minutes. Eejit,’ she muttered and she took a large mouthful of wine. She was fed up. She loved Fergus but they had been bobbing along together for nearly three years now and there was still no flicker of likelihood that he was going to propose. She’d tried dropping hints and staring longingly in jeweller’s shop windows but he had the hide of a pickled armadillo and nothing was getting through. Carly wished she could forget about weddings and marriage and enjoy being a couple because they were happy together, but having been brought up by her grandmother, she was a traditional soul at heart. She wanted to have children and knew Fergus did too, but she wanted to be married before they considered it. And more than anything she wanted to be a bride. Well, who didn’t fantasize about having their perfect wedding?
An unpleasant aroma wafted in Carly’s direction and she puzzled for a second as to what it was. Then, remembering the pasta bake, she grabbed the oven gloves and dived towards the oven. ‘Sod it!’
Willow Cottage stood on the other side of a sizeable sun-scorched wilderness that may once have been a front garden but was long since abandoned to the forces of nature. Beth inched forward, blinking; she really wanted this to be a trick of her eyes or at least to look a little better close up. It didn’t. Ivy and traveller’s joy had covered most of the cottage’s boarded-up front door and continued to rampage down one side of the property and across the roof. The front of the property was symmetrical and that appealed to Beth’s sense of order but where there should have been four windows there were large sheets of board nailed in place. One of the boards displayed the auctioneer’s sign with the date of the auction and another flaunted a particularly good graffitied picture of a pink chicken.
Beth dragged her eyes away from the boarded-up shack to look closely at the photo on the auctioneer’s details and then back again. It was a masterpiece in artifice or perhaps plain old dishonesty. Whichever way she looked at it, she’d been had.
She felt a small hand clasp her own and she looked down at Leo. He was taking it all in and she suddenly felt that yet again she’d let him down.
He grinned at her. ‘It’s crap,’ he said. And although he was right she was still shocked by his turn of phrase.
‘Leo! Where did you hear that word?’
‘School. I learnt it in Reception … and you said it when you were arguing with Nick and …’
‘Sorry, darling.’
‘Can we go now, Mum?’ asked Leo, swivelling round and tugging at her arm.
‘Not yet.’
‘Can we go inside then?’
‘No, not at the moment,’ said Beth. Not now, not ever, it’s most likely unsafe, she thought.
But that wasn’t going to stop Leo exploring. He let go of his mother’s hand and marched with his knees high through the long grass until he reached where the boarded-up front door was barely visible through the overgrown greenery. Beth followed but, as she got closer, Leo disappeared down the jungle side of the property.
‘Hang on, Leo. Careful!’ she called, wishing she hadn’t worn a skirt and heels. Leo squeezed himself between the ancient wall and the plant and disappeared. ‘Leo! Ouch!’ she said as her bare legs found some hidden nettles. When she eventually managed to wriggle through the gap, destroying her Ted Baker blouse in the process, her eyes searched quickly for Leo. He was leaning over a low wire fence into a field looking at three horses that were eyeing him speculatively.
‘Look, Mum, horses!’ said Leo as he jumped up and down with delight. When he stopped bouncing Beth stood behind him and hugged him. It was a view to behold. The field the horses were in was part of a magnificent patchwork thrown over the undulating hillside that surged away from the cottage. They could see for miles. A small stream trickled its way down the side of the cottage, the gentle natural sound of flowing water instantly calming Beth’s senses. She breathed in the light warm air that held a hint of lavender. Somewhere in this forest of a back garden there must be a lavender bush, she thought. The back garden was considerably smaller than the front, as if they had built the cottage as far from the willow tree as they could and without considering the best layout for the occupants. Or perhaps it was to angle the cottage so it had these amazing countryside views from the rear windows?
She hugged Leo as he excitedly pointed at his surroundings. Beth suddenly felt very out of her depth. What had she been thinking to move this far away from London? She’d never lived in the countryside before, she’d only ever lived in the city. It all looked very picturesque but already she could feel her nose tickling, perhaps it was hay fever. She knew nothing about the countryside and, if it were possible, she knew even less about restoring a dilapidated property.
Willow Cottage from the back was no prettier than the front. More boarded-up windows and more galloping greenery. Beth left Leo, who was frantically waving grass at the horses who were observing him mildly as they chewed their own plentiful grass supply. She stood by the back door; it was a stable door, split in two and sturdy. It was unusual and she liked that. Beth stepped back and took in the old tired building. It was in a state but perhaps it was better inside. She decided she wasn’t going to give up just yet as she felt a sprig of optimism take root.
‘Come on, Leo, let’s find somewhere to have a drink. That tearoom looked good and I bet they do a good scone.’
‘Yay, cake,’ said Leo, throwing the grass over the fence and wriggling his way back through the gap at the side of the cottage. Beth followed and was taking Leo’s hand as they reached the willow when the bush-like branches of the tree parted and an old man stumbled out towards them. His face was red, he was waving his arms and looked rather cross, a little like a baby who had been woken from a nap.
‘Argh!’ shouted Beth as Leo screamed and ran towards the gap in the fence where the gate had once been. Beth ran after Leo and didn’t look back until she had hold of his hand and they were safely on the village green. Leo started to laugh. Fear and adrenalin mixed inside her and, whilst Beth was now frantically looking back towards the willow tree, she was laughing too.
‘Does he live in our garden?’ giggled Leo.
‘I really hope not,’ said Beth with feeling.
They were still chuckling as they entered the tearoom. Having not seen many people about the village, the tearoom held the answer – it was packed. There was one small table left near the door that appeared to be where the other customers had deposited used cups and plates. Leo sat down and Beth automatically handed him her mobile phone to play games on. Beth piled up the empties as best she could, creating a bit of a teacup tower and turned with the laden tray to return them to the counter.
As she turned, the door swung open and caught her elbow. As the heavy tray started to tip its load towards her son she countered the effect and promptly deposited the entire cargo over the person entering. The crash was quite spectacular as everything smashed on the floor.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake!’ yelled the man who had failed to dodge the impact.
‘I am so sorry,’ said Beth, feeling the prickle of sweat on her chest as a violent flush engulfed her. Leo giggled behind her.
‘Look at the state of me!’ declared the teacup tower victim as dregs of tea and coffee dripped off his otherwise pristine white shirt. Beth surveyed
