Hidden Cottage (16 page)

Smiling, Muriel offered the balls to Daisy. ‘It’s girls against boys now,’ she said. ‘Give ’em hell, kid!’

‘Oh, but I’m worse than useless,’ Daisy said, taking a step back.

‘You can’t be any worse than your brother and boyfriend,’ someone shouted out from the crowd. Blushing at the word
boyfriend
, Daisy took the balls from Muriel. To her astonishment, her first ball made contact, but not enough.

‘More welly,’ encouraged Scott at her side.

Her second ball missed entirely.

‘Come on, Daisy,’ urged Tattie. ‘One for the girls. You can do it.’

And incredibly she did. Her third ball knocked a coconut clean off its stand. ‘
Yay!
’ she yelled ecstatically, flinging her arms around Scott and kissing him. When she let go, Jensen was looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She met his gaze and knew that he
knew
. ‘Don’t say anything to Mum,’ she said quietly. ‘Not until I’ve spoken to her.’

He gave her one of his classic none-of-my-business shrugs.

Owen loved the sound of a brass band; there was nothing like it. The tone and volume of the instruments got him right in the pit of his stomach. He stood for a moment in the warm sunshine happily listening to the medley of Beatles songs being played.

Around him people were smiling, chatting, laughing, eating and drinking, all having a good time. He searched amongst the faces for any he might recognize, but drew a blank. He’d been here a week now, and while he hadn’t exactly made himself that visible in the village – he’d only been to Parr’s twice and had yet to set foot inside the pub – he had wondered if anyone would come calling to say, ‘Hey, I remember you.’ But no one had. Which was fine. It was highly likely that anyone he had known thirty-four years ago had moved away, just as he had. And really, when he thought about it, he hadn’t known that many people, just a handful of kids from school and Gretchen and Lillian Lampton.

Whenever he looked back to that day when he’d summoned the courage to knock on the door of The Hidden Cottage, he remembered it as a day when his life changed. Not that he had articulated that precise thought when he was a boy, but as the days passed and his visits increased, he’d known that the time he spent with Gretchen and Lillian was special.

Confined to The Hidden Cottage as they were, the two women had created their own little world in which they lived and he, while everybody else was kept out, had been allowed in to their sanctuary to be a part of their lives. He discovered that all those times he had sneaked into their garden and sat by the lake listening to the music coming from the house through the open window, they had been covertly observing him from behind net curtains.

They had previously had trouble from a number of older boys in the village – things thrown at their windows, names called through the letterbox, the usual vile things children get up to when they sense a helpless victim – but Gretchen and Lillian had decided he was different. Intrigued by the solitary boy sitting in their garden, they had wanted to know more. So they had lowered their guard and awarded him a privilege that no one else had ever been granted. He felt honoured and special. And it became their secret. They never said he wasn’t to tell anyone about his visits; it just seemed implicit, and besides he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone because whenever anything good happened to him, it always seemed to be taken away. His father saw to that. Consequently he had learnt that it was better to keep quiet, to keep things hidden. Even from his mother.

That day when he’d first stepped inside The Hidden Cottage, Gretchen had slowly led him into the room where music was playing. The first thing he noticed was a large piano in front of the French windows overlooking the garden. He had never seen a piano like it before – there was so much of it and it looked so expensive, not like the battered upright thing they had at school for assembly on which Mrs Beck bashed out their morning hymns.

‘This is my sister, Lillian,’ Gretchen had informed him, going over to turn down the music. ‘She’s by far the nicer of the two of us.’

In front of him was a woman dressed almost identically to Gretchen, even down to the white cotton mittens. She was sitting in an upright chair and while her face wasn’t as bad as the other woman’s, it still wasn’t right. Her grey hair was patchy and thin, like some of it was missing. ‘Hello,’ he said politely, ‘my name’s Owen.’

She smiled and patted the rattan stool next to her. ‘Come and sit down so I can get a proper look at you.’ He dutifully sat on the stool and looked curiously about him. The walls were lined with shelves, packed with books, hundreds of them, maybe thousands. Other than in a library, he’d never seen so many. His gaze fell onto the record player and the disc that was spinning. ‘Music,’ he said, ‘there’s always music playing here. That’s one of the reasons why I’ve been coming.’

The two women looked at each other. It was difficult to know exactly what the exchange meant because their faces weren’t like normal faces and so their expressions didn’t really show. But he sensed he’d said something significant.

‘Music has been our life,’ Gretchen said, going slowly over to the piano. She touched it lightly with a mittened hand. ‘We used to play all the time.’ She sat stiffly on the piano stool and as if it was much too heavy for her, she carefully lifted the lid. But she didn’t touch any of the keys.

‘We played all over the world,’ Lillian said next to him. ‘We’d been playing individually for some years and then we became a double act. We even had a record made. We taught as well. You’re quite unusual to like classical music at so young an age.’

‘I didn’t know I did until I heard it here,’ he said.

‘When we watched you through the window, we could see you swinging your legs perfectly in time to the music. Do you play an instrument?’

He shook his head. ‘No, but I’ve started singing in the choir at school.’

‘That’s good. Let me see your hands. Hold them out.’

He did as she said.

‘Mmm . . .’ she murmured thoughtfully, ‘nice long fingers; you have a good reach.’ Then: ‘Would you like to have a go on our piano?’

Gretchen turned round. ‘Lillian, do you really think that is such a good idea?’ Her voice was sharp and she looked not at her sister, but at Owen with her strong dark eyes, as if appraising him.

‘I’d like him to try,’ Lillian said. ‘What’s the harm in that?’

A shrill cry from a child behind him made Owen start and brought him back from the past.

He looked around the green with its colourful stalls and cheerful faces. With hindsight he saw that it would have been a mistake for Nicole to come here today. A city girl through and through, she would probably have gone out of her way to rubbish the fete. She would have looked around her and dismissed it as rustic nonsense and condemned the village as hicks-ville. Which would have totally ruined it for Owen. No, things had definitely worked out for the best.

In front of the big oak tree in the centre of the green, he recognized Georgina standing behind a table of plants. There were two small boys with her, one dressed as Superman, the other as Spiderman, along with a rather serious-looking girl in her mid-twenties who was dealing with a customer. Georgina saw him, gave him one of her bright smiles and waved. He waved back and strolled over, noting that two stalls further on was the bookstall.

‘Hello there,’ Georgina said merrily as the two boys ran off, nearly colliding with a woman and a pushchair. ‘You made it then?’

‘Of course. How’s business going?’

‘Not bad. Can I interest you in some plants for your garden? Or what about some runner beans? I grew them myself from seed.’ She held up a tray of five-inch-high seedlings. ‘Six plants for a mere three pounds.’

‘A bargain, I’m sure. Trouble is, I haven’t got as far as figuring out what I’m going to do with my garden yet.’

‘You could grow these in a biggish pot with some canes. They wouldn’t be any trouble; all you’ll need to do is keep them well watered and fed regularly.’

How could he say no? ‘All right, I’ll take them, but on the proviso that if they start to misbehave, you’ll be on hand to sort them out.’

She beamed. ‘It would be a pleasure.’

He handed over a five-pound note. ‘Now all I need is a pot and some canes.’

She held out his change. ‘You’ll need some compost as well. I’ve got some canes I could give you.’

‘Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to gain a reputation for being a scrounger. Keep the change; add it to the coffers.’ He inclined his head towards Superman and Spiderman, who had joined a queue for ice-creams. ‘Are they your boys?’

‘They are today.’

‘And tomorrow?’

She laughed. ‘Depends on their conduct. I might put them on eBay. Have you met Mia’s eldest daughter, Eliza?’ she added when the customer whom the girl had been serving had left them.

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Eliza,’ Georgina said, ‘this is Owen Fletcher, the new owner of The Hidden Cottage.’

He held out his hand and, discerning no real similarity in her features with her mother, he said, ‘I gather you’re home for the weekend.’

‘That’s right. How are you liking Little Pelham?’

‘I’m liking it a lot. People have been very welcoming.’

‘You mean nosy?’

He laughed. ‘Better to be talked about than ignored, wouldn’t you say?’

‘The way I heard it from Mum was that the Little Pelham Mafia paid you a call.’

‘They did indeed.’

‘Owen used to live here when he was a boy,’ Georgina said.

‘Yes, I heard that too from Mum. What made you come back?’

‘To fulfil a long-held promise that I would live here again one day.’

‘In that case, I hope it lives up to your expectations.’

‘I’m sure it will.’ He turned back to Georgina. ‘Can I leave my runner bean plants with you until the fete’s over?’

‘Certainly,’ she said. ‘I’ll put them under the table for safekeeping.’

‘Thanks. And now I’d better circulate and spend some more money. See you.’

To the sound of the band now playing ‘Mack the Knife’, he moved on to the next stall, giving the piles of assorted junk no more than a cursory glance.

The bookstall was inundated with customers; they were lined two-deep along the length of the two trestle tables.

‘Hello,’ he said, after he’d managed to attract Mia’s attention. ‘You look busy.’

‘I am. I’ve lost both my helpers and suddenly the world and his wife have descended upon me.’

‘I could give you a hand, if you like?’

‘Really?’

‘Don’t worry; I am capable of adding up and counting out change. I’m not as stupid as I look.’

She smiled. A real sun-coming-out-from-behind-the-clouds smile. ‘You’re a lifesaver,’ she said.

And you, he thought, are quite simply one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.

Chapter Nineteen

‘We’re going to make a den down by the brook – do you want to come?’ The boy asking the question had a front tooth missing and was dressed as a cowboy with a toy gun pushed into his belt and a hat tipped sideways on his head with a fringe and a silver badge on it.

Madison looked uncertainly from him to Beth. She didn’t really want to go. She was happy here, sitting on the grass in the sun and talking to this girl with her messy curly hair and freckled face. She had appeared at the bookstall with her mother and after she’d spent ages slowly hunting through all the books for one on the solar system and not found anything, Mia had asked Madison if she wanted to go off and explore the fete with the girl whose name was Beth, and who Madison had realized was one of the few children here who, like her, wasn’t wearing a fancy dress costume. Mum had given her some spending money earlier, but Mia had insisted on giving her some more. Beth had taken her round the stalls, stopping off first to buy some cupcakes, which they’d eaten straight away. Then they’d had a go on the tombola and Beth had won a jar of hot chilli sauce and Madison had won a bottle of aftershave, which she was going to give to JC. On the white elephant stall, Beth had bought a bookmark and Madison had bought a fluffy pink rabbit. She hadn’t decided yet whether to keep it for herself or to give it to Mum. Lastly they’d bought themselves an ice-cream, which they were now eating while sitting on the grass.

‘What do
you
want to do, Madison?’ Beth asked her.

She shrugged. ‘You go if you want. I’ll stay here.’ She knew what boys were like; when they asked if you wanted to join in with one of their games, all they really wanted was someone to boss around and show off in front of.

Beth looked back at the boy. ‘That’s OK, Michael, we’ll come and see your den later, when it’s finished.’

When he’d gone, Beth said, ‘They’re always making dens and they’re never any good. And they
always
end up arguing over whose fault it is that it doesn’t work.’ She licked at a dribble of ice-cream that had trickled down the cornet and onto her thumb. ‘They can be very childish at times. Is that your mum over there?’

Madison turned to where Beth was pointing and saw her mother with JC and Daisy and Scott. JC was behind Mum with his arms around her, his chin resting on the top of her head as they stood listening to the band; they were moving ever so slightly to the music, almost dancing. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘that’s my mum.’

‘She doesn’t look like the other mothers here; she looks like someone off the telly. Is she famous?’

Madison smiled with pride. She loved the fact that Mum stood out from everyone else, that she was special. It made her feel a bit special as well. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘But she has been on the telly.’

‘Cool. How long are you staying here?’

‘We go home on Monday.’

‘Are you doing anything tomorrow? If you aren’t, you could come and play at my house. I could show you my new telescope.’

‘That would be nice. But I’ll have to check with Mum. What do you use your telescope for?’

‘To look at the stars, of course.’ She then smiled. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes I use it to spy on people.’

‘That sounds fun.’

‘It is. But you really mustn’t tell anyone; Mum and Dad would be cross with me if they knew.’