A Cottage in the Country

by Linn B. Halton

  "How can we help?" Her voice implies that I must want something, and I do, but her reception is so cold it makes me hesitate.

  "I'm…um…well."

  Whenever I've spent time talking to Terence he's so warm and welcoming that this is one surprise I didn't expect. What an odd couple, to say the very least. Like hot and cold…

  "Yes?" Joanna peers at me, suspiciously.

  "Well, the truth is that I have to wait until morning to be able to use the new fridge and freezer. As I've had a large shop delivered to tide me over until the end of January, I wondered if you had any suggestions. I'm desperate and maybe there's a local farmer you know who might have freezer space…or something."

  Terence immediately jumps in.

  "That's not a problem. We have several freezers in the outhouses. You have to stock up for winter when you live in the Forest. I'll grab my coat and we'll see what we can fit in."

  "As I said, nice to meet you Madeleine." Joanna turns and walks out of the room without another word. I feel as if I've been dismissed.

  Terence is back within moments, looking like someone who has just stepped off a fishing boat. But I think that's more to do with his grey beard.

  "Come on, Maddie, before that food spoils."

  Terence reorganises the freezers while I go back down to begin carrying up the bags. I notice that Lewis has unpacked the freezer and has moved it back into the corner. The lorry has already left and I realise that I totally forgot to give them a tip. I feel guilty, but I'm past caring about niceties now. I'm tired, wet and hungry; my back is aching and I have a niggling headache that keeps giving out a stabbing pain over one eye.

  With a flourish my lovely neighbour fits in the last item, a packet of croissants, and closes the lid. I feel grateful, but very, very awkward. I had the distinct impression that Joanna doesn't like me and I hope she doesn't give Terence a hard time for coming to the rescue.

  "Terence, thank you so, so much. I really appreciate this. It was stupid of me not to realise I couldn't just unpack the freezer and switch it on. Goodness, I didn't even give thought to allowing time for it to reach the right temperature! I'm afraid all of this has been such a learning curve."

  "Hey, what are neighbours for? It's not a problem and you can leave it here until you are ready. If it's pouring tomorrow don't rush around first thing. In fact, leave it to me. In between showers I'll bring the carrier bags down to you."

  "The forecast for tomorrow is the same, then?"

  He shakes his head, looking worried.

  "It's the worst I've ever known it in nearly thirty years. I think you did the wise thing stocking up now, Maddie. If we think we've had it bad, parts of Tawkesbury have been cut off for a couple of weeks now. The only way in and out is by boat."

  "We're lucky up here, Terence. And thank you, this is really appreciated. Say thanks to Joanna, too, for me."

  He looks at me with smiling eyes.

  "Her bark is worse than her bite, you'll get used to her. She's also a bit annoyed, as she wanted Lewis to paint her study before Christmas and he wasn't available. Seems he had another job on." Terence smiles and gives me a wink.

  "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise he'd been quite so accommodating…" I should have realised he didn't have a completely free diary.

  "Joanna will get over it; she's also not feeling very well at the moment. I hope she doesn't come down with something this close to Christmas."

  He raises his eyebrows, acceptance written all over his face. I can't help thinking that this man is used to putting up with quite a lot of hassle from a wife who seems to be unduly demanding at times.

  CHAPTER 20

  When I walk back into the conservatory, Lewis has already moved the larder fridge into the kitchen and it's sitting neatly inside the frame he's built. The only thing left to unpack is the washing machine.

  "Thanks for sorting that. It's getting late. You must be tired and hungry. I can't offer anything hot unless I use the microwave," I stare at the blank space where I thought the range would now be in situ. "How about I order a takeaway?"

  He straightens, turning his head from left to right until something clicks, ominously, and our eyes meet. It's a curious moment, as if he's giving it a great deal of thought. It's a takeaway, not an invitation to move in. Or am I, unwittingly, giving out unknown signals that turn this into a yes/no decision for him. The thought sends a flush of warmth up through my core; this is stupid and I have to stop looking for signs that he's interested in me.

  "The Indian down in the village is good. Do you have the number?"

  I want to laugh at myself, because obviously he is in the mood, but clearly it's for a curry.

  "It's in my notebook," I begin walking away to make the call, "I'm the woman who likes to be organised, remember?"

  The trudge back up the hill isn't much fun. Within ten minutes I'm back in the kitchen and Lewis looks up, then immediately stops what he's doing when he notices my expression.

  "What's up?"

  "They've shut the main road. Nothing can get in, or out."

  "No problem. Microwave food isn't the best, but at least it will be hot. I'll shoot off straight after though and use the top road."

  I feel the colour rising in my cheeks. "Um…the top road isn't open, either. Sarah mentioned a wall has collapsed, or something, and it's going to take a few days to clear it."

  He narrows his eyes and his forehead wrinkles up in a frown. "When did she mention that?"

  "She left a message. I should have said something, but I had no idea they would shut the main road, too. I mean, we're stranded. Can they do that?" The note of disbelief in my voice is very real.

  "Guess you weren't to know. Last year the road was closed for a while, but the water rose quickly and it was mainly the debris left behind that delayed re-opening it. But the rain didn't last very long – it wasn't anything like this."

  We're in the conservatory now, looking out into the darkness. Without the lights on, the only clue to the bad weather are the trees, which are frantically swaying back and forth as the wind picks up.

  "Tinned stew and new potatoes?" He looks at me soberly, as it dawns on us that he's going to be a house guest. I'll have to be careful I don't get a reputation. Lewis will be the second guy I've had sleeping over since I moved in.

  "Sounds interesting." He turns and begins packing away his tools.

  We sit in the conservatory on the not-too-uncomfortable folding chairs. Having eaten the least-appetising meal you could ever imagine, I kick myself that I hadn't thought to order some cans of beer.

  "Is wine okay? I'm afraid I don't have anything else, aside from soft drinks. That's the problem with online shopping; it's easy to forget something."

  "Wine is fine. I'm not a huge drinker, anyway."

  I scurry off to grab a bottle and find some glasses, the best I can come up with are two tumblers, but I figure it's better than drinking out of mugs.

  "Thank goodness for screw tops," I mutter. Finding a corkscrew would have been impossible.

  "Cheers," he says, raising his glass and we chink. "To better times."

  That feels a bit derogatory. I mean, we're very lucky to be sitting here where it's warm and dry; we've eaten and there's enough food to last a while. I'm not sure whether all of it is microwaveable, of course, but beans-on-toast is a great fall-back option. I can only assume Lewis isn't too pleased about having to spend his relaxation time with the person who's employing him to do a job.

  "Thanks for everything you've done today, Lewis."

  He jerks his chin up in acknowledgement.

  "Olive green, eh? Bet you wished you'd settled for the other one, now."

  I'm just about to explode, when I notice the tiniest hint of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. Okay, two can play that game.

  "I know what I want and I'm not prepared to settle any more."

  There's no venom behind the words, it's simply a statement. Silence reigns; the sound of the gu
sting wind against the conservatory roof is a reminder that flooding isn't the only concern. What if one of these huge trees topples over onto the cottage? Is it possible to survive something like that?

  "I reckon you'll be able to switch on the fridge and freezer about one in the morning and then you should be okay to use it around breakfast time. At least the storeroom is like the old-fashioned cold house and the fresh stuff shouldn't spoil."

  I'm surprised at his attempt to make conversation. My eye was on the clock and I'd already worked that out for myself.

  "I'm just relieved and grateful to next door. Was I rough on the delivery guys? I didn't tip them and I feel awful. It wasn't their fault."

  Lewis holds out his glass for a refill.

  "Nice wine. I don't usually drink this pink stuff. They just wanted to make their drop and get off home. Range cookers are heavy beasts and it wasn't the best of days to find out they'd been given the wrong one. I did tip them a twenty-pound note, by the way. I knew you'd feel guilty that you'd forgotten."

  I don't know how to take that. A part of me is grateful, because they did deserve it, if only for the hassle due to the location. But I'm in charge here. A glance at Lewis' face confirms he thinks it's not a big deal.

  "I'll reimburse you, thanks. Even that doesn't seem like very much for such a lot of lifting. That was a thoughtful thing to do."

  "It's okay. I can add it onto your bill. I was going to, anyway."

  As I'm mulling over whether I should be worried about what must be the rapidly escalating costs, given the hours he's working, it suddenly hits me.

  "Oh no, I think the heating has stopped working."

  The wall lights are still on, so it's not a power cut. Lewis and I, rather reluctantly, drag on our coats and armed with Terence's storm lantern, we step out into the darkness. The boiler cover isn't heavy to lift off, just awkward. It's wall-mounted and can only be reached from halfway up the ramp, which is directly in line with it, albeit there is a two-foot gap between the ramp and the side of the cottage.

  "I can smell oil, so that's a good sign," Lewis comments. I raise the lantern up high to shine down on the length of clear pipe that feeds directly into the motor. He puts his finger on the button to kick-start it. Nothing. He tries this again. Nothing, other than a small splutter that immediately dies.

  "The plumbers said three attempts if it goes out again and if that doesn't do it, it will probably mean the motor has completely seized up."

  Lewis fiddles with something, the smell of oil gets much stronger and then he presses the button again. Nothing – not even a splutter this time.

  "I'm sorry, Madeleine, I think they're right. The motor has finally given up."

  Once we're back inside the chill very quickly begins to take a hold and what was basic, but cosy, is already beginning to feel rather bleak and dismal.

  "I suggest we get ourselves sorted for the night. I'll set my phone as a reminder to get up and switch on the freezer and the fridge in the early hours. Do you have extra bedding? It's going to be a cold night."

  "Plenty, not sure how many pillows I can find, though. Do you prefer blankets or a duvet?"

  "I'm good. I'll pop out to the van and grab my army-issue sleeping bag and all the gear. I was thinking more of you."

  He can see the puzzled look on my face.

  "I'm used to sleeping on the job. This is luxurious accommodation compared to some of the renovations I've had to sleep in. The van is like my home on wheels. I have a small camping stove I'll bring in. And don't worry – I won't be wearing the same socks tomorrow. I'm covered on that front, too."

  I have to give the guy his due – he comes prepared. By the time he returns I've pulled out a pile of blankets and found two spare pillows. My bed now has two duvets and I manage to locate the box holding some warm socks and a really thick, hooded, cream dressing gown.

  I try not to watch, fascinated as Lewis begins unpacking his kit in the sitting room, opposite the door to my temporary bedroom.

  "Is it okay if I settle myself down here? I suggest you have two of the electric fan heaters going all night in the conservatory. The heat will drift through into the sitting room and dining room. The other heater ought to go upstairs to help the plaster dry out. If you need anything, just shout."

  I think he's dismissing me. I hand him a bottle of water from the makeshift kitchen and grab one for myself. I head off to gather up my night things and a fan heater, then make my way up to the shower room. I leave Lewis sorting the heaters for the conservatory.

  It's a nuisance having no door on the dining room, but then I didn't dream I'd ever have a house guest sleeping on the floor just a few yards away. I clean my teeth and get ready for bed, unable to face showering and exposing my naked body to the chilly air, even for a few minutes.

  Walking back down the stairs, I probably look like a misplaced Eskimo in my cream dressing gown with the hood up and a pair of cream and grey woolly socks with snowflakes on them. They were a present from last Christmas; the sort you open and then have to paste a smile on your face while you say 'thank you'. It was the present I swore I'd never use. Lewis is, thankfully, nowhere to be seen and then I hear a noise from the downstairs bathroom. I run through the sitting room and am in bed under my double duvets in a matter of seconds. My heart is pumping and it's not just from the exertion.

  CHAPTER 21

  Birthdays are supposed to be special. I check my phone for what feels like the hundredth time and as the small hand clicks on the twelve, it confirms that I've officially hit the big five-o. Happy birthday, Maddie. They do say we get the life we deserve. You must have done something very, very wrong to find yourself in this mess. This certainly isn't how I envisaged my life at this point in time. What could be more depressing than lying in the dark, the air so cold I can't bear to even have a hand outside the covers and knowing that my kitchen probably isn't going to arrive today? This is it for the entire festive period. Ho! Ho! Or rather, bah humbug! No heating, no cooker and only the worst Christmas on record to look forward to. As far as firsts go, I think any one of them on their own would have been rather unfortunate. Come on universe! I've spent a large part of my life sending out good karma in one way or another – isn't this just a little unfair?

  I pull the hood of my dressing gown in tighter, the cold air not only makes everything feel slightly damp to the touch, but it seems to infiltrate down through any little gap or crevice it can find. Lewis hasn't made a sound, so I'm guessing he's asleep. I roll over, trying to encourage the duvets to tuck in tightly around my body, but they're too thick and a new channel opens up for the cold air to investigate.

  A little while later I hear a movement and realise Lewis is pulling on his coat. I hear the door and then hollow footsteps as he walks past the window. His shadow floats across the blind and then a minute or two later he's in view again. It's so quiet I can hear the click as Lewis flicks the switch to turn on the fridge in the kitchen. As he walks back into the sitting room, the light from his torch flashes across the doorway into the dining room. A sudden tickle in my throat provokes an involuntary cough and I freeze, not wanting to draw attention to myself.

  "Are you asleep?" his voice is barely a whisper.

  "Yes," I reply.

  "Sounds like you're awake to me. Would you like a cup of tea?"

  "I thought you'd never ask. It's freezing and I'd love one, I'm just too cold to get out of bed. Aren't you cold?"

  "No, years of army training and field ops discipline your body to withstand the elements. It's only when you're wet and cold that it becomes a problem." His voice is raised slightly, above the sound of the kettle heating up. "Have you slept at all?"

  "Hardly. The kitchen isn't going to arrive, is it?" I sound as depressed as I feel.

  "No."

  A few minutes later he's standing in the doorway and I can just about make out his outline and the fact that he's carrying two mugs. He wants to talk.

  In the gloom it looks as if he's dre
ssed in a dark navy, or possibly black, sweat suit and I can see the top of what looks like a white tee-shirt visible at the neck line. He doesn't seem too sure about what to do next. The bed takes up most of the room and all I have is a small coffee table in the corner.

  He steps forward, I assume to head for the table to put down the tea, when he stumbles over something.

  "Damn it!"

  "Sorry, watch out for my shoes. Hang on, let me sit up and I'll take it off you."

  It's scalding hot, but I pull my dressing-gown sleeves down over my hands and nestle the cup between them. The heat is welcome and it's cheering. "Why don't you sit on the end of the bed for a moment?"

  I'm surprised when he does just that – I thought he'd feel awkward.

  "Thanks for plugging in the appliances. I'd like to get the food back out of Terence's freezer first thing. I don't think Joanna approves of me, for some reason. I wouldn't like to cause any trouble between them."

  "Joanna's a cold one. She's probably worried you'll crook your little finger and Terence will be there helping out. He has no idea his wife walks all over him, poor guy."

  I wasn't expecting that comment and I don't know quite what to say.

  "That's a bit judgemental. I think she felt this might be too much of a project for me to take on, that's all. I should have known about allowing the coolant to settle, she was right to be a bit put out. Poor Terence had to work hard to fit everything in. It is nearly Christmas, after all."

  "Oh, come on! We'd all help out a neighbour in a similar position and we wouldn't make them feel uncomfortable. Do you think you've taken on too much?"

  "At the moment, yes. When the heating is blasting out and I have a working cooker, ask me again and you'll probably get a different answer."

  "If you ever want to walk away from it, I'm a willing purchaser."

  I'm glad of the cover of darkness, so he can't see the look on my face.

  "Sarah said that you intended putting in an offer the same day that I saw the cottage."

  There's a moment's hesitation.