by Anna Jacobs
He named an amount and it was close to what the first driver had suggested, so she accepted and let him load her luggage into the boot.
A guy in a uniform came and grabbed the trolley, whisking it away. A mother snatched a small child out of his way and gave it a warning shake. A young woman stopped dead and began arguing with a guy in some incomprehensible foreign language.
All Simone wanted to do was get away from this noisy chaos. Hopefully she’d be able to go for a walk this evening. She loved being out in the open air, hadn’t enjoyed being shut up in a plane.
‘Want to sit in the front?’ the driver asked as he closed the boot on her luggage. ‘You’ll see more of the scenery that way.’
‘Thank you. That’d be nice.’ She fastened her seat belt, relief running through her as she leant back. He closed his door on the noisy world and the car slid away from the kerb and began to thread its way through traffic.
After they’d exchanged a few remarks, he too asked, ‘Is that an Aussie accent?’
‘Yes.’
‘First time here?’
‘Not exactly. I was born here but my parents emigrated when I was six so I don’t remember much.’
‘It’ll all have changed way beyond recognition since then.’
How the hell old did she look? she wondered, feeling a bit miffed.
‘I hope you have a good holiday. Mind if I put some music on? It’ll take just over an hour and a half to get there, depending on traffic.’
‘Go ahead. I don’t mind at all.’ She’d prefer not to talk, wanted to study her temporary country of residence. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t feel like someone starting a holiday. She felt numb more than anything, slightly disoriented and nervous. Definitely nervous.
What have I done? Why ever have I come here?
There were several lanes of traffic meeting and separating as they left the airport, with vehicles changing from one lane to another like demented ants everywhere she looked. It reminded her of her visit to Sydney. But the lane discipline of these drivers seemed better, well, mostly better, and the signage was excellent.
She could cope with driving here, too, she told herself firmly. But not today. Today she was too tired.
Soon they were away from the worst of the traffic, though the M4 freeway they were driving along was still busy. No, they were called motorways here, weren’t they, not freeways, she reminded herself.
Gradually the traffic thinned and they began driving intermittently through pretty countryside alternating with industrial areas. Some of the trees on the motorway verges had delicate young foliage though none seemed fully in leaf. It still looked lush and green after the dryness of a West Australian autumn following a hot summer. Well, it was spring here, wasn’t it?
What did Blake’s poem call it? ‘England’s green and pleasant land’. That definitely fitted the countryside round here.
They passed turn-off roads every few miles and she watched the names of towns she’d only heard mentioned before flash by. Then at last she saw the sign for Swindon, which she knew was the nearest big town to the smaller one where she’d be living. But the driver didn’t take that turn-off as she’d expected and her heart did an anxious skip.
‘Um, wasn’t that the way to Swindon?’
‘That first turn-off leads to the east side of the city. We take the second one, because your destination is at the western side.’
And there the sign was soon afterwards with the name of her new town on it: Royal Wootton Bassett. She relaxed again.
‘Not far now,’ he told her cheerfully.
They went quickly through the small town, which didn’t seem to have woken up properly yet. Well, it wasn’t quite eight o’clock in the morning. She’d set her watch to the right time on the plane.
They turned off after the town, passing through another small place called Marlbury then twisting along some narrow country roads, before coming to a sign saying ‘Penny Lake Leisure Village’. They were here. Oh, thank goodness!
Following his satnav’s instructions, he drove slowly through an entrance with gorgeous hanging baskets of flowers on either side, past a car park and hotel, then across to a group of houses and a few more being built. People in yellow high-vis jackets were just starting their morning’s work on the new houses at the far end of the street as he came to a stop in a drive partway along.
‘Here you are, love. Nice place, isn’t it? Is this where you’re staying, or are you just starting off here?’
‘I’m staying here for a few months. I did a house swap.’
‘Lucky you. There’s a golf course right on site.’
‘I don’t play, I’m afraid.’
‘I’d be out on it every day I could if I lived here.’
As Simone fumbled for her credit card, the front door of the house opened and a man hurried out. ‘Simone? Oh, good. I’m Bob and I’ll get this.’ He pushed away the card she was holding out and handed the driver his own. ‘It was our mistake entirely, so you shouldn’t have to pay. You go inside and I’ll bring your luggage.’
She told him how much had been agreed for the fare and got out, thanking the driver, before pausing to take a quick look at the house. It was a detached residence built of wood which was painted the same colour as the other houses on the street, even though they were all of different styles. The whole place looked very attractive.
Her temporary home was a two-storey house with large windows on either side of the front door. It had a nicely balanced appearance with a traditional roof shape and that pleased her. She didn’t like ultra-modern houses with bits of roof sticking out at odd angles as if they’d been put on wrongly.
She realised there was a woman standing patiently at the door and she was keeping her waiting, so moved across to join her. It suddenly occurred to her that she’d coped with a small crisis perfectly well today. She smiled at the thought, feeling as if she’d grown taller, somehow.
‘I’m Linda.’
‘Simone.’
‘You must be exhausted.’
‘Not too bad. I managed to get some sleep on the plane.’
‘Come in. Welcome to your new home.’
Taking a deep breath Simone walked steadily forward into her new life.
I can do it.
Russ heard a car draw up outside and went to look out and check that it wasn’t for him. No, it was a taxi and had stopped in front of the house next door. Bob rushed out to it, waving what looked like a credit card.
The woman who got out was taller than Bob, probably nearer to Russ’s height, and she had a tan she couldn’t have got in an English winter, so she must be the Australian they were swapping houses with.
Duh! Obvious. Well done, Sherlock Holmes! he thought mockingly.
He couldn’t help thinking what a lovely figure she had. Curvaceous. He wasn’t into scraggy women like his half-sister.
The stranger went inside with Linda while Bob unloaded her luggage from the taxi and carted it into the house.
Russ smiled as he went back to sorting things out and making lists of stuff to buy. He was turning into a peeping Tom. Well, he enjoyed watching people even if he didn’t always want to chat to them. He’d had a surfeit of people in the hospital, always poking and prodding at him.
He carried on, saving the best task until later in the afternoon. He’d dumped his photography equipment in the so-called formal living room, which he intended to set up as a studio, a proper, dedicated studio for the first time in his life. Well, he’d make a start on setting it up. He’d have to buy some new furniture, supplies, stationery, all sorts of things to equip it properly.
He was really looking forward to doing that because there hadn’t been room to set up his equipment at his aunt’s house or at the cupboard-sized flat. He went to stand by the rear window and stare happily at the lake, which he could see one part of from here.
He’d promised himself that this studio was going to be the best he could make it. Buying and selling
houses was a pain, so this one was to be permanent. What did older people call their final houses? Death nests. He grinned at the thought. He’d cheated death for the time being, thank you very much. And the physio said another couple of months should see him back to normal.
He looked round the studio with a proprietary eye. Perfect. He’d had an extra window built into the blank side wall and light was streaming in. He was going to use the garage for a darkroom, so that the studio would stay spacious and tranquil. His car wouldn’t notice whether it was raining or even snowing.
He picked up his notebook and began to go through his provisional list: two desks, new desktop computer, easel, big cupboard for his cameras and supplies, filing cabinet. He intended to get back into all aspects of his work from now on. He’d missed the photography itself most of all and soon he’d be going on real trips out into the countryside.
He didn’t have any firm contracts at the moment, due to the accident, though he had a few ideas to broach to his agent. He had just finished the television series when he had the accident and she’d said it was selling well. She’d be happy to pitch any ideas to them again once he’d recovered. He’d contact her tomorrow to say he’d moved in.
He took his grandfather’s old camera out of its bubble wrap and cradled it against his chest. He didn’t rely only on modern digital equipment, though that was wonderfully versatile. Sometimes an old-fashioned camera like this one could produce subtleties for stills which, in his opinion, digital’s sharper focus could erase or miss.
He had a lot of photos of Australia to download from the time before the accident. He had only vague memories of the days after it. Most of his work had been stored online and had survived.
He put his camcorders into the cupboard. He’d be needing them again soon with all the wildlife round the lake tempting him to go out and invade their privacy – just a little.
He loved what he did for a living, was lucky to earn a decent amount from his various artistic passions – and even luckier that years ago his brother had persuaded him to take out income guarantee insurance as well as house insurance after his marriage broke up. He’d hate to have had to break into his retirement savings to get through the past year.
A robin landed outside on the back patio and began singing, making an amazing amount of noise for such a tiny creature, and flittering about in delicate little hops. He grabbed a camera and moved cautiously closer to the French window, managing to ease it quietly open to capture the robin’s joyful movements before it flew away.
That seemed a brilliant omen.
Abruptly he became aware that his body was aching and a sense of weariness was making him long to sit down. His stomach rumbled and he glanced at his watch. Past six in the evening. Where had the day gone? No wonder he was feeling ravenous.
He walked across to the kitchen area, stopping on the way to admire the flowers, now properly arranged in a vase he’d forgotten he owned until he unpacked it.
He’d overdone it today – and had enjoyed every blessed minute of it, aches and all.
Should he go up to the hotel for a meal? No, he couldn’t be bothered. A bowl of cereal would have to do. Or baked beans on toast? With a banana for dessert.
Yes, he could just about summon up the energy to make that.
Chapter Six
‘Welcome to England, Simone. We’ve put you in the main bedroom and we’re camping out in one of the others tonight. Easier to clear up after ourselves without disturbing you all over again.’
‘Thank you, Linda. That’s very thoughtful.’
‘If you don’t mind, Bob and I will move to my sister’s tomorrow morning. She’s offered to come and pick us up to save you a journey. It takes time to get over jet lag.’
Bob brought one of Simone’s suitcases in and dumped it near the foot of the stairs then nipped outside for the other as the taxi drove away. Still holding the second case he said, ‘I’ll show you your bedroom.’
Simone picked up the other suitcase and followed him upstairs to a light, airy room with its own en suite. ‘This is lovely! I’m going to enjoy sleeping here.’ Except for the ornaments, of which there were rather a lot: fussy, old-fashioned ladies in long skirts and frills, cute animals whose eyes were too big like those of cartoon characters.
‘I’ll leave you to settle in. I’ll have a cuppa waiting for you downstairs when you’re ready.’
She closed the bedroom door with relief. She’d been dying to use the bathroom, hadn’t dared leave her trolley unattended at the airport.
Afterwards she went downstairs, leaving her unpacking until later because she was hungry and thirsty.
They shared a simple midday meal, all exquisitely polite to one another. She found it hard to maintain a conversation with complete strangers with whom she didn’t seem to have much in common, however nice they were. Or maybe she was just overtired.
‘If you’d like some gentle exercise,’ Bob said, ‘we could take you for a stroll round Penny Lake. It’s about a mile in all and easy going.’
‘I’d love that. I’ve heard that it’s better to try to stay awake and fit into the new time zone after a long flight but I’m finding it hard to keep my eyes open. A walk will keep me going for longer, I’m sure.’
There seemed to be less need to chat while walking and Simone loved the idea that such a pretty little lake was right next to where she was going to live.
After that she went upstairs and unpacked, resisting the temptation to lie down on the bed, still fighting sleepiness.
By the time they went up to the hotel for an early evening meal, the time difference was winning the battle over sleep and she could only manage a light meal. She couldn’t stop herself yawning several times as they walked the short distance back. ‘I think I’ll go to bed now if you don’t mind.’
Linda made a sweeping gesture towards the stairs with one hand. ‘Go for it. You’ve done really well to stay awake for so long. I hope you sleep soundly.’
Tired as she was, Simone realised she hadn’t texted her daughters and Libby to say she’d arrived safely. By the time she’d done that she’d woken up again, so it took her longer than she’d expected to fall sleep.
She woke in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep for a couple of hours. At home she’d have made herself a milky drink but she didn’t like to do that here, afraid of disturbing her kind hosts.
The next thing she knew someone was shaking her shoulder gently. She opened her eyes, not knowing where she was for a few seconds, then saw Linda standing beside the bed looking down at her a little anxiously.
‘Are you all right?’
‘What? Oh. Yes. Is it morning already?’
‘More than. It’s nearly eight o’clock and we have a lot to do before my sister arrives. I’d like you to meet her before we leave.’
‘Oh, my goodness! I never normally sleep in past six.’
‘Well, no one would blame you for doing it this time. And eight o’clock isn’t exactly sleeping in. You must have been exhausted. I wouldn’t have woken you yet but I wanted to suggest something.’
‘Oh?’
‘Look, don’t take this wrongly but I was a rather successful hairdresser before I retired and I’d like to give you a re-style before we leave, as an extra apology for yesterday.’
‘It’s very kind of you, but I usually just pull my hair back. It’s easy.’
‘I know, but it’s the wrong style for your face. You need it shorter and fluffier. At the moment you’re pulling all the waves out. You’re lucky to have bouncy hair. You should be taking advantage of it.’
‘Oh. Well. All right. If you don’t mind.’
Linda beamed at her. ‘Mind? I shall enjoy it! I like to keep my hand in. Anyway, if you could get up now, we’ll finish it before my sister arrives. I’ll introduce her in case you need to get in touch with her, then we’ll check whether there’s anything else you still want to know before we leave you in peace. There’s plenty of food, so
you don’t even need to go out shopping if you want a lazy day or two to get over the jet lag. And we have lots of books and DVDs. Just help yourself.’
Linda was still trailing words as she left the bedroom. ‘Leave your hair wet after your shower.’
Simone got up, had a hurried shower, then went down, desperate for a cup of very strong coffee to finish the job of waking herself up.
Linda got her to sit down in the utility room and set to work on her hair, snipping and muttering and turning Simone’s head, first one way, then the other.
There wasn’t a mirror in here so there was no way of seeing what she was doing, but from the way she worked, Linda seemed to know what she was doing.
When she’d finished, she stepped back and beamed. ‘Marvellous. I was so right. I just know you’re going to be pleased. Come into the living room. There’s a big mirror there.’
Simone followed her meekly, more interested in getting something to eat than fussing with hair – until she saw herself.
‘Oh, my goodness!’
‘Suits you, doesn’t it?’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever had a style that suits me more.’
‘Well, get your hair trimmed at Celeste’s salon in Marlbury. It’s on the High Street, you can’t miss it. And tell her I sent you.’
‘Yes. I will.’ She couldn’t help hugging Linda. ‘This is marvellous. Thank you so much.’
‘My pleasure. Now, let’s get you fed. You must be so hungry.’
As Simone was finishing breakfast, Linda’s sister, Jodie, arrived. The resemblance was strong, especially when they smiled. She fixed the best smile she could manage on her own face in return and chatted to them as she ate another piece of toast.
Bob left them to it and loaded the last of their things in Jodie’s car then came in for a final goodbye.
Suddenly they were gone and all was quiet.