Blame it on the Onesie: A romantic comedy about work, water and wine

by CJ Morrow

‘What’s that?’

  ‘New growth, which is good. But it’s been got at. Probably that Feral Billy.’ Walt shook his head and marched on.

  ‘Who’s Feral Billy?’ Ella said to Walt’s retreating form, but he wasn’t listening.

  On the way home Ella stopped off at an out of town home wares superstore and, on impulse, bought a mattress and new bedding. The sales staff helped her put the back seats of her car down and force the mattress – a foam one conveniently rolled into a vacuum pack – into her car. She used her credit card to pay for it and then wondered if she’d be able to pay the bill. She needed to find out how much she would get from Gubbins; it might be nothing. She needed to ring the solicitor and tell him she was definitely moving in and ask about the money.

  The bedsit seemed even smaller now. And darker, and drearier. Ella sat down on the sofa bed and thought about the new mattress in the car.

  ‘I think I’ve made the right decision,’ she heard herself say out loud.

  She pulled her phone out of her bag. Checked her messages. Four from Sam, escalating in urgency from Ring me, hun. You OK? xx all the way through to Desperately need to speak. Where are you? There were also two missed calls from Sam.

  Ella rang her back.

  ‘I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all day. Where have you been?’ Sam sounded annoyed.

  ‘I’ve been up at the cottage, cleaning.’

  ‘Oh. I see. I suppose there’s no phone signal there.’

  ‘No. I think the signal’s okay. We had to turn our phones off; I only put mine to silent, but then never looked at it again.’ Ella laughed. She’d quite forgotten about her phone during the day, which was most unusual.

  ‘What are you talking about? Who said you had to turn it off.’

  ‘Oh. Don’t worry about that. What did you want? Your messages sounded important.’

  ‘Gwynnie’s made an official complaint.’

  ‘Bit late for that.’ Ella laughed. ‘I’ve left.’

  ‘Not against you. Against me. You called her Gladys and she’s put two and two together and worked out that I told you her real name. I’m in a trusted position. I work in HR, it could only have come from someone in HR and she knows we’re friends.’

  ‘But you didn’t tell me. Not in so many words.’

  ‘But you did get it from me, or rather out of me with your silly Derren Brown thing. Remember.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I don’t need this. I’m going on maternity leave in a few months. I don’t want all this aggravation.’

  ‘Okay. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Tell them you didn’t get it from me. You need to come in tomorrow to be interviewed. You’re my defence.’

  Ella thought about it for a moment. The last thing she wanted was for Sam to be disciplined for that. But the truth was she had got it from Sam, albeit not verbally.

  ‘Okay. I’ll say you never told me, because you didn’t. When do I have to come?’

  ‘Three, tomorrow. You won’t let me down, will you Ella?’

  ‘Of course I won’t.’ Ella said, affronted.

  ‘Get here before three; ask for Sally, not me. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Bye,’ Sam’s voice was already sounding distant and she ended the call before Ella could even respond.

  Well, you evidently don’t want to hear about my day, Ella thought, rather hurt. But who could blame Sam, she was running scared. And to be fair it wasn’t her fault. If there was any blame, it should go to Ella. But it had been worth it, the look on Gwynnie’s face when Ella had called her Gladys was exquisite.

  After a good night’s sleep, brought on by the excess of physical work during the day, Ella dressed in the boiler suit, wrapped her hair in the flowery turban – though not as expertly as the old ladies had – picked up a change of clothes and left. In the car she waivered between joy and worry; she felt elated at the prospect of getting Spring Cottage into some sort of shape but equally daunted by the enormity of the job. Then there was what awaited her this afternoon at work. An involuntary shiver ran up her spine.

  When she pulled up outside Spring Cottage the cavalry were already waiting, queued up in the spring sunshine with their boiler suits and turbans on.

  ‘You haven’t been waiting long have you?’ It was bad enough that they were helping her, without her keeping them hanging around.

  ‘Just got here,’ Walt said, ‘so don’t you worry.’

  They piled into the cottage, Edna assigned everyone jobs and off they went. Today Edna and the old ladies were giving the kitchen the benefit of their cleaning expertise. Ella rolled up her sleeves keen to get on with it, but it seemed that she wasn’t included.

  ‘Ella, we need to look at the spring,’ Walt said, his voice almost a whisper.

  Spring? Oh yes, she was supposed to maintain the spring, whatever that meant. ‘Okay,’ she said, cheerily.

  ‘Have you got the key?’

  Ella shrugged. ‘Why does it need a key? I’ve got three on this bunch.’ She pulled them from the pocket she’d stuffed them in after opening the front door.

  Walt selected the biggest. ‘This’ll be the one. Shall we go?’

  ‘I wondered what that key was for.’ Ella walked towards the back door and looked round for Walt; he hadn’t moved.

  ‘It’s this way,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I was thinking it was outside.’ She had imagined a well somewhere in the overgrown garden. ‘But I remember now, it’s in the basement, isn’t it?’

  ‘Cellar,’ Walt corrected, leading Ella along a narrow corridor that ran behind the stairs, a corridor she hadn’t really noticed before. The door at the end of the corridor was dark and heavy; Walt jiggled the key in the lock several times but it wouldn’t turn.

  ‘Oh,’ Ella said, ‘I thought it was that key too, because the other two fit the back and front doors and I don’t have any others. Maybe the solicitor has it.’ Ella turned to walk back along the corridor.

  ‘You try it,’ Walt said. ‘My hands aren’t so nimble anymore.’

  ‘I doubt I’ll do any better.’

  Walt stepped aside and Ella jiggled the key in the lock. It turned easily and the door swung open.

  ‘I knew you could do it,’ Walt said, patting Ella on the back as though she had just passed a test. He fumbled inside for the light switch, evidently knowing where it was, but the bulb was ancient and low wattage and the light pale and yellowy. But it was enough to show the steep, narrow staircase that led down into a gloomy cellar.

  ‘I’ll lead the way,’ he said. ‘Be careful as you follow, I remember these steps being very steep. Bring the key, we’ll need it again.’

  They stumbled down the stairs together, inhaling stale air and dust. Ella tried not to think about how many spiders there might be lurking down there or maybe mice, or other things. She shook the thoughts from her head.

  At the bottom of the steps Walt found another light switch, the bulb – much brighter – illuminated the cellar. Judging by the size, the cellar ran under the entire cottage. In the middle was a circular hatch, six feet across and made from the same, dark, heavy wood as the cellar door. It had symbols painted into it, stars and moons, Ella thought. Carved around the rim were other symbols, which Ella couldn’t make out. The hatch was secured by six black iron bolts. She could hear water running beneath it.

  ‘We need to get it open,’ Walt said. ‘We’ll need the key again now.’

  Ella laughed. ‘You are joking. We can’t lift that. Just the two of us. It’s enormous and it looks very heavy. Let’s leave it for another day.’ Another day when Hal would be around to help, he was young and fit, and she meant that not in the way Edna would. She certainly didn’t want to get the old men down, they had been dispatched to the garden and she thought that physical labour was more than enough for them.

  ‘Come on,’ Walt said, taking Ella’s hand. ‘Try the key in here.’ He guided her over to a little white painted door in the wall.
Ella put the key in the lock and turned it. Inside the cupboard were a large metal switch and a handle. ‘Watch the hatch,’ Walt said, as he used both hands to push the switch down, it resisted initially but finally gave way and Ella saw the bolts retract.

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Best is yet to come.’ Walt stepped aside and told Ella to turn the handle in the cupboard.

  Ella looked for spiders first, couldn’t see any so grabbed the handle and started to turn. It was stiff. It creaked. It did not want to move.

  ‘I can’t turn it.’ Ella let go and stepped aside to let Walt try.

  ‘It probably just needs a bit of WD40,’ he said. ‘Wait here. I won’t be long.’

  Ella surveyed the cellar as she waited for Walt. A tall cabinet stood in the corner; Ella could see that it was free standing and not as old as the door or hatch. Considering how stale the place had smelled when they opened the door and how dusty it was it didn’t look too bad. It didn’t smell damp and she couldn’t see any damp patches, or at least she didn’t think she could – there was no mould. Everywhere was painted white except the hatch and the floor, which was red.

  Suddenly the cellar was plunged into darkness, the bulb had blown. Ella felt panicked, afraid, then realised that the weak bulb on the stairs was still on and spreading a little light into the cellar. It cast long shadows which seemed to move across the floor. It’s fine, Ella told herself. Walt will be back in a minute.

  A cold breeze blew across the cellar, wafted up towards her and made her shiver.

  ‘Walt,’ Ella called. ‘Walt.’

  Then she heard the door to the cellar close.

  Nine

  The cellar was silent. Ella waited, listened. Why had Walt, or someone – who – shut her in? She clutched the handle and called Walt’s name again and again, but he didn’t reply.

  Her rational, sensible self told her that there was an explanation for the door closing. Her irrational, less sensible self imagined all sorts; she’d been lured down, tricked, locked in. Sensible Ella asked why?

  She heard the door rattle.

  ‘Ella, Ella, are you all right down there?’ Walt came down the stairs.

  ‘Walt. Yes, I’m fine. What happened?’

  ‘I opened the front door and the draught must have closed this one. It’s dark down here. Ah, the bulb’s blown. I suppose it’s been a long time since it was last used. I’ve got the WD40.’

  ‘I’ll buy some more bulbs later; I need them for the other rooms too.’

  Walt moved gingerly towards Ella, spray can in hand. She took her hand off the handle, and he sprayed it, gave it a jiggle, then sprayed again.

  ‘Try that.’

  Ella gripped the handle and turned, it was still stiff, but this time it gave and she was able to spin it.

  ‘What’s it actually doing?’ Ella asked.

  ‘That’s what it’s doing,’ Walt said, nodding at the hatch.

  Even in the dim light Ella could see the big, wooden hatch start to lift, it was pivoting across the back. As she spun the handle the movement became easier, the hatch rising higher and faster.

  She could hear water running, fast water – she hadn’t been expecting that. Finally the handle stopped turning.

  ‘I think that’s as far as it will go,’ Ella said, as Walt stood mesmerised by the hatch and the gaping hole it had exposed.

  ‘Yes, it’s fully open. Come and have a good look. Be careful in this light, you don’t want to fall down there.’

  She inched towards the edge and peered in. The hole was six feet across. She could just make out the water rushing beneath them; she could smell it, clean, fresh and sweet.

  ‘I wasn’t expecting that. I’d imagined a little trickle, something like a wishing well. It’s more like a river.’

  ‘Sometimes it does go down to a trickle. But it’s good and healthy now.’

  Ella watched Walt in the dim light and saw him take great big gulps.

  ‘Breathe it in, Ella. Breathe in the Spring of Life.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘Can’t you feel it? Can’t you sense its vitality? Take a deep breath.’

  Just to please Walt, Ella breathed in deeply. ‘Not really,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Probably because you’re young anyway.’ Walt laughed, patted Ella on the back and turned away. ‘We can close it now we know it’s healthy.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘By the flow and the scent, it’s so sweet.’ Walt turned the handle and the hatch closed, blocking off most of the noise.

  ‘Does it supply all the houses round here? I’m sure that’s what the solicitor said.’

  ‘It supplies this cottage with all its water. It supplies others if the flow is good enough. We have two taps, one from the spring, one from the mains. You don’t.’

  ‘So I’m not on the mains?’

  ‘Only for sewage,’ Walt said, then added, laughing, ‘fortunately.’

  ‘So you must be using it now, if the flow’s so good.’

  ‘We haven’t used it for a couple of years now, but I tried it this morning, just to see. It coughed and spluttered a bit, then it came through, so I knew it was probably all right, but it’s even better than I expected. Well done, young Ella.’ He closed the hatch, laughing and chuckling to himself.

  ‘But I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘We need a plan,’ Walt said, ignoring her. ‘We need to make the cellar and the spring our priority. We’ll ask Edna about it, she helped your aunt with it towards the end.’

  ‘What? Why?’ Ella asked, but Walt closed the wall cupboard door, went up the stairs and left her wondering.

  The morning passed and the cavalry carried on cleaning and stripping wallpaper. The kitchen looked incredibly clean, still tatty and old fashioned, but clean. The old ladies had found a blue and white dinner service – dozens of plates and serving dishes – tucked into the back of the pantry; another door Ella hadn’t noticed before. They were washing it up in the big stone sink and laying out the dried pieces on the dresser they had scrubbed clean. It all looked stunning.

  ‘I expect you’ll want to modernise all this,’ Edna said. ‘I think it might all need rewiring too. We plugged the kettle it and there were sparks. The plumbing’s a bit clunky too.’

  Ella stared at the dresser and thought about the enormity of the work needed. She sighed, then jumped as the back door sprung open and the smell of food wafted in.

  ‘Lunch,’ Walt called and everyone started to wash their hands in readiness.

  They ate hot soup and fresh bread around the kitchen table again and washed it down with cider. During lunch the talk turned to Feral Billy and his antics in the village; he had stolen washing from someone’s line, had taken cabbages from another garden, had knocked over several dustbins and been seen wearing a dress in the high street. He sounded like a real character.

  ‘He’s been in my garden too,’ Ella laughed, more at herself for calling it her garden than anything else.

  ‘His days are numbered, he’ll be caught. He’s evil,’ one of the old men said and everyone nodded their agreement.

  ‘Sooner the better,’ another said.

  Edna’s plan for the cellar involved a thorough cleaning, repainting and some fresh flowers. Ella was unclear as to the urgency, but the entire cavalry, as well as Ella went down into the cellar and starting scrubbing and cleaning. The old ladies started singing again, this time it was old war songs and the men discussed how much paint it would take to paint it out, then set about oiling all the hinges on the hatch. The old cabinet Ella had noticed in the corner was opened; inside were half a dozen vases. They were quickly washed and arranged in the corners.

  ‘I have some lovely scented flowers I’m bringing on early, we can put them in the vases,’ Edna said.

  The next thing Ella knew they were in Walt and Edna’s greenhouse picking flowers. When they came back a paint roller was thrust into Ella’s hands. They had found an unopened can of white paint and
had decided there was no time like the present. Ella loaded up her roller and began to paint; the last time she’d done this had been with her mum, redecorating her sitting room. I wish you could see me now, mum.

  The whole cavalry was in the cellar, some rollering, some cutting in, Edna arranging the flowers, the old ladies still singing, the men making faces at them.

  ‘Oh my God, what’s the time?’ Ella shouted.

  ‘Two-thirty-five,’ Walt shouted back. ‘We’ll easily get this finished today.’

  ‘No. I have an appointment at work, at three. I have to go. Now.’

  ‘You go young Ella; we’ll carry on until you get back.’

  There was no time to change, no time to tidy herself up, Ella just grabbed her bag and ran for the car, jumped in and roared down the road.

  She parked the car, badly, in Gubbins car park and rushed into the offices. She still had her pass; at least she didn’t have to waste time signing in. She dashed down the corridor towards HR, glanced at the clock – just coming up to three so technically she wasn’t late.

  ‘Ella, what have you come as? A clown?’ Gwynnie stepped out from a meeting room door, almost as though she had been hiding in wait.

  Ella glanced down at herself, of course she was still wearing the boiler suit but what she hadn’t noticed were the paint daubs on it.

  ‘Before you go in, could I just have a word? In here.’ Gwynnie gestured towards the meeting room.

  Ella shrugged. What difference did it make now? She followed Gwynnie.

  ‘The thing is, Ella, your friend Sam could lose her job over this.’ Gwynnie smiled, she been eating that macrobiotic stuff again. ‘She shouldn’t have told you my name. And you shouldn’t have repeated it in front of everyone else.’

  Ella didn’t say anything.

  ‘But,’ Gwynnie said, ‘I’m prepared to let the whole thing drop if you agree to come back and behave yourself.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m even willing to forego the apology, even though I do think you owe me one. How does that sound?’

  ‘I don’t owe you an apology. So don’t ever think you’ll be getting one. And why would you want me back?’