And… Antonia had just head-butted her brother for apparently no reason at all.
‘OK, you two, stop. I know you’re exhausted. Come and sit in the other room. I’ll get the heating on.’ She had spotted the boiler earlier and offered a silent prayer to the Plumbing Gods that it was working. The children followed her through to the kitchen and she pressed the ON button. The boiler clinked and clanked loudly and Freddie laughed happily.
‘Farty-farty noise,’ he said, and Antonia, forgetting the latest battle, started giggling.
The old pipes creaked into action and Anna sighed with relief. She set the children up at the dusty farmhouse table and opened Horatio’s offering. Three Tupperware containers held a delicious-smelling beef stew and smooth potato mash, and there was a Nigella-Lawson-Standard (a place Anna hoped to occupy one day) apple crumble for afters. She beamed when she saw the bottle of wine.
Anna retrieved the plastic plates and spooned the food out. Freddie’s cheeks glowed pink as he ate and Antonia smacked her lips with delight. The kitchen had started to warm and she thought they might survive the night after all. They had bedding in the car and she would set the twins up on Aunt Flo’s old bed. She took out the bottle of Merlot and twisted the cap off, pouring generously into a plastic wine glass. She noticed that there were, in fact, two wine glasses. She couldn’t imagine why Horatio’s wife would encourage him to take a strange woman wine and then help her drink it. Then again, anyone who owned a horse called Taittinger and was married to someone as supercilious as Horatio must have had some sort of crisis.
Anna knew she was being unfair, but she was tired, cold and fed up. She hated looking desperate, even though she hadn’t felt this out of her depth in a long time.
‘OK?’ she asked the twins.
They nodded, mouths full of food. Anna turned at the sound of Horatio clearing his throat.
‘Car’s out. Left-hand side has taken a bit of a beating but otherwise it’s in good working order.’
‘It can join the other dents,’ she said and, another glug of wine later, smiled. It wasn’t his fault he spoke the way he did or that she had made the huge mistake of even coming to the countryside. ‘Thank you and please thank your wife for the food. It’s the happiest I’ve seen them all day.’ She nodded towards the children.
‘My pleasure but…’
‘Mummy, Freddie ate my food.’
Anna turned her attention to her son. ‘Don’t eat your sister’s food.’
‘I’ll leave you to it. I don’t want to get in the way,’ Horatio said, moving towards the door. ‘Let me know if you need anything, like I said before.’
‘Thanks, but we won’t be staying.’ She followed him to the front door, carrying her glass and the bottle. ‘It was silly of me to think we could make a go of this. I blindly brought my two young children to the middle of nowhere.’ She frowned. ‘I may not be a perfect mother but it doesn’t seem fair on them.’
Horatio nodded. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He looked at her in earnest. He paused briefly and said, ‘I thought a lot of your aunt.’ He looked regretful. ‘But maybe you’re right, maybe it’s for the best.’
Anna ignored his last comment. ‘You knew her?’ She supposed he would have, but she hadn’t really thought about it.
‘Very well.’ He smiled. ‘She would often come up to the house.’ He gave a small shake of his head. ‘My parents’ house,’ he corrected himself. ‘And she would chat with me. She talked of you often.’
‘She did?’ Anna felt a pang of sadness.
‘Yes, she was very proud of you.’ He looked as if he wanted to say more but stopped himself. ‘I know it’s none of my business but the house is on its last legs.’ He looked around him. ‘Maybe you could rent locally instead?’
‘I can’t. It’s either this or nothing. My aunt left me this house, otherwise I’d be stuck back in London in my poky flat.’ She looked at him. ‘Do you have children?’
He nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, then you’ll know how hard it can be at times, but the difference is you can talk to your wife about it. But try imagining what it would be like doing this kind of thing by yourself with no one to voice your concerns to.’
‘Like what?’ he said. ‘It looks like you’re coping just fine.’
‘Like, um…’ Her head had started to grow fuzzy with the wine and she found herself flicking through the parental-disaster book she stored at the back of her mind. ‘So, um…’ She drank deeply again. ‘Like sending your little boy to school with his lunchbox, only to get a call from his school about its contents.’
‘Contents?’
‘His teacher wanted to know why I had sent him to school with a Nicorette patch, a Weight Watchers milkshake and the last of the Christmas liqueur chocolates.’ He laughed and she pouted. ‘All of that, in a sodding Thomas the Tank Engine lunchbox. I mean, there’s probably some government health warning about mothers like me.’
‘I bet yours was nice, though.’
‘What?’
‘Your lunch.’
‘Yeah, I got the corned beef sandwich and Penguin, but that’s not the point. So you’ve got to understand, Mr Spencer…’ She had downed the remainder of the glass of wine and it was giving her that joyous feeling of confidence and control. She refilled it quickly, slurped some more and continued. ‘I think I was really selfish coming here. Maybe I didn’t really think about what I was taking them away from. I mean, we had a pretty poky flat in London but it was still home, you know? They were just about to start at a local school… but it was a crap one. That was when I knew we had to move, when the children didn’t get into their first choice and Simon, that’s my ex, started giving me a hard time and…’ Her eyes smarted with tears. ‘You see? It’s not fair. And then you – yeah, you – come along all hoity-toity on top of a horse called Taittinger. I mean, seriously? And then you stand there and laugh at my predicament.’ She drank deeply again. ‘I mean, you can’t just stand there and laugh at a woman’s predicament. Well, you can, but it’s not on.’ Oh bugger, she was bulldozing. That’s what her mother called it. In other words, she had lost the ability to stop talking.
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ he said kindly, appearing to have lost his la-dee-dah extra bits like the ‘yahs’ and the ‘jolly-whatsits’. ‘And I wasn’t laughing at you. I was kind of hoping you’d start laughing too.’ When she didn’t answer, he asked gently, ‘Do you work?’
She found his kindness touching and yet she didn’t want to break down in front of a total stranger.
‘I’m a journalist.’
‘Wow.’ His eyes widened with what would appear to be genuine admiration. ‘Are you going to work for someone locally?’
‘No, I’m freelancing for The Post.’ Anna laughed. ‘A London newspaper. My boss, Barry, wants to get the lowdown on moving to the countryside.’
Horatio smiled. ‘That sounds like you might have to stick it out then, but…’ He paused. ‘Maybe not here.’
‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so. I think we should leave the village altogether. If it’s not here, I have to go. I can’t afford to rent around here.’
‘I haven’t known you for more than five minutes, but I’d quite like to get to know you, if you did stay in the area.’
‘Anyone would think you’re determined we’re not going to stay in this cottage!’
He looked embarrassed and concentrated his gaze on the floor. ‘No, it’s just that…’
She smiled. ‘Listen, you’re probably right, I should head back to London.’
She gave him a small smile and glanced up at him through a blur of tears and, fearing she might cry, looked away again. ‘Listen, thank you for today.’ She paused. ‘We’d better get an early night. Head back tomorrow. Stay with my friend.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘My friend Diane’s.’
Anna pushed the minor detail of her friend not even knowing of her plan to the back of
her mind. Diane would never turn them away.
‘Where does she live?’
‘London.’
He nodded slowly.
‘I made a mistake coming here.’
A shadow appeared to pass across his features. ‘Anna, I don’t know how to tell you this… What I’ve been trying to say, but badly is…’
She furrowed her brows, interrupting him. ‘Why do you look so serious?’
‘When your aunt died, this house actually rightfully became part of my family’s property again.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Or, at least, that’s the message I was given by my mother. I’m looking into it, but, to be honest, it’s news to me too.’
She stood, unmoving, her mouth slightly gaping. Eventually she spoke. ‘No, I’m afraid there’s a mistake. My aunt owned it through and through.’
‘I’m afraid that, for whatever reason, my father gave your aunt this cottage, but it was with the proviso that we retained ownership of it.’
She gritted her teeth, her heart hammering. ‘Well, I’m sorry, Mr Horatio, but you’re wrong and you’re going to have to leave.’ She stared at him defiantly, her tongue moving fast around her mouth. ‘NOW.’
He nodded and shifted, turning on his heels. ‘Look, I will talk to my mother again. I don’t agree with it, I just want you to know that.’
Anna shook with anger. ‘Get out.’
He nodded, looked at the doormat. ‘You know there’s a letter there for you.’
Anna followed his gaze to the mound of catalogues and unopened mail to her aunt. Sure enough, there was a letter addressed to her. Anna put the glass and bottle unsteadily on the floor and picked it up, frowning.
‘It’s my aunt’s writing,’ she murmured.
Anna ran her forefinger along the breadth of the envelope and pulled out a gold chain with a heart-shaped locket, a letter on cream Manila paper and a notebook. She read quickly, mindlessly caressing the locket.
‘All OK?’ Horatio said eventually.
She looked up, confused. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Are you sure?’ Horatio furrowed his brows. ‘You’ve gone a bit pale.’
‘Yes, please go,’ she said firmly and moved towards the door, opening it.
‘OK.’ He stood on the doorstep, his face twisting with regret and hurt.
‘It’s just a shock to receive something from my aunt.’ Anna indicated the bundle and the chain. The locket twirled in the glow of the naked bulb.
A throaty rumble built in his throat. ‘Anna,’ he started and, catching her look, shrugged his shoulders. ‘Oh, never mind.’ He gave her a small, hopeful smile. ‘I’ll talk to mother. See what I can do.’
She shut the door and leant against the rough wood. Opening the letter once more, she mumbled aloud her aunt’s short note to her.
‘Dearest Anna, I’m sending this from the hospital. I didn’t tell you about the cancer because I didn’t want to concern you. Please don’t be cross. I’m an old lady who’s had a good innings. It’s time for me to go. By now, you will have arrived at Primrose Cottage. She’s yours. You’re probably thinking of leaving already (I know how much like me you are and don’t take this as a criticism), only I’m asking that you give her a chance. I didn’t have the energy to do much over the last couple of years. She is magical and the children and you will be very happy there.’
Anna paused, biting down on her lips as warm, salty tears coursed down her cheeks. She berated herself for her own selfishness. She should have been there for her.
‘Please stay, do her up with the small amount of money I’ve left you and be happy. In return, I ask you to do me one favour. I’ve been keeping this diary for many years, ever since I moved to Primrose Cottage. I’d like you to read it. I wanted to tell you my story but I was too afraid you would judge me for what I did. The Spencervilles at Ridley Manor will no doubt introduce themselves to you. Just tread carefully. It gives me comfort to think someone will know my secret and, hopefully, forgive me.’
Freddie appeared at her side and hugged her leg. Anna smoothed his soft hair with her hand and read the final part of the letter to herself.
‘Anna, I’m so proud of you. Please wear the necklace (my mother’s) and find your own happiness. You will, I know it. Love, Flo.’
Antonia arrived at her other side and put her small arms around Anna’s waist. ‘I love you two, you know that?’
They nodded and yawned.
‘Right, bedtime.’
‘Not go Dee-Dee?’ Freddie asked, his eyes wide with tiredness.
‘Not tonight. I’m going to get the bedding out of the car and then you’ll sleep upstairs, OK?’
By the time Anna had managed to retrieve the black bags filled with duvets and pillows from the car, Freddie and Antonia were asleep on the sofa. She draped a duvet over them and looked adoringly at her children. They looked like angels. She glanced at the letter, then back at her children, before softly climbing the stairs to see if she could get any reception at the top of the cottage. It was time to ring Diane.
Dee-Dee and the Longest SleepoverKnown to Man
The conversation with Diane did not go according to plan: somehow (and Anna blamed the one bar of signal and not the fact she had polished off most of the Merlot).
‘Hi, Dee-Dee, me ol’chumster can youzhearmez?’ Diane made some sort of sound at the end of the phone and Anna ploughed on regardless. ‘So, herezthing, thcottageisrubbish.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Wathwonderinifcouldstaywivyou? ThereizamancalledHorathio and he sayth house not mine.’
‘What do you mean? Your aunt left it to you.’
Anna hiccupped. ‘Yesth, I know. But he says not mine so maybe best I come back London.’
Diane sighed. ‘You’re giving up that easily? You were given it in probate so it’s yours.’ She paused. ‘Why don’t I come and stay with you, darling?’
Anna shook her fuggy head. Conversation was not going to plan. ‘No, Dee. Thingisitzhorridhere.’
‘Bet it’s not that bad.’
‘Really, itizth.’
‘Darling, I’ve been thinking I should stay with you until you get on your feet. She paused. ‘I mean, also I spoke to Barry yesterday. He said he could do with a freelance photographer for your column, so, Anna, is it OK if I come and stay?’
‘Yesth?’ Anna fell forward, her head hitting her knees.
‘Great!’
‘Whatzth?’ Alarm rang around Anna’s head. She realised she wasn’t thinking straight.
The line had gone dead and Anna lurched the other way, falling onto the mattress, the low-beamed ceiling shifting unnervingly above her. She thought about the direction her life was taking and nearly vomited.
She did, however, feel a renewed sense of ownership of the cottage. How dare a man, a stranger, tell her his family owned it and that he would effectively be making her homeless? Her aunt would have been mortified and her letter specifically asked that she stay there. She wouldn’t go away that easily.
Anna nodded resolutely and then thought about Diane…
She couldn’t seriously contemplate having mad London girl Diane staying with her when she was… She stopped. Tried to clarify what she was drunkenly saying to herself. OK, bluntly, it went a little bit like this: she could not have Diane come to stay when she was hoping to find some fit earl, lord, farmer (or similar). Was that what she wanted? Or was that the wine talking? She knew she needed to make friends. She knew already that Diane might be a bit much for the country lot, but then, Anna thought, chuckling to herself, maybe Trumpsey Blazey needed a bit of livening up.
Of the dates she had been on in London, very few had moved beyond the solidarity of trying to find a taxi together and then, being so drunk, realising it was probably best, or safer, to just smile goofily and go their separate ways. But even Anna Compton had managed two dates where things had moved at a more normal rate and they had stumbled into a taxi together. However, the first time, she had found there was nothing more sobering than a German babysitte
r (her name actually was Heidi) standing at the front door, tapping her foot and looking at the both of them like they were five. The second time, when looking for a babysitter, she had opted for a dear friend called Alfie, who’d said he would do her this favour in the name of getting her out of her onesie and into something ‘vaguely more sexy, darling’. What she hadn’t banked on was bringing her date home to find Alfie watching a male-only version of Baywatch produced in Bulgaria.
She squeezed her eyes shut and immediately regretted it. It was one thing being single with two children and getting drunk with a mate. But being single and getting drunk ALONE; that filled her with self-loathing. It hit her then: Diane should come and live with them, if for no other reason than it would be nice to have someone to help her with the twins, help them get settled.
Anna dragged herself off her bed and tiptoed halfway down the stairs to check on the twins. She could hear their gentle snoring and watched Freddie’s face looking suddenly so cherub-like. It was moments like this that made her more determined than ever to make life better for her children.
Yes, she thought, nodding to herself, filled with a renewed sense of purpose. Their new life was going to start tomorrow.
*
Diane arrived bright and early. Too early.
Anna had just about managed to get the children bathed, after which they had eaten the rest of the beef stew (Anna made a mental note that she might actually have to visit a supermarket today). They were now playing happily outside and she walked to the front door and watched them. The scene was something out of a fairy tale. Until she looked closer. Freddie had his sister’s hand and was whizzing her round and round to the tune of ‘Mummy is sick, Mummy is green, Mummy looks like a seasick bean’.
A car older and crankier than her own was chugging its way up the hill and she recognised it in a heartbeat. Diane parked her Citroen Saxo next to the Nissan and clambered out of the car, throwing her arms wide.
‘My darlings,’ she announced, ‘I am here.’
Freddie whooped at the sight of his favourite surrogate auntie and released his sister’s hand mid-spin, causing Antonia to break away and spiral like a spinning top to the ground. Her lower lip started to quiver but, on seeing Diane, she got up directly and ran over with Freddie.
The Little Cottage in the Country Page 3