Dream Cottage (3 page)

“They raise their own beef cattle, you know.” Charles enthusiastically cut into a thick slice of Aberdeen Angus roast beef. He thrust a forkful of beef into his mouth and commenced chewing.

“Oh Charles, teeth on fork, dear!” Jeanne groaned as the metal of Charles’s fork rattled irritatingly against his dentures.

“Mummy, don’t be so rotten to the father; he’s really enjoying his roast beef.” Greta looked sympathetically at her father who was totally oblivious to his wife’s latest outburst of nagging.

“Damn good job they make of it too! Carbon footprint, local produce and all that sustainability stuff…” Charles continued to eat hungrily; his moustache rose and fell like little white boat oars as he chewed, up and down, in and out. Jeanne rolled her eyes. It was another of Charles’s habits that irritated the life out of her, speaking with his mouth full of food.

Jeanne looked around the table at her family and smiled in contentment. The Smuggler’s Hide was bustling as usual with a brisk Sunday lunch trade. All the tables were reserved, due to its popularity. A quaint, solitary hostelry
that had stood for over four hundred years at the foot of the downs, which shielded it from the prevailing southerly winds, the Smuggler’s Hide held an unprecedented history. Originally a blacksmith’s forge, it had diversified centuries ago into an inn. It was famed for its association with smuggling in the seventeenth century and was the centre of local folklore.

“Oh this is so wonderful, isn’t it? All the family are together again. Isn’t it grand, Leo?”

Leo looked up momentarily from his plate.

“Yeah, spose so. But I must say this meal is top notch. Best nosh I’ve had in a pub for ages. It makes me feel like I could even put up with sitting opposite Greta for a couple of hours!”

Greta chose to ignore Leo.

“We’ve eaten here a few times lately and never had a duff meal yet, have we Charles? Oh, don’t bother to answer; I know you are going to rattle that fork on your teeth again if you do! Either that or choke on a sprout!” Jeanne shook her head. Charles momentarily fixed a grin without speaking. He continued to chew his food like a cow chewing the cud, methodical and thoughtful, with the occasional expelling of wind.

“There are such lovely views of the countryside from ‘ere, Mrs Standing,” Ardi cooed from the corner of the table. Demure and petite, Ardi delicately picked at her meal like a bird, taking a small mouthful and each time being very careful not to hit her fork on her teeth, for fear of reprisal. She gazed around her as she silently chewed. “We don’t have places like this in my country; it is all built up, like a concrete jungle. The Island is very beautiful, so unspoilt. You are very lucky to leeve ‘ere.”

Greta didn’t look at Max; she didn’t have to. He knew
exactly what she was thinking. She tried to infiltrate his mind with her thoughts.

“I was lucky enough to be born on the Island,” Greta announced to Ardi across the table. “And I so love to visit; in fact, Max and I have been thinking about moving over… urgh!” She stopped talking as Max persuasively stepped on her toe.

“Oh darling! Is that true? Is it true, Maxim?” Jeanne stopped eating and gawped first at Greta and then Max. “Tell me it’s true!” she demanded. Her eyes were large and searching. She leaned across the table in anticipation.

“We have been thinking about it, Jeanne, but that’s all, just thinking. We have to consider my work; I couldn’t possibly leave my job.”

“No, that’s right, my boy. Especially when you are expecting a bonus later in the year.” Charles wiped his mouth on his crimson coloured paper napkin and looked on intently.

“Poor you, Max. Once Greta gets the bit between her teeth…” Leo mused and continued shovelling cabbage into his mouth. “She’s like a clapped out old nag!”

“Oh darling, it would be lovely to have you living back on the Island. The father and I would be so happy.” Jeanne cooed and raised her wine glass in a premature toast. “To the happy couple and their return to the Island! But what about
your
job, darling?” Jeanne added.

“As I said, we are only just thinking about it, Jeanne. Nothing is set in concrete,” Max tried his tactical placation without success.

“Where would you live, dear? Near us? Or perhaps a cottage near the sea?” Jeanne continued. Her face was aglow with excitement. “I could start trawling the estate agents for you. I would so love to help!”

“I don’t know, mummy. We need to have a look around; see what is available. But it will probably be in the countryside.”

“As long as there aren’t any spiders lurking about!” Leo glanced with squinted eyes at his sister. “Or tables!”

“Don’t be stupid Leo; I’ll be okay with them,” Greta took a gulp of wine. “It was an unfortunate accident, nothing more. I’m fine now.”

“Yeah, sure! The arachnid just about stole the show.” Leo had a knack of bringing up past events; always the memorable ones, always involving his sister.

“I will be fine with the sp…” Greta took another swig of wine.

“Seeing as you can’t even say their name; I very much doubt if you will be,” Leo returned. “S.P.I.D.E.R!”

“Darling! Please don’t be so beastly to your sister.” Jeanne looked sternly at Leo who shrugged his shoulders, laughed and continued to eat.

“This is a beautiful place; just look at the views from here,” Ardi swung her fork around in the air and pointed across the valley. “Look, open space, views of the sea; the downs, what more could you ask for?” She flicked her flowing blonde ponytail with her other hand.

Leo stopped eating.

“Anyway, why would you want to leave your comfy lifestyle in the smoke? All those nights out at the theatre, restaurants on tap, a decent job… you would be a fool to want to leave all that behind to come back to this pile of…” Leo broke off as his mother looked at him in disapproval; instead he finished his meal.

Greta didn’t answer. She wasn’t even listening to Leo. She had momentarily slipped into one of her daydreams. She stared out across the valley; across the green meadows and patchworks of fields, enveloped by lush green hedgerows,
that were home to a varied selection of cattle and sheep. She looked out towards the coastline, to the sea and could just make out the chimneys at Fawley Power Station on the mainland. Her eyes were suddenly focussed on an old cottage in a closer proximity. She could just make out that farm buildings surrounded it. She frowned and stared.

“Isn’t that right, dear?” Jeanne’s voice pierced the bubble that Greta had found herself swimming within.

“What, mummy?” She returned from her mesmerised trance to the table.

“Never mind. Now who wants dessert?” she called out.

“I fancy a walk before dessert,” Greta said. She folded her paper napkin and placed it on to the table. “Do you fancy a walk, Max? Leo? Arid… sorry, Ardi?”

“Oh that sounds like fun, darling. The father and I will sit here and let our meals go down, oh and keep the table; you know how busy it is, we could lose our place if we came too. Please decide what you want for dessert before you go and we’ll order. What do you think? Ready for half an hour’s time. Will that be long enough?”

“I think half an hour will be fine.” Greta rose from the table and smiled at her parents. “Quite long enough, thank you.”

Max, Leo and Ardi grabbed their coats and followed Greta from the Smuggler’s Hide down the main road towards a narrow lane that led down towards the cottage.

“Where the hell are we going?” Leo gasped as he caught up with Greta, who was setting a brisk pace. She strode off in front of the little group.

“Down there,” she pointed to the cottage. “I caught sight of it when we were in the pub; when Ardi was talking about the views and the valley. Just by chance… I saw it.”

“What? That dilapidated hovel over there?” Leo asked as he threw his scarf over his shoulder, just missing Ardi
who was clutching hold of his arm. She trotted alongside him, almost breaking into a canter to keep up.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Leo! As per usual!” Greta snapped. “We haven’t even got there yet.”

“Well, it’s the only place in the vicinity, so I must be right. Oh god! Look it’s partly boarded up! What a shit hole!” he crudely exclaimed.

“There’s a fingerpost. It’s a public footpath that leads towards the town.” Greta crossed the road without checking for traffic. “It looks like it goes directly past the cottage. So we will be quite within our rights to walk down there.”

“Max, mate. Heed the warning, there could be trouble ahead!” Leo joshed. Max sighed but continued to follow Greta who was striding purposefully down the unmade grassy track, towards the cottage. She splashed in and out of the puddles and potholes that laid on the surface.

“It seems pretty grim, sis. Looks like it’s been empty for a while. We can’t even look through the windows to see the rooms. Anyway, you don’t know what might be lurking about inside. It’s will more than likely to be haunted. Whoooooooooo!” He mimicked a ghostly noise and flapped his arms and twiddled his fingers above his head.

“You are such a child, Leo; one day you
will
grow up! Won’t
that
be a shame?” Greta hissed as she fiercely pinched one of Leo’s cheeks until he cried out.

“I have to admit that it’s a great location.” Max was quietly surveying the area, the overgrown gardens and the outbuildings. “There’s a lot here; by the look of it, just needs some TLC.”

They reached the end of the track before it led off through an overgrown narrow pathway. They stood outside the cottage. It was very still and quiet; no birdsong, no wind, no noise. The skies were gun metal grey and heavy with cloud. There was a hint of rain. Greta unlatched the
clasp on the rusty front garden gate and slowly made her way up to the front of the cottage. As she did so, a light breeze blew across her face making her hair ruffled. Max, Leo and Ardi followed in silence. Ardi continually looked over her shoulder.

“Max, mate; it looks like you could be suckered in at any moment!” Leo warned as he stepped over trailing lines of brambles that adorned the pathway. “Drawn into the depths of a festering shell! A costly hellhole!”

“I wonder who owns it.” Greta gently ran her fingers over the roughly filled Island stone walls. A small piece of masonry fell to the ground. She felt a warmth flow across her hand, like an invisible pulse.

“Perhaps someone at the pub might know its history,” suggested Ardie as she continued to cling tightly to Leo’s arm.

“It’s so beautiful,” Greta continued to touch the walls with her fingertips. She walked along the garden, still touching the surface. “There’s something about this place; it seems to be… I don’t know… it has a good feeling about it.”

“You mean it has a feeling of it being a ghostly bottomless money pit!” Leo squawked close in Greta’s ear, making her jump.

“Shut up!” Greta snapped and pushed Leo away with such force both he and Ardi, who was still holding Leo’s arm, lost their footing amongst lengthy brambles and ended up sprawled in the long, wet grass.

“Only joking! It’s true what they say though, isn’t it.” Leo helped Ardi to her feet and she hurriedly brushed her coat down to remove any grass strands and droplets of water. She roughly rearranged her hair. “The truth always hurts!”

“Come on, let’s get back to the pub, by the time we
walk back, the half hour will be up. Do you know what you ordered for pudding?” Max reached out and took Greta’s hand.

“I don’t think I ordered anything. No doubt mummy will have chosen something appropriate. A bit like your choice of the muffin intended for me on the ferry.”

Max laughed and they walked arm in arm back to the pub. Leo and Ardi trailed behind. Ardi looked around her in a birdlike fashion, adjusting her scarf around her neck.

“Greta is so lucky to have a husband like Max. He always tries to please her,” Ardi remarked as they walked.

“Isn’t she just,” Leo snapped. He kicked at a small stone along the lane. It tripped along the tarmac until it ended up on the unkempt grass verge.

“You don’t seem very impressed,” Ardi replied. She stopped and looked at Leo. “What’s wrong, Leo?”

Leo shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know. It always seems that what Greta wants, Greta gets. It’s always been the same, ever since we were kids.”

“So,” Ardi probed. “It would appear that you are a little… um… jealous of Greta?”

“No!” Leo was on the defensive.

“But you seem as though you are,” Ardi continued. “Is that why you always make fun of her?”

Leo sighed.

“All right, yes, okay! So I am jealous of her. She always gets her own way; even with our parents. She has always hogged the limelight. She always falls on her feet. I have to work for everything; I don’t get anything offered on a plate. Are you happy now?”

“No, course I’m not ‘appy. I am sad, if you are sad.” Ardi clung tightly to Leo’s arm. They were some distance
away from Greta and Max, who had almost reached the Smuggler’s Hide.

“One day, you too will have some luck. I will make sure of it!” Ardi soothed.

“Come on, we are here now. Let’s enjoy our dessert! Forget about your worries!”

Jeanne hastily greeted them upon their return to the pub. Greta and Max were at the bar ordering coffee.

“Oh darlings! There you are. The father is so desperate to eat his dessert. He has been staring at it for the last ten minutes. Torture for him! Absolutely torturous! Here, sit down. Leo darling, I have ordered sticky toffee pudding, one dessert, two spoons, for you both. Maxim, I decided you were in the mood for biscuits and a selection of Island cheeses! And Greta, lemon meringue pie and clotted Island cream!” Jeanne distributed the appropriate plates to their intended recipients.

“Mummy, we have just come across a really lovely cottage. It’s the one over there!” Greta carried a tray of coffee and indicated with her head towards the window as her parents desperately tried to focus on where she meant. She placed the tray on their table and pointed and Jeanne gasped.

“Oh, yes, I see that little place. I can just make it out in the distance. Yes, it looks very quaint, doesn’t it?”