A Cottage in the Country

by Linn B. Halton

  "Has Dad phoned?"

  I close my eyes, wrinkling up my face as Matt's words hit me in the stomach, like a blow.

  "Darling, your dad called around to see me and I made it very clear that my life is now my own. When you divorce someone, the ties are cut. That doesn't wipe away the memories, but it means they are no longer a part of your future. I know that's hard for you to accept, but that's the reality. Whatever I choose to do now, your father isn't a part of it and it's none of his business."

  "You sound bitter," Matt's voice is full of disappointment. I'd hoped he would understand.

  "No, I'm not and I wouldn't want you to think that. What I am is happy. I need you, and Nick, to be happy for me, too."

  "Fair enough. But, Mum, you will look after yourself, won't you?"

  "Of course. At the moment it's all an adventure and every day brings something new." Well, the essence of that is true, although the 'something new' is usually yet another problem. I'm just glad Matt and Nick don't know that.

  I begin the climb again, thinking that Lewis sounded like a man on a mission and I guess that's what he's been trained to do. Take a bad situation and make the best of it. As my chest starts to burn and my breathing becomes laboured, I realise I'm nowhere near as fit as I thought I was. Pride won't let me fall too far behind, though, and I put my head down and plough forward with determination, as the first drops of rain start to fall once more. It might be the twenty-third of December, but there isn't one single vestige of Christmas spirit in me.

  CHAPTER 23

  After I throw off my muddy boots and hang up my wet coat, Lewis appears with two mugs of hot chocolate. My own mood is rather sombre as I come to terms with the idea of being stranded. My body quickly acclimatises to the blast of heat that initially hit me when I first walked in. I'm back to having cold toes and hands within a few minutes, and knowing that this is going to last for the foreseeable future is depressing. The part is on order; as yet there's been no confirmation of a delivery date. Most factories and warehouses close for a two-week period over Christmas and New Year. The added complication is that the company's main delivery depot is also on a flood plain and access is severely restricted at the moment. The last I heard, with the backlog, it's unlikely to arrive before the end of January.

  I assume Lewis will head back into the kitchen, but instead he takes the seat next to me. Will he think I'm weakening if I say I'm going to shut up the cottage for a while?

  Looking out, even with the heavy, gun-metal grey clouds and the relentless rain, it's a scene in which you can lose yourself. It's like a painting, where every time you look at it you spot something new. But what's the point in being trapped here over the holidays with so few comforts, when out there many people are still leading a normal life – floods and landslides something they can't even comprehend?

  "What's up?" Lewis can see I'm preoccupied.

  "I'm cold." Ironically, I'm the one now who doesn't feel in the mood for talking.

  "That wasn't another problem, the call?"

  "No. That was my son, Matt. The boys are concerned, but I hope I've convinced him everything is fine. Nick was going to make the journey down, but it's a long way to come when there's nothing he can do."

  "It's nice to know they care. I guess that's what families do." He sips his drink, a slight frown hardening his face. "I don't mean to bark at you. That's the trouble with being a loner, you get used to your own company. I spent too many years away from friends and family, in a job where I was paid to issue orders. It's a one-way communication stream. I have a confession to make and it's a peace offering, so don't take it the wrong way."

  He leans forward, forearms on his knees and mug cradled in his hands. He looks straight ahead, as if he's scanning the view, but I think it's more to avoid my gaze.

  "That first time I met you here, I said I was checking you out. Some people are a pain to work for and hover all the time, or keep changing their minds. What I said was true in a way."

  He pauses and a few seconds pass before he continues.

  "I wanted to see if you were the right one, you know, to take over Aggie's cottage. Aggie sort of expected me to buy it. She knew I was looking for somewhere to settle and I promised her that, when the time came, I'd restore it to its former glory. When I received the call informing me that my mother had died, naturally I dropped everything and headed back home. With hindsight I kick myself. I should have contacted Sarah before I left, leaving a full asking price offer on the table. The price was irrelevant to me, as this is where I wanted to be. But when the bank was finally ready to put it up for sale, I was a couple of hundred miles away arranging a funeral."

  I'm frantically thinking of a suitable response that won't upset him, or sound patronising, when he continues.

  "Of course, I know Aggie isn't still here, because I don't believe in ghosts. However, I've seen enough of death and been exposed to things I don't fully understand, to freely admit it's an unknown to me. But I do think that between these walls, the life that went on leaves some sort of impression behind. I've walked forests, fields and towns, where the stench of death plays tricks with the mind. Your skin prickles with the aftermath of horrors not necessarily witnessed, but a trace of something very negative is tangible in the air – places that are blighted forever and where even courageous battle veterans think twice before stepping.

  "It's time I put down roots. The truth is that I envy you this place. In the meantime, I'm more than happy to help out here."

  I blink, my eyes watery as I imagine Aggie sitting here and looking out: year in, year out. All those memories and that heart-shaped stone, telling me that love leapt in her heart, even though she never found her one true love.

  "I'm sure you'll find the right place for you, Lewis," I try to keep my tone light and not reflect the emotion he's drawing out in me.

  "Plus, a guy has to earn a living. Now, let's take a look at the master bedroom. If you're happy to help out we can probably turn the room around in just a few days. It's not like you have anything else to do."

  I have to make a split-second decision. A few minutes ago it was my intention to ring Ryan and ask if I could go and stay with him until the roads are open again. We might not be able to drive out of Bybrooke, but on foot we could get out and it seemed to make sense. I know what I told Matt, but that was simply to stop him worrying. If I do this, am I doing it for myself, for Ash Cottage, or for Lewis?

  "Well, I have all the materials, so I guess it's going to be a working Christmas."

  After a quick inspection Lewis manages to expose four layers of wallpaper, each like a snapshot going back in time. I can see the seventies, eighties and nineties staring back at me. He then points to the ceiling.

  "The ceiling tiles are going to be a nightmare to get off. Then I'll fill in the holes from scraping off the glue. Under normal circumstances I'd suggest getting a plasterer in to skim it, but I'm sure I can do a passable job of it. I have a steamer in the van. If you use that, then I'll start peeling off some of the outer layers. They should come off quite easily. It's the bottom layer that is going to be time-consuming if it's stuck fast."

  We work in silence and I find myself wishing I knew where the radio was, but it's in a box somewhere. However, I'm not sure Lewis would approve – he seems content to be left alone with his thoughts. I wish I felt the same way. I'm not sure I want to face up to the things that are whirling around inside my head.

  Do I want to settle and grow old gracefully, ending up like Aggie? Was she happy being on her own? Did she feel fulfilled, or were there times when she doubted some of the decisions she had made? Maybe fate won't allow us to stray too far from our allotted path. Maybe I need to take each day as it comes and try not to think about the long-term future. The thought of being alone forever makes me tear-up; the thought of getting to know another man in all senses of the word is daunting. I'm not sure I have the confidence, or the desire, any more. What if I never find anyone who is right for me, ever
again?

  As I stop for a minute to sweep some of the debris on the floor into a pile, I glance across at Lewis. My eyes travel over him from head to toe and I have to admit that a little quiver of something flashes through me once more. He's a stocky build, but it's all muscle. As he reaches out with the scraper, his muscles flex and tighten; he sure looks good for his age. Then I think about the wobbly bits around my middle and the laughter lines that are now seriously way beyond a joke. They're only supposed to crinkle nicely at the outer edges of your eyes, not work their way across your entire face.

  I can still recall the excitement and attraction when Jeff and I first met, even though it now seems as if it was in another lifetime. We were so young. When did that all-consuming love start to fade? I have no idea; we settled into family life and there was never a moment to stand back and think about our relationship in that way. I force myself to think about Jeff. Did he make me feel special? I suppose the truth is that he hadn't for many, many years. Yes, we made love, but when he held me it was because that's what you do. I can't remember the last time he actually held me, as in, drawing me close with no hint of sexual gratification. I've always been a hugger and the boys followed my lead. But they never hug Jeff – it's always a handshake. It worried me for many years; I didn't want them to think that was normal. Men should hug their sons, no matter what their age. It's how you show someone you care, really care, and each one is a special moment.

  "Shall I make some lunch?" It's too hard to be in the same room with a man I don't know and have these things running through my head. There are many ways to spend a fiftieth birthday, but this isn't one of them. Maudlin, miserable and scraping walls is unlikely to make the list.

  "If you want. I'm happy to work through, but you probably need a break. Shout when it's ready." He doesn't stop what he's doing, just throws the words over his shoulder.

  I wonder where Lewis' thoughts take him when there's nothing to distract him, his hands automatically going through the motions of the task in hand.

  Downstairs, even with the two fan heaters blasting, it's chilly in the sitting room. The back wall is set into the hill and it's inevitable that the chill will come through. I suppose I just have to be very grateful that the water doesn't find its way in. Ryan was right; I should have had a survey. However, I know it wouldn't have dissuaded me, no matter what it threw up. Lewis has already hinted that the downstairs bathroom is likely to pose a few problems, but I'll face that when we get there.

  Well, lunch is basic – cheese and ham sandwiches and a packet of crisps. I make double for Lewis, who seems to have a large appetite, although I think he prefers to eat at the end of the day. Who knows? With him everything is a guessing game.

  "It's ready!" There's no response, so I sit down in the conservatory and assume he'll join me when he's ready.

  LEWIS

  CHAPTER 24

  It's difficult working with Madeleine Brooks constantly under my feet. She's doing a reasonable job and she's a tidy worker, but I could whip through this a lot quicker if I was on my own.

  Why on earth am I bending over backwards, when every task just serves to remind me that Ash Cottage isn't mine? I suppose it's because of Aggie, and knowing how disappointed she'd be that this isn't going to be my home. Sometimes life really sucks!

  Terence seems to wander out whenever I take myself off to the van to have a break. There's another man who spends a lot of his time finding excuses to get away from a woman. However, I'm beginning to enjoy our chats and this morning I felt able to share a little of what I've kept bottled-up, with him.

  "Were you close to your mother?" His question had surprised me, coming out of the blue.

  "My mother had been ill for a long time, but her death was sudden and unexpected. If it had happened just a few days later I would have been here when Ash Cottage went on the market. That sounds cold, but everyone has to die, and in her case it was a welcome release. She was a good woman, if strict, and in lucid moments she hated not being her usual self. My mother had high standards and was a very private woman. Sometimes it was hard to know if you had succeeded in pleasing her. You always knew if you'd done something wrong, though."

  "It's a generation thing, Lewis. Don't take it personally. My mother was similar, a great character but you knew if you'd upset her."

  "When the call came I took off, dreading what was to come. Although that house was home to me during my early teen years, when I was seventeen years old I joined the army. My mother was happy to sign the papers and, I think, a little relieved I would at least be 'off her hands'. My army career was an excuse to keep visits home to the minimum and I know it's wrong, but I don't have any regrets. She never looked to me for anything, but I was grateful for the upbringing she gave me. My chance to pay her back came in the latter few years of her life. I made sure she was taken care of and that she could remain in her own home for as long as possible. Aggie, on the other hand, was mentally fit as a fiddle, but it was her body that began to fail her. Unfortunately, she had no one close at hand to help her out."

  "I'm sure Aggie was very grateful for the kindness you showed her, Lewis. Sometimes it's easier dealing with a stranger than it is with your own family. Family can be complicated." Clearly, Terence understood that a part of this was all about guilt.

  "My mother and I struggled to find things in common. She wouldn't have understood my working environment; few could understand the life of an active-serving member of the forces. Being on the frontline isn't something you want to talk about; it's bad enough when your dreams drag you back there. When I did go home, we'd exchange pleasantries and I'd catch up on the local news, but we never talked about anything meaningful. Of course, when exactly the dementia started, I don't know. She was an insular woman all of her life, never recovering from the shock of being widowed so early in her married life.

  "At the point where she stopped recognising me, I knew that moving her into a facility, rather than having carers in to look after her at home, was inevitable. I also knew that she would have hated it if she had been aware of her surroundings. The house remained as it was the day I took her to Leyton Park nursing home and I paid the bills out of my army pension. Now it's mine, there is no one else and I can't feel sad that it holds no interest for me. It's a house full of the woes of a woman who never managed to stop grieving. That's life."

  Terence had leaned forward and placed his hand on my shoulder.

  "Sometimes it's hard to let go of the past. You're handling it well, Lewis. It can't be easy. Especially being here, now."

  What I couldn't tell him was that I felt Ash Cottage was different. It will always be Aggie's no matter who lives here. She was a vibrant, intelligent and kind woman. Everyone seemed to think she had an easy life as a single professional woman. But as an only daughter it fell to her to give up her career, and her life, and move back home to nurse her widowed mother as she fell into decline. She was a lady who made sacrifices, always driven by other people's needs or principles. Alone, Aggie was free in a way she had never been before. It was at that point that we met.

  "Why Madeleine Brooks should come along and happen to be in the right place at precisely the right time to buy Ash Cottage, fails me. This place is totally wrong for her and I bet she'll be moving on within a year. It's too isolated and too different to the city living she's always known." It had been hard for me not to sound bitter.

  "I'm not so sure, Lewis. Doesn't everyone deserve a second chance when something goes wrong in their life? I don't think her life has been easy recently."

  Terence's words stuck in my head as I went back to work. The problem is that I know Madeleine is out of her depth and there should be a sign on her back with a big warning triangle. The other concern is that she has absolutely no idea how attractive and desirable she is, and that's a real problem.

  I'm a loner by habit and women are a bit of a puzzle to me. Old people I can understand. Their needs are driven by the basic requirements of life. Aggie needed h
elp with her shopping, fetching things from the doctor's and little things that I could fit in around the jobs that needed doing to keep the cottage ticking over. Madeleine is used to having a set routine and a family to look after. She might have organised this project to death, but where did it get her? Nature is no man's servant and that's how I came to find myself in this impossible situation. I should have said I was too busy to take the job on and let her sink from the start. It would have been quicker and less painful.

  But there are times when she catches me unawares; when her vulnerability becomes a draw. Before I know it I have to fight off the mounting attraction. There's something about her that keeps grabbing my attention, even when I'm trying my best to ignore her. Just when I'm about to lose it and walk away, she'll start talking and I find myself watching that kissable mouth, mesmerised. And she's a hugger. Wouldn't you just know it! Okay, we're strangers and she's rather a reserved lady in many ways, but when she manages to get me to lower my guard I see that look of hers – the one that tells me to shut up before that nurturing instinct of hers kicks in. If I find myself with her in my arms, I'm not sure I could hide the attraction I feel.

  As a teen my mother found it hard to control me at times. I was hot-headed and had nothing to absorb all the energy that seemed to constantly set me on edge. I did what many teenage lads do and I drank too much, stayed out too late and behaved as if each day was going to be my last. Going into the army saved me from myself, because you can't talk back to a drill sergeant. The physical training exhausted me, but it also built me up and turned me into a fitness fanatic. Every goal I achieved spurred me on to set the bar higher and higher. I was completely focused when many of my peers had other things going on in their lives to distract them. I didn't. With personal success came promotion and responsibility made a man of me. Enough to understand that if I couldn't connect with my mother emotionally, then I could at least make sure she had everything she needed.