Escape to the Country

by Sherlock, Alison

  ‘Yes, I know you are,’ she said, giving him a rueful grin. ‘Sorry. I was trying to be subtle. Did she tell you that my dad graced us with a visit last week?’

  He looked shocked. ‘No. I had no idea. Is she okay?’

  Eleanor nodded and took a deep breath. ‘Actually, I think it did her the power of good. It made her realise that she has definitely moved on from him and all that pain.’

  ‘Good,’ said Ben. ‘She deserves to be happy.’

  Eleanor remembered the conversation with Rose about how much Ben cared for her mother and decided to chance her luck. ‘In fact, she’s decided she’s ready for a new chapter in her life. You know, she’s decided to give up all her animals as well.’

  He nodded. ‘I do. I’ve already told her how impressed I am by her courage.’

  ‘Well, that’s not all,’ carried on Eleanor. ‘She told me that she’d like to go out on a date some time.’

  Ben’s eyebrows nearly shot up to the ceiling. ‘Really?’ he said, looking concerned. ‘She didn’t happen to tell you who with, did she?’

  ‘I’d only trust her to go out with someone who really cared about her and who would never hurt her. Obviously it would have to be someone that she really cared for as well,’ carried on Eleanor in a casual tone.

  Ben stared at her for a beat before laughing with relief. ‘You’re many good things, Eleanor McCartney, but subtle isn’t one of them.’ He drew himself up. ‘Perhaps I’ll give her a call after my next appointment.’

  She leant forward to give him a kiss on his cheek. ‘I think you should,’ she told him softly. ‘Maybe it’s a new start for both of you.’

  ‘What was that all about?’ asked Tom as they left the veterinary surgery.

  ‘Mum’s decided that it’s time for all the animals to leave the zoo,’ she told him.

  ‘Seriously?’ said Tom.

  Eleanor nodded at him as they got into Sam’s Range Rover. ‘Absolutely. She’s ready to move on and I’m so proud of her.’

  She was glad she had had the conversation with Ben and just hoped her mum would be brave enough to go through with the change from friend to romantic partner with Ben.

  It seemed as if everyone was getting paired up but her, she realised before shooting a look across to Tom.

  He still had the key in ignition but had yet to turn it. In fact, he was looking quite bleak.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

  He cleared his throat. ‘It was you talking about moving on. I think I need to do the same.’

  She frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

  He turned in his seat to face her. ‘There’s something I’ve been putting off doing. Something I’ve been dreading. I couldn’t face doing it by myself. I was wondering whether…’

  His voice trailed off and her heart lurched at the sadness in his face.

  ‘Of course I’ll help you,’ she told him, reaching out to touch put her hand over his on the steering wheel. ‘What is it that you need to do?’

  He sighed. ‘I need to face my past.’

  Chapter 43

  Tom took a deep breath before stepping inside the hallway of the tiny one-bedroom flat. He could do this. He had to do this. His gran’s flat would be sold soon but first he needed to see whether there was anything of sentimental value that he wanted to take before it was cleared of everything.

  He felt Eleanor come into the hall behind him and forced himself to go on into the lounge at the back of the flat. The two front rooms were the bedroom and bathroom. The tiny kitchenette was in middle and the lounge overlooked the garden.

  He was grateful for Eleanor’s company, although he hadn’t felt much like chatting on the car journey into south London. But, after they had dropped Dylan off at Willow Tree Hall, she had put on the radio and let the music fill the quiet air in the car instead.

  ‘This is very sweet,’ said Eleanor, standing next to him and looking around the flat.

  Tom smiled. ‘Nothing’s changed in here for years and years.’

  It was true. The armchairs and sofa were the same. The wooden furniture was years out of date. The same plates and paintings filled the same places on the walls as they had always done. Even when he had made his fortune from singing, his gran hadn’t wanted anything new or different. So he had bought the flat for her from the landlord, ensuring that the home she had known for so many years would remain hers for the rest of her life.

  ‘What will you do with all of this?’ asked Eleanor, gesturing at the furniture.

  ‘I thought I’d get in a house-clearing company,’ said Tom.

  She nodded. ‘But you’d like to take some sentimental pieces, I’m sure.’

  ‘Yeah. That was the idea.’ But his voice cracked under the weight of sadness as he spoke.

  He felt her hand slip into his. ‘How about we take it one room at a time, okay?’

  He squeezed her hand in response.

  ‘You don’t have to make any huge decisions now,’ she told him. ‘Just keep anything that you can’t decide about. Then, if you change your mind later on, at least you’ll have it with you.’

  He nodded. ‘Okay. I can handle that.’

  He found the kitchen easier to go through than he had imagined. Until he discovered his gran’s writing in a tatty notebook. Flicking through the pages, he realised that it was her recipe book. His hand faltered when he got to the page titled ‘Cherry Cake’.

  He didn’t know how long he stood staring down at the book until Eleanor gently removed it from his hands and placed it carefully into a nearby box that she had brought into the kitchen to pack with anything to be kept.

  There was nothing in the bedroom that he wanted to keep, apart from all the photograph albums that were stored on a bookshelf. Only the bobbly, brown winter coat hanging up on the back of the door caused him a sharp pang of grief. He reached out to stroke the arm before managing to hold himself together enough to head into the lounge.

  He had already decided to take the record player and albums with him. But in addition, there were a couple of paintings that he couldn’t decide on, and a precious framed photograph of them both, taken when he was a boy.

  ‘What about the ornaments?’ asked Eleanor.

  But Tom shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’

  He watched as Eleanor checked one last cupboard, bringing out his gran’s sewing box. She opened the lid and ran her hand across the many spools of ribbon and thread.

  ‘She loved to sew and make things before the arthritis affected her fingers,’ said Tom, thinking back.

  Eleanor smiled down at the box. ‘Such pretty colours.’

  ‘You’re welcome to take it, if you’d like,’ he found himself saying.

  She looked pleased. ‘Really? I’m sure I can find a use for some of this. And Mum certainly would.’

  Tom nodded. ‘I think Gran would like it to be used.’

  So they packed up the sewing box as well.

  Once everything was loaded into the boot of the car, Eleanor left Tom alone so that he could take one last walk around the flat. It was so quiet, that was the strangest part. He realised it was the music and laughter that was missing. But he could take that with him wherever he went in life.

  ‘Thanks, Gran,’ he whispered into the still air. ‘For everything.’

  And then he turned to close the front door behind him.

  He was grateful once more for Eleanor’s company on the way back to Cranley. He chatted a little about his gran but mostly he was feeling wiped out from the emotion of the day.

  ‘Dylan will be glad to see you,’ she said, when they were on the outskirts of the village at last.

  He smiled. ‘There’s nothing friendlier than a welcome from a dog.’

  He and Dylan were so alike. Two mongrels who hadn’t been shown much love in the past but were getting used to being part of a warm, loving family now.

  It was a massive step for him to adopt a dog. He had been mulling over the i
dea for a while when he voiced his innermost thoughts to Eleanor. The trouble was, all of the queries that she had raised were true. What would happen to Dylan when he was away on tour? The best thing would be to have a dog sitter, but Dylan was pretty untrusting of most people – apart from Eleanor and the Harris family. And no, his new flat didn’t have a garden or anything like the grounds of Willow Tree Hall. If he even went for a walk in one of the many London parks, no doubt he would get his photo taken or hassled on a daily basis. He didn’t miss the city at all, he had found. The lack of smog and noise meant that he felt calmer in the countryside.

  He glanced over at Eleanor as she looked out of the window. He couldn’t have faced his gran’s flat on his own that day. And Eleanor was one more thing that would be missing when he went back to London. She didn’t appear to have any plans for heading back any time soon.

  He had a sudden image of having dinner with her in some country cottage, Dylan snoring nearby. The two of them laughing and sharing a bottle of wine.

  These were not his normal thoughts, he knew. He was independent. He didn’t rely on anyone else. He didn’t need anyone else in his life.

  But whichever way he looked at it, staying in Cranley with Eleanor and the Harris family appeared to be the best thing for both him and Dylan.

  A few months ago, he knew that thought would have scared him. But now the future felt warm and bright. Especially if that future occurred with Eleanor alongside him.

  Chapter 44

  As the heatwave ratcheted up another couple of degrees, the air became still and sticky. Life slowed down at Willow Tree Hall as August arrived.

  Most afternoons, Arthur was to be found dozing in his deckchair under the new pergola that Tom had built. Dylan had also slowed down in the heat and would normally stay next to Arthur, sleeping in the cool of the shade.

  Thankfully the house stayed relatively cool. Annie would open all the windows at night to let what fresh air there was inside. The thick walls would keep the temperature low so it was always nice to walk through the house, especially with masses of jam jars and vases filled with the sweet peas from the garden. The beautiful scent filled the air, as did the sound of happy birdsong.

  Before she had left for Majorca, Megan had often been found sitting in the paddling pool in her back garden cooling down with the children. Fans were on in every room. Ice cream became a daily treat. Iced drinks were a necessity.

  The fresh, albeit muggy air, was having an effect on Eleanor’s skin. It was clearer than it had looked for a long time. No dirty London air clogging it up. Early nights and country living, she realised. And perhaps being happy. The biggest side effect was that her pulse had stopped racing every day or so. Her stress levels were low and she was relaxed most of the time.

  Now that she had managed to book herself a haircut to get rid of her split ends, she felt even better about how she looked.

  Despite persuading her mum to go with her to the hairdressers, June still wasn’t feeling quite so relaxed.

  That evening, she came downstairs in a complete panic.

  ‘I’m going to ring Ben,’ said June, picking up her mobile. ‘Tell him I’m ill or something.’

  ‘What? Why?’ said Eleanor, taking the phone off her.

  ‘Because I’ll probably embarrass him,’ said her mum in despair. ‘He’s taking me to some fancy pub restaurant. We’ve never gone anywhere like that before. I don’t know what he was thinking of.’

  ‘He was probably thinking that you might enjoy it,’ said Eleanor. ‘And that perhaps it might be more romantic for the both of you.’

  ‘But look at me!’ said her mum. ‘I can’t go looking like this.’

  Eleanor stepped back and looked at her mum. Despite her hair looking in better shape that it had done for years, June was wearing her normal baggy top and tatty, cut-off jeans.

  ‘Come upstairs with me,’ said Eleanor, grabbing her Mum’s hand. ‘I must have something you can borrow.’

  In her old bedroom, she flung open her wardrobe doors.

  ‘I can’t wear any of your stuff,’ said her mum. ‘It’s too posh for me.’

  Eleanor dismissed a few items until her hands touched a skirt. ‘Not sure why I even bought this,’ she said, scrutinising the garment.

  It was an A-line skirt, with pale yellow flowers on a white background. Not really her style or colour but she had always felt it was too pretty to get rid of.

  She brought it out and looked at it properly. ‘It would really suit you,’ she said.

  ‘Me?’ Her mum looked shocked and quickly put it down. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘I do,’ said Eleanor, warming to the idea. ‘Right. I’ve decided. I’m staging a fashion intervention here.’

  Her mum was still shaking her head, but Eleanor wasn’t to be put off. ‘Go on. Try it on. You have shaved your legs, haven’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Eleanor, grabbing a white peasant top with some sparkly sequins dotted across the front. ‘Put this on as well.’

  Eleanor could see her blushing, but her mum duly did as she was told and left the room.

  After a while, she heard her mum softly clear her throat and turned around.

  Eleanor’s eyes clicked wide. ‘Wow. Look at you.’

  Without the familiar baggy jeans, it was like looking at a different person.

  ‘You’ve got such great legs,’ she said. ‘And that top’s so pretty on you.’

  Her mum looked a bit bewildered, as if she couldn’t believe she was wearing this beautiful skirt and couldn’t stop glancing at her reflection in the mirror as the flowers glittered in the light.

  ‘Right,’ said Eleanor, checking the clock. ‘There’s just time to paint your toenails. Come on. He’ll be here soon. You can borrow a pair of my sandals. I’ve got loads and we’re the same size.’

  Her mum gulped so loudly that even Eleanor heard it.

  ‘Be brave,’ she told her mum, giving her a hug. ‘He’s not going to hurt you. It’s just Ben, remember? Lovely Ben who you’ve known for years.’

  June nodded. ‘You’re right.’

  Ben was completely stunned when he came into the house half an hour later and saw June.

  ‘Well,’ he said, clearing his voice as he stood in the hallway. ‘You look very beautiful.’ He frowned. ‘I’m not sure I’m smart enough now.’ He glanced down at his short-sleeved shirt and a tailored pair of shorts and made a face.

  ‘Nonsense,’ said her mum briskly, putting a hand on his arm. ‘You’re smart enough for me and that’s all that matters.’

  Eleanor noticed that her mum wasn’t stooping. She was standing straight with the confidence of being with someone she totally trusted.

  ‘Have a lovely evening,’ she called out as they headed out of the front door.

  And then she closed the door behind them, smiling.

  Chapter 45

  It was the waiting around that Eleanor wasn’t used to. Once she had mastered her soap recipe, and how to get it out of its mould, she was left with a few spare hours. She was already ahead with making her creams, so she decided that it was such a lovely day that she would take the rest of the day off.

  Sitting on Arthur’s bench in the courtyard, she allowed herself a bit of downtime. When had she last just sat with a cup of tea and listened to the birdsong? Watched a plane cross the blue sky? Heard the wind rustle the leaves in the trees? When was the last time she had just stopped? She couldn’t remember.

  But she could feel her shoulders beginning to drop down and unhunch. Her neck was getting longer and she was finally beginning to sleep through the night.

  She glanced down at her fingers which were now completely free of eczema. Even her friends had noticed.

  ‘It’s thanks to the carrot soap,’ she told them.

  Of course, she was going to end up with far too much now she had various pans of the stuff in her workshop. So she had handed Annie a couple of bars that lunchtime in the ki
tchen.

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Rose, taking one out of Annie’s hands and sniffing it.

  ‘It’s the soap Eleanor made,’ said Annie, sounding proud.

  ‘How marvellous!’ said Rose. ‘You’ll be the next Estée Lauder.’

  ‘Hardly,’ grunted Eleanor, feeling shy at the attention.

  ‘Nonsense,’ carried on Rose. ‘Sweetie, Estée Lauder started making her beauty creams in her kitchen. So why not you? By the way, darling, my friends keep telling me how wonderful and young I look. Everyone’s jealous of little old moi. I’ve told them it’s all thanks to your marvellous cream and now they all want some. How much shall I tell them you’re charging?’

  Eleanor was a bit nonplussed. She hadn’t even considered prices for any of her products yet. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, thinking aloud. ‘What do you think? A couple of pounds?’

  Rose shook her head. ‘Darling! No. That’s way too low for all your hard work. How about five pounds per pot?’

  Eleanor grimaced. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit steep? It’s only a bit of lavender and cream, after all.’

  Rose put her hand up. ‘Do you know how much I’ve spent over the years on ridiculously priced creams and none have had the effect that your cream has had. Trust me, I’m a walking billboard for your age-defying lotion.’ She broke into a winning smile. ‘Besides, you need to make as much as you can to save up. Have you seen the Chanel line for this fall?’

  Rose left Eleanor deep in thought. A bit of money would be nice, she’d thought. Then she wondered what on earth she would spend it on? A few months ago, it would have been new designer clothes to keep up with all the rich celebrities she had been mixing with. But that all felt like a lifetime ago, and why did she need designer clothes anyway? She was mucking out the donkey and messing about all day with an apron on.

  She wondered if she should feel sadder than she did about the lack of parties and champagne lifestyle. But as she headed back into her workshop, she realised that the overriding sensation was one of relief. That she was finally being true to herself.