Summer at the Little Cottage on the Hill_An utterly uplifting holiday romance to escape with

by Emma Davies

  ‘I'm sorry,’ he said, ‘but would you mind holding this for me, just for a moment. There's something the lady needs to do, and she requires both hands.’

  And then Isobel kissed him. Properly this time.

  He pulled away, laughing, as Seth and Maddie both materialised by his side. ‘You bastards,’ he said, grinning. ‘Every single one of you was in on this, weren’t you?’

  ‘Of course!’ exclaimed Seth. ‘Although to be fair, we didn’t know anything about it until Isobel came banging on the door at eight o’clock this morning, asking for your address.’

  ‘Well, we couldn’t let her see you in a less than perfect state, could we? So operation Clara and Trixie was put into place to sort you out, while Isobel and I did some serious wardrobe raiding.’

  Tom grinned, looking at Isobel. ‘I like your boots.’

  She stuck her foot out. ‘Aren’t they beauties? I’m not sure Trixie’s ever getting these back.’ The sparkly silver Doc Martens flashed in the light. ‘And the dress belongs to Maddie,’ she said shyly.

  She was wearing a midnight blue velvet dress with a fitted bodice and a full tulle skirt which fell to just below her knees. She looked utterly perfect.

  ‘Well I couldn’t turn up in any old thing, could I? And believe me it would have been any old thing. It had to be something special, something that would exactly voice how I’m feeling. And on reflection this seemed like the perfect outfit in which to kick ass.’ She paused for a moment, touching her fingers to the sumptuous dark material. ‘Because, boy, do I intend to.’

  ‘Ahem…’

  There was an amused clearing of a throat from behind him, which Tom ignored the first time, until it sounded again even louder. He pulled away from Isobel, laughing.

  ‘I might have known… you lot knew she was coming too, didn’t you?’ He groaned, turning back to a grinning Isobel.

  ‘Gentlemen,’ he said. ‘May I present Isobel Hardcastle.’

  Ginger came forward. ‘Aye,’ he said, grinning, ‘I thought it might be.’

  He held out his hand. ‘Ginger Rogers,’ he said.

  Isobel flicked a glance to Tom. It was a common reaction. He laughed. ‘It’s okay, that really is his name.’

  ‘Well, it isn’t, of course, not really, but I’ve been called as much for so long I can’t even remember what my real name is any more. I’m pleased to meet you.’

  Isobel stared at his red curly hair and bushy beard. ‘Ginger,’ she said. ‘I like it.’

  He took her slender hand in his huge paw and kissed it gently. ‘Now, don’t you take any messing from any of these boys here, today… especially, this one.’ He broke off, eyeing Tom. ‘But if you do, just let me know, and I’ll come and sort them out.’

  Isobel laughed, looking around her. ‘I’ll remember that.’

  Tom turned to the others. ‘And this here is Jack, respectable, married, an accountant for goodness’ sake. Then we have “Yolo”, though it’s spelled “I-o-l-o”, as he’s Welsh, but never mind, and lastly that’s Pete, whose claim to fame is that he once shared a taxi with Hugh Grant.’

  ‘It’s lovely to meet you, all of you.’

  ‘I think the pleasure’s all ours,’ replied Jack, giving Isobel her violin back, and Tom a direct stare, his eyebrows raised. ‘You sly old devil,’ he said.

  Ginger gave his fellow band member a gentle punch on the arm. ‘Oi, leave him be. The poor man’s been through enough…’

  Tom rolled his eyes. ‘Right, come on, one of you lot go and get some drinks, we’re on in ten minutes or so. Let’s see if we can’t get some of these people up on their feet.’

  He took Isobel’s arm, steering her gently to one side for a moment. ‘You look happy,’ he said. ‘Still gorgeous, of course, but I didn’t expect to see you looking happy. Are you okay?’

  Isobel’s eyes began to glisten. ‘I feel amazing,’ she said. ‘I can’t tell you now, there isn’t time, but this really is the first day of the rest of my life, Tom. And I’m here, with you, that’s all that matters.’

  ‘But your father—’

  ‘Is fine…’ She gave a quick shake of her head. ‘I’ll explain later, but everything is fine. Perfect.’

  ‘Then I'm glad,’ he said. ‘I truly am.’ He took hold of both of her hands. ‘And are you ready for this? It's going to be different, that's for sure.’

  ‘I have absolutely no idea,’ she replied. ‘At the moment my head is buzzing so much I can hardly think straight, but I'm going to give it my best shot.’

  ‘Right between the eyes,’ he said. ‘Let's knock ’em dead.’

  And she did.

  Chapter 26

  Tom wasn't quite sure how Isobel was still going, and he suspected that she would sleep very, very well tonight. He almost laughed out loud at the thought, because there was a certain part of his anatomy which sincerely hoped that neither of them would get any sleep. He was sitting watching her from a supposedly comfortable chair which had been provided for them so that they could rest in between sessions, and he had never been more proud of anyone in his life.

  Watching Isobel chat to the band now he could see that they were hanging on her every word, and it occurred to him that this afternoon had been such a success because every single one of them had been vying for the best band member accolade, and had played accordingly. Whatever their motives, and he wasn't naive enough to think that these were entirely innocent, he knew that it was mostly to make Isobel feel welcome, and he found it rather touching that they had all made such an effort.

  The music they played, by its very nature, was open to interpretation, and improvisation. They jammed it up, looking to see where they could add or embellish, and they had played together for so long that they each knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses, and could watch each other for the changes and signals that were almost unconscious between them. He had really hoped that Isobel would find her place among them. And then he smiled to himself; who was he kidding? He’d wanted Isobel to shine, to be an ethereal star among mere mortals. He’d wanted to shout at them all: She kissed me, she kissed me.

  They had played their hearts out and, although it had taken Isobel a couple of numbers to really feel confident about joining in, from then on she had played up a storm. By some miracle – or, in Isobel's case, the enormous commitment she had to the things she cared about – she had managed to learn nearly all of the songs from their set list. And for those that she didn’t know, she simply jumped in when she could.

  Now, they were having a breather between the evening sessions. At just gone eight o'clock, the marquee where they were playing for the night was heaving with people of all ages. The band had been fed and watered, and so far they had played one set, easing folks in more gently, until they'd had time to get one or two drinks inside of them, and loosen up a little. This was when Tom loved playing the most. The band would ramp it up from now on, and Tom took a particular pride in knowing that before too long they would have everyone up on the dance floor.

  He smiled as he saw Isobel walking back towards him. She had a particularly cheesy grin on her face.

  ‘And what have you been up to?’ he asked.

  She plonked herself down on a chair beside him. ‘Never you mind,’ she said, tapping the side of her nose. ‘Just sorting out a little something for later.’ She gave him her best butter wouldn't melt look. ‘So don't ask me, because I'm not going to tell you.’ She fanned her face. ‘Blimey, it’s boiling in here.’

  Tom had already rolled up his sleeves a while ago. ‘It is, and it's going to get worse. Marquees are a bugger for that in the summer. Still, at least they've had the sense to put us near the back flaps. We can open those if you like before we get going again. And another drink wouldn't go amiss, would you like one?’

  ‘Please.’ She nodded. ‘Just water would be great.’

  He looked at her for a moment, wondering how she would take his next question. ‘Isobel, can I ask you something?’ He saw the assent in h
er eyes. ‘Admittedly we haven't known each other that long, but I've never seen you drink anything other than tea, coffee, or soft drinks. Do you never have anything stronger?’

  Her hands were held loosely in her lap, and she looked down at them now. ‘Tom, I've been there and done that. I even still have some of my identity wristbands from the hospital to prove it. Drinking can give you a wonderful place to hide, but after a while you forget you're still behind the curtains. I decided a while ago that if no one else was going to come and find me, I'd better find myself.’ She chewed at the edge of her lip. ‘And actually, it's a bit like cleaning windows, you never see anything good through dirty ones.’

  Tom nodded slowly, there was nothing more to say. He smiled his acceptance of everything that Isobel had ever been.

  ‘Water it is then,’ he said.

  He touched a hand to the top of her hair as he rose to go and join the queue at the bar. He’d been thinking about his own drinking for a little while now, and although the last few days had seen him spectacularly fall off the wagon, he knew without doubt that he had been on his last bender. Not one single drop of alcohol had passed his lips during the day, nor would it. He was seeing things clearly for the first time in what felt like forever, and he didn’t want anything to blur his vision. From the minute Tom had seen Isobel standing tuning her violin, he knew that today would be a day he wanted to remember every single second of.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  He looked up into a smiling face beside him.

  ‘Sorry, I can see you have your hands full.’ The lady beside him at the bar looked apologetic. ‘I just wondered if you had a business card, that’s all.’

  Tom had just taken possession of two glasses and two bottles of water, and would have put them down had the space he’d just vacated not immediately been filled by three other people. He grimaced, holding out one of the bottles.

  ‘Would you mind holding one, sorry. I can fish a card out for you then.’

  ‘Oh, of course. Here, let me take the other one as well, and then you’ll have both hands free.’ She took both bottles. ‘I hope you don’t mind me nabbing you like this, but I don’t want my husband to see. He’s got a big birthday coming up later this year and I’ve been wondering about having a band play at the party the family are throwing for him.’

  Tom gave her his best enthusiastic grin. He always made sure he carried cards with him whenever they played. It was how they got most of their business.

  ‘I don’t mind in the slightest,’ he said, pulling his wallet free from his pocket, and extracting a card. ‘There you go.’ He took one of the bottles back so that she could take it.

  ‘Oh, you’re local. Even better. Do you get very booked up? His birthday’s quite close to Christmas.’

  ‘I’d have to check,’ said Tom in his best non-committal voice, knowing full well that they were free. ‘Tell you what, if you want to drop me an email in the next day or two, we can hopefully get something sorted for you. Are you folk fans?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ She nodded vigorously. ‘And you’re very good, especially that young violinist you have. My husband’s taken quite a shine to her.’ She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Mind you, when you look like that…’

  Tom didn’t have the heart to tell her that Isobel wasn’t a normal part of the band’s line-up. Besides, who knew? Maybe by then she might be…

  ‘Well, thank you, I’ll hope to hear from you then.’ He eyed his other bottle of water.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she laughed. ‘Sorry, you’ll be wanting that, won’t you?’ She passed it to him, her attention already back on the business card in her hand. ‘I’ll definitely be in touch. Thanks again… Tom.’ She looked up and smiled before turning and threading her way back through the throng of people.

  Tom stared after her, grinning. All things considered the day was turning out better than he could ever have expected.

  He arrived back at his seat to find Isobel deep in conversation with Ginger. The pair sprang apart like repelling magnets the minute they saw him, which Ginger found hugely funny. He snorted with laughter, desperately trying to keep a straight face, and then, realising how futile this was, gave in.

  ‘Ay, lassie, we’ve been rumbled…’ he spluttered, laying on a thick Scottish accent, which he did remarkably well.

  Isobel too looked like she was fit to burst. ‘Sorry, Tom,’ she said, tapping her nose again. ‘We were just discussing tactics.’ She grinned at Ginger. ‘I think we’re done though, aren’t we?’

  ‘I reckon we are.’ And with that he stood up, winking at Tom.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what any of that was about, are you?’

  She grinned. ‘Nope,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘Come on, time to go.’ She held out her hand, and Tom had no choice but to take it, allowing himself to be towed back up to their stage area.

  ‘Right, lads,’ said Ginger the minute they were all settled. ‘What say we take no prisoners? I want every last Dick and Harry up on the floor. Isobel reckons she’s got this, and if she’s game, then so am I.’

  There were enthusiastic nods all round. Tom felt decidedly like the last person to get the joke.

  ‘Okay,’ he said slowly, looking at Ginger. ‘What are we talking?’

  The others in the band all looked at one another, amused expressions on their faces, but no one said a thing. Tom waited, letting the seconds click by, but still no explanation was forthcoming.

  ‘Anyone want to give me a clue?’

  Jack took a slight step forward. ‘My wedding?’ he said. ‘We played it then… or rather it played us…’

  Tom wracked his brains, trying to think back, and then all of a sudden it came to him.

  ‘Dear God,’ he said. ‘You’re not serious?’

  ‘Oh, we are, Tom, we really are,’ grinned Ginger. ‘You might want to take a drink before we go.’

  Isobel took up her violin, and beamed at Tom. ‘What could possibly go wrong?’ she said.

  Tom reached down for the accordion on the chair behind him, and settled it comfortably around him. He flexed his fingers experimentally, and took a deep breath.

  ‘Ginger, you’re a dead man,’ he said.

  The corpse in question took a step forward and switched on the mike that stood front and centre stage.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, pausing for a moment until he had everyone’s attention. ‘Time to turn up the heat a little now. Hang onto whatever you can find… I give you… “The Parson’s Farewell”.’ He gave a showman-like bow, before turning to the band. ‘A one, a two… a one, two, three, four…’

  Isobel’s bow flew over her strings as the opening notes of the fastest song they ever played rang out. And that was just the start of it; from then on in, it got faster and faster…

  Tom hardly stopped for breath, his eyes fixed on the group as they all followed Isobel’s lead. She was merciless, elbow flying, fingers flying, hair flying, one silver boot tapping out a maniacal rhythm on the floor, but they each held their own… just. She slowed them down before the end, giving them all a moment to breathe before the dizzying finale Tom knew was coming. She was looking at them all in turn, just as they were looking at her, and with a slight nod, and a huge grin, he saw her bow draw back to its full length before she was off again, repeating the chorus one last time, a fast, crashing, fury of perfect noise that was utterly exhilarating.

  And then it was over. There was a pause of perhaps a second or two but no more, before noise of a different kind filled his head, only this time the noise came from the guests. The applause was thunderous, intermingled with whoops and cheers, and the odd shout of Again! He had never heard anything like it. Tom slapped his hand against Isobel’s in a resounding high-five, as all around him faces beamed. They had nailed it. They had bloody nailed it.

  He almost missed the signal that Isobel gave Ginger and was about to say something when he realised that both Jack and Iolo were watching her as well. Confused, he shook
his head at her, but she simply grinned, walking forward towards the mike.

  ‘Did you like that?’ she asked. Another roar went up, and she gave the room a thumbs up. ‘It’s not an easy song to play, especially if you’re the accordion player, so while Tom has a rest, I’d like to play you something a little different.’ She turned slightly so that she was practically facing him. ‘It’s from an original piece of music I’ve written which is simply called “Joy’s Acre”…’

  The hairs began to rise on the back of Tom’s neck.

  ‘… It’s actually a place, and one that has become very special to me, for all sorts of reasons, none more so than the man currently looking rather shocked to my right. Ladies and gentlemen, get your breath back, and grab a partner, because, yes, this is a love song… Tom, this one’s for you…’

  Chapter 27

  It was the brightest, most beautiful day Isobel had ever seen. The birds were singing and the sky was full of the lightest, fluffiest clouds… Dear God, she thought to herself as she drew open the curtains, would you listen to me, I sound like Doris Day…

  She smiled as she looked out across the fields which led away from Joy’s Acre, down the slope of the hill and towards the village. They did indeed look stunning in the morning sunshine, although given Isobel's mood she could have found beauty in a concrete wall today.

  Since she had woken, a little after five, she had re-lived all the moments from yesterday over and over in her head. She examined them critically, as she did with most things in her life, and fully expected to find that she had been looking at them through rose-tinted glasses. It came as a huge and wonderful surprise therefore to realise that every single memory she had of the day was honest and true. Her feelings this morning were just as they had been.

  There had been so much during the day that brought joy and, although at times Isobel had been so nervous she felt as if she could barely play a single note, as the day had turned to night, her fears had simply evaporated and it had been hard to even remember that they had been there in the first place. By the time their final set of the evening had come around, Isobel knew that she had finally shed the remnants of her old skin, and in its place was something shiny and new. And throughout all of her transformation, Tom had been by her side.