by Emma Davies
This time, she made sure she got the initial few bends absolutely right, and from then on tried to apply the same amount of force to each bend, pulling the coils tight with each turn, just like she did when she plaited her hair to give a neat braid. A few minutes later she was rewarded with a much better specimen.
She looked at it critically. The walls in the sitting room of the cottage that Tom was currently thatching were whitewashed, the same as hers were, and she could see that the corn dollies would make for very effective decoration. In the book, the corn dollies were tied off with lengths of coloured ribbon, and against the pale wall the contrast would be vivid. However, it was clear that she would need to make something much bigger and more elaborate if it was ever going to be used. Still, she had made a start and was pleased with her efforts.
She picked up the book again, turning the page to see if there was something else she might tackle. Her eye was immediately drawn to an illustration, not of a corn dolly but instead an elaborately woven corn sheaf. Usually made from bread, she had seen these before, often as centrepieces in bakers’ windows, or at the harvest festival concerts she had played at. The illustration she was looking at was almost mahogany in colour, with a beautiful shine to it, and full of twists and plaits, made to resemble the ears of wheat. To each side of the centrepiece, also fashioned from bread, were cornucopias, each one spilling over with fruit and flowers. She looked up across the garden, her eyes narrowing as she thought for a moment. She put the book back down and rose from the bench, heading towards the main house.
Her knock at the door brought no reply, and so Isobel walked around to the kitchen window to see if anyone was about. Trixie could clearly be seen inside, but the reason for the unanswered door was also obvious. She held a huge mixing bowl in her arms, and was gently turning over its contents as she danced around the room, her hips gyrating in a distinctly sensuous way. Isobel grinned, reluctant to interrupt her impromptu dancing, but after a few more seconds she began to feel embarrassed by her voyeurism, and waved her own arms wildly in an effort to attract Trixie's attention.
The happy-go-lucky cook was already smiling, but she threw back her head and laughed as she caught sight of Isobel, before putting down the mixing bowl and motioning to the door. She was still laughing as she opened it.
‘Caught red-handed,’ she giggled, pulling a pair of headphones from her ears. ‘That was me trying to be raunchy,’ she added, ‘but I suspect I just looked a total prat.’
‘What were you listening to?’ asked Isobel, intrigued.
Trixie blushed a little. ‘One of my favourites. Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good”. Uh, it gets me every time.’
Isobel grinned. ‘Great choice,’ she said. ‘And no, you didn't look like a total prat. My hips do that too whenever I listen to it.’
The two women smiled at one another for a moment before Trixie took a step backwards, ushering Isobel into the hallway.
‘Don't tell me, you've come for more muffins,’ she said.
‘Well I could have, easily, but no, not this time. I wanted to ask you something actually, and Maddie too if she's around. I had an idea about something and wondered whether it was a good idea, or a really bad one.’
‘Sounds mysterious,’ Trixie replied. ‘I think I’d better go and fetch Maddie, she's just in the office, I won't be a minute.’
Isobel looked about the kitchen. There was a glorious scent of lemons coming from somewhere, and she crossed to inspect the mixing bowl. It was two-thirds full of cake mixture, and it smelled divine. Isobel would have dearly loved to stick a finger in to sample it. Perhaps as a guest she might be offered the spoon to lick.
‘Lemon drizzle,’ said Trixie, coming back into the room. ‘They’re for the farmers’ market tomorrow, but I might just be able to keep one back to have with our tea this afternoon.’
‘If you don't, there’ll be hell to pay,’ quipped Maddie, bringing up the rear. ‘It's all well and good having the office in the house, but I get subjected to smells like this all day, and it’s absolute torture.’
‘It must be,’ replied Isobel. ‘My stomach’s rumbling already. Mind you, that seems to be a pretty permanent feature over the last few days.’
She smiled at the two expectant faces in front of her, suddenly remembering that this was their place of work, and they were both probably very busy. It made her feel a little shy.
‘I'm sorry to barge in like this, but as I mentioned to Trixie, I’ve had an idea; something I’ve seen which I think might be helpful.’
Maddie shot Trixie a glance. ‘Go on,’ she said, ‘we love ideas here.’
Isobel took a deep breath. ‘I've had a go at making corn dollies this morning. Tom mentioned how you wanted to use them as decoration in the Thatcher’s Cottage. And well… I think they were okay for a first attempt, and I don't mind practising until maybe they're good enough to use, but…’ She trailed off as she caught sight of the expression on Maddie’s face, and she suddenly realised what she had said. She flushed bright red.
‘Oh listen to me, I'm sorry,’ she said. ‘You must think I'm incredibly rude, and arrogant as well, thinking that I can tell you what to do here, when it's really none of my business.’
It hadn't occurred to her before exactly what she had been doing. But she was staying in a holiday cottage for goodness’ sake. She was a guest here, and guests didn't behave like this, almost as if she were one of them. It was just that… she tried to push the thought away, but the sense of belonging that had crept over her was too strong to ignore. She hadn't felt this way in a very long time, that's if she ever had.
But the startled expression on Maddie’s face had turned into a rather wary smile. ‘Oh, Isobel, please don't apologise. I think my face ran away with me just then, but you surprised me rather, I thought you were up to your ears in work? Tom really didn’t have any right to ask for your help with the corn dollies. You should have just said no.’
Isobel fiddled with her ring, twisting it round. Maddie seemed to have got entirely the wrong idea.
‘No, it’s okay, I’m happy to help. Tom was doing me a favour actually. You see, I have been busy… I probably still should be if the truth were known, but quite unaccountably I find that my plans have changed a little, and until I work out where they're going, I seem to have some time on my hands.’ She returned Maddie’s smile with a brighter one. ‘Which is actually brilliant, but doesn't excuse me from sticking my oar in.’
‘Actually, I don't think you’ve stuck it in yet,’ said Trixie. ‘And I should warn you about Maddie. One tiny little glimpse of oar, and she’ll have the whole boat. Be very careful…’
‘Trixie!’ said Maddie, pretending to be shocked. ‘How could you say such a thing?’
Trixie gave her a sideways glance. ‘Very easily,’ she said. ‘Look at me. One minute I was working in the pub, and just happened to mention that I liked cooking, and then the next minute I'm whisked away here and somehow seem to be doing things I never thought I'd find myself doing.’
Maddie grinned at her. ‘And you absolutely hate it, don't you?’
‘Absolutely. Every minute of it.’ She picked up the mixing bowl and gave it an experimental stir. ‘Of course the other way of looking at it, Isobel, is that you're just succumbing to what everybody else does when they arrive at Joy’s Acre.’
‘But I'm supposed to be a guest,’ she protested, laughing. ‘If I'm not working, then I should be on holiday, not coming up with an idea to help decorate your cottages.’
Maddie’s eyes widened. ‘You've had another idea for the cottages?’ she said. ‘Well, that’s different and I demand to know what it is. Trixie, sit this woman down and feed her something, we can't let her escape.’
‘Victoria sponge or raspberry and white chocolate muffin?’ said Trixie, without skipping a beat.
‘Seriously though,’ added Maddie. ‘I think it’s lovely that you’re thinking about the cottages here. When they began to take shape, and we knew we would b
e able to have guests in the not too distant future, we all kind of had a wish that this place would be more than just somewhere to come on holiday. We hoped that our guests would feel at home here and, for however long, perhaps that they were part of our bigger family. It sounds to me, from what you've been saying, that this may well be the case, and I honestly couldn't be happier if it is. I didn’t mean to be dismissive of you making the corn dollies for us, it’s just that, well, Tom can be very… charismatic, and I was worried you were being coerced into something you didn’t want to do.’
Isobel looked between the two women. ‘No, it’s nothing like that, honestly. I find it hard to explain,’ she said. ‘But I think it’s more like your wish might have come true. I feel so differently about my life since coming here, and I have no idea why that is.’
Trixie hefted a huge dollop of cake mixture out of the bowl and let it gently drop back in. She gave a satisfied nod and put the bowl back on the table. ‘So it isn’t anything to do with our charming thatcher then?’
‘What, Tom?’ Isobel stopped suddenly, feeling herself blush. ‘Actually, I think it's got quite a lot to do with your charming thatcher. Not in that way,’ she was quick to add, ‘I'm aware that he’s a bit of a—’
‘Flirt?’
Isobel smiled. ‘Well that's one word for it. But he's been… lovely. A total gentleman and a friend. Nothing more… I wouldn’t…’ She paused, wondering how best to explain herself, or even whether she should. ‘I've been wrestling with one or two problems over my music, and it's really helped having him to talk to about it, that’s all.’
Maddie cleared her throat. ‘Then that’s just perfect, Isobel,’ she said. ‘But enough about Tom now, I’m dying to hear what this idea of yours is. That’s far more exciting.’ She gave Isobel a broad smile.
Isobel could hardly remember what she’d come over for. But it was a nice feeling, this standing in the kitchen nattering with two other women.
‘Okay, so as I mentioned I had a go at making some corn dollies. But I realised that the trouble with them was that they might be a bit small. Now that's not really a problem, we can just make bigger ones, but as I was looking through the book Tom gave me for more ideas, I came across a photo that gave me an even better one. It was one of those large sheaves of bread, like you see at harvest festival. I think they’re only meant to be ornamental, and this one also had two horns of plenty by the side. The main design was pretty intricate on its own, but the horns were also filled with flowers and fruits. It struck me that it would look quite stunning as a centrepiece on the cottage wall.’
‘Yes, I've seen those.’ Maddie nodded. ‘When I was at primary school we used to take one down to the church every year. I think the local bakery always made it. They’re almost works of art.’
‘The one in the book was hanging on the wall, although it looked a bit dated. I suspect that by today's fashions in interior design it wouldn't stand up to much scrutiny, but in the cottage it might fit in rather nicely.’
‘I think it's a brilliant idea,’ said Trixie. ‘Although I'm not sure that they're actually made of bread, at least the ones hanging on walls wouldn't be. They’re more likely to be salt dough, which is even better.’
Maddie shook her head. ‘What's that?’ she asked. ‘It sounds like some kind of bread.’
‘Well in a way it is, but you wouldn't want to eat it. Essentially, it's just flour, water and salt. You mix it together to make a type of dough which is a bit like modelling clay, and then you just make whatever you want with it. You dry it out really slowly, and then once it’s done you can varnish it or paint it, whichever you prefer.’
‘And how on earth do you know about that?’
Trixie grinned. ‘My mum is a childminder,’ she explained. ‘Kids love it, and it's really easy to make.’
Isobel frowned. ‘But this looked nothing like what a child would make. The photo I saw looked very realistic.’
‘Yes, it’s just like clay really,’ replied Trixie. ‘What you get out of it depends on the skill of the person using it. And I've seen some very elaborate and beautiful creations.’
‘Are you saying you’d be willing to have a go at making one?’ asked Maddie. ‘Because if you are, I'll bite your hand off. I don't think either of us have time to do something like that, but I think it's a fantastic idea, and what better than to have it made by our first guest here. It's perfect!’
Isobel could feel a little flush of pleasure building inside her. She had no idea whether she had the skill to turn out anything resembling the photo in the book, but she would have a damn good try.
Trixie beamed at her. ‘I'm not sure exactly how you make salt dough,’ she said. ‘But I could ask my mum. Or better yet, just Google it. I know it's very simple, it's just the proportion of ingredients you need to get right. Speaking of which…’ She disappeared through a doorway at the back of the kitchen, returning a few moments later with two bags in her hands.
‘There you go… flour, and salt.’ She handed the packages to Isobel. ‘That's enough to be going on with, but there's plenty more where that came from, just let me know what you need.’ She looked at Maddie. ‘Actually, I'll be out all day tomorrow at the farmers’ market,’ she said. ‘So if you wanted to use the kitchen here I'm sure that wouldn’t be a problem.’
‘Would that be all right? I’d hate to mess up the kitchen in the cottage. Oh… not that this is messy—’
Maddie just laughed. ‘It sounds like the perfect plan. Of course you’d be welcome over here.’ Her gaze wandered over Isobel’s shoulder.
Isobel turned around to see Tom walking towards the door. He didn't knock of course, and within seconds was in the room with them. She wasn't sure who was the more surprised, but she was definitely the more embarrassed. She was suddenly very aware of the conversation which had recently taken place, but Tom simply gave a huge grin.
‘Isobel!’ he exclaimed. ‘I didn't know you were over here.’
And despite herself her stomach gave a huge lurch. ‘I’m just going actually. I came to talk to Maddie about something…’ She trailed off, not sure what else to say as Tom and Maddie stared at one another.
‘Well, that makes two of us then. I wonder if we might have a chat?’ he said to Maddie.
There was a certain tension in the air and Isobel was suddenly very conscious of outstaying her welcome.
She turned to Trixie, adjusting the packages in her arms. ‘I’ll be off then,’ she said. ‘Thanks for these.’
And with that she disappeared out into the hallway before anyone could stop her. Tom had mentioned a misunderstanding between himself and Maddie first thing this morning, and now it very much felt like she was the cause of it. Plus, Maddie had been very quick to judge Tom earlier. The trouble was, that although Isobel also had been very quick to deny that Tom had been the cause of her recent change in behaviour, she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that, in fact, he had everything to do with it.
Chapter 21
It took until Tuesday, but from the minute she woke up, Isobel’s fingers were practically itching. She knew from experience that she needed to let ideas brew, to percolate for a little while until things were piping hot, at which point she could pour them out. So she had passed the time reading, working on her salt dough creation, walking the countryside, and playing her violin just for fun. An extraordinary but nonetheless pleasing experience.
Now, though, it was eight thirty, and Isobel was up, showered, full of coffee and scrambled eggs on toast, and ready for a full day’s work. Just like the good old days, she thought to herself, actually laughing out loud at the irony. It seemed an age since she had last sat at her desk and, although her computer and keyboard felt just as familiar as always, she realised that the person sitting in front of them was very different indeed.
By default, the program she used for composing opened on her last composition, but she clicked it closed without even listening to it. It was tempting, but she knew what it sounded l
ike and hearing it again would not make it any better. It was also part of the old regime. She started a new project and created five individual tracks, naming each of them, and then she took a very deep breath.
Four and a half hours later, when Trixie's knock came at the door, she had the basic melody line for two out of her five characters. It was a good morning's work, but just as important as the number of notes that had been recorded was the feeling that Isobel had made the right decision, and she got up to greet Trixie with a smile rather than a frown at the interruption.
She no longer took her meals alone in her cottage and, after exchanging a few words with Trixie, she followed her outside and into the garden, walking on alone to the main house while Trixie went to fetch Seth and Tom, who were both working on the roof. The kitchen was empty except for Maddie, who was busy cutting a crusty loaf of bread into large slices. She smiled a welcome.
‘Grab a seat,’ she said. ‘I don't suppose the others will be long.’ She began to arrange the slices onto a clean board beside her. ‘Although I'm glad you're here first… Oh gosh, this is awkward.’
Isobel pulled out a chair and sat down. Maddie sounded quite serious and she wasn't sure what to say.
‘It's silly really, because I shouldn’t feel embarrassed about asking, but it feels wrong somehow.’ She turned around to face Isobel. ‘Although you could take it as a compliment…’
‘I should just come out with it if I were you.’ Isobel laughed. ‘The others will be here in a minute and then you’ll be stuck.’
Maddie put down the bread-knife and came to join her at the table. ‘The thing is that I’ve had another potential booking for the cottage, but I didn't want to reply before speaking to you first. I know you have it until the end of August, but I can’t quite get my head around the fact that you won’t be here after then. So I’m just checking really… in case you'd like to stay for longer.’
Isobel was touched. Maddie wasn't trying to be a clever saleswoman, she was obviously sincere in what she said, and her words suddenly lodged themselves in Isobel’s brain. What was she going to do? The thought of having to leave Joy’s Acre was unbearable. Here, everything seemed so simple, as if anything was possible, and all she had to do was reach for it. She couldn’t even begin to think about going home, and as for the other things she had to face… Just thinking about them was sending icy cold shivers down her back.