Welcome to My World

by Miranda Dickinson

  Fly padded into the kitchen, claws clicking on the slate floor tiles and tail wagging wildly, headed over to Harri and flopped down across her feet.

  ‘Fly! I’m sorry, Harri. He’s got a thing for warming visitors’ feet, I’m afraid,’ Emily smiled ruefully as she filled a kettle and placed it on the stove. ‘I think it’s his way of making people stay.’

  Harri leaned down to ruffle the soft fur on Fly’s stomach. ‘I don’t mind, really. I have a cat so I’m not used to such an enthusiastic welcome.’

  ‘We’ve got three of those too,’ Emily smiled, ‘but they seem to spend most of their time in the barn.’

  After the kettle had come to its shrill whistling boil and the ‘brown Betty’ teapot was filled and covered with a hand-knitted bobble-topped tea-cosy, Emily joined Harri at the table.

  Harri pulled out a notebook and pen. ‘So, tell me about your business venture then.’

  Emily visibly sparkled and grasped her blue-striped mug with both hands. ‘Well, I’ve had this idea and, I have to admit, it’s completely nuts, but I just can’t seem to get it out of my mind, no matter how hard I try, you know?’

  ‘Breathe, Emily!’ Harri laughed. ‘I’m here for a while.’

  Emily flushed and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that I have all this . . . stuff . . . buzzing around in my head and I haven’t really spoken to anyone except my hubby about it.’ She took a deep breath and sat back in her chair. ‘Right, it’s like this: I work in the bank in Stone Yardley, in Market Street – you know, the one between Chiltern’s Ironmongers and the barbers? Well, I’ve worked there for ten years, since I came back from university, and it’s OK, I mean, it pays the bills. But the job – it just feels like a strait-jacket, you know? The thing is, a while ago I started to have an idea for my own business, using the farm as a base. It won’t go away; it’s all I think about. And I know it’s a crazy plan – I mean, Stu and I are both working and we only just manage to keep this place running, so the thought of going self-employed and risking all of this is so scary. It’s still just an idea at the moment. Nobody knows at work or anything. I’m just looking at possibilities.’

  ‘So what sort of thing do you want to do here?’ Harri asked, taking a sip of strong tea.

  ‘Craft weekends, writing retreats, art holidays, things like that,’ Emily beamed. ‘I did art and ceramics at uni and I have a couple of friends who are artists. My sister’s a writer, so she said she’d be happy to help. Stu’s really into photography and he has lots of walks around the fields here that he could take people out on. So, between us all I think we could come up with quite a varied programme.’

  ‘Would you be providing accommodation here, too?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I mean, we could turn the barn into a bunkhouse, I suppose, or maybe work with some of the pubs and B&Bs in the villages near here. In the long term we’d like to convert some of the outbuildings, but that’s a long way off. I just think it would be a great thing to offer to people perhaps from Birmingham or Worcester to begin with – you know, a fun break not too far from home? Eventually I could see people coming from all over the place. I mean, we’re not far from the M6 and there are so many gorgeous places nearby that we could take people to.’

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea. How can you see the travel agency helping, then?’

  Emily picked up the teapot and topped up their mugs. ‘Just help us to promote it initially, then maybe eventually take charge of bookings, and we’ll give you commission on sales.’

  Harri chewed her pen as she consulted the notes she’d been making. She could feel excitement rising within her: Emily’s enthusiasm was infectious and even though she knew there would be a lot of work ahead to get the business off the ground, Harri was filled with admiration for the lady staring expectantly at her at the other side of the farmhouse table. ‘I can’t see any reason why this wouldn’t work, to be honest with you,’ she said after a while. ‘I think your idea could turn into a lucrative business.’

  The look of relief on Emily’s face was immense.

  ‘Really? I mean, please don’t feel you have to say that just because you’re here. If it’s completely unworkable, I’d rather find out now before I start committing our finances.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t feel pressured. Besides, it won’t be my decision at the end of the day. George will need to approve everything before we go ahead.’

  Emily’s smile faded. ‘Oh. I don’t think I’ve made a very good impression on your boss. He was really short with me on the phone this morning.’

  Harri giggled. ‘He’s always short with people.’

  ‘He is?’

  ‘Yes, about five foot six usually. Sorry, it’s a bit of an in-joke at SLIT. We reckon he’s always trying to prove a point with everyone because he’s, well, overcompensating?’

  Emily brightened. ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘He’s harmless, honestly. He just can’t cope with women who actually want to talk to him. Anyway, I can’t see him objecting to your plans – especially if I say I’ll take responsib ility for it. Anything that brings in money without the need for him to do any work is bound to be a hit.’

  ‘Would you really be prepared to do that?’

  Harri smiled. ‘Absolutely. I think it’s a wonderful idea. I’m a bit envious, actually.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Well, you being prepared to give up your job and go for it with this business. It’s inspirational. So I’d like to help.’

  A strange smile passed across Emily’s face. ‘I’m so pleased to have met you, Harri. I think we’re going to get on really well. Look, I’ve got a Victoria sponge in the pantry – don’t suppose you fancy helping me eat it? That is, if you don’t have something you have to get back for?’

  Harri thought about the four sacks of Juste Moi letters lying menacingly in wait for her at home and grinned back. ‘Nothing that can’t wait. Cake sounds like a great idea.’

  There are some people it takes a lifetime to get to know and others you understand in an instant. For Harri, Emily was most definitely in the latter category. What was meant to be a short, business-related conversation metamorphosed into a six-hour chat, happily winding its way through afternoon tea and on to a hearty pork and leek casserole dinner surrounded by the farm’s assorted pets – Freeman, Hardy and Willis, the cats; Fly, and Jemima, a rescued duck that liked to snuggle in one corner of the dog bed in the kitchen. Emily’s husband, Stu, came home around seven, much to the delight of Fly, who dashed around his ankles until his master bent down to stroke his back.

  Harri watched the mayhem from over the top of her mug, enjoying the sense of peace it gave her. It had been a long time since she had felt part of a busy household, its warmth and noise pervading her being, catching her up in the casual luxury of everyday life. The last few years with her parents had been cruelly robbed of this carefree atmosphere – every quiet conversation carefully constructed to avoid the inevitable questions, every decision dictated by the demands of the disease slowly destroying her family. Whilst there was always humour in the house – her parents were adamant that being terminally ill didn’t negate the need for laughter – a leaden sense of reality hung heavily around the room, silently reminding the family of what lay ahead. Harri didn’t just lose her parents, she lost all the day-to-day, inconsequential things that most families experience without even noticing: kitchen sink conversations, arguments over whose turn it was to take the bins out or what programme to watch on television – insignificant exchanges that oiled each day and kept daily life rumbling on.

  As Harri listened to the conversation flowing between Emily and Stu, she wondered if she would ever be part of that kind of effortless relationship again. There were moments with Rob where glimpses of it would appear, but if they were together all the time, would those moments naturally lengthen into a way of life? Pushing the thought aside, Harri checked her watch and smiled at the happy couple.

  ‘I should really get go
ing. I hadn’t realised how late it was.’

  ‘Blimey, sorry, we’ve kept you really late, haven’t we?’ Stu placed his arm around his wife. ‘We don’t get visitors very often and it’s good to be able to share our business idea with someone other than ourselves or the animals. Us and our crazy dreams, eh?’

  ‘They’re not crazy,’ Harri replied. ‘I honestly think you’ve got the potential for a great business. It’s just important to get all the details sorted before you both commit to it, that’s all. I’ll get you a list of all the local B&Bs and have a chat with them regarding block bookings. It’s possible they’ll be interested in a discount if you can guarantee a certain number of guests at a time. You need to think about logistics – like how many people you’re going to have on each course, how you’re going to feed everyone, transport to and from accommodation, costs involved and how to work all that into a tariff that will cover everything, without leaving you out of pocket or pricing yourself out of the market.’

  ‘You can come again,’ Stu said, exchanging a look with Emily, ‘and not just for the business advice, either.’

  ‘Glad to be of service,’ Harri smiled as she rose to leave. ‘Besides, with food as good as yours, it’s my pleasure.’

  When Harri walked up to her front door that evening, the clouds had cleared to reveal a full moon that lit the path as brightly as a streetlamp. Clicking her key into the lock she paused to look up past the cottage’s blue-brick gable to the stars spreading out across the night sky. A memory of her mum flashed into her mind – back when Harri was a little girl and her family was as carefree as everyone else. At bedtime one night, Harri and her mother had pulled open the curtains in her bedroom to say good night to the moon (a family tradition for as long as she could remember) and Harri had noticed the twinkling stars in the indigo sky.

  ‘I love the stars, Mummy.’

  ‘Well, you know what they are, don’t you, darling? Those are the nightlights of the angels. They put them on at night to remind us that they’re there. All the people we love who have died don’t ever forget us. They just put nightlights on to show us that they’re watching and waiting for us. So even if we feel alone or scared, we can see the sparkly lights in the sky and know we’re not on our own after all.’

  It was a silly notion, typical of the tales her mum was so skilled at spinning: each ray of sunlight was someone in heaven opening a window; rainbows were what happened when angels knocked over paint pots in their art class; thunder was just God moving the piano when He was vacuuming the heavenly carpets. Yet there was something so comforting in these whimsical stories that made Harri immediately take them to heart.

  She let out a long sigh, watching her moonlit breath rise into the night air.

  ‘Thanks for the nightlights, Mum. Give my love to Dad and Gran. I miss you all . . .’

  The night’s chill shivered through her and, suddenly self-conscious, she quickly opened the cottage door and stepped inside.

  Chapter Nine

  The Big ‘F’

  The flickering strip light finally gives up the ghost and splutters off, throwing a third of the room into dinginess. Harri sniffs and looks around for toilet paper to blow her nose. True to form, the roll on the cistern is empty, save for half a sheet. On closer inspection, Harri discovers that the remaining remnant is the crackly medicated variety of toilet paper, wryly christened by Stella as ‘scratch and sniff’.

  Despite the panic still gripping her insides, Harri finds herself smiling.

  ‘. . . And one, two, three, four . . . come on now, keep working, everybody!’

  Stella leaned over to Harri. ‘How many sacks did you say there were?’

  Harri grimaced. ‘Four. Enormous ones.’

  ‘You’re kidding me!’

  ‘. . . Good, people! Now, into your side lunges, stretch out wide . . .’

  ‘I am not kidding.’

  ‘So have you read them all, yet?’

  ‘. . . two, three, four . . . stretch even more if you can . . .’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  Stella gawped at her. ‘Well, don’t you think you need to maybe start?’

  ‘. . . Really focus on your abs now and keep your chin nice and high . . .’

  ‘I guess I had better start on them soon – if for nothing else than to get my living room back. If those sacks stay there any longer I think Ron will abandon me. I was waiting for Viv to help, seeing as it was her idea for her son.’

  ‘. . . Keeping those stomach muscles taut, remember, concentrate on your core . . .’

  ‘You could always help me, if you like? There’s bound to be some completely weird ones in there . . .’

  ‘. . . That’s great! One more, people, really push hard . . .’

  ‘Er, no, thank you. This mess is completely yours, hon.’

  ‘. . . and now onto the other side, stretch it out . . .’

  ‘Thanks for the support, Stel.’

  ‘You’re welcome. My life, what is she doing now?’

  ‘. . . lifting the leg ninety degrees to the body and hold . . .’

  ‘That’s impossible, surely?’

  Stella pulled a face. ‘Stuff that . . . Fancy some more ice cream?’ She clicked the remote control and the DVD froze, leaving the fitness trainer holding her impossible pose a lot longer than even she would recommend.

  Harri giggled. ‘Only you could enjoy watching fitness DVDs in the company of Ben & Jerry.’

  Stella scooped three generous spoonfuls of chocolate ice cream into Harri’s bowl and handed it back to her. ‘Trust me, we’re burning calories while we’re doing this.’

  ‘We are?’

  ‘Absolutely. I read it in a magazine. If we watch a fitness DVD and really concentrate on it, we end up burning the same amount of calories as we would if we were actually doing the exercises. Science fact.’

  ‘And if we watch it whilst eating incredibly calorific snacks?’ Stella grinned. ‘It’s just carbohydrate loading. All the major athletes do it. Got to make sure we can go the distance, haven’t we?’

  ‘Stel, you are dreadful.’

  ‘Maybe,’ she answered mid-mouthful, ‘but you have to admit, it’s a great way to spend a Thursday evening. So when are you going to start reading the letters?’

  ‘Tomorrow night. I’ll start after work.’

  Stella frowned. ‘Aren’t you seeing Rob tomorrow night?’

  ‘He’s in Preston all weekend.’

  ‘Again? Flippin’ Nora, Harri, that guy is more elusive than the Scarlet Pimpernel. If you were dating Lord Lucan you’d see him more often.’

  ‘It’s just this flipping Preston contract that his company are so intent on winning. Rob was really upset about this weekend – he called me from work at lunchtime today and it took me nearly twenty minutes to calm him down. Turns out he’d planned a surprise weekend away for us in the Cotswolds and he was going to spring it on me tomorrow evening after work. Then his boss told him he was needed in Preston.’ She sighed and stabbed at the ice cream in her bowl. ‘I hate to see him so bogged down with work and the worst thing is there’s nothing I can do about it.’

  Stella gave a sympathetic smile. ‘That must be tough for the two of you. But at least he seems to be trying to make it up to you with all these gifts and surprises you keep getting. That’s a good man in my book! So –’ she gave Harri a playful jab in the ribs, ‘all weekend with the Sacks of Desperation then, eh?’

  Harri pulled a face. ‘Hmm, lucky me.’

  ‘Seriously, H, I reckon you should just drop them off at Al’s and tell him they’re a gift from the Gods of Dubious Dates.’

  Harri laughed. ‘Maybe I should.’ Her thoughts switched to an issue she’d been mulling over that day. ‘Actually, Stel, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about.’

  A dark look passed across Stella’s perfect features and she crossed her arms.

  ‘Oh?’

  Harri took a deep breath. It wasn’t that her best friend
never did anything for her, but it had to be said that Stella liked to see significant evidence of the benefits of a situation before agreeing. ‘Well,’ she began, as brightly as she could, ‘you know that travel writer I like, Dan Beagle?’

  ‘The cute guy with the daft name? Yes, I know him.’

  ‘He’s doing a seminar to mark the launch of his new book in Oxford next month. It’s a Saturday evening and I know Rob doesn’t want to go. The thing is, I don’t want to look like a complete hypocrite after making such an issue with him about us spending more time together. I know he’ll be fine about me doing something without him on a Saturday, it’s just that I’d feel better about it if I wasn’t going by myself.’

  ‘So you want me to come with you?’

  ‘Would you? We could make a day of it – a bit of a girly day out – maybe do some shopping and have lunch and then go to the Dan Beagle thing in the evening. I might even persuade Rob to go and see some of his old football team mates, seeing as he hasn’t really seen that much of them lately.’

  Stella thought for a moment, then clapped her hands. ‘I’ve got a better idea. How about we make it a weekend away?’

  Harri beamed. ‘Now that is a fantastic idea! What did you have in mind?’

  Stella’s growing excitement was impossible to conceal. ‘There’s this amazing day spa in Oxford that was featured in Red magazine this month – it looks awesome and I really want to try it out. So why not travel down on the Friday night, stay in a hotel and then spend the Saturday at the spa before sexy Dan’s talk? Then we could do some shopping on Sunday before we get back. It’ll be my treat, OK?’