The Cottage of New Beginnings Page 2

  The tension in his shoulders relaxed as his eyes became gentler, and Annie was startled by the sudden warmth and interest in them as he stared at her. She glared back, keen to end the entertainment she had so unwittingly provided, and a long moment passed before he spoke again. A smile broke out on his face, bringing a sudden charm to his expression that Annie found totally disconcerting.

  ‘Right, thanks. It’s just that you’ve parked in front of the Fell Rescue’s new headquarters. Thankfully we were heading back from a training exercise and not responding to a real callout.’

  Horrified, another blush followed the first and she let her long hair fall forward to disguise her embarrassment as she hurried towards the bridge. ‘I’m so sorry, I had no idea. I genuinely hadn’t seen the sign, but I suppose I wasn’t really looking.’

  ‘Yeah, well, use the car park next time, okay? Sorry if I was a bit sharp.’

  She was aware of him passing her on the bridge, his long legs striding ahead as she followed him. Dread spiked in her stomach when she saw an orange and white Land Rover, its roof laden with equipment, parked awkwardly behind her little Mini outside the barn. Two women in the same red waterproofs were unloading bags from the back of the vehicle and they eyed her curiously.

  Annie gave the driver an apologetic look as she jumped into her car, aware they were all watching. A quick peek in her rear-view mirror as she started the engine showed the man who had confronted her standing on the running board on the passenger side, unfastening something attached to the roof of the vehicle. She shot forwards, driving quickly around the green and onto the high street, keen to leave the village and the parking debacle behind. When she risked another casual glance towards the barn, the dark-haired man was watching her and she looked away hurriedly. It was only as she turned into the lane leading to Molly’s cottage that she suddenly wondered why a member of the local fell rescue team should have an American accent.

  Chapter Two

  Annie’s nerves were still jangling after the encounter with the dark-haired man as she approached Molly’s house. Looking at the scattered furniture in the garden, she remembered her original purpose for going into the village had been to pick up food and drink for that evening, and was lost now to the confrontation with the American volunteer. There was still nothing for supper and still no wine, the post office about to close. It would have to wait. She breathed deeply before getting out of the car and walking towards the cottage once again.

  She slipped her old key into the lock and opened the front door. The familiar smells she had been half expecting, of fresh baking and flowers collected from the garden, were gone, along with the person who had been most like a grandmother to her, and the cool and musty air horrified her. It seemed dark indoors after the sunshine and Annie headed into the sitting room, not tall enough to have to duck beneath the wooden beams above her.

  The house seemed terribly bare, with only a few remaining pieces of old-fashioned furniture, and she knew it was going to take time to turn the cottage into her home without destroying its past. She walked back to the hall and into the little study where Molly had sat every day, and gazed unseeingly out of the dirty window, trying to visualise it as a dining room as well as a place where she could work. Ashes blown in by the wind were scattered on the filthy hearth and threadbare carpet. Annie left the room and closed the door, the gentle click sounding very loud in the silence of the damp cottage.

  She walked back through the sitting room into the kitchen, casting her eyes around the unchanged room, almost imagining she could still hear Molly’s voice. Above the dirty Belfast sink stood two rows of empty wooden shelves and they, like everything else, including the modern electric Rayburn that had replaced Molly’s ancient stove, were covered in a thick layer of dust. Annie blinked tears and sadness away as she headed into the pantry, which stored a twin tub and more empty shelves. From habit she reached onto the top shelf and her fingers found the key to the back door. She slipped it into her pocket.

  Upstairs she grimaced at the old-fashioned bath, trying not to think too longingly of the power shower in the Edinburgh flat she’d just sold as she walked out onto the landing again and opened the door to the second bedroom. This pretty, sunny room had been hers and it would now become a guest room. She hoped she could make it as welcoming for others as it had been for her. She made her way into the larger bedroom, which had been Molly’s, and knew she would decorate this room first. She crossed to the window, opening it carefully and suddenly her heart was lifted as she stared at the view before her, thrilled that this at least had remained the same.

  Willow Cottage was the last house on the lane before the road sloped gently to the upland pastures beyond the village. The hedgerows were still heavy with cow parsley past its best and mingling with wild blackberries spreading along the bank of a narrow stream. A gate just outside her front garden opened onto a low patchwork of fields bordered by ancient and tumbling stone walls, grazed by cattle and sheep and shorn of the long grass safely baled for winter. Beyond clumps of trees the fells rose higher until the meadows gave way to roughened heather-covered moor where the few remaining trees had been bent in the same direction by the force of the wind. Birdsong was louder now, and a twinge of happiness stole through her at the simple and familiar beauty of it all. She pulled the window shut, sighing again as she glimpsed her furniture still in the garden.

  The afternoon was gone when Annie went back outside. Some of her new furniture hadn’t been delivered yet, so besides a coffee table she had an antique sideboard, two double beds and four packing cases. She was grateful that the men had bothered to cover everything with plastic sheets and underneath these her stuff was pretty much dry. She had returned all the wedding presents and given away the belongings she had collected with Iain. Little remained to remind her, as she’d intended.

  She was used to coping with problems on her own but by the time she had breathlessly wrestled a couple of the lighter packing cases into the cottage, she knew she was going to need help with the rest as she finally gave up the struggle. The sideboard was still wedged in the grass and one of the bed frames was now jammed awkwardly between the study and the front door. The pleasure Annie had envisaged in returning to this place was eluding her now that she had managed to bring some of the chaos from the garden into the house and her stomach rumbled hungrily. The day already felt like years, and Edinburgh another life. Her noisy stomach was a reminder of the row with the dark-haired man from the fell rescue and her face flamed again at the recollection. She made her way into the kitchen to see if she still had an emergency chocolate bar in her handbag. The silence in the little house was thunderous and she couldn’t ever remember feeling this despondent when she had come to the cottage before.

  A sudden rap on the front door made her spring around in startled surprise. She was very tempted to ignore it and hope the unexpected caller would simply go away. But her car was parked all too obviously in the lane, and after the second knock she traipsed past her scattered belongings to answer it. She opened the door, smiling the moment she recognised Elizabeth Howard standing on the step.

  ‘Annie!’ Elizabeth reached out to wrap Annie’s cool hands between her warm fingers. ‘I thought it must be you. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming, I would have prepared the cottage for you?’

  Robert and Elizabeth Howard had been very good friends and neighbours to Molly, and Annie knew she had much to thank them for. Elizabeth had aged little over the years that Annie had known her. Neat ash-blonde hair seemed a little greyer as her sixtieth birthday approached and there were a few tiny lines around her eyes, but her attractive features and welcoming expression were unchanged. She was tall and slim, and Annie had always thought she was one of the most naturally elegant as well as kindest people that Annie knew, despite her hard-working life on the farm next door.

  ‘That’s so kind of you, but there was no need, really. I can sort it out. Please come in if you can.’ Annie stepped sideways with a litt
le difficulty and, clutching a wicker basket, Elizabeth carefully followed.

  Annie saw her eyes widen as she looked from the jumble of furniture to the scattered packing cases. Her shocked face flew back to Annie’s again, clearly stunned by the suddenness of Annie’s reappearance along with quite a lot more stuff than just a few days’ holiday luggage. ‘How long are you planning to stay?’

  Looking at the chaos surrounding them, Annie was tempted to say she was in fact just leaving, rubbing one foot against the back of her jeans as she tried to think of an explanation that wouldn’t reduce her to tears again. ‘I’m starting a new job at the primary school in Calstone.’ She met Elizabeth’s curious glance, certain her unnaturally cheerful expression said so much more. ‘I’ve always loved Thorndale and Molly so generously leaving the cottage to me has given me a wonderful opportunity to come back.’

  Elizabeth looked at her doubtfully. Annie knew she was unconvinced by the brief reply and waited nervously for the next question. ‘And Iain?’

  Unthinkingly Annie reached out to her ring finger, touching the still unfamiliar emptiness, barely able to meet Elizabeth’s concerned gaze. ‘We broke up, a few months ago.’ The forced brightness in her voice scarcely disguised the sorrow and she tried to smile. ‘Anyway, enough of me. I want to hear all about Robert and the family. How is everyone?’

  Elizabeth touched Annie’s arm gently. ‘I’m very sorry,’ she said quietly, and Annie nodded her thanks, relieved to change the subject. ‘Robert’s fine, still happiest at home with the herd but he finds the early mornings more of a struggle now.’ They both laughed. ‘Mark’s taken over the sheep and Jess is down in Dorset, working for a mixed rural practice. It was Mark who saw the car outside, and I thought it must be you. What happened to your furniture?’

  Annie’s situation seemed funnier now that somebody else was here to share it and she quickly explained why the cottage was in such disarray.

  ‘What a rotten thing to do.’ Elizabeth was indignant as she looked around the room before glancing at Annie again, her voice becoming gentler. ‘And they knew you were on your own?’

  Annie shrugged; it hadn’t occurred to her to tell them. ‘I suppose so.’ She realised that it hadn’t taken her very long to pack her life into boxes and cart it somewhere else. Her own furniture in the cottage would emphasise the lack of Molly’s presence all the more, saddening Annie again. ‘I’m really sorry about the funeral. Molly was absolutely insistent on the woodland burial and not wanting people there. She’d organised everything, as ever, and just didn’t see the point in making a fuss, as she called it.’

  Elizabeth smiled. ‘No need. It’s fine, really it is. I know you were following her wishes and, for what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing. Those of us who knew her well understood.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Annie felt reassured by Elizabeth’s words. She had found it so difficult to arrange the funeral without mourners, just herself and one of Molly’s oldest friends from her days as an Oxford professor. The friend was almost ninety-five and had had to abandon his walking stick and resort to a mobility scooter to take his place at the short outdoor service.

  ‘Have you chosen the memorial tree yet?’

  Annie huffed a laugh. ‘Molly did. She wanted a rowan because they’re supposed to symbolise protection, something to do with wizards in Celtic mythology. And of course they’re brilliant for pollinators and birds, and you know how she felt about wildlife. It’ll be planted in the autumn at the burial ground.’

  Elizabeth was still smiling as she handed the basket to Annie. ‘These are for you, just a few things to get you started. I must go, we’ve got B&B guests arriving any minute, but I’ll send Mark down to move the rest of the furniture. And when you’re ready, come to the farm and have supper with us.’

  ‘Thank you very much.’ Delighted, Annie peered inside the basket and her mouth began to water as she saw homemade bread, local cheese and perfectly ripe tomatoes nestling amongst half a dozen brown eggs and a carton of creamy milk. She followed Elizabeth to the door. ‘I’m fine, honestly. I can manage.’

  ‘But you don’t have to.’ Elizabeth touched a hand to Annie’s arm. ‘It’s no trouble.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Annie shuffled from foot to foot on the stone floor as Elizabeth made her way through the wild garden, calling after her. ‘If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just crash on my own tonight. It’s been a long day.’

  Elizabeth acknowledged her comment with a quick wave and Annie sighed as she closed the door. She knew her cover was well and truly blown and dreaded the thought of the explanations ahead. Despite her protestations, she was very relieved at the thought of help arriving. A couple of hours later everything was inside, mostly thanks to Mark, Elizabeth and Tom’s strapping farmer son who had chatted easily, reminding Annie of her days here as a child, as he helped her to place everything where she wanted it. She made up her bed once he had left and was finally sitting in the kitchen, hungrily eating the cheese and tomatoes with chunks of bread to mop up the juice running through her fingers. Exhausted, she watched the evening slipping into darkness all around her, shivering as she looked away from the window. She plugged in her kettle and cleared up quickly, returning to the sitting room.

  She remembered where to find the light switch and pressed it firmly. But the room was still in darkness and she flicked it several more times as her heart began to thump nervously. There was hardly any light from the windows by now, and she headed into the hall and tried that switch instead. This time she wasn’t surprised when it failed to produce the light she was beginning to crave and realised despairingly that the electricity must have tripped.

  She found the fuse box in the little cupboard in the sitting room and used the torch on her phone to peer at it, draining more precious battery life. Sure enough, the main switch had tripped, and she flicked it back up, realising immediately that it wouldn’t stay put. She tried a couple more times with the same result and wondered anxiously where she might find candles or perhaps another torch. The battery on her phone was fading fast and she didn’t want to waste it on light if possible. She spent a little while unplugging each appliance and trying the trip switch again but each time the switch refused to stay put.

  She knew the sensible thing to do would be to grab a bag, jump in the car and spend the night with the Howards. But she also knew that if she left the cottage now then she might never return, and she wanted that even less than being stuck on her own without power.

  She thought there might be a torch in her car and opened the front door, hurrying along the path. After Edinburgh, the silence was deafening, and she could barely see a thing through the shadows. She reached the car and froze in the darkness, wishing for the comfort of bright city street lights as her heart began to pound faster. A gentle breeze and cooling air rustled the trees softly and she shuddered as the branches drifted idly, as though somebody were parting them and peeping through to stare at her. The quick clunk of the central locking freeing the car doors made her jump and she spun around nervously. But there was no one there and when she reached into the glove box and found the torch, Annie almost laughed in frantic relief.

  She dashed back to the cottage, incredibly grateful for the narrow beam of light from the torch. The house looked very dark and no longer welcoming, and she shot inside and slammed the door firmly. With no idea where to find a recent bill to call the electricity company for help, and without a wireless signal or the slightest suggestion of 4G, there was absolutely no possibility of searching the internet for clues. In the kitchen she found a few old candles, a box of damp matches and a couple of ancient candlesticks. She wasted several precious matches until two candles were finally lit and carried them carefully upstairs.

  She sank down onto the bed, trying not to look at the flickering shapes on the walls as the candles burned. Suddenly she understood that the happy-go-lucky home of her childhood had gone, that she was responsible now for this old building and its care in the future
and wished that her heart were soaring instead of sinking. Not only had she lost Molly, but so had the cottage lost its loving guardian. Annie changed into pyjamas and climbed into bed. It was an uneasy sleep when it finally came.

  Daylight was streaming through the windows when she woke the next morning, the sun rising early over the fells to the east and shining on the front of the cottage. Annie dressed and flew into action, all too aware there was much to be done before the old building could properly resemble a home. Despite an inauspicious start, she was thankful to be here, at the edge of the village with the cottage as her own little refuge from the world, hiding her away until she was ready to face it once more.

  She found an old box of paperwork in the study but there was no suggestion of who Molly might have used as an electrician and Annie knew she would need Wi-Fi and probably a personal recommendation. She was sure The Courtyard would have a decent network and even though she managed to obtain a signal on her mobile by standing on the doddery old bench underneath the kitchen window, it would not be enough, and the battery was virtually flat now.

  She stared at the back garden, still soaked in dew until the sun would reach it later in the day. There was a pond somewhere, but Annie couldn’t see it for the long grass. She spotted a pile of logs stacked against the old coalhouse underneath a rough shelter, feeling grateful to the unseen person who had left them there. Without power she couldn’t even boil the kettle or hope to have a coffee from her beloved Nespresso and so she dressed in jeans and a casual man’s shirt and set off for the farm, taking her laptop and phone charger with her, eating her emergency chocolate bar for breakfast en route.

  Other than a smart new B&B sign, the Howards’ farm seemed unchanged when she reached it and she was glad; at least something of the past appeared to have remained over the years that she had been gone. The big, stone house looked welcoming and homely, the buildings across the cobbled yard were neat and tidy, and she heard the unmistakable sound of cattle somewhere out in the fields. It was the wrong time of day for milking so she wasn’t surprised to find the yard deserted, the dogs’ kennels empty, and Elizabeth’s car gone. Annie sighed as she returned to the lane and carried on to the village. She would have to try local Facebook groups or ask around for an electrician.