Читать книгу Escape to Willow Cottage: The brilliant, laugh-out-loud romcom you need to read in autumn 2018 - Bella Osborne, Bella Osborne - Страница 15

After they’d eaten as many barbecued sausages as they could manage, Beth and Leo had settled down for their first night in Willow Cottage. Camping stuff wasn’t exactly ideal to be sleeping on but it was better than the bare floorboards and, despite all of Leo’s complaining, he was now actually enjoying the indoor camping experience. The day she had left London Beth had loaded the car at high speed and once again she acknowledged she had grabbed an odd assortment of things, including the camping stuff that had been waiting to go back in the loft, her mother’s cuckoo clock, her glue gun, and a large canvas photo of Leo as a baby as well as a few items that would actually be useful to them. The thin camping mattresses weren’t the height of comfort but they would do until Beth had managed to order some beds.

The room was cool, but not cold, so they snuggled into their sleeping bags and chatted for a while as the upturned torch lit up the cracked ceiling and gave a mystical glow to the room.

‘Good day?’ asked Beth.

‘Okay.’

‘Are you and Denis friends?’

‘Kinda, I guess. It’s cool that he lives in a pub; he gets fizzy drinks and crisps whenever he likes!’

‘Mmm, does he go to the local school?’

‘Yeah, he’s a year older than me but he says we’ll be in the same class … and I can sit next to him if I want.’

‘That’s kind. So are you liking it here now?’ asked Beth, shifting a little in her sleeping bag like a fat maggot so that she could see Leo’s face better.

He pouted as he thought for a bit. ‘I like Denis and Doris and I like the food at the tearoom but,’ he paused and took a deep breath. ‘I miss my friends back home and the computer and my tablet and my Lego and my other toys and climbing club and …’

Beth could feel her heart squeezing with every new item added to the list. ‘Once we’re a bit more settled we can get some new things and I’m sure there are some local clubs we could find out about.’

Leo didn’t answer. He was chewing his thumbnail and looked like he was pondering his mother’s response. Outside it started to rain, the droplets making a soothing pattering sound against the old, but now very clean glass.

‘Could we get a big computer? Like the one Nick had and wouldn’t let me use? And a massive telly that does everything?’ Leo was staring at his mother, without blinking.

‘Not right away but we’ll see,’ said Beth, ruffling his hair. ‘I think it’s time us indoor campers got some sleep, don’t you?’

Leo started to settle and then he sat bolt upright. ‘Did you bring a telly?’

Beth shook her head, ‘No, sorry. They were all screwed to the wall, remember?’

‘No telly?’ Leo’s eyes were wide with horror.

‘Only until we get things sorted out. Okay?’

Leo was already shaking his head and muttering to himself. ‘No telly …’ He looked around the room at the shadows he was making as he moved. ‘There aren’t any ghosts living here, are there?’ Leo looked pensive. ‘You know, like Wilf or Elsie?’

‘No, don’t be silly. They were lovely people, why would they haunt this place?’

‘Dunno, it’s really old and old places always have ghosts.’

‘Only if you’re really lucky,’ said Beth, zipping up his sleeping bag.

‘Ok-ay,’ intoned Leo doubtfully and he burrowed down further into his sleeping bag until only the very top of his head was visible. Beth leaned over and kissed him and then set about trying to get herself comfortable. She had worked hard on cleaning the living room and felt better for it. The builder and the electrician were scheduled to get started on the essentials list in a few days’ time. Things were starting to head in the right direction. Beth closed her eyes and began to drift off to sleep as the rain outside started to pelt out a soothing rhythm on the window.

Beth wasn’t sure how much later it was when she stirred and brushed something off her face as another splosh landed on her forehead. She opened her eyes to see a steady stream of drips coming through the ceiling above her. She shuffled quickly out of the way and out of her sleeping bag. She turned to look at Leo. He looked like he was dry and still sound asleep. Beth clenched her teeth; this was irritating but it wasn’t the end of the world. She grabbed the bucket and stuck it under the drip. Then she found a bin bag, made three holes in it and shoved it over her head; the last thing she wanted was soggy pyjamas. She tied another one around her head like a turban, popped her sockless feet into her boots, picked up her keys and the torch and crept out of the cottage.

Her mission to the car was successful. She was coming back with the pop-up tent as a rain-hood clad Shirley was shuffling past. Shirley stopped and so did Beth and they eyed each other suspiciously.

Shirley shook her head slowly, ‘Ahh. Mittens …’ she said.

‘Crazy!’ they both said simultaneously and then scuttled off in opposite directions.

Beth was relieved to see that Leo was exactly where she’d left him and was still asleep. She tiptoed round the living room trying to find a dry patch. She wasn’t sure why she was tiptoeing because probably even a volcano wouldn’t wake Leo right now. Behind the door seemed like a good bet as the floorboards were dry and the ceiling looked free of cracks.

Beth released the pop-up tent from the confines of its bag and a bright orange three-man tent instantly appeared. It didn’t take long to drag over her bedroll and sleeping bag. That approach seemed to work so she grabbed hold of Leo’s bedroll and dragged it, with him in residence, all the way inside the tent.

She felt a huge sense of satisfaction at not being beaten by Willow Cottage as she settled down to sleep for the second time.

Carly was tired and grumpy when the taxi finally deposited them in a farmyard a few miles from Newport, Gwent. A middle-aged man introduced himself, took one of the bags from Fergus and produced a rather large torch that emitted an impressive beam of light for them to follow. The man was wearing wellies. Carly was wearing her sparkly sandals, which had been very comfy on the train but were spectacularly inappropriate for trudging across an uneven grassed field that was liberally scattered with sheep poo. The torch didn’t reveal many sheep – only the odd small group here and there. Surely there was no way those few animals could have made all this? There was poo everywhere. Carly looked like she was undertaking some elaborate dance as she tried to keep up and find a poo-free spot for every step.

In her mind, Carly was holding on tight to the treehouse pictures she’d seen in the magazine. Every bounce of the torch beam only revealed yet more undulations and poo. They followed a line of trees until a rough path appeared and at last a wooden structure was just visible through the trees. Carly was grinning as she felt her right sandal slide quickly through something moist. It didn’t matter, she wasn’t going to let a silly thing like sheep poo spoil this weekend of luxury. The man handed them a much smaller version of his torch, with a beam that was pathetic in comparison, and bid them a good night.

Fergus kissed Carly seductively and all thoughts of poo were forgotten. They giggled their way up the rustic spiral staircase and onto a platform where they could get a good look at the treehouse. It was rather shed-like with moss on the roof and French windows. Carly kicked off her dirty shoes, Fergus opened the door and she stepped inside. She looked around as Fergus joined her and shut the door.

It was small inside, but she had expected that; it was up a tree after all. It smelled of wood but everything in it was made of natural wood so, again, no surprises there. However, what she hadn’t expected was what looked like a bench seat from a caravan circa 1985 and bunk beds. She’d been looking forward to spending the weekend with Fergus on top of her but bunk beds was not what she’d pictured. She turned round to gauge Fergus’s expression but he was already merrily lighting an array of used candles that lined the narrow shelves and the lanterns that hung from the ceiling. She waited until he’d finished lighting his current lantern and blew out the match.

‘So, what do you think?’ she signed, trying very hard to smile.

‘Fantastic,’ said Fergus, his smile almost as bright as the farmer’s torch beam had been. Oh, great, thought Carly, as she attempted to contain her disappointment.

Fergus produced a bottle of champagne from his bag and Carly’s mood lifted a fraction. A couple of glasses later she was starting to relax and there was something terribly romantic about signing by candlelight. Fergus’s classic features were enhanced by the flattering glow. ‘Big day tomorrow,’ he told her. ‘Let’s get some sleep.’

Carly fished her wash bag out and then looked around, slightly stumped as to where the washroom was. Fergus steered her towards a makeshift sink in the corner replete with plastic washing-up bowl. They washed and cleaned their teeth together and Carly searched deep to find something special in this but she failed. All she could think about, now, was where was the toilet? Was it all the way back at the farmhouse? In which case she really wished the farmer had mentioned it.

As if anticipating her next question Fergus pointed outside. ‘I’m going to check out the loo. You coming?’ Of all the offers she’d hoped to hear this weekend, this was definitely not near the top of her list.

‘Yeah, great.’

On the other side of the decked platform were three little steps down to what looked like a wooden cupboard. Fergus opened the door and shone the torch inside. Carly’s first thought had been pretty accurate as it was barely bigger than a cupboard. Notices lined the walls, explaining how the toilet system worked and the dos and don’ts of using the facility. But the main thing that drew her attention was the toilet seat that Fergus had now lifted, and the unpleasant smell that was emanating from an oval hole it had revealed in a long piece of wood. Carly’s eyes searched frantically for a button, a lever or something that would indicate a flushing mechanism of some sort.

‘Where’s the flush?’ she asked. There was a bucket on the seat next to the hole. It was a rather lovely handmade bucket with rope handles. Inside was sawdust and a wooden scoop. Fergus grinned and picked up the scoop.

Oh shit, thought Carly.

The sun was up early and lit up the treehouse like a Christmas lantern, which might have been lovely if she hadn’t been awake half the night thanks to the noise of sheep. Who knew sheep could be so loud? They had baa’d their way throughout the night as Carly had tossed and turned as much as she could in her narrow bunk bed whilst Fergus slept like a baby. One of the benefits of being deaf was peaceful sleep, thought Carly. She took in some deep breaths. She was dying for a cup of tea but any liquid would mean, at some point, she would have to use the toilet and she was planning to avoid that unless completely necessary, i.e. her life depended on it. Right now having a catheter fitted felt like a good idea.

Carly had to remain positive. This may not have been the luxury break she had hoped for but she could see why Fergus had booked it. It was a world away from the hustle and bustle of London and they were both outdoor people so she could understand the appeal. Although maybe Fergus was more of an outdoor person than she was. And, she thought, if we’ve got a big wedding to save up for, then the budget option was the sensible choice. She was still convinced that today he was going to ask her to be his wife. The question was exactly when and where would that happen?

Beth woke as the loudest and oddest noise filled the room.

‘What the f—’ She came to in an instant and was momentarily freaked out by the strange orange glow the world had suddenly taken on but, remembering she was in the tent, she concentrated her senses on what the hellish noise was. It soon all became apparent as she thrust her head out of the tent to see a torrent of water heading her way and a very large hole in the living-room ceiling where dust-like debris was still billowing out.

‘Shit!’

‘Mum!’ admonished a sleepy Leo with a giggle.

There was no way of saving themselves from the water as it meticulously seeped into everything. Beth and Leo scrambled out of the tent and splashed through the huge puddle. Beth went to open the window to let out some of the dust and sent Leo into the hallway, which seemed a safer place for him to survey the devastation while she ventured over to study the large hole in the ceiling. She skirted round the big pile of soggy bits of ceiling and boards. Beth peered up through the jagged hole and was amazed to see a glint of sunlight. She blinked hard. She could see all the way up to the roof. Beth looked at the fat sodden pile of wreckage at her feet: this was from two ceilings and a floor. So much for yesterday’s cleaning efforts, she thought.

‘There’s a hole all the way through the cottage,’ she said slowly, pointing a disbelieving finger above her head.

‘Cool,’ said Leo. ‘Like a giant doughnut!’

The leaky roof had let in water, which must have gathered at a weak spot in the loft that then brought down the bedroom ceiling, which in turn brought down the one in the living room. Whichever way she looked at it, this did not look good.

A very soggy Beth and Leo shuffled out of the cottage. Each wrapped in a black bin bag, they looked like rejects from a penny-pinching marathon. Outside they could hear jolly voices; the sun was up and had already set to work on drying out the village with the exception of their front room but it still felt early, especially for a Saturday. Beth checked her watch: it was 6:40. Without speaking they headed towards the voices that were coming from the village green. In the morning sun it seemed somehow richer in colour, the neat grass sparkling from the moisture left by the overnight rain. In the middle was a large marquee, resplendent in off-white, and stalls were being put up all around it.

Although it wasn’t cold, a damp Leo started to shiver. They shuffled closer to watch as another stall was erected in lightning-quick time as Jack put together the frame and another couple of older men pulled the canopy over the top. Jack must have sensed he was being watched as he turned to look directly at Beth. She felt like she’d awoken from a daze as she realized what she must look like, so she started to herd Leo back towards the pub car park and the safety of the car.

‘Beth! Wait up!’ called Jack, as he jogged towards them. This was the last thing she needed. She found herself studying his flexing biceps as he ran and mentally gave herself a shake. What was she thinking?

Jack joined them and his eyes scanned the wet pyjama-clad pair. ‘What the hell happened to you?’

‘The ceiling came crashing down!’ said Leo, who appeared to have forgotten about the shivering and was now bouncing up and down.

‘Christ, were you in there? Are you okay?’ Jack asked, concerned.

‘Yeah, we were sleeping underneath it …’ said Beth and Jack looked alarmed. ‘But then we moved because of the drips so it didn’t fall on us.’

‘That was lucky, you could have been killed if a beam had come down. What were you doing sleeping in there?’ Jack’s voice was harsh.

‘Don’t get cross with me,’ said Beth. ‘It’s my cottage, I can sleep in it if I want to.’ Who the hell was Jack Selby to tell her what she could and couldn’t do? She’d had enough of that from Nick. She didn’t need a virtual stranger doing it too. Doris bounded over but after a few sniffs of Leo’s pyjama leg she dashed off back towards the marquee, probably one of the few structures that made her feel small.

Jack huffed and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘What are you going to do now?’

Beth shrugged. ‘Go back to the B&B, I expect.’ And she started to head off again with Leo in tow.

‘The B&B is full. So is the pub and so are most places. It’s August bank holiday weekend,’ said Jack, the frustration evident in the tone of his voice.

Bugger, thought Beth.

‘Here,’ said Jack, tossing her a set of keys, which she instinctively caught. ‘Go round to mine, get yourselves showered and changed and something to eat. I’ve got at least another hour here setting up the Summer Fete.’ He waved a thumb at the green behind him and the small group of men of varying ages that had formed a small crowd and were gawping in their direction.

Beth hated being told what to do, she’d had enough of it and now it made her hackles rise. ‘No, we’re fine, thanks.’ She threw back the keys.

‘Don’t be daft. Look at the two of you. Otherwise, what are you going to do?’

Beth didn’t have an answer. Her brain sped up but nothing plausible sprang to mind. ‘We could dry out in the car with the car heater on.’

‘Then what?’ Jack put a hand on his hip and frowned.

Beth shook her head. ‘Oh, give me the sodding keys then,’ she mumbled, snatching them back.

‘Have you got a telly?’ asked Leo, raising his head hopefully.

‘Yep,’ said Jack, looking a little puzzled by the question. ‘It’s the cream cottage, just up there,’ he pointed to the road that led out of the village. ‘Next to the Old Police House. You can’t miss it.’

‘Thanks,’ said Beth gratefully, but Jack was already jogging back to join the ogling group on the green.

‘Morning,’ waved Beth. She might as well brazen it out. There were mumbled responses and the group dispersed.

Jack gave a fleeting smile as she and Leo scuttled past.

‘Can we go to the fete, Mum? Please?’

‘Yes, I think that will be just the thing to cheer us up.’ She’d had enough of Willow Cottage for the time being, that was for certain.