Dream Cottage (6 page)

Max spent the following weeks ensuring all the property negotiations between him and the Rev Oli ran smoothly. The structural survey report, which had been conducted a couple of weeks earlier, indicated Greenacres had suffered historic structural movement but concluded there were no ongoing problems with subsidence. It was recommended that a damp and woodworm survey also be carried out but it was sufficient enough to satisfy Reggie Peabold with the finances and the mortgage company, so he gave Max the green light to instruct his solicitor. Rev Oli was keen to proceed as quickly as possible, which made Max think the sale wouldn’t take long to progress through to exchange of contracts. Thankfully there was no onward chain involved. Much to Max’s relief, they would have enough funds to retain their house in London, whilst purchasing Greenacres. This gave him plenty of leeway if his employment arrangements should change in the future.

Greta had begun to plan her preferences for the new kitchen and bathroom that would adorn Greenacres. She spent hours poring over countless glossy home improvement magazines and tirelessly trawled the Internet. She had even taken out a subscription to
Country Living
with its ideas and tips on the perfect home and life in the country
She and Max had arranged for another visit to the cottage the following weekend. Reverend Oli would meet them there with the keys. Max asked if he could bring along his architect to take photos and measurements. This was met with great enthusiasm.

A phone call to Jeanne was made by Greta to arrange another overnight stay on the Island.

“This is so exciting, darling; the father and I are so happy for you both!” The ferry trip seemed to take even longer than before as Greta was desperate to be at Greenacres again. She felt very impatient as she watched another ferry full of holidaymakers idly talking in excited, raised voices about the seaside and their plans for their week away.

“I don’t care about
their
holidays; I just want to get back home again,” she thought. She glanced over to Max who was staring at her, shaking his head.

“Won’t be long now, Greta. Stay calm; if you can.” He stroked the top of her head like a dog.

“I like the fact that you always know what I’m thinking.” She took hold of his hand and squeezed it. She played with his wedding ring. “I am so glad we are married,” she whispered.

“Don’t! You’ll start crying again in a minute. I can’t be doing with that in front of all these people,” Max drew Greta closer to him. “But you can give me a kiss, if you want to!”

Greta reciprocated; she planted a long and meaningful kiss on Max’s lips and they hugged each other hard.

After what seemed like a very long, drawn out hour had passed, Greta and Max reached the Island and were heading to Greenacres. Greta kept looking at the speedometer of the car; urging Max in her mind to drive quicker. She decided against telling him to put his foot down. She didn’t
want to annoy him. Anything to do with his driving skills was a pet hate to Max. Reverend Oli was stood waiting for them outside Greenacres; he was staring into space.

“Look, Rev Oli’s staring up at the sky again; what do you think he’s doing?” Greta was puzzled.

“Probably looking for divine inspiration!” Max drolly remarked. “Or perhaps there are some loose roof slates he hoped we haven’t noticed! I don’t know, love, you will have to make the point of asking him!”

They joined the Reverend and he held out his hand to greet them.

“So glad to see you once more, Maxim and Gretel. You must be getting very excited!”

Max took hold of the Reverend’s hand and squeezed it jocularly.

“Yes, particularly
Greta
; she can’t wait to get started the renovations, can you dearest?” Max emphasised the ‘a’.

Greta smiled inwardly and indicated with a sweep of her hand, for the Reverend to walk forward.

“After you, Reverend Oli. Lead on!”

Reverend Oli unlocked the back door and ushered Max and Greta inside.

“I expect you would like time on your own to have a good look around. I will be waiting outside if you need me.”

“Thank you very much, Reverend. We won’t be long. If we
are
gone for ages, just come in and drag us out!” Greta walked into the kitchen. “We are expecting the architect to turn up soon; so if you see someone looking lost, that’s who it will be!” she added.

The Reverend smiled and waved. He looked over towards the concrete yard and saw a car drawing up and a familiar figure getting out of it. His smile evaporated instantly. He looked very uneasy. The man walked over to him.

“Thought I might find you here, vicar,” Marcus Mowbrie brusquely remarked. “I hear that you’re selling the place. After all these years of me asking, tell me it isn’t true?” he quizzed, adjusting his waistband.

“It’s none of your business, Mr Mowbrie,” Rev Oli looked ashen-faced and uncomfortable. He stepped away from Mowbrie’s invasive glare.

“Damn right it is my business, vicar!” Marcus retorted. “All these years I have offered to buy Greenacres and you’ve continually said no, you would be keeping hold of it. Then, all of a sudden, some young couple appear from out of the blue and you’re selling it to them. You know that wasn’t part of the plan. Surely you wouldn’t be stupid enough to go back on our… arrangement?”

Reverend Oli stared directly at Marcus.

“With the greatest respect, I don’t know what you’re implying. The cottage will be very suitable for the young people. They have a lot of plans for Greenacres and they are greatly looking forward to living here. And as far as I am concerned, there is and has never been an… arrangement!”

“I own the fields around here, as well you know, and I could make Greenacres a great place to live too!” He stared intently back at the Reverend.

“The difference is, Mr Mowbrie, again most respectfully, is that the couple will be living here, not using it as a get rich quick venture, which, forgive me if I am wrong, is your sole intention?”

“Now, that would be none of
your
business, vicar. Once sold, it would be up to me what I did with it. Keep it or sell it!”

“I therefore rest my case,” Reverend Oli smiled nervously but remained outwardly calm. He stepped away from Mowbrie and walked towards the back door.

“I will top their offer, vicar. Name your price!” Mowbrie called after him.

Reverend Oli didn’t reply but disappeared into the cottage. He leant against the kitchen wall, drew out a paper tissue and wiped his sweat-beaded brow.

“A gentleman never goes back on his word, vicar! Remember that!” Mowbrie strode furiously towards his car, slammed the door and spun the wheels across the concrete yard, out of sight. Rev Oil closed his eyes and sighed. His heart was pounding against his chest. He opened his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “But I didn’t ever give you my word… or anything else,” he whispered.

Max and Greta heard the commotion. They found Rev Oli by the back door.

“Is everything okay, Reverend?” Greta was concerned. “We heard voices and then a car screeching off.”

“Yes, all is well, thank you, Gretel. Nothing to concern yourself about.”

Reverend Oli stood away from the wall and placed the sodden tissue back into his pocket.

“Ah, here comes your architect fellow, I believe. Perhaps you would like to introduce me?” He smiled cheerily.

“Of course!” Max stepped out of the back door and met the architect, shook his hand and pointed in the direction of the back door.

“Mike, how are you?” Max smiled.

“Very well, thanks Max. Hey, this place is certainly a find and a stunning location too,” Mike reciprocated.

“This is Rev Oliphant, the owner. And this is Greta, my wife,” Max indicated towards them.

“Pleased to meet you Reverend, and you too Greta.” Mike awkwardly removed his hand from the Reverend’s limp grip and wiped it on his jacket pocket.

“May I have a walk around inside?” Mike asked. “I
need to get some measurements and gauge the current layout and hear Max’s intentions for its renovations.”

“Of course, please do go on in.” Rev Oli smiled and bowed forward. “I will wait outside,” he added.

Greta followed Max and Mike and listened to their discussions. They moved from room to room with Mike taking photographs, notes and measurements by pointing a laser instrument at each wall, as Max described their intentions and the talk became technical. Greta slipped into her daydream bubble, trailing behind them in a trance. Through the darkened passageways from the still boarded up windows, from room to room, she drank up the atmosphere Greenacres was offering her. She stopped in the drawing room and stared into the fireplace. She visualised how it would look in daylight. With a roaring fire, logs piled up on the hearth. Perhaps even a dog lying in front of the dancing flames on a rug, fast asleep, with the winds howling on a cold winter’s night. She paused by the window and noticed an old gilt-framed mirror hung on the wall. It was ornately carved, however the glass was covered by a thick layer of dust. She dipped into her coat pocket and took out a paper tissue. She lightly dragged the tissue across the surface of the glass leaving a clean, clear line across its diameter. She looked at her reflection and smiled. She momentarily closed her eyes and opened them once more. Her intention was to gaze back into the mirror. As she focused back on her reflection she gasped in horror. The mirror revealed that she was not alone. Greta’s eyes were wide with fear as she could quite clearly see a severed hand suspended by her left shoulder. Entrails and tendons hung from flabby strands of skin. It dripped with blood and gore from the hand. Spots of blood begin to seep into the fabric of her coat and on to her shoulder. It was stationary; then its fingers began to move upward
with the palm fully extended. Greta touched the top of her shoulder in what appeared to be slow motion. She turned around and screamed at the top of her voice; her heart was racing and her breath was suspended.

Max heard her scream and rushed downstairs. He was quickly at her side.

“What’s wrong? Are you all right?” He held Greta’s shoulders as she tried to regain some sort of composure.

“I… I don’t know; it was horrible Max, just horrible! I have never seen such a thing!” she whispered.

“Do you want to sit down? Are you feeling faint?”

“No, no; I’ll be fine.” Greta’s heart was thumping in her chest.

“What did you see?” Max persisted.

Greta thought for a moment. Not wanting to dissuade Max or make him think she was imagining things, she blurted out, “It was a s…” She felt the air expel from her body.

“Don’t say it; it was a spider, wasn’t it?” Max surmised.

Greta nodded. She closed her eyes and bit her lip.

“Thank heavens for that; you really scared the shit out of me, screaming like that! I thought it was something really awful!” He sounded relieved.

“It was!” Greta protested. “It was gross! Inhuman! Horrific! Can you see anything on my shoulder? I felt something on it; I’m sure of it!”

“Most spiders are pretty gross, love. But this is the countryside, an old cottage and no doubt, Greenacres will have a few more of the little critters hidden within its walls.” Max checked Greta’s shoulder. “No, there’s nothing on your coat or your shoulder.”

“But…” Greta felt faint. “I think I’ll go outside and get some fresh air. I will check on the Reverend, whilst I’m out there.”

“Okay. You’ll be fine. I will only be upstairs with Mike. We shouldn’t be too much longer.” Max kissed the top of Greta’s head. “Take it easy.” He squeezed her hand. Greta flinched as he touched her. She couldn’t get the vision of the severed hand from her mind. She took a few deep breaths and stumbled to the back door. She held on to the doorframe and closed her eyes. Her mind was still racing. “What if there is something much more to this place than we realise?” she thought and stepped out into the garden.

Rev Oli was sat on a dilapidated wooden bench. He was thumbing through the pages of a pocket-sized bible. As Greta approached him, he marked the page from where he was reading with a bookmark in the shape of a cross. He hurriedly snapped it shut. He smiled up at her.

“So much to learn; one can never glean enough,” he concluded. He indicated for Greta to sit beside him. He looked concerned. “Everything all right, my dear?”

Greta faked a smile.

“Yes, yes of course. I’ve just had a bit of a shock,” she replied and looked at the long, grassy lawn.

“Yes, there is a lot of work to be done; it will be a challenge for you and Maxim. But I know you will achieve your goal. You are both young and very ambitious!”

Greta sighed.

“Yes, there is a lot to do. Um, Reverend, can I ask you something?” She turned to look him squarely in the face.

“Ask away, Gretel,” Rev Oil assumed the clutched hand position, awaiting the question.

“Is Greenacres… haunted?”

Rev Oli smiled dispassionately. He shook his head.

“No! Not that I am aware.”

Greta was taken aback by the abruptness in his reply.

“Okay, it’s just that…”

“Ah! Maxim and the architect are here!” Rev Oli interrupted
and launched himself upwards from the wooden bench. He galloped towards the back door where Max and Mike were stood, leaving Greta open-mouthed. She got up from the bench and walked across the garden to join them. Max locked the back door. He tried the handle several times to confirm the door was in fact locked.

“How are you feeling now, darling?” Max put a protective arm around Greta’s shoulders.

“Yes, fine, I suppose,” she replied unconvincingly.

“I’ll get the plans drawn up for you, Max, and email them through. I’ll put the hard copy in the post.” Mike shook first Max’s and then Greta’s hands. He declined the Rev Oli’s outstretched palm by waving a salute at him instead. “Good to have met you, Reverend!” he offered.

“Thank you, Reverend, for your time this afternoon.” Max turned towards Rev Oli, handed him the door key and risked a handshake. “We’ll keep in touch with you on the progress of the sale.”

Rev Oli closed his eyes and slowly nodded.