Amelia Grey's Fireside Dream (13 page)

A good night’s sleep had restored some perspective. But this place didn’t feel like home yet. The kitchen was still a mess, crowded with another woman’s clutter.

I drank my tea, got out some country cottage magazines and the interior design book Carly had given me, and flicked through them for inspiration. There were some really nice ideas in there – how to create a light, bright and functional kitchen. I took out my sketchbook.

I sat at the kitchen table and noted down the ideas and colour schemes that appealed to me – bright reds and plenty of wood. I tore pictures out of one of the magazines and glued them down until a picture began to form. The first thing to tackle, I thought as I stirred milk and a teaspoon of sugar into a fresh cup of tea, was the kitchen units. They all needed to go.

I went back to the sketchbook, and ideas came thick and fast – a traditional-style country kitchen, with florals and wooden worktops. Yes, the kitchen cabinets would be expensive to replace – one of our biggest costs on the whole project, most likely – but the right ones could really transform the room. I wasn’t quite sure what to do about the lino flooring.

A knock came at the front door, startling me. I pulled my dressing gown around me and swiftly checked my appearance in the hallway mirror. My hair was tousled and untidy, and as I hurriedly tried to flatten it, another knock came.

I opened the heavy wooden door. There on the doorstep was a man about my age, with light brown hair, grey-green eyes and a dusting of stubble. He was dressed in faded jeans and a pale blue shirt, the sleeves rolled up.

‘Hi,’ he said, smiling warmly, a dimple appearing in one of his cheeks.

I pulled my dressing gown more tightly around me, feeling self-conscious. ‘Hi,’ I said in reply.

‘You must be Amelia.’ His voice was soft and lilting, with just the trace of a local accent.

Was it too late to pretend to be someone else, only to reappear as a more presentable version of myself?

‘Yes, that’s me,’ I said. ‘Can I help you with anything?’

‘I’m hoping it’ll be the other way round,’ the man said, smiling again. ‘I should introduce myself. I’m Callum. Eleanor’s … Mrs McGuire’s grandson.’ He put out his hand and I shook it. His hand was strong and in the moment that our skin touched I felt it was slightly rough.

‘Oh, hi,’ I said, relieved. ‘Come in.’

‘Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude,’ he said, looking at my dressing gown.

‘It’s fine, honestly. Give me a minute and I’ll be right back.’

Callum stood in the hallway and I dashed upstairs to put some clothes on. I grabbed the first things I could find – a pair of jeans, a bra and my old university hoodie. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail.

‘Let’s go through into the kitchen,’ I said, coming back down the rickety staircase. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’

‘I’m fine, but thanks,’ Callum said, his voice softening. ‘Listen, I feel bad about what’s happened. We all wanted the house to be ready for you and your husband to move into. But Gran – well, she had other ideas,’ he said, shaking his head with a faint smile. ‘Out of the blue this week she says she wants to keep hold of everything, even though the bungalow she’s moved into is half the size of this place. It’s been a bit of a nightmare.’

‘Oh dear.’ The chaotic state of the house was beginning to make more sense.

‘Anyway, none of that is your problem, but my dad feels terrible, and we wanted to explain. There’s enough for you to be getting on with without having to work around Gran’s stuff.’

‘It’s not been ideal,’ I admitted.

‘You must have wanted to turn round and walk right back out again,’ Callum said. I noticed how the corners of
his eyes crinkled a little as he smiled. ‘But listen. I’ve found a storage space not far from here, and Gran’s allowing us to move what’s here into it for now. According to Dad, they talked this all through months ago, but with her Alzheimer’s what she says isn’t always written in stone.’

‘Right,’ I said, feeling bad about my earlier snap judgements. ‘Now I can see how things got a bit complicated.’

‘Gran’s coping. Just about. But she’s not getting any better, and that’s part of the reason we want her a bit closer to us all. Where was I going with this … ?’ He gave a weary laugh. ‘I’m rambling, aren’t I?’

Looking into his eyes, I shook my head. ‘Don’t worry. Carry on.’

‘Me and my cousin Spencer will be back in a couple of hours with a lorry to clear everything out. If that’s OK with you?’

‘That would be fine. Brilliant, in fact,’ I said, a weight lifting. With any luck, Jack would come home to a lovely clear house and we could start unpacking. I could have cheered.

‘OK, great,’ Callum said. ‘Thanks for being so patient. I’m not sure all Londoners would have been.’

‘Is it that obvious?’

‘A bit. You sound …’

‘Like I’m in
Eastenders
?’

‘Hardly, no … but you’ve got a trace of an accent. Anyway, why the move?’

‘We wanted a change. Actually, this is going to sound stupid, but living in the country was one of the things I’d promised myself I’d do before I was thirty. I didn’t quite manage that – but we’re here now.’

‘I admire that,’ Callum said. ‘A lot of people get stuck in their comfort zone, don’t they? And you’re clearly up for a challenge. I don’t think Gran has done anything to this place for about forty years.’

‘Yes.’ For some reason I didn’t want to admit to Callum that it was more of a challenge than I really wanted.

‘Good luck with it. This place has history, and it’s beautiful underneath. It certainly didn’t always look like this.’

‘Did you come here a lot?

‘All the time,’ he said. ‘Dad used to bring me and my sister to see Gran and Granddad every weekend for Sunday dinner. We’ve always lived close by.’

‘With all those memories, no wonder it’s been difficult for your gran to move.’

‘Yes, that’s right. There’s a lot she’s not ready to say goodbye to. And the truth is, we’re not ready to say goodbye to her.’

He looked over towards the kitchen. ‘What are you going to do about these monstrosities?’ he asked more brightly, pointing to the kitchen cabinets. ‘I mean, unless you like
them, that is?’ He raised his eyebrows as if he wouldn’t be able to believe anyone could.

‘Hmm, yes. There’s retro and then there’s … well, these cabinets.’ I smiled. ‘They are definitely going to go.’ I showed him my sketchbook, with ideas for the new kind of furniture I wanted to install. ‘This is what I’m thinking of doing.’

‘Nice,’ Callum said. ‘The kitchen’s always been the centre of this house. This is where we’d come when we were little, and watch while Granny Ellie baked. She was big on baking. Still is, although since she started forgetting things, her cakes are getting a little hit and miss.’

‘I love to bake too,’ I said. ‘I’m glad to hear I’ll be continuing a Brambledown Cottage tradition.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Callum said. ‘Definitely.’ He stepped forward to look out of the kitchen window. ‘Wow, it’s a mess out there, isn’t it? Great garden though – you’ll see when you get the lawnmower on it. Me and my sister Alice used to play for hours out there. There’s a little stream at the back. You must have seen that, right?’ Callum glanced back at me, and as our eyes met I felt suddenly self-conscious.

‘Actually, I haven’t yet,’ I said. ‘I’ve only had a peek through the fence. There was a lot to do when we arrived on Saturday.’

‘Oh, we have to go down there then,’ Callum said, his eyes lighting up.

‘Now?’ I said, glancing at my sock-clad feet.

‘No time like the present. This is your house now – don’t you want to get to know it?’

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ I said. ‘What about your cousin?’

Callum glanced vaguely in the direction of his watch. ‘Oh, it’s fine – we’ve got time. Come on. Get some wellies. It’ll be wet in the grass after the rain last night, but like I said, this cottage is your place now. You have to at least explore the grounds.’

‘Now, wellies,’ I said, with a smile. ‘Strangely, they are one of the few things I’m going to be able to locate.’ I’d shoved them in the coat cupboard when we’d first arrived. I went out there now and fished them out of a cardboard box of outdoorsy things that we’d barely touched the whole time we’d lived in London.

I pulled them on over the bedsocks I was still wearing, and Callum turned the handle of the back door. ‘Hang on,’ I called out. ‘I’ll get you the key for that.’

He jiggled at the latch until the door opened easily. ‘The tricks of the house,’ he said with a smile. ‘Years of practice.’

‘Wow. We’re going to need to up the security levels around here.’

‘Oh, Hazelton’s a hotbed of crime.’ He laughed. ‘Right, you all set?’

I nodded.

Together we walked over the paved area, and then stepped
out into the long grass of the garden. Thick, wet clumps of grass clung to my wellies and dampened the cuffs of my jeans, but I didn’t care – out here in the fresh air, I felt free.

In the garden most of the wildflowers had faded back, and brambles and blackberries were spreading up the fence to the right of the house. The patch of lavender was still there, the soft purple standing out among the golds and greens.

‘Those blackberries are delicious,’ Callum said. He went over and plucked a few from their thorny stems. ‘Here, try them.’

I took the ripe fruit from his hands, stained with juice, and ate one. It was sweet, with just a hint of tartness. I put another one in my mouth. ‘They’re perfect.’

‘Here, you’ve got some …’ Callum reached out a hand and brushed away some red juice from my chin.

Feeling myself blush, I scrubbed at the spot with my hand.

‘Follow me,’ he said, clearing the grasses ahead of us.

‘You could get lost out here.’

‘Absolutely. Alice and I used to hide when our mum called us in for tea, and sometimes she just gave up searching.’

‘You sound like you were terrors.’

‘She’d joke that we kept her young.’

‘Does she still live in Hazelton?’

‘In spirit,’ he said, with a smile. ‘She died ten years ago.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’ Callum shrugged. ‘Part of life, isn’t it? And she had a full one. It’s good to be here again, actually – it brings her back. See that oak tree?’ He pointed to an oak about ten feet to my left, with winding, thick branches stretching out against the pure blue sky.

‘Yes, looks good for climbing.’

‘Exactly. It’s perfect. Mum used to climb up there with us. When you have kids they are going to love playing out here.’

I spotted a shuttlecock in the grass and picked it up. It was weathered and grey but still mainly intact. ‘One of yours?’ I asked.

Callum took it with a smile. ‘Could be,’ he said. ‘Although it’s been a good few years since Alice and I played any badminton out here. You wouldn’t believe what it looked like then – big flat lawn, well-tended flowerbeds … Like I said, it’s been years since Gran did anything with it, or let any of us touch it for that matter.’

‘She wouldn’t let anyone help?’

‘She’s not big on being helped out,’ Callum said with a shrug. ‘You’ve probably picked up on that by now. Anyway, look – we’re nearly there.’

Pulling my sleeves down over my hands, I swiped away some brambles that were cutting into our path at chest
level. I heard a soft sound, the gentle, soothing trickle of water over rocks.

‘See it?’ Callum said, pointing just ahead of where we were standing.

There at the bottom of the garden, where ferns grew lush and thick, just before the garden turned into fields, was a stream about a metre across, with rocks and pebbles lining either side.

‘Water gets much higher than this when the rain’s heavy.’

I bent down and looked at it, sunlight reflecting off the ripples. ‘Must be lovely to dangle your feet in on a hot day.’

‘Oh yes. With the trees down at this end, it’s always shady and cool. Mum liked it down here. She could keep half an eye on the two of us playing, with her head in a book at the same time.’

‘Bliss.’

This summer there hadn’t been time for a holiday, not even our usual trip to a music festival. Sitting by the stream and reading, letting a sunny afternoon drift by, sounded idyllic.

‘Thanks for bringing me down here,’ I said to Callum. ‘It feels special. I hope we can get the garden back to how you remember it. Although who knows when we’ll get round to that with so much to do on the cottage.’

‘I’d be happy to get it started, if you’re looking for someone.
Spencer and I are both after a bit of outdoors work. Or we could give you a few tips if you want to do it yourself.’

‘You’re a gardener?’

Callum smiled. ‘I’m a whatever-turns-up man. Or I have been for the last few years, anyway.’

‘As it happens, a whatever-turns-up man is exactly what we’re looking for. When would you be able to start?’

‘Whenever you like – next week?’

‘Sounds good. I’ll just need to have a chat with Jack first, work out our budget – which I wish was infinite, but sadly isn’t.’

‘Sure. In terms of getting starting, we’d need to cut the grass first, bring the place into submission a bit, and then you could decide how you’d like the new garden to look. Do you have any ideas?’

‘Not really.’ I shrugged. ‘But I’d like to keep some of the wildness, I think. Not too tidy, with flowerbeds – I loved the poppies and sunflowers that were here back in July.’

‘We could run a loose pathway through, with paving stones,’ Callum said, pointing, ‘and have a wildflower garden to the left, then perhaps a trellis for the honeysuckle up nearer the house.’

‘Great. I can’t wait to get started. Isn’t it going to be weird for you, though, to see us updating the place? Taking out some of the old fittings?’

‘Are you joking?’ Callum said. ‘I can’t wait to see what
you do. We’ve been nagging Gran to let us change the cabinets and give the place a clear-out for years. In fact, I’ll happily join in with a sledgehammer.’

*

Callum and his cousin Spencer, a twenty-something version of him in baggy jeans and a T-shirt, spent the morning moving boxes and bags and loading them into a van, chatting loudly and laughing together. I made my way past them and into the kitchen. I’d gathered a basket full of blackberries and some apples from the front garden. In the pocket of my apron were bunches of lavender – I bound them with string and hung them up high over the Aga.