Dreams of a Little Cornish Cottage

by Nancy Barone

  ‘I suggest you hang on to him.’

  I looked away from Connor, the vision fixing my fences, to Mum who had hobbled into the kitchen and was now precariously perched on her crutches like a bird on its trestle.

  ‘Mum – why didn’t you call me for help? You know we don’t want you slipping and hurting yourself again.’ All we needed was one more fall and then I’d never be rid of her.

  I helped her onto a chair in the garden and poured her a glass of lemonade.

  ‘What a drip,’ she said.

  ‘How do you mean, Mum?’

  ‘That Neil. I don’t know why you ever married him.’

  I stared at her, absolutely gobsmacked. ‘But I thought you loved Neil, Mum?’

  ‘Paaaa!’ she scoffed. ‘Love. What is love, if not a constant state of turmoil?’

  I looked at her closely. Now that was a change. Where was this even coming from? I was seeing her with new eyes. Well, almost. It had to be the medication talking. I’d noticed that sometimes it made her drowsy or a bit loopy.

  I went into the kitchen to check her prescription and read the side effects. Ah. Can induce hallucinations and variations in behaviour. I knew that there had to be a scientific explanation for that one. People like Beryl didn’t just mellow like that from one day to the next.

  ‘You all right, darlin’?’ came Connor’s voice.

  Beryl’s face brightened instantly and she lifted her frail arm to wave at him.

  ‘I’m proper happy to see you – and as much of you as I can, love,’ she called out to him, then as an aside to me: ‘That was my new, what do you call them, doober ontonders, by the way. It’s supposed to be, ehm, subminimal.’

  I covered my face, not knowing whether to be amused or horrified. ‘That—’ she said to me, indicating him with her chin ‘—that is something worth a sleepless night or two.’

  ‘Oh, Mum.’ I sighed as I dug out my mobile phone and moved off into the hall. I just didn’t have the energy today. And what little I did have left would have to be spared for my phone call to Yolanda.

  Not that she could do anything about it, but it was only right she knew that Mum was staying with me, just in case she decided to break the habit of a lifetime and actually ring her up. After a few rings, her answering machine kicked in with the jingle of one of her cooking shows and I rolled my eyes. She was always so blatant in everything she did. It must be her Italian half, although it was my mum who’d always done all the pushing and she was from Rotherham. I was tempted to hang up, but then I’d only have to do this all over again. So I bit the bullet and left a message.

  ‘Yolanda, it’s Nat, hope everything’s okay. Just wanted to let you know that Mum’s living with me at the moment. She’s sprained her ankle, but not to worry. I thought you should know in case you tried to call her on her house phone. We’ll talk when you get back to me. Ciao.’

  There. That should do it, although I didn’t think it would be enough to induce her to call back immediately. I was wrong.

  ‘Nat.’

  I moved into the privacy of an unused reception room that I hated because it was always cold and mostly inaccessible. The perfect place to talk to my sister. ‘Hi, Yola.’

  There was an unnerving delay in overseas calls that always made me impatient, as if the person I was speaking to wasn’t really listening, or even disapproved of what I was saying. And with Yolanda it was worse than with anyone else, as we communicated badly even in person at the best of times.

  ‘How’s Mum doing?’ she asked.

  ‘She’ll be okay, it’s just a sprain. I’ve put her in my downstairs study to make it easier.’

  ‘Right, right. And how are my girls? I miss them!’

  ‘Then why don’t you call when they’re at home?’

  A sigh from the other side of the ocean. ‘Don’t start on me, Nat. This was my first break all day.’

  ‘Yola, you’re the star of the show. Can’t you at least choose your own break time?’

  ‘Nat, it’s not that simple.’

  ‘Whatever. They’re fine. And Zoe is really coming out of her shell with Connor.’ Shit. I had been hoping to get away without mentioning him. Now you know why I could never have a secret affair.

  ‘Oh, is he a new play friend?’

  ‘No, uhm, he’s my new lodger.’

  ‘Sorry, can you say that again. It sounded like you said lodger.’

  Oh, hell. Me and my big mouth. ‘I did.’

  ‘What? You mean my children are under the same roof with a total stranger? Who is he, and where did you find him? Oh my God, Nat, what the hell is wrong with you?’

  I bristled. ‘He’s not a total stranger.’

  ‘So how do you know him, then?’

  Blast her, she always found a way to suss me out. My only way out was always to distract her until I found something else to upset her and she completely forget her original attack. It had worked since we were kids. But not this time, apparently. ‘I, er, put an ad in the papers.’

  ‘You what? Nat!’

  I knew that she did have a point regarding having strangers in the house. But when I took him in I didn’t know that I’d have the twins at the house again.

  ‘Yola – I can assure you that they absolutely love him.’

  ‘Oh, my God. Are you sleeping with him?’

  ‘Of course not, don’t be silly.’ And on a lighter note, I added: ‘But Mum’s considering it.’

  ‘Mum? Okay, now you’re just plain lying.’

  ‘I’m not, honest. Mum kind of has a crush on him. She flirts with him like crazy. They have this sexy banter thing going on. I don’t recognise her anymore.’

  ‘You mean they talk dirty? In front of my girls?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Of course not in front of the girls. And besides, it’s not dirty talk, it’s just a bit of teasing. What do you think this is, Sleaze Central?’

  ‘Huh,’ was all she said.

  ‘I resent that. And I resent you telling me how to live my own life. If I want a lodger who is kind to the girls, then I’ll have a lover – I mean lodger.’ Suddenly my face was going hot. ‘In any case, they like Connor, and you will too, when you come back next week.’

  ‘About that,’ she said. ‘I was going to call to tell you. I won’t be home for another two months at least.’

  ‘What? Are you kidding me? The girls miss you. And they need you!’

  ‘I know, I know, Nat. But I can’t just drop everything and run. I have a job to do here. Responsibilities.’

  I snorted. ‘Responsibilities? You want to talk to me about responsibilities? Yola, you know I love the girls like my own and I’m more than thrilled to have them in the house with me for as long as you need me to. But what will they think when you don’t come home when you promised?’

  ‘Nat, chill, will you? I’ll come home when I can – two months. Three months, tops. Okay?’

  Unbelievable.

  She sighed. ‘I promise I’ll do my very best, and I’ll come back loaded with presents.’

  I shook my head. I didn’t know why she’d bothered going through IVF all those years ago when she knew she didn’t have time to be a mother. She knew she was on the fast track to being a celebrity and still she’d insisted on doing it. She knew that it would mean sacrificing her own children, and yet, she went ahead with it anyway.

  ‘Nat? Are you still there? You haven’t hung up on me, have you?’

  ‘Of course not. I’m here.’ As always.

  Her voice softened as it did when she knew she was in the wrong. ‘I’ll do my best to come home as soon as possible. I’ll keep you posted. Give the girls my love, will you?’

  ‘Why don’t you post another video message to them at least?’ I suggested. ‘Or better, call when they’re home from school.’

  ‘Sure, why not,’ she said. ‘I’ll do that. Take care, Nat, and see you.’

  See you. That was the closest she’d ever come to saying thank you. Not that she needed to. I had a
lways been there for her and the girls, and always would be.

  ‘Okay, Yola. See you,’ I said, and hung up.

  ‘Who were you talking to?’

  I turned around to see Mum hobbling on her crutches again.

  ‘Mum, how many times do I have to ask you to call me when you want to get up?’ I said as I helped her onto a chair. ‘It was Yolanda, in any case. She sends her love.’ Pointless telling her that her favourite daughter wouldn’t be back for another two to three months.

  ‘Yolanda? Who’s that?’ she said. ‘And where the hell is your father? He told me to put dinner on hours ago.’

  8

  Just Like Family

  ‘It could be a momentary lapse, due to her medication,’ Neil said over the phone.

  ‘No, Neil. Mum could forget everything in the world – even her own name. But she would never, ever forget Yolanda. Nor that my dad is long dead. And she’s looking a little loopy, actually.’

  ‘Surely it’s just the painkillers. I’ll come over as soon as I can.’

  Connor, who was bent over Mum, taking her blood pressure with her monitor, was keeping her distracted from my conversation with his usual banter. ‘So I bet you can’t beat me at checkers, Beryl. Want to have a game?’

  ‘Eh?’ she said, looking at me. ‘Nat, tell your brother to stop foolin’ around.’

  ‘Have you got a brother?’ he mouthed to me. I shook my head.

  ‘Neil, I’m worried. It’s like she’s here one moment and completely out of it the next.’

  ‘I’ll be right over.’

  I sighed with relief. If anyone would know what to do, it was him. ‘Thank you, Neil.’

  ‘Her blood pressure is perfect,’ Connor said, unravelling the strap from around her arm.

  ‘Where did you learn to do that?’ I asked.

  He shrugged. ‘My mum has one of these. It’s not rocket science.’

  ‘Neil’s coming over to check her out and I’m going to pop round to her place to turn off the utilities for now, clear her fridge out and whatnot. I can’t let her go back to her home in this state.’

  ‘I’ll come with you as soon as Neil gets here.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that,’ I said in earnest.

  ‘I want to, Nat.’

  ‘Okay, then. Thank you. If you’re sure.’

  A few minutes later, the doorbell rang and I raced to get it.

  ‘How is she?’ Neil asked as he hurried past me.

  I shook my head. ‘Still loopy. She’s in her room.’

  ‘Hello, Mum?’ he called as he disappeared down the corridor. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘Neil? Is that you?’ she asked as I caught up with him. Sitting up, she seemed perfectly fine again.

  ‘Can you tell me where you are, Mum?’ Neil said, sitting on the bed next to her and taking her hand.

  Mum leaned forward to peer into his face. ‘I’m at your old house, Neil. What’s the matter with you?’

  I needed to help her, to do something useful for her. ‘Neil, I’m just going to pop by her place and get some more of her stuff.’

  If Neil’s nose was put out of joint for using him as a babysitter again, he didn’t show it. On the contrary.

  ‘I’ll be here, don’t worry,’ he assured me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said and his mouth dropped when Connor followed me out the door.

  I got into his Jeep and sagged against the soft seat in a heap. What was happening to her? Was it a stroke? Bad circulation? I’d never seen her act like that before, and it frightened me.

  Connor took my hand and squeezed it. ‘It’ll be okay, Nat. Your mum’ll be fine.’

  I shook my head. ‘Thank you, Connor. I sure hope so.’

  On the quay, Connor parked and I descended, surprised to see a woman coming out of Lavender Cottage, i.e. ‘my’ cottage next door.

  ‘Hello?’ I said, knowing I had no right to poke my nose into the business of Mum’s late neighbour.

  She smiled at me, and upon seeing Connor, her smile broadened. ‘Hello, Mr and Mrs Pentire? So glad to see you! I was told you might not be able to make it.’

  Connor and I exchanged looks and only then did I notice the sign in the tiny front garden. For Sale? No, no, no! Not ‘my’ little cottage!

  I grabbed Connor’s hand, not missing the widening of his eyes. The terrified widening of his eyes. So much for him ever having any interest in me. ‘Sorry for the misunderstanding,’ I apologised breezily. ‘Traffic.’

  ‘No worries. Shall we start our little tour, then?’

  Connor tugged at my hand and when I turned to look at him, he shook his head no, but it was too late.

  I’m sorry! I mouthed, joining my hands in prayer for him to not give me away. I love this house!

  ‘Yes, please,’ I said, forcing myself to not push past her in my haste to finally get in there again. I had tried over the years, but since old Mrs Pendennis had died, there had been no one around to speak with. And now it was finally for sale!

  Connor eyed me, unsure, but in the end followed me obediently.

  The woman held out her hand. ‘Hannah Williams,’ she said.

  ‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Nat and this is my husband Connor.’

  If the words younger man occurred to her, she didn’t show it, while I could feel Connor’s uneasiness, but when would I ever get a chance like this to see the cottage again?

  ‘Right, then,’ she said. ‘Well, as you can see, it’s a lovely stone fisherman’s cottage in a prime location in this beautiful little bay, in the midst of it but quite private as well. You can walk to all amenities, and you have your own front and back gardens.’

  Have you ever stepped into someone else’s home and known that it would one day be yours? That’s what had happened to me with Lavender Cottage.

  She opened the gate of the white picket fence and picked her way among clumps of tall grass and weeds and hardy perennials that seemed to have thrived on years and years of abandonment. We followed her to the pretty blue door that led onto a small porch where an old wooden bench stood over a shoe rack, still covered in Mrs Pendennis’s tiny slippers, poor dear.

  I remembered pulling flowers out of my mum’s vases and passing them to her over the fence at her startled but amused face as she laughed and said, ‘Oh, dear, love – yer mum’ll be proper angry with you!’

  And then she’d invite me over for lemonade and biscuits to thank me, and Yolanda would run to Mum and tell on me. Every time I needed a friendly face, it was always Mrs Pendennis who consoled me. Perhaps that was why I always fancied living at Lavender Cottage instead of in our own home that didn’t even have a name. And when Mum would chastise me for something I hadn’t done, it was always Mrs Pendennis over the fence who told her to go easy on me. I missed that dear old smile. My only accomplice while growing up.

  Connor squeezed my hand gently and when I looked up at his face, his eyes gestured that we should be following the real estate agent.

  ‘This is the entrance hall, and straight down onto the left is your living room with a lovely bay window and a large open fire…’

  Exactly the way I remembered it, only now it was dark and smelled musty, while when Mrs Pendennis was alive, she always had a fresh bunch of daffodils on the windowsill.

  ‘There’s a lovely bathroom down here,’ she said, opening the door to a powder room with a beach-themed shower curtain.

  ‘Look, honey,’ I said. ‘Lighthouses, your favourite.’

  He cleared his throat. ‘Yes, darling.’ He couldn’t have sounded any more fake if he’d tried.

  ‘And here, from the living room we go straight into the kitchen diner, with a lovely AGA and French doors onto the garden. As the garden is huge, you could actually extend the kitchen out, and maybe even put in some skylights,’ she suggested, gauging our faces for a reaction.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ I murmured, wishing I could just put my bag down and move here now. All it needed was a good clean, some airing and a bit of TL
C.

  ‘And upstairs there are three bedrooms, one en suite,’ she informed us as she led the way, and up we went. The master bedroom faced the long garden that was simply crying out for rescue, drowning as it was in bramble, and overgrown shrubs.

  Stone walls were visible here and there, and there were clumps of agapanthus, and honeysuckle and hostas and lilac and buddleia and roses crept up the doorframe. Here and there butterflies flitted and preened, getting close to us and shooting away as if beckoning us to follow them. I would do anything to fly in their wake.

  Downstairs, at the bottom of the garden I stopped to smell the sea air. It was much more pungent down here in Wyllow Cove, whereas, like many other things, it arrived up at Smuggler’s Rest somewhat faded. Living up there was like being the princess captive in her tower. I longed to live among people and just pop out for even five minutes for a quick chat, whereas now I had to scarper up and down the footpath or get into the car to be down here.

  ‘I love it,’ I said, feeling my face flush with excitement.

  ‘Good!’ Hannah Williams said. ‘Naturally it will need some redecorating. But there is a special surprise for you out the back.’

  Surprise? This property was the mirror image of my mum’s. Where could the surprise possibly be? We followed the agent all the way down the garden. On the left-hand side, there was a gate, where she stopped and turned with a broad grin.

  ‘Careful, now,’ she said and hopped over a two-foot plank where there was a tiny, gurgling brook.

  ‘Wow,’ I whispered, ‘I had no idea there was a leat here.’

  ‘That’s not the surprise,’ Hannah said triumphantly. ‘This is… your secret garden! Isn’t it amazing?’

  ‘Oh…’ I breathed. It was vast, studded with fruit trees fed by the tiny leat. All these years had gone by and I’d completely forgotten about it!

  Suddenly memories surged and I actually saw myself, like in a dream, as a child, sitting on that very same plank and dangling my tiny feet in the brook to cool off on a hot summer’s day, not understanding why my mother was always so angry with me. All those long-lost sensations that I’d never thought I’d relive, and just like that, I was ten again, with all my fears, and my dad calling me to tell me lunch was ready.