Amelia Grey's Fireside Dream

by Abby Clements

  ‘Unbeatable.’

  Across the landing was the bathroom. I thought of the white claw-foot tub and period basin and taps at Arcadia Cottage and wondered if this room would look the same. When I entered the room, I fought back bitter disappointment. A primrose-yellow sixties-style bath, toilet and basin were oddly clustered in one corner, on a blue lino floor. Large flower prints were papered on the walls and tatty blue curtains hung by the small window. The pipes were boxed away in wood, which only served to draw more attention to them.

  ‘Bit dated,’ I said.

  ‘It needs a bit of a makeover, yes,’ Jack said, as if it were nothing, the job of a quiet afternoon.

  I longed for the free-standing tub, for a bathroom that was an escape, not this depressing place.

  ‘There’s another room across the way,’ Jack said, leaving the bathroom and opening the door across the landing. He couldn’t open it the whole way as the room was filled with sewing machines, a dummy and other dressmaking equipment. ‘A study, or whatever we want really.’

  I poked my head around the door to get a better look inside. ‘Nice little window, and it’s a good size,’ I said. ‘It would be ideal as a study.’

  There was one more room, almost as big as the master bedroom, that would be for guests – once we’d cleared the cobwebs and given it all a lick of paint, that was.

  A ladder led from the landing up to the attic space and the trapdoor was open. ‘Have you been up there?’

  ‘Not yet. Fancy it?’ he challenged me.

  ‘Maybe later,’ I said. ‘I think I’ve had enough adventure for one day. Shall we have a drink to celebrate?’

  ‘Sure,’ Jack said. We made our way back down the wooden stairs.

  ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

  ‘There are things I like.’ I forced a smile. I couldn’t blame Jack. I could have insisted on viewing this place if I’d wanted to. I’d decided to go with my gut feeling, and it had brought us here.

  Downstairs in the kitchen, I got out the bottle of champagne I’d kept in my bag and poured it into two mugs, the only receptacles I could find.

  ‘To a new start,’ I said, raising my mug.

  Jack chinked his mug against mine. ‘You are happy to be here, aren’t you?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course I am,’ I lied. We’d only been here a few hours and already I missed our flat, the soft, worn carpet under my feet. It was starting to dawn on me that Carly and Sunita wouldn’t be able to drop by any more. We’d chosen this change – I had chosen it. But now I wondered if we’d made an awful mistake.

  ‘It’s just – it’s different, isn’t it? And there’s quite a lot to do.’

  ‘We can do it,’ Jack said.

  ‘We, meaning … ?’

  ‘We meaning we,’ Jack said.

  ‘But Jack, realistically, with all the preparation you’re doing for this pitch? Let alone if you get the commission. The hours you were working on Pupz, weekends too – you didn’t have a spare minute.’

  ‘I’ll find time to help,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll make time.’

  I bit my lip, wondering whether to say anything or not. ‘I wish you’d told me this was a major project. It’s nothing like the other place.’

  ‘I told you it needed work. You agreed for us to offer on it without having seen inside – I didn’t force you.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking straight.’

  ‘Do you regret it? Is that what you’re saying?’

  I fought back tears. ‘No. It’s just not really how I expected it to be, that’s all.’

  Chapter 7

  The Garden

  On the Mood Board

  Patio, wooden summer house with gingham-covered window seats, a rope swing in an oak tree. Deckchairs. Daffodils, bluebells, poppies, sunshine on green leaves.

  Monday, 9 September

  On Monday I was woken up by the sounds of rain falling gently against the windows and Jack scrabbling around in the dark.

  ‘Are you OK?’ I said, still half-asleep and disorientated. I was lying in our familiar bed, but facing in the wrong direction, and stuck on an island in the middle of heaps of clutter.

  ‘I’m looking for my suit,’ Jack said. The previous evening came back to me – the way I’d spoken to him. I’d been tired out – but that was no real excuse. I hadn’t been fair on him.

  ‘We’ve got a meeting today with some of the animation funders. I need to wear a suit for it.’

  ‘Our clothes are in that box over there,’ I said, pointing towards the doorway.

  ‘Nope, tried that one already. It’s your stuff.’

  I pulled on my dressing gown and joined Jack in his search, opening our boxes until I found his charcoal suit. ‘Here you go,’ I said, handing it over. Finding anything in the chaos of the cottage felt like a victory of sorts. We’d spent yesterday picking up essential supplies and food from Hazelton village, and hadn’t made much of a dent in the cleaning or unpacking.

  ‘Thanks, Amelia. You should go back to sleep.’

  I put a hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry, about last night.’

  He pulled me closer and kissed me on my forehead. ‘It’s OK. I can understand how you’re feeling, I think. It will get better. I promise.’

  After he left, I went downstairs to make some breakfast. Furry slippers protected my feet from the splintered floor-boards and the dust that still covered much of the house.

  In the kitchen, I took the kettle and mugs out of our emergency supply box, and put some water on to boil. As I looked out of the window, two blue tits came to rest on the sill. ‘Poor birds,’ I said out loud, thinking of Dexter. Out of his box now, he was prowling along the worktop looking at them menacingly. ‘You don’t know what you’ve got coming to you.’

  A good night’s sleep had restored some perspective. But this place didn’t feel like home yet. The kitchen was still a mess, crowded with another woman’s clutter.

  I drank my tea, got out some country cottage magazines and the interior design book Carly had given me, and flicked through them for inspiration. There were some really nice ideas in there – how to create a light, bright and functional kitchen. I took out my sketchbook.

  I sat at the kitchen table and noted down the ideas and colour schemes that appealed to me – bright reds and plenty of wood. I tore pictures out of one of the magazines and glued them down until a picture began to form. The first thing to tackle, I thought as I stirred milk and a teaspoon of sugar into a fresh cup of tea, was the kitchen units. They all needed to go.

  I went back to the sketchbook, and ideas came thick and fast – a traditional-style country kitchen, with florals and wooden worktops. Yes, the kitchen cabinets would be expensive to replace – one of our biggest costs on the whole project, most likely – but the right ones could really transform the room. I wasn’t quite sure what to do about the lino flooring.

  A knock came at the front door, startling me. I pulled my dressing gown around me and swiftly checked my appearance in the hallway mirror. My hair was tousled and untidy, and as I hurriedly tried to flatten it, another knock came.

  I opened the heavy wooden door. There on the doorstep was a man about my age, with light brown hair, grey-green eyes and a dusting of stubble. He was dressed in faded jeans and a pale blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, smiling warmly, a dimple appearing in one of his cheeks.

  I pulled my dressing gown more tightly around me, feeling self-conscious. ‘Hi,’ I said in reply.

  ‘You must be Amelia.’ His voice was soft and lilting, with just the trace of a local accent.

  Was it too late to pretend to be someone else, only to reappear as a more presentable version of myself?

  ‘Yes, that’s me,’ I said. ‘Can I help you with anything?’

  ‘I’m hoping it’ll be the other way round,’ the man said, smiling again. ‘I should introduce myself. I’m Callum. Eleanor’s … Mrs McGuire’s grandson.’ He put out his hand and I shook it. His ha
nd was strong and in the moment that our skin touched I felt it was slightly rough.

  ‘Oh, hi,’ I said, relieved. ‘Come in.’

  ‘Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude,’ he said, looking at my dressing gown.

  ‘It’s fine, honestly. Give me a minute and I’ll be right back.’

  Callum stood in the hallway and I dashed upstairs to put some clothes on. I grabbed the first things I could find – a pair of jeans, a bra and my old university hoodie. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail.

  ‘Let’s go through into the kitchen,’ I said, coming back down the rickety staircase. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’

  ‘I’m fine, but thanks,’ Callum said, his voice softening. ‘Listen, I feel bad about what’s happened. We all wanted the house to be ready for you and your husband to move into. But Gran – well, she had other ideas,’ he said, shaking his head with a faint smile. ‘Out of the blue this week she says she wants to keep hold of everything, even though the bungalow she’s moved into is half the size of this place. It’s been a bit of a nightmare.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ The chaotic state of the house was beginning to make more sense.

  ‘Anyway, none of that is your problem, but my dad feels terrible, and we wanted to explain. There’s enough for you to be getting on with without having to work around Gran’s stuff.’

  ‘It’s not been ideal,’ I admitted.

  ‘You must have wanted to turn round and walk right back out again,’ Callum said. I noticed how the corners of his eyes crinkled a little as he smiled. ‘But listen. I’ve found a storage space not far from here, and Gran’s allowing us to move what’s here into it for now. According to Dad, they talked this all through months ago, but with her Alzheimer’s what she says isn’t always written in stone.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, feeling bad about my earlier snap judgements. ‘Now I can see how things got a bit complicated.’

  ‘Gran’s coping. Just about. But she’s not getting any better, and that’s part of the reason we want her a bit closer to us all. Where was I going with this … ?’ He gave a weary laugh. ‘I’m rambling, aren’t I?’

  Looking into his eyes, I shook my head. ‘Don’t worry. Carry on.’

  ‘Me and my cousin Spencer will be back in a couple of hours with a lorry to clear everything out. If that’s OK with you?’

  ‘That would be fine. Brilliant, in fact,’ I said, a weight lifting. With any luck, Jack would come home to a lovely clear house and we could start unpacking. I could have cheered.

  ‘OK, great,’ Callum said. ‘Thanks for being so patient. I’m not sure all Londoners would have been.’

  ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘A bit. You sound …’

  ‘Like I’m in Eastenders?’

  ‘Hardly, no … but you’ve got a trace of an accent. Anyway, why the move?’

  ‘We wanted a change. Actually, this is going to sound stupid, but living in the country was one of the things I’d promised myself I’d do before I was thirty. I didn’t quite manage that – but we’re here now.’

  ‘I admire that,’ Callum said. ‘A lot of people get stuck in their comfort zone, don’t they? And you’re clearly up for a challenge. I don’t think Gran has done anything to this place for about forty years.’

  ‘Yes.’ For some reason I didn’t want to admit to Callum that it was more of a challenge than I really wanted.

  ‘Good luck with it. This place has history, and it’s beautiful underneath. It certainly didn’t always look like this.’

  ‘Did you come here a lot?

  ‘All the time,’ he said. ‘Dad used to bring me and my sister to see Gran and Granddad every weekend for Sunday dinner. We’ve always lived close by.’

  ‘With all those memories, no wonder it’s been difficult for your gran to move.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. There’s a lot she’s not ready to say goodbye to. And the truth is, we’re not ready to say goodbye to her.’

  He looked over towards the kitchen. ‘What are you going to do about these monstrosities?’ he asked more brightly, pointing to the kitchen cabinets. ‘I mean, unless you like them, that is?’ He raised his eyebrows as if he wouldn’t be able to believe anyone could.

  ‘Hmm, yes. There’s retro and then there’s … well, these cabinets.’ I smiled. ‘They are definitely going to go.’ I showed him my sketchbook, with ideas for the new kind of furniture I wanted to install. ‘This is what I’m thinking of doing.’

  ‘Nice,’ Callum said. ‘The kitchen’s always been the centre of this house. This is where we’d come when we were little, and watch while Granny Ellie baked. She was big on baking. Still is, although since she started forgetting things, her cakes are getting a little hit and miss.’

  ‘I love to bake too,’ I said. ‘I’m glad to hear I’ll be continuing a Brambledown Cottage tradition.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Callum said. ‘Definitely.’ He stepped forward to look out of the kitchen window. ‘Wow, it’s a mess out there, isn’t it? Great garden though – you’ll see when you get the lawnmower on it. Me and my sister Alice used to play for hours out there. There’s a little stream at the back. You must have seen that, right?’ Callum glanced back at me, and as our eyes met I felt suddenly self-conscious.

  ‘Actually, I haven’t yet,’ I said. ‘I’ve only had a peek through the fence. There was a lot to do when we arrived on Saturday.’

  ‘Oh, we have to go down there then,’ Callum said, his eyes lighting up.

  ‘Now?’ I said, glancing at my sock-clad feet.

  ‘No time like the present. This is your house now – don’t you want to get to know it?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ I said. ‘What about your cousin?’

  Callum glanced vaguely in the direction of his watch. ‘Oh, it’s fine – we’ve got time. Come on. Get some wellies. It’ll be wet in the grass after the rain last night, but like I said, this cottage is your place now. You have to at least explore the grounds.’

  ‘Now, wellies,’ I said, with a smile. ‘Strangely, they are one of the few things I’m going to be able to locate.’ I’d shoved them in the coat cupboard when we’d first arrived. I went out there now and fished them out of a cardboard box of outdoorsy things that we’d barely touched the whole time we’d lived in London.

  I pulled them on over the bedsocks I was still wearing, and Callum turned the handle of the back door. ‘Hang on,’ I called out. ‘I’ll get you the key for that.’

  He jiggled at the latch until the door opened easily. ‘The tricks of the house,’ he said with a smile. ‘Years of practice.’

  ‘Wow. We’re going to need to up the security levels around here.’

  ‘Oh, Hazelton’s a hotbed of crime.’ He laughed. ‘Right, you all set?’

  I nodded.

  Together we walked over the paved area, and then stepped out into the long grass of the garden. Thick, wet clumps of grass clung to my wellies and dampened the cuffs of my jeans, but I didn’t care – out here in the fresh air, I felt free.

  In the garden most of the wildflowers had faded back, and brambles and blackberries were spreading up the fence to the right of the house. The patch of lavender was still there, the soft purple standing out among the golds and greens.

  ‘Those blackberries are delicious,’ Callum said. He went over and plucked a few from their thorny stems. ‘Here, try them.’

  I took the ripe fruit from his hands, stained with juice, and ate one. It was sweet, with just a hint of tartness. I put another one in my mouth. ‘They’re perfect.’

  ‘Here, you’ve got some …’ Callum reached out a hand and brushed away some red juice from my chin.

  Feeling myself blush, I scrubbed at the spot with my hand.

  ‘Follow me,’ he said, clearing the grasses ahead of us.

  ‘You could get lost out here.’

  ‘Absolutely. Alice and I used to hide when our mum called us in for tea, and sometimes she just gave up searching.’

  ‘You sound
like you were terrors.’

  ‘She’d joke that we kept her young.’

  ‘Does she still live in Hazelton?’

  ‘In spirit,’ he said, with a smile. ‘She died ten years ago.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be.’ Callum shrugged. ‘Part of life, isn’t it? And she had a full one. It’s good to be here again, actually – it brings her back. See that oak tree?’ He pointed to an oak about ten feet to my left, with winding, thick branches stretching out against the pure blue sky.

  ‘Yes, looks good for climbing.’

  ‘Exactly. It’s perfect. Mum used to climb up there with us. When you have kids they are going to love playing out here.’

  I spotted a shuttlecock in the grass and picked it up. It was weathered and grey but still mainly intact. ‘One of yours?’ I asked.

  Callum took it with a smile. ‘Could be,’ he said. ‘Although it’s been a good few years since Alice and I played any badminton out here. You wouldn’t believe what it looked like then – big flat lawn, well-tended flowerbeds … Like I said, it’s been years since Gran did anything with it, or let any of us touch it for that matter.’

  ‘She wouldn’t let anyone help?’

  ‘She’s not big on being helped out,’ Callum said with a shrug. ‘You’ve probably picked up on that by now. Anyway, look – we’re nearly there.’

  Pulling my sleeves down over my hands, I swiped away some brambles that were cutting into our path at chest level. I heard a soft sound, the gentle, soothing trickle of water over rocks.

  ‘See it?’ Callum said, pointing just ahead of where we were standing.

  There at the bottom of the garden, where ferns grew lush and thick, just before the garden turned into fields, was a stream about a metre across, with rocks and pebbles lining either side.

  ‘Water gets much higher than this when the rain’s heavy.’

  I bent down and looked at it, sunlight reflecting off the ripples. ‘Must be lovely to dangle your feet in on a hot day.’

  ‘Oh yes. With the trees down at this end, it’s always shady and cool. Mum liked it down here. She could keep half an eye on the two of us playing, with her head in a book at the same time.’