know,’ she had countered. ‘They just happen to be leopard-skin-patterned.’

  The conversation had swiftly moved on and Tom had felt himself relax once more. He knew that Arthur had spoken to take away his embarrassment and he was grateful. They were generous with their hearts and spirit towards him.

  It was all a stark contrast to his own family experiences.

  It was hard growing up knowing that your own parents didn’t want you. But he had learnt the lesson so well that the walls he put up around himself kept out everyone else. Including people wanting to foster or adopt him. He rebelled hard against any kind offers, thinking that strangers would only let him down even more so than his own kin. His gran had suffered ill health ever since her husband had died and wasn’t able to bring up him by herself much to her dismay. So he battled and raged against everyone else until he was old enough to fend for himself.

  And that’s how he’d lived his life ever since, which made this new living arrangement even more strange.

  Tom was only intending to stay at Willow Tree Hall a few more days, but in the meantime, it was a welcome refuge. The press was still going crazy trying to get hold of him. Even suggesting that he was probably drying out at rehab. He just needed to hide out in the countryside and wait for the hubbub to calm down.

  Sam had placed him in the only guest bedroom that had been completed. It was Annie’s old room and had thick carpets, a comfortable bed and a sweet fireplace.

  ‘Six months ago, you would have been sleeping in a hurricane of a draught,’ Sam had told him. ‘The house really was in a shocking state. It’s taken us this long to drag it into being weatherproof.’

  ‘Trust me, I’ve slept in a lot worse,’ Tom had said, thinking of the occasional nights’ sleep on the streets when he was young and life became too much.

  ‘I know,’ replied Sam, softly.

  He was the only one that knew. The only one that perhaps understood. But Sam’s parents hadn’t abandoned him. They had died. But the hole left by a lack of parents in both of their lives had ramifications that had rippled out beyond that time and into the present.

  Tom blinked away the memories and took refuge in the view of the grounds. Huge wild rhododendron bushes grew at the far boundary, smothered in pale lilac and bright pink blooms. The whole ground was green and fresh with the new growth of summer A little too much growth, he added to himself, looking at the overgrown hedges and bushes. Nature was running rampant as far as the eye could see. But the birdsong and buzz of insects was a welcome change to the hum of heavy traffic. He glanced back to the huge stately home. So, here he was. On a large country estate belonging to an ancient ancestral family. If only those that had known him when he was younger could see him now.

  ‘You’re nothing.’ He could hear the taunts now in the playground. ‘Nobody wanted you, did they? Your dad walked out. Not even your mum liked you.’

  The smug mocking face had soon become bloodied when it came into contact with Tom’s fist. He had learnt from a young age that it was fight or flight. And he had never been one to run away.

  What had happened to the spoilt, rich boy who had picked on him all those years ago? Tom didn’t care. Because Tom was now the one with money. The one with the fame and fortune.

  So why did he feel so unhappy? Why did he feel like he had the whole world and yet felt empty?

  ‘I suppose you smashed your own face against a wall, did you?’ He could see his gran’s concern as she looked at yet another black eye. She had known. Of course she had. ‘Or did you fall off your bike again?’

  ‘Got any cherry cake?’ he would say, ignoring her question.

  Of course she did. There was always cherry cake. His favourite.

  He sighed, so soft it disappeared on the breeze as he sat there. He had tried buying a cherry cake recently, but it hadn’t tasted the same. The missing ingredient was his gran’s love.

  He felt Sam stand next to him. ‘Not so bad, is it?’ he said, his voice full of pride as he looked out across the grounds.

  ‘Definitely not bad,’ said Tom, draining his coffee cup.

  ‘Are you up to a tour of the grounds?’ Sam nodded at the crutches. ‘Unless your foot is too painful.’

  It was. And the codeine was making him feel woozy. But he needed to try and wake up.

  ‘Unless you’re thinking about jogging round,’ said Tom, as he slowly stood up.

  ‘Well, the estate actually stretches for about five miles, but I’ll keep it local for today,’ said Sam, breaking into a grin.

  They walked slowly along the patio which spread across the length of the back of the house.

  ‘Watch your step,’ warned Sam. ‘You don’t want to do the other foot in.’

  It was pretty uneven as many of the paving slabs were broken, with weeds growing through them.

  ‘We ran out of money before I could do the garden,’ Sam explained, with an apologetic smile.’ But we still have Bert.’

  ‘Who?’ said Tom.

  ‘Bert is our elderly gardener.’ Sam glanced around him and then lowered his voice. ‘He’s nearly as old as grandad. In fact, I think they even went to school together. But he still wanders up twice a week to keep an eye on the vegetable patch. The rest, well, as you can see, it needs something more drastic. But Annie will kill me if I don’t get the kitchen sorted next.’

  Tom noted that Sam’s eyes were softened with love as he spoke about Annie.

  Beyond the triple garage were a couple of outbuildings in the distance. ‘That’s the old dairy house,’ said Sam. ‘There’s also a large stable block and, somewhere in the far distance, is the gamekeeper’s cottage. Just by the river. All in a complete state of disrepair, of course. It’s so frustrating. I care so much about trying to preserve the heritage of the place. I want to safeguard it for generations to come.’ He sighed. ‘If only there wasn’t quite so much of it.’

  Tom realised that beautiful Willow Tree Hall also came with a heavy burden of responsibility.

  He tried to cheer Sam up. ‘You’ve got a river?’

  ‘Just the one mile that goes through our grounds,’ said Sam. �
��Thankfully that doesn’t need any investment. Grandad taught me to fish down there. I’ll have to show you one day.’

  Tom looked over with interest. Fishing he could certainly handle. On the boundary of the lawn, there was an ancient wood. A faint haze of blue remained from the faded bluebells that must have carpeted the ground in the spring.

  ‘But it’s a bit of a trek on crutches and our interest lies the other way,’ said Sam.

  They turned and slowly went back across the patchy patio.

  ‘If you need anything whilst you’re here, just let me or Annie know.’ Sam cleared his throat. ‘Are you two getting on all right?’

  Tom smiled to himself. He knew what Sam was asking.

  ‘I like her,’ Tom told him.

  He had found Annie warm and friendly. And she was certainly a much better fit for his friend that his previous girlfriend, the famous singer Cassandra. Although her own career had come to an abrupt halt just recently. Tom didn’t feel particularly sorry for her. She had, unknown to Sam, made a pass at Tom one evening the previous year. But Tom wasn’t about to cheat on his friend, especially for someone as high-maintenance as the famous diva.

  Sam beamed. ‘Annie’s one in a million,’ he said, his voice full of love. ‘It’s like a bloody thunderbolt. You’ll know. When it happens to you.’

  Tom wasn’t so convinced. To let someone love you, you had to trust them completely and open yourself up to let them in. He just couldn’t see himself ever giving that much of himself to anyone.

  As they reached the east side of the patio, the paving slabs stopped and gave way to a worn stony path.

  ‘There’s a walled garden over there,’ said Sam, as they carried on. ‘That’s the vegetable patch, which at least is well tended. But as you can see, the rest of it is run wild.’ He sighed. ‘Oh well. We’ll get there eventually.’

  Tom looked out behind him. The lawn was vast and overgrown, already up to almost knee-height. It desperately needed cutting.

  The path was pretty uneven and Tom was careful not to catch one of his crutches on a tree root.

  ‘We’ll have to get this sorted if we’re going to be taking a lot of people down here,’ muttered Sam, mainly to himself.