Escape to Willow Cottage: The brilliant, laugh-out-loud romcom you need to read in autumn 2018

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.

Chapter Ten

Carly breathed in the damp air as she stood outside the treehouse and tried to stay calm. ‘What do you mean we’re going on a hike?’ asked Carly. ‘Everything is soaked after last night’s colossal rainfall.’

‘Yes, but it’ll be fun.’

‘No, it won’t.’ Carly needed the toilet but there was no way she was using the khazi, as it had now been termed much to Fergus’s amusement.

‘Come on, Carls. It’s sunny and once you get in the fresh air …’

‘Fresh air? It smells of sheep poo! Where exactly are we going?’ Perhaps there was a purpose to the hike, thought Carly, and her interest improved slightly.

‘Dunno,’ shrugged Fergus. ‘Thought we could have a wander …’

‘And what about tonight?’

‘Tonight?’

‘Yes, what’s happening tonight?’ asked Carly, tilting her head in expectation.

‘Dunno. Find a pub? What do you want to do?’

‘So you’ve got nothing planned, then?’ Carly leaned forward slightly as she spoke, keen to catch every nuance in Fergus’s response.

‘Nope. It’s a free and easy weekend.’ Fergus gave a toothy boyish grin.

‘Grrr!’ said Carly, there wasn’t a sign for that but her expression said it all. ‘Well, I’m not staying here. It’s not luxury, there’s no gourmet food, and you’re … you’re not doing anything!’ She ran out of steam.

Fergus signed his reply very slowly. ‘It’s a treehouse.’

‘I know it’s a sodding treehouse, and I’ve had enough of it and its stinking khazi!’

Carly stomped back inside, threw the few things she’d unpacked into her bag and stormed out with Fergus close behind. She was muttering to herself as she reached the bottom step and diligently stomped across the field trying to avoid the sheep poo.

‘Please don’t walk off, Carls. I hate it when I can’t see what you’re saying.’

She turned briefly. ‘I’m going home!’ she shouted, and felt her foot skid as she stepped on a fresh sheep poo. She heard Fergus start to laugh behind her and that sent her annoyance sky-high and drove her on across the fields and back to the farm. He was such a child and she was losing all hope of him ever growing up.

Carly was pleased to find that the farmer was very accommodating and happily called her a taxi for the station. She spent the twenty minutes she had to wait obsessively wiping her sandals on the grass nearby in a vain attempt to rid them of the poo. There was no sign of Fergus. He had given up the chase after the first field.

Thankfully, when the taxi arrived it was driven by a rare breed of taxi driver – an unchatty one that delivered her to the station in virtual silence where she stared in disbelief at the travel chaos. Apparently flash floods had caused all sorts of problems and there were loads of cancellations. She joined a long queue and eventually got her turn in front of a very stressed-looking woman.

‘I want to get to London.’

‘Not from here, not for a while. Sorry. The rain and floods have taken down trees and there’s been a passenger incident on the London line.’ The woman pulled a sympathetic face, probably in the hope that this piece of information would stop Carly from ranting at her. ‘Bank holiday weekend,’ she added, as if that explained the suicide. At least my weekend isn’t as bad as that poor soul’s, thought Carly.

‘So where can I get to?’ asked Carly, realising as soon as she’d said it what a stupid question it was.

‘Um, trains to Gloucester are running okay …’

‘Gloucester? I’ve a friend near there. Thank you!’ Carly hurried back to the departures board.

Beth and Leo were fresh from the shower and sitting at Jack’s kitchen table munching on muesli when he walked in. Leo had a towel wrapped round him and Beth was wearing a Jedi dressing gown that was far too big for her but had been conveniently hanging on the back of the bathroom door.

‘Sorry, I didn’t think to go back for dry clothes,’ she said by way of explanation.

Jack was suddenly frowning at Beth, making her look down, which was when she realized the dressing gown was gaping open. She quickly wrapped it around herself with a firm motion and tied the belt securely. ‘Whoops,’ Beth said as she felt her cheeks colour and she had to look away. They stayed in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, both wondering what to say next.

‘The stalls are up, so I slipped away. How are you two feeling?’ Jack gabbled as he got himself a glass of filtered water from a jug in the fridge.

‘Better, thanks,’ said Beth. ‘Oh, and thanks for giving us the barbecue, that was kind of you.’

‘No problem.’ Beth noticed Jack almost smiled before looking away.

‘You’ve got a huge TV!’ said Leo, shovelling in another spoonful of muesli.

‘Not that we’ve had a nose around,’ said Beth, her voice quickening up. Obviously they had had a good nose around. ‘It’s a lovely cottage, Jack. Bigger inside than it looks from the front.’

‘It wasn’t a lot better than Wil—’ he stopped himself. ‘Than your place, well, before the ceilings fell in anyway.’ Beth rolled her eyes. ‘I had to rip everything out, refit the kitchen and bathroom and replaster everywhere.’

‘You need a strong wrist action for that, don’t you?’ asked Beth innocently.

‘Mmm, yeah.’ Jack blinked hard, cleared his throat and carried on. ‘The only thing I got someone in for was the electrics.’

Beth looked around the sleek and compact fitted kitchen. ‘You did this?’

‘Yeah, Simon gave me a hand. He’s a carpenter by trade but earns more working at the supermarket, if you can work that one out.’

‘Nick was rubbish at DIY,’ said Leo, without looking up from his bowl.

‘Nick is my ex,’ explained Beth. ‘He was rubbish at a lot of things.’

‘Right.’ Jack looked uncomfortable. ‘The toughest bit was getting up the flooring in here.’ Jack was rummaging in a drawer as he spoke and he pulled out some photographs. ‘They’d used some sort of super-strong adhesive and every tile shattered and every bit of adhesive had to be chipped off the floor. It took me days.’

Beth wasn’t listening, she was thinking. She didn’t like asking for help but this was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. ‘Do you fancy getting a bit more involved?’

Jack looked startled at the proposition. Beth held his gaze. He rubbed his chin and looked from a smiling Beth to Leo, who was helping himself to another bowl of muesli. Jack fiddled with the photographs in his hands.

‘Thanks … and everything but I’m not …’

‘Oh, I’d pay you,’ said Beth, ‘I wouldn’t expect you to do it for free. It’s not a favour I’m asking; it would be a business arrangement.’

Jack’s frown deepened. ‘You’re a lovely, um, woman, but you know I’m not ready for a relationship … or business arrangement … of any kind right now or anytime soon.’

Beth looked momentarily confused until she realized how what she’d said may have sounded. ‘Oh, God, no!’ She got a fit of nervous giggles. ‘I meant more involved in Willow Cottage. Not with me!’

‘Oh, I see.’ Jack looked thankful.

‘Sorry. That sounded okay in my head.’ Beth giggled as her nerves took over. Leo rolled his eyes and carried on eating.

‘No. My mistake,’ said Jack, trying to look anywhere but at Beth.

‘To be clear. I’d pay you to help at Willow Cottage. Nothing else.’ Her cheeks were burning and she hated to think what colour they had turned. At least the heat might help to dry off her hair, which was hanging loosely around her shoulders.

‘Right, of course. Sure, I’d be happy to help.’ Jack gulped down the rest of his water.

Beth wasn’t sure if Jack meant it but, if it was embarrassment at his mistake that had made him agree, she was okay with that as Jack clearly knew what he was doing when it came to renovation.

‘What are they?’ asked Beth, pointing at the photos, desperate to change the subject. Jack looked down too and jolted his head as if he was just noticing them for the first time.

‘They’re before and after pictures of this place.’ He stepped closer and leaning over Beth’s shoulder he placed the photographs on the table in pairs. Beth could smell his aftershave and the closeness of him made her pulse quicken. What on earth was going on? Perhaps being naked under the bathrobe was setting off some sort of primal alarm. She tried to concentrate on the pictures in front of her. She reached out a hand to pick up the after photo of the living room as Jack reached across and her hand connected with his forearm. Some sort of zing made them both spring apart. Beth looked up and then realized how close her face was to Jack’s. There was a moment where they both froze.