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

by CJ Morrow

  They waved as Charlie turned the car and drove away, then Ella linked arms with Hal and guided him towards the cottage. She too ignored Nathan.

  They were almost inside when Nathan spoke. ‘Hal. How’s Phoebe?’

  Hal hurried Ella through her front door, closing it firmly behind them.

  ‘He’s such a bastard,’ Ella said. When she looked at Hal he looked so sad.

  Seventeen

  ‘I don’t know why you let him anywhere near you, Ella. I did warn you about him. I did tell you how he broke Phoebe’s heart,’ Hal said as they stood in the kitchen. He leant against the sink and Ella, remembering what happened the last time he touched her taps hoped he wouldn’t be tempted again.

  ‘I’m sorry he was here; he’s friends with Charlie and Sam, that’s all.’ She really didn’t want to explain her relationship, or non-relationship, with Nathan to Hal. ‘Anyway, how was your day? Did you say you had a meeting?’

  ‘Yes. It was,’ he paused, ‘interesting. A work in progress I think is how I would describe it. How was your official last day at work?’ He paused again. ‘That’s why I came to see you. To celebrate. I thought we could take in an early dinner, have a bottle of champers.’

  Ella gave him a quick glance, he had actually said champers.

  ‘Oh, it was fine. Quite normal really. Except they took me out for lunch,’ she thought about the large plate of pasta she had devoured and rubbed her stomach. ‘Which was lovely but I’m still full. So I’ll have to decline your dinner offer, lovely as it sounds. Perhaps we could do it another night?’

  ‘Of course we can. We’ll arrange something.’ He stepped away from the sink and Ella noticed there were envelopes balanced on the side of it.

  ‘What are these?’ She stepped forward, picked up the letters. ‘Charlie or Sam must have picked these up,’ she said when Hal shook his head. She opened the first letter, a long missive from her solicitor telling her that everything had gone through, she was now the official owner of Spring Cottage, and that the necessary monies were being transferred to her. She should expect a meeting invitation from her accountant.

  ‘Accountant,’ Hal said, reading over her shoulder.

  ‘Apparently. I didn’t know I had one.’ She ripped open the other envelope, the meeting request from the accountant. ‘It’s tomorrow,’ she said, ‘so I’ll find out more.’

  ‘What would you like to do this evening instead of dinner?’ Hal asked, putting his arm around her shoulder.

  Ella wondered how rude it would be to tell him that what she really wanted to do was have a hot bath – not possible – and go to bed early, on her own. But before she could answer he handed her another envelope.

  ‘Where was this?’ she said.

  ‘On the floor. It must have slipped.’ He watched her as she opened it.

  ‘Oh, it’s the quote from one of the builders you recommended. I thought he said he wasn’t going to bother.’ She watched a quick smirk pass over Hal’s face as she flicked to the last page. The sum was far more than Nathan had quoted. She wanted to study it properly, wanted to compare it line by line with Nathan’s quote.

  ‘He’s good,’ Hal said. ‘I’d use him if I were you. I’ll probably use him on the spa renovation.’

  ‘Oh, yes. How’s that going?’

  Hal sighed. ‘That’s what the meeting was about this morning. We need a bit more investment before we can continue.’

  ‘I hope it pans out,’ Ella said, tidying the letters in her hand and wondering where the hell to put them. She looked around the kitchen, it was a mess, cups and saucers seemed to be everywhere, nowhere to put anything. She’d be so happy when this kitchen was done. Despite having only just moved in and having very little furniture, the place seemed to be getting cluttered already. The kitchen table was covered in flowers, so she walked into the dining room and put the letters on the table next to the open book. Hal peered over her shoulder.

  ‘The Spring of Life,’ Hal read.

  ‘Mmm,’ Ella said, closing the book, remembering the last thing she’d read which implied that there might have been a human body down there in the past. She didn’t want Hal reading that. She yawned, then put her hand up to her mouth. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It seems to have been a long day.’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Hal laughed, putting his arm around her again. ‘I can take a hint. I expect you want an early night. On your own,’ he added. ‘Get into your frog outfit.’

  ‘I don’t wear it all the time,’

  ‘Of course not.’ Hal wiped an imaginary fleck from his collar.

  ‘That’s a nice shirt,’ Ella said.

  ‘Thanks. It was a Christmas present from Phoebe. Pink is her favourite colour.’ He raised his eyes to the ceiling before walking back into the kitchen to pick up his car keys. Ella followed him. ‘Shall I pop round tomorrow evening? You can tell me all about your accountant visit.’ He laughed then pulled Ella close, kissed her so long and hard that it took her breath away.

  ‘Yeah, that’d be good,’ Ella said when he finally let her go. She touched her bottom lip, it felt bruised. She followed him to his car, stood on the pavement as he got in.

  ‘Have you thought anymore about my idea about your water?’

  Ella frowned.

  ‘Bottling it. We could sell it in my spa, see how it goes?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ Ella said, thinking about the goat and God knows what else that might be down there.

  ‘Don’t dismiss it,’ Hal said, starting the car. ‘Until tomorrow.’

  She watched him roar down the road.

  Ella knocked on Walt and Edna’s door. In her holdall she had shampoo and conditioner, bubble bath, clean PJs and her frog onesie.

  ‘Wow,’ Ella said, when Edna answered the door. ‘You’ve had a makeover.’ After the words were out she worried about how insulting that sounded.

  ‘Just a haircut,’ Edna said, stroking her glossy dark grey bob. She didn’t mention the dye job, but Ella was pretty sure Edna’s hair had been frizzy and white before.

  ‘Looks amazing. You look so much,’ she hesitated, she had been about to say younger, but was having second thoughts.

  Edna raised her eyebrows waiting for the end of the sentence.

  ‘Younger,’ Ella said, because she couldn’t think of anything else.

  ‘Thank you. I feel younger.’ Edna’s smile lit up her face.

  Phew, it had been the right thing to say.

  ‘So what can we do for you?’

  ‘Could I have a bath please?’

  ‘Would you like a cup of cocoa before you go?’ Edna asked after Ella emerged from the bathroom pink and wrinkly from her long soak. It had felt so good, she felt so relaxed. Now a nice cup of cocoa and she’d be ready for bed.

  ‘Yes please.’ Ella sat down at Edna’s kitchen table. It was so cosy in there; she hoped her kitchen would be like this eventually. She watched Edna fill a saucepan with milk from the fridge and then top it up with water.

  ‘Half and half,’ Edna said, aware of Ella’s eyes on her actions. ‘Tastes better and not so fattening.’ She laughed.

  ‘I’m glad you’re not using the tap from the spring,’ Ella said.

  ‘No need,’ came a voice from the doorway. Walt.

  No need. What the hell did that mean?

  ‘I’ve switched the supply,’ Walt said, sitting next to Ella. She looked at him closely, he looked as though he’d had a bit of makeover too, either that, or he’d lost weight.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Whole house is supplied by the spring now. Just like yours. Is there enough for me, Edna?’

  ‘I’ve made plenty.’ Edna stirred the pan, it smelt delicious.

  ‘I really don’t think we should…hang on a minute, have I just had a bath in it?’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘What is going on here? Is this some elaborate joke that Nathan’s got you all playing on me? What I don’t understand is why?’

  ‘It’s no
joke.’ Edna put three mugs of steaming cocoa on the table. Ella’s traitorous mouth salivated. ‘We’re all so delighted you’re here, the well is being cared for and everything is back as it should be. It’s been a barren few years.’

  ‘Why do I feel as though I’ve dropped into some old Hammer House of Horrors movie? Please tell me you’re joking about all this. Please.’ Ella could hear the pleading panic in her own voice.

  Walt took a sip of his cocoa, nudged Ella to do the same. She shook her head.

  ‘We don’t pretend to understand it. We don’t even pretend to know all about it. All we know is that when there is a custodian – that’s you – the spring flourishes and so does the village. Have you seen your garden? We only planted yesterday but already there are shoots. And business in the pub and shop is picking up too.

  Ella shook her head. It was all too much, just too, too much. It wasn’t funny, it never had been. ‘It’s got a dead goat in it,’ she said. ‘That isn’t right.’

  ‘Try not to think about it. It’s how it’s always been. Read the book.’

  ‘I have read the book, or some of it. I hope I’m wrong but it looks as though people have been enticed into it.’

  ‘Only bad ones. Murderers.’ Walt said, taking a loud sip. ‘This is so good. Don’t let yours go to waste.’ He nudged Ella again. She was struggling to resist the cocoa’s allure.

  Edna produced a tin of biscuits, offered one to Ella, who took it and nibbled on its edges.

  ‘But none of it makes any sense. It’s all so…wrong. Mad. Illegal probably.’

  ‘Oh well. Not to worry. It does you good.’ Edna said, hugging her cocoa mug.

  ‘How? It’s not …hygienic.’ Ella put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, I haven’t rung the water company yet.’

  Walt patted her hand. ‘No need.’

  ‘All I know,’ Edna said, ‘is that since you’ve been tending that spring I feel ten years younger. I look ten years younger. So does Walt.’

  ‘And the cavalry,’ Walt added.

  ‘Oh yes, and them.’

  ‘Yeah, you are all pretty frisky for old people,’ Ella said. ‘I mean retired. Sorry about that.’

  ‘We are old,’ Walt said. ‘I’ll be ninety next year.’

  ‘What?’ Ella choked on her cocoa. Ninety? Cocoa? She was drinking the cocoa. When did that happen? Walt was nearly ninety. How could that be?

  ‘Just take it as it comes, young Ella,’ Walt said. ‘Just ignore it if you like. No one’s expecting you to put anything in the spring. There’s plenty of us to do that for you. It’s usually the man of the house who does it anyway, though I did help your uncle sometimes towards the end.’

  ‘I haven’t got a man,’ Ella said, her voice sounded sad and wimpy. She felt lightheaded and sleepy as though it was the end of a long night of partying. Had Edna slipped alcohol into the cocoa? That would explain the surreal conversation.

  ‘What about that Hal man?’ Walt said.

  ‘Oh yeah. I forgot about him.’ Ella heard herself chuckle. There was definitely alcohol in that cocoa.

  ‘Nathan’s a better fit for you.’ Edna got up, collected the cups up and took them to the sink.

  ‘Nathan. Never. I hate Nathan.’ Ella fought the temptation to stamp her foot. Definitely alcohol in that cocoa. A lot of it.

  ‘Just as well Gilbert’s on the mend. He’ll oversee the work on Spring Cottage now.’

  ‘What? I thought he was in a wheelchair with a leg broken in three places.’

  ‘Spring of Life,’ Walt and Edna chorused.

  Definitely alcohol.

  ‘I’m going.’ Ella stood up; she didn’t feel dizzy even though she had expected to. ‘Thank you for the bath and the cocoa.’

  On her way to bed she retrieved Nathan’s quote for the building work and collected the other builder’s quote from the table, intending to compare them before she went to sleep.

  They were still on her bedside table in the morning – unread.

  She ate the last of her cereal for breakfast and promised herself she would go food shopping later. She started to make a list. Her appointment with the accountant was at ten, after that she could please herself. She’d pop in at the grotty bedsit and pick up any post. She put that on the list after food shopping. Maybe she’d see if she could get some bedroom curtains, dawn was breaking earlier now and she was waking up far too soon. She put curtains on the list. She picked her phone up to Google curtain shops. No good – not enough signal strength. She put ‘get broadband’ on her list. Finally she added, ‘compare building quotes and make decision’.

  The meeting with the accountant was boring and thrilling; boring because there was a lot of detail about things she really wasn’t interested in and thrilling because she’d probably never have to worry about money ever again, as long as she wasn’t ludicrously extravagant. He explained how much would go into her current account every month, how much she had in her house account – only to be used to renovate the cottage – and how much was in her investment accounts. She would need to attend meetings with the accountant two or three times a year and he would do her tax return.

  ‘Tax return,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t even thought of that. I’ve always been pay-as-you-earn.’

  ‘That’s no longer the case,’ the accountant said, standing up and shaking her hand.

  Ella felt the smile spreading across her face and it was still there ten minutes later as she got into her car. She flopped into the driver’s seat and fought hard against the urge to squeal with joy.

  ‘If only you were here, mum,’ she whispered, looking up to the sky.

  Morrison’s car park looked full, so she drove another five hundred yards down the road and pulled into Waitrose’s car park. Well she could afford it now, she told herself.

  She treated herself to fresh bread from the bakery and filled her trolley with everything she fancied. She didn’t even flinch when she flexed her credit card at the checkout, even though the amount was more than she normally spent in a month on a supermarket shop. It was only as she was loading it into her car that she wondered where she would squeeze it all in the cottage kitchen. Oh well. Fortunately most of it was packets or tins because she didn’t have a fridge yet; she could always stack them on the table if needs be.

  She pulled the list from her handbag, extracted a sticky pen from the door pocket – maybe she could afford a better car – then ticked off accountant and shopping from her list.

  Next was collecting her post, then curtain buying.

  She pulled up outside the grotty bedsit block and smiled. She really needed to get her post redirected, it was all right for now, but once the month was up there’d be another tenant in there. She scribbled redirect post on the bottom of the list.

  She unlocked the door and looked down on the mat expecting to see at least one letter, but there was nothing, not even her credit card bill. Maybe it had slid right across the hallway. But it hadn’t. Maybe the agent had been round, picked it up. She went through to the main room.

  ‘What the fuck…?’ a male voice yelled. The man was in bed, smoking, naked from the waist up.

  Ella screamed. ‘Who the hell are you?’

  ‘And who the hell are you? What you doing bursting in here? How did you get in?’ He pulled the covers up to his neck, leaned over and dropped the cigarette into a dead coffee cup.

  ‘With a key. I live here.’

  ‘No you don’t. I live here.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since yesterday.’

  ‘But I’m still the tenant here. I’m still paying rent.’

  ‘So am I. And there wasn’t any sign of you or anyone else living here. So sling your hook.’

  Ella shuddered. ‘I just came for my post.’

  ‘There’s some crap in the bin, take it and go.’

  Ella found her post nestling under a used tea bag and an egg shell. She gagged, then put her hand in the bin and fished it out.

  ‘Leave the key,’ he
growled as she passed him on her way out.

  ‘Not with you. I’ll leave it with the agent.’

  ‘Whatever. Get out.’

  Ella slammed the door as hard as she could behind her. She heard him yell out an obscenity. She leant against the wall and took several deep breaths. What the hell was going on? She’d have to ring the agent. Then she thought of Hal, wondered if he would be in.

  She knocked on the door twice, no answer, which was only to be expected really, it was the middle of a working day. She turned to walk away when the door burst open.

  ‘Yeah?’ Phoebe’s voice sounded husky as though she’d just woken up.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you. I was looking for Hal.’

  Phoebe blinked at Ella as though trying to remember her. She shrugged, turned and walked back down the hall leaving the door open. Ella watched her, she wore a man’s shirt; it was pink like the one Hal had worn the night before. It hung half way down her thighs, golden and sleek, unlike her bed-head hair.

  Ella stepped inside the door. Phoebe headed towards the kitchen; she rapped on a bedroom door as she passed. The door swung open slowly.

  ‘Hal. Your neighbour’s here.’

  Ella followed Phoebe; reached the bedroom door, peered in. Hal lay diagonally across the bed, his long, elegant legs uncovered. His hair, usually so immaculate, spread out over the pillow in a mass of greasy spikes.

  ‘Hal?’ Ella spoke quietly.

  ‘Too early,’ Hal grunted.

  ‘Hal,’ Ella said again, a little louder this time. She heard Phoebe filling the kettle, switching it on; it filled the flat with its loud hiss.

  ‘What the fuck you doing, Phoebes? It’s too soon for that.’

  Phoebe switched the kettle off. Wandered out of the kitchen, she was eating a piece of cold pizza, it flopped in her hand. She gave Ella a quick half smile, half grimace. ‘Shut the door on your way out,’ she said pushing past Ella.