Copyright

Published by AVON

A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by AVON 2017

This title was previously published in eBook as a four-part serial 2016, 2017

Copyright © Bella Osborne 2017

Cover illustration © Kim Leo (house, willow) 2016

All other images © Shutterstock.com

Bella Osborne asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008181024

Ebook Edition © August 2017 ISBN: 9780008181031

Version: 2017-07-19

What readers are saying about Escape to Willow Cottage

‘Loved this book, so light-hearted and amusing’

‘A lovely read’

‘Oh what a little treasure this is! A cast of great characters, lovely Cotswold village and Beth trying to cope with the disaster she has bought’

‘Full of wit and charm’

‘Great characters who have quickly become established and rooted in my imagination. Very funny, but with deeper undercurrents woven in’

‘Loved the story, couldn’t put it down’

‘Absolutely loved this book, hooked from the start’

‘Three Words: Brilliant, Charming and Moving’

‘This is a wonderful read’

Dedication

In memory of a truly amazing woman, my grandma 1903–1993

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

What Readers Are Saying About Escape to Willow Cottage

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

Read More Wonderful Books by Bella Osborne …

About the Author

Also by Bella Osborne

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Beth had spent the day surrounded by people who, she suspected, all looked exactly like their passport photos – not a smile between them. Beth yawned and stretched her arms above her head; it had been a long day.

‘Bid from the lady on the right,’ said the auctioneer as he carried on his high-speed number chant.

Beth spun round. She was on the right but it couldn’t have been her, could it? Her eyes darted around the room. Nobody was moving, not even a twitch. Her heart was racing and she could feel the panic rising.

‘Two ninety, at the back,’ said the auctioneer and Beth let out a sigh of relief. That was a lucky escape.

‘Any advance on two ninety?’ The auctioneer was looking directly at Beth.

What the hell had she bid on? She snatched up the catalogue and quickly thumbed through the pages, past her first choice of apartments she had come to buy and that had shot high above her budget.

‘Selling for two ninety,’ said the auctioneer, looking at someone at the back. ‘Lot 37, Willow Cottage, selling for two hundred and ninety thousand pounds.’

Beth found Willow Cottage in the catalogue and speed-read the blurb. It sounded like a slice of paradise – a cottage overlooking a traditional village green in the heart of the Cotswolds. She bit her lip. It was like that moment on eBay when you quite like something; it’s not exactly what you were after but the urge to grab a bargain and be termed a winner suddenly surpasses everything.

‘All done at two hundred and ninety thousand pounds? Going once, going twice …’

Beth waved her bidding card in the air. ‘Three hundred thousand,’ she croaked, wondering what on earth she was doing. She was meant to be waiting for her second choice of flats to be auctioned.

‘Three hundred thousand on my right, thank you,’ said the auctioneer. After checking with the other bidders he finally concluded. ‘Sold to the lady on the right brandishing the upside-down bidding card.’ And the gavel gave a satisfying thud as it hit the wood.

‘You have reached your destination,’ announced the Sat Nav with ultimate confidence. Beth pulled the hire car into the kerb, switched off the engine and looked around. She was parked by a large area of greensward, which was dotted with trees and encircled by impressive old properties of differing sizes.

Beth picked up the auction catalogue and peered at the small grainy photograph, then reread the description underneath – ‘Willow Cottage stands in a secluded position overlooking the village green within the picturesque Cotswold village of Dumbleford. Rare opportunity to purchase this freehold detached dwelling. Plot circa 0.6 acres with stream running through the property. Renovation opportunity.’

Somewhere in the back of Beth’s mind she recalled a certain person saying that he wouldn’t live in the countryside if his life depended on it and right now that felt like an added bonus. She checked the back seat. Leo was stirring from his journey-induced slumber and he instantly smiled when he saw his mother. The six-year-old was too tall for his car seat and would soon need to upgrade to a booster, but for now Beth just wanted to keep him safe.

‘I wish you’d brung my iPad,’ said Leo as he stretched.

‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t find it. And brought is the past tense of bring. Okay?’ What did they teach them at these private schools? ‘Shall we go and explore our new home?’ Beth waved the auction details excitedly.

Leo yawned and stretched. ‘I’m hungry, Mum.’

Having anticipated this, Beth went to rummage in the boot and handed Leo a small bag of dried mango pieces as he got out of the car. Beth crouched down and showed Leo the small photograph of Willow Cottage on the auction sheet.

‘Now all we have to do is find our cottage. Which one is it, do you think?’

They both studied the small photograph. It was taken at an angle and part of the cottage appeared to have a climbing plant growing prettily up one side. There was a biggish garden in the foreground and very obviously a willow tree. It was quite a dark picture so it was hard to make out much else.

‘It can’t be hard to find a cottage with a tree like that in the garden, now can it?’

Leo shook his head as he shoved another mango piece into his already full mouth. He thrust the empty packet at his mother and hand in hand they started to walk around the green, checking out each house.

‘There’s no swings in the park,’ observed Leo.

Beth chuckled. ‘It’s not a park, it’s the village green. It’s more like a garden.’

‘Whose garden is it?’ asked Leo.

‘No one’s and everyone’s, it’s for everybody to use.’

‘Huh,’ said Leo, looking a little perplexed at the concept and possibly at the pointlessness of a space such as this without any swings.

It really was a divinely pretty village, thought Beth as she looked about her. The village green itself was the biggest she’d ever come across with well-worn paths crisscrossing it and a mixture of mature trees that she would need to consult Leo’s Book of the Countryside to identify correctly. Well cared for benches, with no signs of graffiti, were dotted at strategic points and the whole area was surrounded by the prettiest white chain-link fence that scalloped its way from post to post around the perimeter. A very grand mock-Tudor building had a prized position overlooking the centre of the green and two very symmetrical red-brick buildings either side stood slightly back, as if knowing their place. A couple of the smaller ones were thatched and Leo shouted excitedly as he spotted a thatched figure on the roof.

‘Pigeon!’ he squealed.

Another sign her son was London born and bred. ‘No, I think it’s meant to be a peacock,’ said Beth, squinting a little at the odd-shaped creature with the long tail. A small pond was home to a handful of fat ducks and what looked like a few of this year’s ducklings. There was a tearoom that had the look of a converted cottage, the only thing giving it away was the swinging sign in the shape of a large teapot. Each window had pristine white shutters making it stand out against the other not so well dressed properties. At the other end of the green was the village store cum Post Office, which appeared to be semi-detached to a very sweet looking cottage with a white picket-fenced front garden. Beth studied the small photo again. No, Willow Cottage was meant to be detached and there was no sign of the tree. Next to the store was the pub – the Bleeding Bear. It had a pub sign that could easily give a six-year-old nightmares so Beth hurried them past. As they drew near to the hire car Beth realized they had done a whole circuit. She spun round to see an ornate sign that clearly stated ‘DUMBLEFORD’ so they were definitely in the right place, but where was Willow Cottage?

A clanging bell announced that the door of the village store was opening and Beth and Leo watched as a figure dressed head to toe in beige came out, pulling a tartan wheelie trolley.

‘Let’s ask someone,’ said Beth, and she and Leo approached the hunched-up person. ‘Excuse me. Please could you direct me to Willow Cottage?’

The beige-clad old lady jumped and clutched at her heart. She was barely bigger than the trolley. ‘Oh my life, you gave me a turn!’ she said as she started to rummage in her trolley. She pulled out a bottle of sherry, unscrewed the top and took a large slug of the contents. Beth knew her eyes were as wide as an owl right now and she was very unsure what to do. Leo was mesmerized. The lady went to return the bottle to the trolley but stopped and suddenly thrust it under Beth’s nose.

‘Mind my manners, dear. Would you like some?’

‘Uh, no, thanks.’

The lady shrugged and returned the bottle to the safety of the trolley, giving the lid an affectionate pat as she did so. She then stood up as straight and tall as nature would allow and grinned a perfect false-teeth smile at Beth. Neither of them spoke. Beth sort of half grimaced back. The lady raised an eyebrow and tilted forward on her toes as if about to speak and Beth and Leo waited expectantly.

‘Willow Cottage?’ said Beth when she could stand the suspense no longer.

The old lady started to laugh; it was a giggly laugh that befitted her size. She stepped forward and gently shoved Beth in the middle. ‘Huh, silly me. Of course.’ She stopped laughing and frowned. ‘Who wants to know?’

Beth shook her head slightly. She had no idea what was going on but she had an uncomfortable feeling rising inside and she didn’t like it. She’d asked what she thought was a very simple question and a very simple yes or no really would have worked a treat.

‘I’m Beth …’ she thought for a second and decided on a whim to amend her name slightly. ‘Beth Browne. I’ve bought Willow Cottage.’ Just saying it out loud made Beth smile. It sounded so perfect. It was the last place she had intended to buy when she went to the auction but, when the sensible-looking flats had been snapped up for more than she wanted to pay, she made a snap decision and went with her heart and Willow Cottage was the result.

‘Huh?’ said the old lady screwing up her wrinkled face and making it look like a discarded piece of parchment.

Beth handed her the estate agent’s details, tapped the photo with a perfectly manicured fingernail and repeated slowly, ‘Wil-low Cot-tage.’

The little old lady scrutinized the page and started to laugh again. This time it was hysterical giggles that were coming in waves. As she laughed her head bobbed about making her mop of unruly white hair swirl about her head like smoke.

‘Mum, can we go now?’ whispered Leo, clutching his mother’s hand tightly.

But the lady was already moving off across the green giggling and shaking her head as she went. Great start, thought Beth. Round one to the local bag lady.

‘It’s okay, Leo. Let’s ask in the shop.’

The clanging bell sounded their entry to the small dark store, which was crammed full of stock. Beth thought she saw movement at the back so she led Leo in that direction down the narrow aisles. A cheery round-faced woman beamed into view. ‘Hello there, what can I get you? We’ve got lots of offers on.’

‘Thanks but I’m hoping you can help me.’ The woman’s face looked decidedly less cheery. ‘I’m looking for Willow Cottage.’

The woman’s eyebrows shot up and she tilted her head like an alert spaniel, her wavy brown hair adding to the comparison. ‘Willow Cottage?’

Beth nodded. She was starting to get that uncomfortable feeling again.

‘Willow Cottage,’ repeated the woman. ‘Oh, you mean Wilf’s place?’

Leo looked at his mother and she looked at the woman behind the counter. ‘I don’t know who lived there before but it’s ours now.’

The woman’s eyebrows went a fraction higher and something akin to sympathy passed across her face. ‘Down the side of the pub next door.’

‘Right. Thanks.’ Beth was pleased that they were definitely in the right place but how they had missed the cottage she wasn’t sure. She didn’t remember seeing anything next to the pub other than a driveway to what she’d assumed was the pub car park.

‘Sure I can’t interest you in …’ the woman searched the shelves frantically with her eyes. ‘Some discounted noodles? They’re only recently out of date.’

‘No, we’re fine, thanks. But I’m sure we’ll become regulars in here very soon.’

‘Lovely,’ said the woman instantly cheering up. ‘Oh and good luck.’ There was that sympathetic spaniel look again. Beth and Leo left the shop to the clang of the bell and walked purposefully past the pub next door. Leo stared open-mouthed at the pub sign – a frightening looking chained bear that was bleeding from a number of wounds. At the other side of the pub was the gravel track. Looking up the driveway she could see a rickety picket fence behind which was a sea of tall straw-like grass and a willow tree.

‘We’ve found it,’ said Beth, almost dragging Leo up the track. The closer they got the more of the willow they could see. But that was all they could see. It was a willow tree of mammoth proportions. Beth and Leo stood in front of it and gazed at the mass of gently swaying greenery as the summer breeze lightly fanned it.

‘Wow, that’s the biggest tree I’ve ever seen!’ said Leo, his eyes darting over it as if taking in every pale green leaf. It was impressive but Beth was rather keen to see the cottage. She opened the gate that was held on by string and the rest of the rotting structure fell into the grass.

They stared at the remains. ‘Oh well, never mind,’ said Beth, her hopes still high as she and Leo stepped over the broken gate and skirted around the willow tree. And there was Willow Cottage, their new home. They both stood and gaped at the sight before them. Beth swallowed hard; this wasn’t exactly what she had been expecting.

Carly stood in the kitchen of her small flat and read the text again. It was spread over three messages because her ancient mobile phone couldn’t cope with long texts and she had an unnatural hatred of technology, which was why she had only now switched it on.

Hi Carly I bought a cottage at the auction – yay! It’s a bit further away than I’d planned – it’s in The Cotswolds. Please don’t say anything to anyone in case it gets back to Nick. Completion should be in a few days as I’m paying cash and using same solicitor as seller but I can’t wait so we’re going to take a look at it in the morning. I’ll call once we’ve found somewhere to stay. Missing you already. Beth & Leo xx

A bit further away? The Cotswolds was up north somewhere, wasn’t it?! Carly wasn’t sure but she did know it was a very long way from Kentish Town, London. She blew out a sigh and it made her lips flap together like a child blowing a raspberry. She missed Leo already and she’d only seen him three days ago. Carly loved her godson and, with little to give her hope that she would be having any of her own anytime soon, he was her kiddy fix. But however she was feeling about not seeing Leo, she could multiply it a thousand times for Beth. She understood why Beth had had to leave but it didn’t make it any easier to face.

‘The Cotswolds?’ she muttered to herself. It wasn’t even a city. What was it? A giant chunk of countryside in the middle of nowhere? She’d get the map out later and look it up.

Carly poured herself a large glass of Chablis and another for Fergus. She had a quick look at the veggie pasta bake turning golden and bubbling happily in the oven.

She pushed open the door to the spare room. ‘Dinner.’

A harassed Fergus stuck his bristly face round the door. ‘Give me ten minutes. Okay?’ He blew her a kiss and disappeared.

‘The pasta bake won’t give you ten 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!’

Chapter Two

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 the man who was now trying to kick cake crumbs off his shoes. He was in his mid to late twenties, clean-shaven, his dark hair had a hint of auburn and under neat dark brows were the palest grey-blue eyes she’d ever seen. Right now they were glinting like ice crystals as he grumbled to the fully tuned-in audience who all sat in silence staring at the floorshow.

A big-haired woman came bustling from behind the counter wearing a floral waist apron. ‘Oh, Jack, whatever happened?’ she said, attempting to dab at his suit trousers with a sponge.

‘Your new waitress threw a tray at me.’

‘Excuse me, I don’t work here,’ said Beth, feeling her temperature go up a notch with indignation.

‘Then why did you have a tray of crockery?’ asked Jack with a frown.

‘Yes, why?’ added the aproned woman.

‘I was helping, well trying to …’ said Beth, her voice now a lot smaller than it had been.

Jack huffed, ‘Yeah, great help.’ He shook his head and then watched the aproned woman as she continued to dab at his lower half.

‘Er, Rhonda, that’s not helping.’

Rhonda appeared to be in her own little world for a moment. ‘Oh, um, sorry. Here,’ she offered him the sponge.

‘Could you get me a double espresso to go, please, and I’ll be back in five minutes when I’ve changed.’ He aimed the last words in Beth’s direction and turned and left.

‘I’ll pay for that and the broken crockery,’ offered Beth.

‘It’s okay, accidents happen,’ said Rhonda. Beth crouched down as best she could in the fitted skirt and started to pick up the worst of the broken porcelain.

She was thankful for the sympathetic smile Rhonda gave her. ‘Don’t worry. Maureen will do that.’ A large lady who would be a prime candidate for over-60’s cage fighting, if there were such a thing, appeared from behind the counter brandishing a dustpan and brush.

Beth retreated to the small table and sat down. As Maureen cleared up, the tearoom clients went back to their drinks now that the entertainment was over. Beth waited patiently and Leo swung his legs and huffed a lot. The tearoom was equally quaint inside with mismatched crockery and simple wooden tables and chairs with gingham seat cushions in an array of colours.

Out of the window they had a good view of the village; a car trundled past and stopped to let the ducks waddle across the road before it drove through the ford and out of the village. Beth checked her watch. She needed to book them in somewhere for the night and she hadn’t seen any hotels since they left the motorway.

‘What do you want?’ asked Maureen, gripping a small notepad, her stubby pencil poised, her tone disgruntled.

‘A cranberry juice and a caffeine-free Coke, please,’ asked Beth with her best ‘I’m sorry’ smile.

Maureen stared at her and a muscle near her eye twitched. She tapped the laminated card on the table. ‘Teas, coffees, hot chocolate, lemonade or squash.’

‘Oh,’ said Beth hurriedly, familiarising herself with the items on the card. ‘Is it sugar-free lemonade?’

‘No.’

‘What flavours of cordial do you have?’

‘Orange and it’s squash,’ said Maureen. There was more twitching.

‘Hot chocolate, hot chocolate …’ Leo chanted.

‘Um,’ Beth frantically reread the list again. ‘Just two iced waters then, please.’

Maureen didn’t bother to write it down. She shoved her note-pad in the front pocket of her apron and marched off behind the counter. Beth let out a sigh. This wasn’t going well. A couple went to pay and, although she couldn’t quite hear the conversation, Beth was pretty sure they were discussing her. A series of furtive looks over their shoulders accompanied by huffing from Maureen confirmed her suspicions.

The door opened and in came Jack. He was wearing a similar well-fitted dark suit and despite his deep frown he was quite good looking. He strode purposefully across the tearoom to collect his espresso. When Beth saw him get out his wallet she dashed over to intervene.

‘I’ll get that,’ she said, opening her purse. As she looked up she saw she was moments away from bashing into Jack once again. ‘Oh, sorry.’

Jack shook his head. ‘Bloody tourists,’ he murmured as he sidestepped her and exited the tearoom. Beth felt decidedly awkward as she handed over a ten-pound note and silently Rhonda gave her the change and passed the two glasses of tap water to her.

‘Could you tell me where the nearest hotel is, please?’

‘There’s the B&B on the south side of the green and there’s the Bleeding Bear,’ said Rhonda. ‘The Bear does a great breakfast.’

‘Right. Thanks. And where would be the nearest Hilton or Marriott?’

Rhonda thought for a second. ‘That’d be Tewkesbury but Cheltenham’s nearer and there are hotels there.’

‘Thanks,’ said Beth and she slunk back to Leo with the glasses of water.

‘What about the scone, Mum?’ asked Leo looking totally unimpressed with the glass of water and its solitary ice cube.

‘Not now, Leo. Let’s drink this and go.’

A few short phone calls later she discovered that, thanks to a Medieval Festival, there was no room at the big hotels in Tewkesbury or Cheltenham or anywhere nearby. Staying in a bed and breakfast was never going to be the first choice for Elizabeth Thurlow-Browne. However, it appeared the village of Dumbleford was pretty short on options and she didn’t like the sound of the Bleeding Bear pub despite its recommended breakfast.

Thankfully, the landlady at the B&B was very friendly and keen to have residents for the night. She welcomed them by bustling around and thrusting leaflets at Leo that detailed all the local attractions.

‘And there’s the Morris competition tomorrow on the green. You’ll love that!’ she insisted. Leo let out a giant yawn.

‘Morris? Are they those funny little cars?’ asked Beth.

The landlady laughed, ‘No, dancing. Morris dancing, it’s a big thing round here. You might get to join in if you’re lucky!’

Beth could think of nothing worse.

She settled Leo in front of the small television and dashed out to the hire car to grab their case and Leo’s rucksack of toys. Seeing as it was dark she also grabbed her pink unicorn onesie from the overstuffed small car and shoved it under her arm. The hire car was parked further away than she’d thought and Beth was concentrating on where she was walking as she struggled with the case.

It was the dog she spotted first. A huge muscle-bound beast with flailing jowls that intermittently showed large white teeth as it hurtled towards her. Beth tried to get out of the way as the huge dog ran past her but at the last second she saw a large hooded figure running behind the dog and they barrelled into her, sending her sprawling across the pavement. If she hadn’t been winded, she would have had a lot to say.

‘Where the hell did you spring from?’ came a gruff and accusatory male voice that was worryingly familiar.

‘Could you get off me, please,’ was all Beth could manage, her response muffled by the onesie over her face. The large hooded figure was heavy and she was pinned to the case. He rolled onto his haunches, sprang up and dusted himself down. Beth pulled the onesie off her face and tried to hide the mass of pink furry material. She looked up and despite the hoody she recognized her assailant – it was Jack.

‘I think that makes us quits,’ she suggested as she sat up and started to get her breath back.

The dog must have kept going at first but now, realizing it was running alone, it was racing back towards them. Jack made a lunge for the beast’s collar and missed, and Beth found herself lying on the pavement again, this time with a huge dog slobbering all over her.

‘Argh! It’s trying to bite me!’ she yelled.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Doris wouldn’t hurt a soul.’ He got hold of the collar and winched the large dog off. He held out his other hand to help Beth to her feet.

‘I’ll manage, thanks,’ huffed Beth. ‘That thing should be on a lead.’

‘You should look where you’re going. Come on, Doris.’ Jack turned and jogged away.

Chapter Three

Carly had finished work for the day and stopped off at a small café on her way home. She sipped her black chai tea and jotted down her latest contract into her diary. As a British Sign Language interpreter she was in demand and received many different requests. Hospital work was her bread and butter but she took on other projects when they interested her. She popped the lid back on her half-finished drink, slipped the papers into her oversized handbag and left the café. She loved her job but sometimes it did feel like she was the grown up with the proper job and Fergus was … well he definitely wasn’t a grown-up with a proper job.

Carly loved Fergus, there was no question about it, but some of the things she loved about him were also the things that drove her slightly crackers. As she opened the front door she could hear him chattering excitedly in his playroom. That was what she called their spare room; he grandly referred to their converted second bedroom as his office but, seeing as all he did was play computer games all day, she thought her label was far more appropriate. She pushed on the door so it opened a fraction. It went quiet inside and he popped his head round the door in greeting.

‘Hiya, C. Good day?’ he asked, his game controller clutched between his thighs and his uncombed dark hair falling across his face.

‘You’ve not got dressed.’ Carly puffed out her cheeks.

Fergus looked down at his Minecraft lounge trousers and grinned. ‘I have, I was wearing Batman ones this morning.’ The door shut behind him. Every day was a pyjama day to Fergus – how he managed to pay his share of the bills into the joint account each month Carly had no idea. He had tried to explain how it worked a couple of times but, whilst she did use the Internet occasionally, she didn’t really get it and it still baffled her how he got paid for playing children’s games.

She pouted at the shut door and listened to him gabbling on to himself like a total loon. His own grandmother’s phrase popped into her head, recited in her broad Irish accent, ‘Thick as manure but only half as useful.’

Carly started chopping vegetables for a stir-fry and found the action quite therapeutic, although the more she chopped and sliced the more disgruntled she became. It was Wednesday night and she always saw Beth on a Wednesday night; it was takeaway and natter night, a chance to have a night off from signing and give her aching wrists a rest. That had all changed now that Beth had gone.

The flat’s door entry buzzer interrupted her thoughts. She put down the knife and went to see who it was. There was a hunched figure on the screen.

Carly pressed the button to speak. ‘Yeah?’

‘Carly, it’s Nick. Can I come up?’

Carly felt her heart start to race. ‘No, you bloody well can’t. Sod off.’ She leaned across the hallway and opened the playroom door. Fergus looked irritated at first until she pointed at the screen to show Nick’s face peering at them in black and white.

‘Come on, Carly. Elizabeth has blown this all out of proportion. I want to fix things but I can’t if she won’t take my calls.’

Carly felt the need to shout, ‘Out of proportion! You shit, you hit her!’

‘Carly, this is between me and Elizabeth. Tell me where she is. I just want to know she’s all right.’

‘I don’t know where she is,’ she lied, ‘but she is fine now she’s away from you.’

‘What’s he saying?’ asked Fergus and Carly relayed the conversation. ‘Tell him to feck off,’ said Fergus.

‘I’ve tried that. You go down and see him.’

‘Dressed like this?’

Carly shrugged; perhaps he would now see the benefits of getting dressed on a daily basis. She turned her attention back to Nick.

‘Nick, you can stand there till Christmas for all I care. You’re not coming in and I’ll never tell you where she is … even if I knew.’ She put down the entryphone. Nick stood and stared at the screen for a bit. She watched as he tried the door a couple of times and pressed the button again. Carly ignored it. Nick leaned on the button.

Carly swore and then answered. ‘I’ll call the police.’

‘I need to speak to her.’ Nick’s voice had a harsh tone to it now.

‘Never going to happen.’

‘I will find her. I guarantee it,’ warned Nick as he stared into the monitor. Carly watched him, her heart racing. He gave the door one last try and then walked away.

Fergus hugged Carly. ‘You okay?’

‘No, not really. Beth said he’d come looking for her. I think I’m starting to understand why she’s run so far away.’

Beth woke early in the small twin room of the B&B and pulled the pink candlewick bedspread up to her chin. It was many years since she’d slept under sheets and although she’d heard stories of bedspreads this was her first. She plucked at it as she listened to Leo snoring lightly. She hadn’t slept much, her mind full of buyer’s remorse. What had seemed a wonderfully romantic and spontaneous act at the auction now seemed like the epitome of stupid. Despite the state of the cottage, she had had a good feeling when she stood in the back garden with Leo. But her plan of buying something, doing superficial restoration, some painting and decorating and then a flourish of interior design before moving on to the next property was not likely to work with Willow Cottage. It needed major renovations, shoring up most likely or possibly knocking down, and she didn’t know where to start.

What was she doing? She was a Business Operations Manager. She knew about planning and executing efficiency strategies and adhering to compliance as well as how to cope in a male dominated world. She knew nothing about renovation and she feared the money she had would soon be gobbled up by this project. Most of her money was tied up in the London flat and discussing its sale with Nick was something she couldn’t face anytime soon. He had successfully blocked her access to their joint account so that didn’t leave her with much. Just thinking about him made her feel anxious.

Leo stirred and Beth turned onto her side to look at him – her gorgeous boy. He had slept well. He seemed okay even though he was miles away from London but at least he was safe. Maybe everything wasn’t such a disaster after all.

Beth was rethinking that statement later that day as yet another Morris dancer whooped towards her with a handkerchief and an exaggerated wink. Leo was dancing and laughing as if he was high on sugar, which he definitely wasn’t as Beth was fairly strict with both his sugar and fat intake. There had been lots of skipping about, banging of sticks and plenty of very repetitive music but it was quite jolly and Leo loved it. It was all a bit bonkers and quintessentially English, especially when it was performed on a village green.

After a jacket potato for lunch in the hectically busy tearoom, where the unsmiling Maureen served them, Beth decided they should have another look at Willow Cottage. She was really hoping that her brain had exaggerated what she had seen yesterday and now in the full sunshine it wouldn’t be quite so bad. Beth was also keen to see if she could get a look inside because that might actually be better than the exterior would have her believe. With the lure of an apple, Beth persuaded Leo to come and have another look at the cottage. She liked the fact that she didn’t have to answer to Nick, she could do what she wanted here and even if Willow Cottage had been a stupidly impulsive decision, at least it was her own decision. The village was a hive of activity today and there were cars parked everywhere and slow-moving jolly people clogging up every inch. They mingled their way through and, as they reached the pub, someone called to them.

‘Yoo hoo! Hello!’ It was the small elderly lady with the wheelie trolley. Beth looked around but nobody else was acknowledging the woman so she assumed she must have been talking to her.

‘Hello again,’ said Beth, stopping and waiting for the woman to get to her.

‘Now, lovey, tell me again,’ she said, slightly puffed by the effort of the last few steps.

‘Sorry?’ said Beth totally confused.

‘I want to make sure I heard right. What was it you told me yesterday?’

Beth raised an eyebrow, the bag lady was clearly quite potty, poor old soul. ‘I asked you where Willow Cottage was because I’ve recently bought it.’

The old lady burst into hysterics and all Beth and Leo could do was watch her in puzzled bewilderment.

Eventually, after lots of hand waving, she caught her breath and slowed to a chuckle. ‘Oh, my, I haven’t laughed that much since Maureen shat herself at the harvest festival.’ The memory of this event seemed to set her off again. ‘Mittens,’ she said as if remembering something.

‘Right. Well, it was nice to see you again,’ said Beth as she tentatively inched Leo away.

‘She’s funny, Mum,’ observed Leo. ‘She said “shat”! Is that the past tense of …?’

‘Leo!’ warned his mother.

There was no breeze today and the willow tree stood resplendent, a magnificent cascade in shades of summer green. Beth felt herself smile as she stepped over the broken gate, a new one of those couldn’t be that expensive. She made Leo wait there as she peeked into the willow to see if their lodger was in residence. Thankfully he wasn’t.

‘Come on,’ said Beth, her spirits starting to lift as she tried to take Leo’s hand. Leo pulled it away and munched on his apple as they stood and examined the cottage again. She didn’t know what she was looking for. She moved forward to look at the brickwork. On closer inspection it was obviously very old but there were no major cracks that she could spot. Goodness only knows what is under the climbing plants, she thought but for now she couldn’t worry about what she couldn’t see. They squeezed round to the back of the property and Leo immediately went to see the horses, who were soon attracted by his apple and came walking over with interest.

Beth had a closer look at the stable-style back door. It was quite beautiful. She gave it a rattle. It didn’t seem to fit too well in its frame so she gave it a shove. Surely it couldn’t be breaking and entering if it was practically your own house?

From right behind her there came shouting and Beth jumped away from the door as if it were alarmed. Fear punched her in the gut. The old man that had scared them half to death yesterday had come back to finish the job, only this time there was nowhere for Beth and Leo to run. He was blocking their exit down the side of the house. Beth backed away and clutched Leo to her. The horse that had so very nearly made it to the apple made a bolt back across its field.

‘Arghhhhhhh!’ shouted the man. Beth had no idea what to do. Was this village full of mad people? Her heart was racing and she wanted to run but there was nowhere to run to.

She decided to try to be the voice of reason. ‘Look, it’s okay, we’re not burglars. This is our house.’ There was a flicker of recognition although he was still shouting. Leo had his hands pressed tightly over his ears and looked frightened. ‘We’ve bought the cottage,’ said Beth, her voice raised just enough to be heard. ‘It’s ours.’ She pointed to the cottage. The man stopped shouting.

‘No. It’s Wilf’s,’ he said, his words muffled as if he had a speech impediment. Beth remembered the lady in the shop saying something about Wilf yesterday.

‘Yes, it was Wilf’s but he’s sold it to me,’ she explained in what she hoped was a calm and soothing tone. However, this had the opposite effect as the man started to shout again.

‘Arghhhhhhh!’

There was a rustle in the climbing plant and Jack suddenly appeared, his face full of concern. Beth felt the stiffness in her shoulders ebb away as she was so thankful to see someone come to her rescue.

‘Ernie, what’s wrong?’ said Jack to the shouting man, his voice smooth and gentle and far less gruff than the tone he had used towards her when they’d bumped into each other.

Ernie pointed at Beth. ‘Breaking in!’

‘What do you think you’re doing exactly?’ The gruffness instantly returned to Jack’s voice as he turned his attention to Beth.

‘I wasn’t breaking in.’ Well, maybe she had been trying to a little bit but now was not the time to confess all. ‘I was only looking at the cottage, seeing what work would need doing.’

‘This is private property. I suggest you leave.’

Beth felt her eyebrows shoot up involuntarily at the resolve in Jack’s voice.

‘Did you notice what was on the board on the front of the property?’ she asked, starting to feel more in control of the situation as she knew she was about to wrong-foot him.

Jack pulled a face that made one of his eyes squint up and he looked quite comical. ‘It’s a picture of a chicken.’

Beth was starting to get frustrated. ‘No, not that one. The one that shows when the auction was. Well, it was last week and I bought it. So technically you are on my private property and you should leave.’

Jack rubbed his chin. ‘You can’t have completed on this place that quickly,’ he said, as Ernie looked on, his face etched with concern.

‘No, not exactly but everything is going through and we complete next week.’

‘So, technically none of us should be here.’ He was being pedantic now and that was quite irritating.

‘Then we should all leave. Come on, Leo,’ and she ushered Leo through the gap in the plant and squished herself through after him with as much dignity as she could muster with the leaves tangling in her hair.

As they all stumbled into the overgrown front garden Beth tugged bits of greenery and small white flowers out of her hair and walked off with Leo. A glance over her shoulder saw Ernie disappear under the canopy of the willow tree and Beth stopped in her tracks, nearly making Leo trip over.

‘Come on, Mum,’ he said, his voice a borderline whine.

‘Hang on,’ Beth had her hands on her hips now as Jack approached. ‘Who is that dangerous man exactly?’ she pointed to the tree.

‘That’s Ernie. He’s not in the slightest bit dangerous. He’s part of the village; lived here all his life.’

Beth felt the dig, Jack wasn’t one that was going to accept outsiders easily.

‘He shouldn’t be living under a tree.’

‘He doesn’t,’ said Jack with almost a smile forming on his lips. ‘He has a bungalow near the school.’ Jack pointed past the B&B.

‘Then why is he sat in my garden like a hostile garden gnome?’

Jack shook his head slowly as if he couldn’t be bothered to speak any more and wandered off towards the pub leaving Beth more confused than ever.

‘Mad. They’re all stark staring bonkers in this village.’

Beth’s phone rang. ‘The voice of sanity! Hello, Carls.’

‘At last it’s not your wretched voicemail. How are you and where the hell are you?’

‘I’m feeling surprisingly normal in the village of the totally insane. How about you and Fergus?’

‘Nick came round here last night. We didn’t tell him anything but he says he’s going to find you.’

Beth couldn’t help the feeling of ice fear that trickled through her body. Her mind flashed back to the night she left. Beth looked around her: another troop of Morris dancers was in the middle of the green hopping up and down as another group practised nearby. People were chatting and laughing and the sound filled the air. This was a world away from her London life; there was absolutely nothing here that could connect her to what she’d left behind. Despite the state of Willow Cottage it made sense to stay here for the time being.

‘He’ll never find me here.’

‘Where is here exactly?’

‘Dumbleford. It’s west of Stow-on-the-Wold.’

‘Sounds like place names from Narnia to me. What’s it like?’

‘The cottage I bought is practically a ruin, there’s a man living in my willow tree, the only person under fifty thinks I’m an idiot, everyone else is barking mad and today they are having a Morris dancing competition on the village green.’

‘Actually, I like the sound of that. The Morris dancing, not the rest of it.’

Beth lowered her voice and took a step back from Leo so he wouldn’t hear what she said. ‘Between you and me I think I may have made a huge mistake with the cottage. I’m speaking to the solicitor tomorrow to see what options I have. I’ll keep you posted.’

The rest of the day was spent watching the Morris dancing and reading books in bed at the B&B. Beth tidied the small room for the second time that day. The stupid things I’ve brought from London and the important ones I haven’t, thought Beth as she picked up her glue gun and wished it was her hairdryer.

She pondered the day and hated the fact that Carly’s statement about Nick had dominated it. Everything was Nick’s fault. If Nick hadn’t refused point blank to leave the apartment they would still be in London. She missed London. She had choices in London; she could have any type of food she wanted, stay in a variety of hotels, shop for virtually anything. Here food was limited to the tearoom or the pub, there were no hotels and the handful of shops sold knick-knacks, souvenirs, and out-of-date noodles. If Nick hadn’t sounded so menacing when he said he would find her wherever she went then maybe she wouldn’t have ended up here.

Chapter Four

The solicitor confirmed what Beth had feared – that she was committed to the purchase of Willow Cottage, there were no get-out clauses not even with the dilapidated state of the property. All responsibility for investigating the property before purchase rested with the buyer and, as she hadn’t done any of that, it was entirely her own fault. The solicitor did impart what he felt was good news: that they were completing even sooner than they’d hoped and she could pick the keys up from their offices near Stow the next morning.

‘How would I go about putting it back up for auction?’ she asked, as a sigh escaped.

‘Oh, well, I could do that for you.’

‘You see, I think I may have made a mistake and I need to sell it quickly and get the money back.’

There was a long pause at the other end of the phone. ‘I think I should probably inform you that this was the third time this property has been presented at auction. It’s been looking for a buyer for seven months.’

‘Seven months?’ Beth flopped back onto the B&B single bed. It was bouncier than she’d noticed before as her body jiggled about involuntarily.

‘I’m afraid so.’

She closed her eyes and processed the information. Beth felt her plans had been thwarted, she was stuck here with no obvious escape or quick fix. She felt a sense of resignation. ‘Do you know any good local builders?’

The B&B landlady, Jean, was not doing a bad job of keeping Leo entertained, as it turned out her own grandchildren lived in Canada so having a child in the house was a novelty. It was a shame that Leo wasn’t able to see his own grandparents but, as they had been Nick’s first port of call when she left, they wouldn’t be seeing them for a while. At least it gave Beth precious time to ring a local building firm and set up a quote. She decided that if she could get away with doing the minimum required to make the cottage habitable maybe she could get it back on the market and then make good her escape. The plan had always been to buy somewhere, do it up and then move on and repeat the exercise until she felt that Nick had given up looking for her. It probably wasn’t the finest plan but it was what she had dreamed up when she had found herself staring at another mini-bar in another random London hotel.

Beth picked up the keys to the cottage from the solicitor as planned and with Jean showing Leo how to make fairy cakes she headed off to meet her first tradesman at Willow Cottage. As she walked down the side of the pub she could see the back of a white van that was parked in front of the cottage, which was a good start. However, seeing Ernie peering into the driver’s window was not. Beth’s mobile rang; she didn’t recognize the number so answered it but didn’t speak.

‘Hello? Hello, Ms Browne? This is Kyle from Glancey Construction. I’m at the property now but …’

Beth walked round to the passenger window. The young man inside was leaning away from the driver’s door as Ernie’s gnarled face loomed large. She tapped on the glass making the young man jump. ‘Hello,’ she said with a wave.

Kyle didn’t answer, he just pointed at Ernie.

‘Oh, that’s Ernie. It’s okay, he won’t hurt you, he’s not dangerous,’ said Beth into her mobile. She wasn’t entirely sure that was true but she needed Kyle to get out of the van. Kyle switched off the phone and scooted along the seats until he could climb out of the passenger door.

‘This way,’ said Beth, keen to ignore the Ernie situation.

‘Is he a bit …’ Kyle tapped his head to finish the sentence.

‘I’m not sure really, but he seems to fit in well here.’

Beth took Kyle round the back of the cottage and he was already sucking his teeth before he’d even seen the inside. Beth tried each key on the plastic cable tie that was keeping them together. Every key was old, some were rusty but none of them fitted. Kyle was busy poking at brickwork and shaking his head at the roof so she systematically tried each key again – no luck. As she stepped back she noticed another lock further down on the bottom half of the stable door.

‘I wonder,’ she muttered to herself as she crouched down. The third key she tried turned grudgingly in the lock and she was able to push open the bottom half of the reluctant door and it creaked in protest. ‘I’m in!’ she called to Kyle as, adopting an unattractive walking crouch position, she waddled inside.

It was dark and musty. Beth squinted and still she couldn’t see anything. Suddenly a beam of light blinded her and Kyle appeared carrying a large torch and doing the same odd crouching walk that she’d done. They stood up and dusted themselves down as Kyle shone the torch around to reveal that they were in a kitchen. That was if a ceramic butler-style sink and an elderly stove was enough to qualify it as such. A brief glance at the floor revealed chunky-looking floorboards, a much darker shade than they should be thanks to the dirt. Beth was aware of something where the window was despite it being boarded up so she pointed for Kyle to shine the torch in that direction.

It appeared that the plant that dominated the outside of the house was also doing a comprehensive job on the inside too. ‘Oh my God!’ said Beth, as she took in the expanse of the creeping vegetation and the maze of spider’s webs clinging to it.

Kyle strode out of the kitchen leaving Beth with only two choices – stay in the dark with the spiders or scuttle after him. In the dark she tripped up a small step that led out of the kitchen but thankfully the dark hid her blushes as she scooted after Kyle. There were two more rooms downstairs; one was completely empty and the other had an open fireplace with a large beam above it. From the glimpse she saw, it looked promising and definitely the sort of feature she could emphasize as a focal point. As Kyle headed upstairs the torch glinted off something on the grimy wall. Beth reached out to touch it before the light disappeared and the contact of her fingers sent it crashing to the ground.

‘Hang on, Kyle. Shine that torch this way would you, please.’

Kyle reappeared and shone the light in her face. With her eyes tight shut she pointed at the floor and the torch beam followed her finger. She opened her eyes to see a dusty photo frame in pieces at her feet. Beth bent down and, carefully sifting through the broken glass, she picked out the photograph.

Holding it in the light she could study the black and white picture. Its edges were tatty implying it hadn’t spent its life in the frame. There was a middle-aged woman, her hair pinned back in a style reminiscent of the war years. She was laughing and in front of her she was hugging a small boy who was beaming a smile at the camera. Beth felt herself smile. She turned it over and read the swirly writing on the back: ‘Dearest Frank/Daddy With all our love at Christmas time Elsie & Wilf (Christmas 1944)’.

Kyle coughed and the torchlight wobbled. ‘Do you want to stay down here while I take a look upstairs?’

‘No, I’ll come up, thanks.’ Beth put the photograph safely inside her T-shirt so that it didn’t get damaged. The smiling faces gave a little hope that once upon a time a family had been happy here. So perhaps she could restore it to somewhere liveable for another family in the future.

‘Best be careful. It may not be stable,’ said Kyle, pointing at the stairs. He proceeded to demonstrate his caution as he took each stair one at a time and tested it first with a stomp of his boot before putting his weight on it. Halfway up Beth huffed her frustration at the slow progress.

When they eventually reached the top, Beth could see they were on a small landing and a beautifully carved balustrade, with the odd missing spindle, which was protecting them from the stairwell. Kyle opened a door to reveal the grimmest-looking bathroom Beth had ever seen – even the spiders hadn’t settled in here. Its avocado bath and toilet mismatched with the pink sink and the curly-edged linoleum floor finished off the ghastly ensemble, which was all covered in a layer of grime. The last two rooms were the bedrooms; both were a good size but one was particularly attractive as it had a sloped ceiling on one side, even if it did have a large brown patch in the centre, and there was also a step down making it into two levels. She was pleased with the quirky nature of its layout and could see what a lovely room it would make for a child but the thought of the work required took her breath away. She gave herself a small shake; she had to think of this as a business venture, as a project to be managed. This wasn’t going to be their long-term home, she couldn’t afford to invest heavily in it right now and she didn’t need to lavish it with the same love and attention she would her own home. She just needed to do it up and get it sold.

Beth was deep in thought when a bang made her jump. Kyle swung round and aimed the torch beam at the stairs to reveal Ernie. He was clutching the handrail tightly and frowning deeply, only an arm’s reach away from Beth.

‘Out!’ he shouted, his voice deep and raspy.

Beth stood her ground although her pulse was racing. ‘Ernie, please don’t shout. Let’s go outside and I’ll explain.’

‘Out,’ he repeated, but with less ferocity as Beth gently guided him back down the stairs with Kyle erratically waving the torch above her head. When they reached the back door, Ernie stood back so that Beth could go first. She resumed her crouching position and shuffled out under the stable door.

She heard Ernie expertly wriggling a bolt on the top half of the door, it opened and he and Kyle walked out. Thanks a bunch, thought Beth as she dusted herself down.

‘Ernie. This is my house now.’

Ernie didn’t seem to understand as he was shaking his head. ‘No. Wilf’s house.’

Beth remembered the photograph. She retrieved it from under her T-shirt, at which Ernie looked a little alarmed.

‘Here,’ she offered him the photo, ‘Wilf.’

Ernie leaned forward to take a proper look and a grin spread quickly across his haggard face.

‘Wilf,’ he repeated.

Beth tried to pass him the photograph but he refused with a wave of his hand.

‘I’m going to live here with my son.’ Ernie looked confused again. ‘Like Elsie and Wilf did.’

‘Elsie?’ Ernie’s voice was soft and his eyes instantly welled with tears. Beth’s heart went out to him and she willed him to understand.

‘Yes. Leo and me. We’ll live here like Wilf and Elsie. Oh and,’ she checked the back of the photo. ‘Frank.’

Ernie wiped away a tear with his sweatshirt sleeve. ‘Not Frank.’

‘Oh, um.’ Beth didn’t know what to say and she could see that Kyle had finished jotting notes down with an exceptionally small pencil and was keen to get her attention.

‘Frank died,’ Ernie’s voice was shaky.

‘I’m sorry. Shall we …’ but she didn’t get to finish the sentence as Ernie was already scrambling back down the side of the house and he was gone.

‘What sort of budget are we looking at for this, then?’ asked Kyle, sucking his teeth again.

‘As cheap as possible. Could you send me the quote? I’m sorry, I need to go after him and make sure he’s all right.’ Ernie hadn’t gone far; a swift peek into the willow tree revealed his hunched form sitting on the ground.

‘Come on, Ernie. Let’s get a cup of tea and you can tell me all about Elsie and Wilf, okay?’

Ernie rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve like a child and gazed at her. Eventually he spoke. ‘Tea and cake?’

Beth laughed. ‘Yes, if you like.’ She held out a hand to help him up and he took it and held on to it with his thin bony fingers.

The tearoom was quiet so when Rhonda brought over their order she sat down too and Ernie smiled his greeting. Beth wasn’t sure if the smile was for the cake or Rhonda.

‘Hello again, I’m Rhonda.’

‘I’m Beth.’

‘I know. So you’ve bought Wilf’s old place, then?’ asked Rhonda, folding her arms and leaning forward. Beth was instantly uncomfortable with Rhonda’s over-friendly approach.

‘Like Elsie and Wilf,’ said Ernie through a mouthful of coffee and walnut cake.

‘Willow Cottage,’ said Beth, feeling that she needed to have her wits on high alert in order to not be tricked into giving away too much information.

‘Never heard it called that before. Must be the spin the estate agent put on it,’ said Rhonda, pulling a face to match her statement.

I’ve been had again, thought Beth.

‘Partner not with you?’ ventured Rhonda, eyeing Beth’s ringless fingers.

‘Er, no, I’m single.’

‘Holiday let or permanent?’

Beth was thinking. ‘Renovation project.’

‘Project to live in or sell?’

The quick-fire question round was making Beth exceedingly uncomfortable. ‘Sell.’

Rhonda looked disappointed. ‘What we need is new blood in the village. Young blood.’

Beth tried very hard not to think of vampire films as she looked at Rhonda’s pale face. Maureen snorted her derision from behind the counter, so she was clearly listening in.

‘The village school is struggling, I think it’s down to twenty-two children now.’

‘Per class?’ asked Beth. That was well below national average and would be a good place to ease Leo into the routine of a new school, even if he might only be there for one term.

‘No,’ chuckled Rhonda. ‘In total! They have to put them all together to make enough for one class. And that’s after trying to encourage them in from surrounding villages too.’

Ernie wiped his mouth with the serviette and got up to leave.

‘Oh, Ernie, are you going? You were going to tell me about Elsie and Wilf,’ said Beth.

Ernie looked teary again and he shook his head. He pointed at the now spotlessly clean plate that had once delivered his cake. ‘Thank you,’ he said and he left.

‘Poor old Ernie,’ said Rhonda. ‘Lived here all his life, never left the village.’

‘He seems quite attached to Willow Cottage.’

‘Ah, well, that was Wilf’s old place you see and he and Wilf were like brothers. Ernie’s mother was pregnant when they evacuated her from London during the bombing. Elsie took her in. She was on her own too, both waiting for men to come back from the war you see.’ Beth nodded her understanding, she was engrossed in the nostalgic story and was waiting for the happy ending. ‘Thing was, it was a difficult birth. Baby got stuck, which is why Ernie is the way he is. His mother died in labour so Elsie brought him up.’

Beth swallowed hard, she was still looking for the happy ending. ‘Was her husband okay with that when he came back from the war?’

‘Oh, Frank, he never came back; he was shot down. It was just Elsie and the boys. Ernie moved out some years ago and he lives in one of the new bungalows up the way,’ she pointed in a random direction. ‘But the cottage was always his home. He and Wilf were inseparable. You see, Wilf used to sort things out for Ernie. With Wilf dead, Ernie is pretty much alone in the world. I’d better get back to work.’ Rhonda smiled briefly, collected up the empty teacups and plate, and went behind the counter.

Beth felt near to tears. There was no happy ending to this story. She placed the photograph on the table and took in the faces again. They looked so cheerful.

Chapter Five

Carly was gabbling on the phone and it was difficult to interrupt.

‘Slow down, Carls, I’m only picking up every third word, it’s like trying to decipher a coded message,’ said Beth.

Carly took a deep breath and tried to quell the excitement that was bubbling up inside. ‘So, in summary – I think Fergus is going to propose! Eek!’

Beth pulled the phone away from her ear. ‘Now hang on, we’ve been here before. Do you remember the large Christmas present that sat under the tree for weeks and you convinced yourself that it was like a Russian doll full of smaller and smaller boxes until you got to a ring box?’

Carly made a non-committal noise as she bit her lip at the memory and winced. ‘But it could have been …’

‘And what was in the large box?’ Beth’s voice had gone all school teachery.

‘A new sleeping bag.’

‘Precisely. I’m just saying be careful. Don’t go getting your hopes up.’

Carly paused before the excitement grabbed her again. ‘But this time it’s different. He’s asked me to meet him under the statue of Eros in Piccadilly Circus! I mean how romantic is that?’

‘It’s on a busy traffic junction.’

‘Stop being a killjoy. Anyway, think about it. Piccadilly Circus is very close to the Ritz. Perhaps he’s taking me there for afternoon tea to propose.’ She emitted another more stifled eek. ‘Oh my God, I need to change!’

‘No, you don’t. You always dress pretty smart for work.’

Carly was staring down at her outfit and it all looked very different when she surveyed herself this way compared to how it did when she checked herself in the full-length mirror before leaving the flat each morning. ‘I’m wearing a dress but with flats!’ She didn’t give Beth a chance to respond. ‘And Tiffany’s is not far from the Ritz. Oh my God, Beth, I’ve got to go …’ The line went dead.

Beth groaned. She truly hoped that this time Carly had got the right end of the stick and that she wasn’t winding herself up into a frenzy of happiness only to have it peed all over.

Beth sat at the table in the B&B and studied the various quotes she’d received. It was not looking good. Number one priority was the electrics so she had no choice but to confirm the work for that, which was a sizeable chunk of money. Basically, everything needed something doing to it and it was going to cost more money than she had. Having walked out on a well-paid city job she only had a small amount of savings to rely on until she sold Willow Cottage and hopefully turned a profit. Beth was feeling at a loose end as Leo was watching some cartoons on the small television and Jean was dusting around them both.

‘Why don’t you go to the pub tonight? It’s quiz night,’ she suggested. Beth struggled to think of anything worse. Bingo, actually, bingo would have been worse.

‘They do bingo first, so if you go early you’ll catch that too.’

Beth openly sighed. ‘I think I’ll give it a miss, thanks.’

‘They are friendly, you know, folk round here. If you’re going to be here for a while it would do you well to make some friends. Just a bit of motherly advice,’ she chuckled as she whisked the plates into the kitchen. Beth didn’t want to make friends. This was a temporary thing; she didn’t need new friends. She had Carly and … she realized nobody else from her old life had been in touch but that was because nobody else had her new mobile number. She’d been too worried about it making its way into Nick’s hands.

Something else she could lay firmly at Nick’s door, not only had she left behind the life she’d built for herself in London, her job, her parents and pretty much everything she knew, she had also had to cut herself off from her friends. But if she thought about it she knew this hadn’t happened overnight. Hindsight was a wonderful thing. When she looked back she realized things with Nick were changing long before that fateful day. Nick’s apparent easy-going manner had been replaced over time by a persuasive argumentative one that manipulated Beth into doing what Nick wanted. The seemingly throwaway comments about the people Beth socialized with were all intended to drip-feed his messages of control and it had worked. Slowly Beth saw less and less of her friends until it was just Carly on a Wednesday night. Carly and Fergus were pretty much her only friends now but if she had them then that was all she needed.

It was the middle of the afternoon and, despite her mercy dash home to swap her shoes and redo her make-up and hair, Carly had been fifteen minutes early arriving at Eros’s statue. She hadn’t enough time to do a proper job but a quick go with the straighteners had spruced it up a treat. She got out her clear lip-gloss and applied another coat to make sure. She wanted to look and feel perfect when he proposed. Carly checked her watch again – only five minutes to go. Her stomach was doing all sorts of things; it felt like it was full of hungry caterpillars instead of butterflies.

Carly searched the busy streets for Fergus. He was tall, quite lanky really, so often was easy to spot in a crowd but there was no sign of him yet. The minutes ticked by as she watched the busy hum of London life around her: the Big Issue seller on one side and the young person with a large sign directing people to a new shoe shop on the other; it interested her that the Big Issue seller was a lot more enthusiastic than the sign holder.

Carly checked her watch again. Now Fergus was late. She had to keep moving out of the way for tourists to take photos of Eros, and photos of them pulling silly faces and kissing each other in front of the statue. It was starting to get annoying. She watched couples hand in hand heading into the Criterion restaurant looking all loved up and happy. People kissing each other good-bye as they piled out of taxis. Others sat on the steps of the statue watching the world go by.

Fergus was fifteen minutes late. Carly’s feet were starting to hurt. These heels looked fabulous but they weren’t designed for standing about in or walking any distance. She thought about texting him but he rarely felt the vibration of the phone so that was probably pointless, and right now she didn’t trust herself to text something that may spoil the mood of the ever-so-romantic proposal she was sure was about to materialize.

Carly spotted a mop of unruly black hair bobbing her way and instantly relaxed. It was Fergus, he was late but he was here. As the crowd parted she saw his grinning face. He looked particularly pleased with himself, which was a good sign. He was dressed which was definitely another plus but he was wearing jeans and a Star Wars T-shirt – not her first choice for the beautiful memory of his proposal but now was not the time to get picky, she thought.

Fergus kissed her. ‘Sorry I’m late.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘The blog chat ran over,’ he explained but Carly wasn’t really paying attention – that didn’t matter now.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

‘Wait and see.’ He took her hand and led her into the tube station. Immediately her spirits plummeted. She was wrong about the Ritz and Tiffany’s and she tried hard to erase the pictures of the stunning rings she’d seen in magazines. Her feet didn’t take kindly to the tube station steps but she was trying to stay positive.

A few sweaty minutes later they emerged at St Paul’s and Carly tried to think of nearby places that were ideal for a proposal. She was struggling to think of any; all that was nearby was the London Stock Exchange and St Paul’s Cathedral, its dramatic white dome visible above the grey office buildings. Fergus gave her a reassuring smile. Perhaps he could sense her anticipation, but did he realize how important this moment was to her?

Carly had been dreaming of the perfect proposal and perfect wedding ever since she was a girl and watched Monica and Chandler on Friends. He led her through the streets, past the front of St Paul’s and then into the magnificent cathedral by the sightseeing entrance. Carly had been here as a child but remembered little of its vastness and awe-inspiring interior; it did take your breath away.

Fergus pulled her close and hugged her. She held her breath. ‘This way.’

The steps at the Underground were nothing to the ones she was facing now. The sign told her it was 528 steps to the Golden Gallery. She gulped hard, pointed at the sign and then at her shoes.

‘It’s okay, we’re not going all the way to the top,’ Fergus told her with a cheeky smile.

At about the 150-step mark it got better because the burning feeling in her toes was replaced by a numb sensation, which was still painful but didn’t make her wince with every step. Fergus gave her reassuring glances every so often as he almost jogged up the steps in his well-worn trainers. Carly forced a grimace onto her face. Dear God, this had better be worth it, she thought.

She was about to admit defeat and resign herself to a life of spinsterhood when Fergus beckoned her up the last few steps and into the first gallery. They stood by the balustrade. The views in all directions were breath-taking and the ornate dome above them was resplendent in symmetrical perfection. Carly did her best to ignore the smug-looking faces peering down on her of those that had climbed all the way to the upper gallery. She was certain they would not have done it in heels like hers. She tried hard to ignore the throbbing in her feet and blanked out the thought of the descent that was yet to come.

Fergus guided her to the wooden seating that ran around the gallery walls.

‘This is the Whispering Gallery,’ he told her and she nodded. She had forgotten all about it until he said but now she could hear the echoes of a foreign language as another couple shared their messages into the architectural phenomenon. Fergus kissed her gently and then walked around to the other side of the gallery.

Some children appeared and proceeded to share obscenities around the walls until their parents emerged at the top of the steps and intervened. The walls echoed with the sound of their stifled giggles. Carly was glad of the sit-down and so were her feet. She so wanted to take off her shoes but she dare not remove them in case she couldn’t get them back on.

Eventually the gallery was silent. Fergus sat on the far side of the dome. Carly felt her heart rate quicken and she took a deep breath. Fergus gave her a little wave and she saw him put his face to the wall. This was it. She closed her eyes and listened to his melodic Irish accent magically emanating from the wall behind her.

‘I love you, Carly Wilson,’ he said and she felt a tear form. ‘And to prove it to you … I’m taking you away for a magical weekend in a treehouse.’

There was a very long pause. Carly didn’t want to open her eyes. She played the words around her head again but it didn’t matter – whatever she did, that was definitely not a proposal of marriage. She opened her eyes to see Fergus giving her a thumbs-up from the other side.

‘You utter tosser,’ she said with feeling into the wall and, for the first time, she was grateful that Fergus was deaf.

It was early evening and Leo was gently purring in his sleep. Beth looked around the small room with its ancient wardrobe, candlewick bedspreads and plastic framed scenic pictures on the wall. Jean was lovely but staying here was slowly draining the life from her. She needed a plan and she needed to take action. Perhaps a trip to the pub was exactly what she needed.

Jean was more than happy to babysit Leo and seemed thrilled that Beth was taking her advice, so Beth slung her bag on her shoulder and headed out. There was a breeze but it wasn’t cold. The sun was setting and Beth stopped for a moment to take it in. The colours were majestic; the soft orange hues melding with a deep yellow glow as the sun slowly melted into the silhouetted countryside. The only sounds were the light wind rippling through the trees and a few birds squabbling over where to roost for the night.

The scary pub sign was creaking gently and Beth pulled her eyes away. As she reached the pub, she could hear the welcoming chatter inside. She truly hoped it wouldn’t stop as soon as she entered like it did in all good horror films. The heavy old door took a bit of shoving and unbeknownst to her a large man inside the pub had seen her approaching and had got up to give it a pull just as she gave one more hard push. The door opened swiftly and as it disappeared from beneath her touch Beth stumbled inside with a clatter of heels on wooden floor but thankfully she managed to stay upright and avoided falling to her knees. The large man was awfully apologetic, as was Beth who had almost landed in his lap. Beth recovered quickly and realized that nobody was really watching, they were all thankfully engrossed in chatter.

‘You okay?’ asked the smiling barmaid nodding at the door.

‘I feel a bit of an idiot. Otherwise, I’m fine, thanks.’

‘I’m Petra, landlady,’ she said in a soft, but indistinguishable, Eastern European accent as she offered a hand across the bar. ‘What can I get you?’

‘I’m Beth. Gin and tonic, please. What gin do you have?’

‘Ah, just the standard, I’m afraid. Nothing fancy here.’ She pointed to the optic.

‘That’s fine,’ said Beth, trying to look like she meant it.

‘You’re in time to join a team, quiz is about to start.’ She pointed to a bald man with a rather large belly who was blowing into a microphone.

‘No, really, I’m fine, thanks. I’ll observe.’

Petra shook her head. ‘Jack, here’s your fifth team member,’ she called and Jack turned round from his position on a nearby stool. Beth was sure there had been a smile on his face a split second before he’d realized who his fifth member was going to be. He stood up and beckoned her over, his expression resigned.

Three rather more friendly faces greeted her and budged up to make room on the bench seat as they machine-gunned their names at her – Melvyn and Audrey, who were clearly a couple, and Simon who was very smiley and whose ginger hair had receded back to his ears. As she glanced around she could see this was by far the youngest group in the pub and, apart from her and Jack, none of the others were under forty.

‘I’m Beth,’ she said, with a self-deprecating smile.

‘Eyes down, look in,’ bellowed the tubby man who clearly didn’t need a microphone. Beth felt her blood run cold. Not bloody bingo, she thought. ‘Noooo, only joking!’ There was the equivalent of human canned laughter before it went silent and he carried on. ‘Welcome to the Bleeding Bear Pub Quiz. Round one: the nineteen sixties. Are you ready? Question one …’

Oh, terrific, thought Beth, I wasn’t even born in the sixties or the seventies and didn’t spend very long in the eighties for that matter!

She was as much help with the answers as she expected she would be, which was no help at all, and it made her feel quite the simpleton. Thankfully it was Melvyn and Audrey’s era so, as a team, they had something written down for each answer. Not for the first time, Beth was missing her job. It had been pressured and demanding but she was good at it and valued by her boss. Here, she was a dunce, who, when the question was Who was famously assassinated in Dallas? she said – J.R. Ewing. At least it got Jack laughing. There was a brief pause at the end of round one and everyone started to chatter again.

‘What’s this I hear about you bribing the locals with cake?’ asked Jack, avoiding eye contact and taking a sip from a near full pint of Guinness which gave him a milky moustache.

Beth frowned for a second. ‘Oh, you mean Ernie. I thought I should at least try to get to know the man who is virtually living in my willow tree.’

‘How’s the cottage coming along?’

‘Well, it’s not. The quote I had was sky high. I mean I’m sure it was accurate it’s just that so much needs doing to it.’

‘It can’t be that bad,’ said Jack.

‘It is.’ She resisted the urge to sulk.

‘But Wilf was living there up until he had the heart attack, so I don’t see why you can’t live in it while you do it up yourself a bit at a time.’ Jack was blunt.

‘Maybe Wilf and I have different views on what constitutes liveable.’ Beth could feel she was starting to get grumpy. She finished her drink. She decided now might be a good time to leave but as if to thwart her plans Petra appeared at the table and replaced her empty glass with a full one.

‘On the house. You deserve it if you’re putting up with this lot,’ said Petra. ‘Welcome to Dumbleford.’ She couldn’t leave now.

Round two was no better as it was naming the national anthems of various countries, and round three was sport, but thankfully Simon on their team knew everything there was to know about football and cricket so they were covered. As round four approached Beth was losing the will to live.

‘Round four is countries’ internet name extensions.’ There was grumbling from the teams. ‘You know like dot co dot UK for United Kingdom. Which countries do these letters represent …?’

Beth sprung forward, this was something she knew. Working in London she’d dealt with people from all over the world so this was her opportunity to add some value to the evening’s proceedings. Jack noted her sudden alertness and moved the answer sheet square in front of him. Beth noted the gesture and the battle lines were drawn. As each question was read out they both whispered the answer at the same time. As they reached question seven she could sense Jack’s annoyance.

‘C-h,’ said the tubby compere.

‘China,’ whispered Jack at the same time as Beth whispered, ‘Switzerland.’ Jack turned to look at her, his face full of superior smugness. ‘I think you’ll find it’s China,’ he said, as he wrote it on the sheet.

‘You’re wrong, I know it’s Switzerland,’ Beth was emphatic.

Jack gestured to the rest of the team for an opinion and they all pulled puzzled faces and shrugged.

‘So what’s China then if it’s not c-h?’ asked Jack.

Beth pondered the question. She did know someone in China but their email finished in dot com as many did. She bit her lip and pondered some more. She saw Jack smirk. ‘Look, I may not know what it is, but I know what it isn’t. And it isn’t c-h!’

‘Um, could it be Chile?’ offered Simon and he was instantly shot down by Jack.

‘No, it’s China!’

Questions eight and nine were uncontentious as they both spat out the same country names at the same time but number ten set them against each other again.

‘M-c is Monaco,’ said Jack for the second time.

‘I think it’s Morocco,’ repeated Beth, and Jack sighed his frustration. ‘Okay, like you said to me, if m-c isn’t the Internet initials for Morocco then what is?’ She folded her arms.

It was Jack’s turn to have a hard think. ‘I think it’s m-a,’ he said at last.

‘M-a?’ snorted Beth. ‘How does that fit with Morocco? There’s no “a” in Morocco.’ Jack studiously ignored her and started checking that their answer sheet was all filled in.

Beth bought the team a round of drinks, which was well appreciated especially as it appeared that Melvyn and Audrey were planning on making their single drinks last the whole evening. Beth’s competitive side had been reawakened and there was no way she was going back to the B&B until she had been proved right. Her and Jack were still sniping about it when the answers were read out.

‘Number seven is Switzerland …’

‘Ha!’ said Beth with feeling in Jack’s right ear, making the compere turn his attention to Jack’s table.

‘Did you get that one, Jack?’ asked the compere, his ruddy face in a beaming smile. ‘Seeing as you’re the school IT specialist.’

Beth sat with her arms folded and her eyebrows high, radiating smugness – she was enjoying this. Jack looked from Beth to the compere.

‘Uh, no. We got that one wrong, I’m afraid.’

‘I didn’t,’ grumbled Beth, as she took a swig of her drink.

‘Sorry,’ mumbled Jack but before Beth could ask him to repeat what he’d said the answers for nine and ten were being read out.

‘Nine, South Africa and ten, Monaco.’

A huge grin spread across Jack’s face. ‘Monaco, not Morocco. Do you have something you’d like to say?’

‘Sorry,’ mumbled Beth. Jack looked complacent.

‘Another drink? To show there’s no hard feelings.’ Jack was already on his feet. ‘You need to stay for the results – we might have won sausages!’

Beth shook her head. Had she misheard him with all the babble in the pub?

Jack returned with the drinks. ‘Petra says I need to play nice,’ he said, tilting his head towards the bar where Petra was wagging a finger in his direction as well as giving him a sultry wink.

‘She’s right,’ said Beth, taking her drink.

‘Look, it’s the school holidays so I have a few days to myself. Would you like a hand with the cottage?’

‘I don’t think I’m ready for my IT to be installed just yet but thanks.’

‘I meant taking the boards down and stuff. I renovated my place but, mind you, it wasn’t as neglected as Wilf’s.’

‘What makes you think I need your help?’ Beth’s tone was waspish.

Jack looked taken aback. ‘I’ve seen Wilf’s place and from the car you arrived in I’m guessing you’ve not got a ladder stashed in there?’

Smartarse, thought Beth. She was tussling with her defences, which were on high alert following Nick but at the same time her common sense told her this was a genuine offer, not an attempt to patronize her.

‘Will everyone please stop calling it Wilf’s.’ She knew she sounded prickly. ‘Sorry, but it’s really annoying.’

Jack sipped his Guinness. ‘I think you’ll find it’ll be Wilf’s for a while yet. People round here take time to adjust to change. The bungalows where Ernie lives are always referred to as the “new” bungalows. They were built in 1975!’

‘Blimey,’ said Beth, feeling more than a little silly for her outburst.

‘The offer of help is there if you want it. Do you usually get people in?’

Beth sipped her drink again and shook her head. What was Jack talking about? She’d never done this before.

‘I assumed you renovated places for a living?’ he added.

Duh! thought Beth. The alcohol was letting her guard down. The last thing she wanted to do was start giving away information about her previous life. She shook her head theatrically. ‘I do get people in for anything structural but this is my first project like this. Usually it’s more of a general spruce up; painting and decorating, interior design. That sort of thing.’ She took a deep breath, she found lying was quite uncomfortable.

‘Right,’ said Jack, looking satisfied with the explanation. ‘So, do you want a hand then? I’m free tomorrow.’

Beth was taken aback by the offer. She could say no but that wouldn’t be making a stand for independent womankind; it would be cutting off her nose to spite her face.

‘I know that’s probably the Guinness talking but I’m going to say yes, please.’

Simon, Melvyn and Audrey already had their cardigans on ready to leave as the compere started up again. ‘Third place are the Village Idiots.’ Beth leaned forward to get a look at that team because, quite frankly, that could be half the village. ‘Second place tonight and only three points behind the winners was the Quizzly Bears. Sorry, Maureen.’ Everyone looked over to where Maureen was downing her pint with a face like a thundercloud.

‘And the winners are … The Spanish Inquisition.’

Jack jumped up, narrowly missed knocking over the glasses as the other team members started shaking hands. Melvyn and Audrey got up to leave.

‘I’m guessing that’s us then,’ said Beth, as Jack gave her a huge bear hug and then instantly looked rather awkward and pulled away. ‘First time we’ve won since Easter.’ He looked genuinely thrilled and Beth had to admit that she too was feeling quite pleased with herself. The compere came over to hand out the prizes.

‘Um, thanks,’ said Beth, as she really didn’t know what else to say when someone hands you a dozen pork sausages.

Chapter Six

Fergus had lost his hearing due to contracting a severe case of mumps as an adult. He had spent the first year after it happened confined to his old flat. A lot of it was shock at the sudden loss of a primary sense but with that comes fear and erosion of self-confidence. Losing his ability to communicate had made him feel cut off and frustrated. Even simple tasks were suddenly much harder and took more effort, for example trying to find out information was no longer just a phone call away. Fergus was shocked too by the number of people who treated him like he was mentally slow just because he couldn’t hear.

He had made a positive move when he had joined a British Sign Language course and the added bonus had been falling for one of the tutors, Carly. She had introduced him to the deaf community and all the support that brings from people that actually know what it’s like to be in the same situation. Although his experiences were different from those who’d encountered discrimination all their lives he had found learning sign language immediately expanded his social group and set him on the road to recovery. Sadly, some people never do manage to adjust to such a trauma but, with support and all the latest gadgets, Fergus had slowly progressed and was now living again.

This meant engaging in all aspects of normal life including arguing with your partner. Carly found it was exceedingly difficult to have a row with a deaf person. No matter how competent you were at sign language you couldn’t get the words out quickly enough and if they chose to look away the argument was over. Fergus was looking perplexed and kept signing ‘sorry’, which was probably because he felt she was overreacting a little to the fact that he’d used the last tea bag but, after a sleepless night, Carly was desperate for a cuppa. All of her frustration at the non-proposal was flooding out into tea-gate. She added a couple of digs about him playing games all day and not getting dressed, then grabbed her bag and stormed out. She slammed the door behind her. He wouldn’t hear it but it was likely the vibration would convey her level of annoyance.

She stood outside the flat door and screamed. It was a primal scream that went on long enough to make a front door open to check what the matter was, which for London, where everyone kept themselves to themselves unless something disastrous had happened, was quite exceptional.

‘Sorry, I needed to let that out,’ said Carly, as the door quickly shut again. It had worked, she felt a fraction less frustrated, although her desire for a cup of tea was still raging. Fergus was so laid-back about everything and most of the time that was a good thing but sometimes it drove her potty. She felt it wasn’t unreasonable for her to be thinking about getting married after three years together but she was beginning to wonder if Fergus would ever get around to proposing. She sent Beth a text but when she didn’t respond immediately she called her.

‘I’m guessing it didn’t go well as I didn’t get an excited phone call from you last night,’ said Beth.

‘Didn’t go well! That’s a bloody understatement. He took me up 257 steps in heels to ask me if I wanted to spend a weekend in a bloody treehouse.’ Carly was indignant.

‘Ooh, a treehouse sounds nice, when’s he taking you?’

‘Did you not hear what I said? 257 steps up to the sodding Whispering sodding Gallery at sodding St Paul’s.’

‘What a lovely thing to do. I think you’re being a bit mean. He’s booked a nice mini-break and he took you to a wonderful place to tell you about it.’

Carly pouted as she stood on the pavement outside the flat. ‘It would have been a perfect place to propose.’

‘Maybe, but there are other perfect places for a proposal.’

‘I’d like it to feel like the world has stopped for one moment, just for me. That’s all,’ said Carly with more than a hint of despondency evident in her voice as she moved to one side to avoid being bumped by frowning pedestrians.

‘I dare say you would and I’m sure that will happen but, in the meantime, you should enjoy the lovely thoughtful man you have and look forward to your weekend in a treehouse.’

‘Thoughtful? 257 steps. In heels!’ was all Carly had to say. She shoved the phone into her bag and crossed the road. She didn’t see Fergus who was watching her closely from the window.

Leo was finishing his sausages and beans when the theatrical musical doorbell of the B&B hummed the tune to ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’. Jean opened the door and preened herself as she greeted Jack. What was it with the women in this village and Jack? He seemed to send them all aquiver.

‘Are you ready?’ he called brusquely, after exchanging pleasantries with Jean.

‘Yep,’ said Beth, grabbing the rusty keys and gently steering Leo away from the table.

‘You’re wearing that?’ asked Jack, blunt as ever, as he gave Beth’s outfit the once-over.

She looked at her fitted white T-shirt, designer skinny jeans and smart low-heeled leather boots. ‘Yes, what’s wrong with it?’ It wasn’t like she was wearing a skirt and heels as she had the first time she’d investigated the property.

‘Nothing wrong at all but you’re about to get absolutely filthy working on the cottage and that outfit will be trashed.’

‘These are the least precious clothes I’ve got and if they get trashed then so be it. But I’ll be careful.’

‘What do you usually wear for this sort of work?’ asked Jack, his expression curious.

It was too early to make stuff up and Leo was listening. ‘This,’ she said and walked out of the door with her head held high. Jack shook his head behind her.

Jean displayed a fixed smile as she witnessed the exchange. ‘Well, have a nice time anyway,’ she said, as she waved them off.

‘Here,’ said Jack, handing Beth and Leo small white face masks. ‘It’ll help to stop the dust.’

‘Thanks but I’m going to play in the garden,’ said Leo brandishing a tennis ball.

‘He’s not had a garden before,’ explained Beth and Jack patted Leo on the back sympathetically.

‘You can do me a favour, keep an eye on Doris here,’ he said as the huge dog skidded up the path to greet them. Doris had a dark face but the rest of her short coat was a golden blonde and she was very nearly the same height as Leo. Beth protectively stepped in front of Leo and Doris seized the opportunity to sniff Beth’s crotch. Jack expertly pulled her away as Beth rolled her eyes; sniffing crotches and licking their own private parts was probably the two main reasons why she wasn’t a dog lover. The third thing that Beth disliked about dogs was when they lifted up both their back legs and dragged their bums along the carpet although she had to admit that was always funny as long as it wasn’t your carpet.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ said Beth.

‘But, Muuuum,’ moaned Leo from behind her.

Jack was eyeing her as if awaiting an explanation for her actions.

‘It’s a very big dog, and dogs …’ she knew they were all waiting for her to say the word ‘bite’. ‘… dogs can be unpredictable. So, no, I’m sorry but I don’t think so.’

‘Shame. That means she’ll have to spend the day in her cage,’ said Jack, looking forlornly at Doris who was happily bashing her tail against his leg.

‘A cage?’ Leo looked outraged. Beth looked a little shocked too.

‘It’s okay, it’s to stop her wrecking the house.’ The expressions of alarm didn’t change. ‘Seriously, she’s an English mastiff, she’ll eat her way through a wall if I leave her on her own!’

‘But still. Putting her in a cage?’ said Beth, eyeing the behemoth of a dog.

‘It’s a proper extra-large dog cage but she’d rather be with me, obviously.’ Jack pulled a sad clown face.

‘Fine, bring her along,’ relented Beth, and Leo whooped his delight.

‘You’ll grow to love her,’ said Jack, as he patted Doris’s flank and the dog promptly wiped her slobbery jowl down the side of Beth’s jeans as she passed. Beth recoiled in disgust.

‘I doubt it,’ she muttered.

A large estate car was parked outside with a ladder strapped to the roof bars. Doris leaped into the boot and Jack jumped in the driver’s seat.

‘See you there,’ he shouted as he pulled away.

‘Fine,’ said Beth. She didn’t need a lift – she could almost see the willow tree from the B&B, but it would have been nice to be offered one. She put on her sunglasses and took Leo’s reluctant hand.

When they got to the cottage, Leo checked to see if Ernie was under the willow tree but he wasn’t. Jack already had his toolbox out and was studying the boards that covered the windows and the door.

‘Galvanized bolts,’ he said, nodding. ‘That’s good. It means they won’t have rusted. I’ve got just the thing for those.’ He pulled a large spanner from the toolbox and set to work.

‘Let’s get these off and see what we’re dealing with,’ said Jack. Beth wasn’t comfortable with Jack dishing out the instructions but she agreed as she didn’t have a better idea.

As he undid the last bolt Beth stood and took the weight of the large sheet of ply board. At the last second the board slipped in her grasp but Jack stopped it from falling.

‘Ow,’ complained Beth, checking her hands – splinters and a broken nail. She breathed out hard; this was starting to look less and less like her kind of thing. Lifting down the board revealed the window. There had once been white paint on the wooden frame but now most of it had peeled off. However, the sight of the series of perfect little square panes in the windows brought a smile to both their faces.

‘Georgian windows,’ said Jack, helping Beth to put down the board and lean it against the wall.

‘They’re lovely,’ said Beth leaning closer, ‘but not exactly good for keeping the cold out. I expect they’ll need swapping for double-glazed ones.’

‘No!’ said Jack crossly. ‘These are a thing of beauty. I’ll put some linseed oil on to protect them until you can get around to painting them but trust me they’ll keep the cold out. It’s the gaps round the edges that you’ll need to sort.’ He indicated where someone’s attempt at filling the gaps was already crumbling away.

‘Right,’ said Beth, feeling further out of her depth.

‘Flemish bond,’ he said, nodding at the brickwork.

‘Is he? I’m not really into films,’ said Beth, distractedly.

Leo and Doris played fetch with the ball until Doris put a large hole in it. Beth and Jack removed the other three boards and thankfully all but two of the small panes of glass were intact. Jack expertly taped some plastic over the broken ones so that they didn’t let in any rain. They both stared at the largest piece of board covering the front door, which itself was also covered by the sprawling ivy and white flowering plant.

Jack disappeared to the car boot. ‘Shall we?’ he said as he produced two large pairs of loppers.

‘Can I help?’ asked Leo.

‘Sorry, mate, these are a bit deadly but you can pull down as much of that traveller’s joy as you can.’ He pointed at the greenery covered in pretty white flowers and threw him some gloves.

Leo shoved his hands into the gloves. ‘They fit!’

Beth looked surprised. ‘They’re only those very stretchy ones; I thought they might come in handy,’ Jack said, setting to work with the loppers. Beth stood and watched. She wondered what she was doing. She couldn’t help – she’d never used loppers before and had no idea where to start, they were quite heavy and unwieldy. Every time she lifted them up they seemed to sway off to the right like some kind of giant magnet was pulling them. She put them down. The whole project was looking more and more ridiculous. Doris came up behind her and rested her heavy head against Beth’s hand, her droopy eyes making her look as forlorn as Beth felt. Beth sidestepped away from the drooling creature hoping Jack hadn’t noticed. She picked up the loppers again and tried in vain to control them as she snipped wildly at the air around the plants.

Thanks to Jack and Leo’s concerted efforts a little while later they were ready for the big front door reveal. The first thing Beth saw was more peeling paint but this time in a shade of bright pink.

‘Wow!’ exclaimed Leo.

‘I’m glad I’m wearing my sunglasses,’ said Beth.

‘It’s not all bad. It’s a pleasant style and the glass is a nice touch.’ Jack pointed to the four small panes that made a bigger square at head height. It was going to take a bit more to convince Beth.

Jack soon had the boards off the windows at the back of the house and loaded them into the boot of his car.

They grabbed two takeaway coffees and a squash from Rhonda and then set about the inside. Beth wasn’t sure if it looked better or worse now that the windows were letting in light. They both stood sipping their coffees while Leo sat on the bottom step of the stairs playing games on Beth’s iPhone.

‘Okay, boss. What are you thinking?’ asked Jack. Beth was sure she could sense derision in his voice. She was actually thinking ‘Oh shit, I’ve well and truly cocked up here’ but instead she said,

‘Number one priority is to make sure it’s watertight.’ She was pleased with the conviction in her words, she almost sounded like she knew what she was doing.

‘Lovely summer we’re having, hasn’t been any rain for weeks. How about you check upstairs for any obvious signs of leaks and damp patches and I’ll be back shortly.’

Beth didn’t have time to query what he was planning to do as he had already left, so she carefully went upstairs and started looking around. It was very difficult to identify damp patches under the general grubbiness. She exhaled loudly; how were you meant to get a house that was this dirty clean again? Would it ever be clean again? Actually, had it ever been clean? Then she thought of the photograph of the lovely smiling Elsie who was so selfless as to have taken in and raised Ernie. Beth was sure Elsie would have kept the house clean; it must have been in Wilf’s later years that things had got out of hand.

Every room upstairs was wallpapered and she had vague recollections of helping her dad as a child with removing wallpaper with warm wet sponges and a scraper. It had taken most of a half-term holiday for them to do one room, it would take for ever to do the whole cottage on her own. She heard voices outside and then an odd whooshing noise, and then she felt the sensation of ice-cold water trickling over her. She looked up to have her face washed by a steady stream of water coming through the ceiling above.

‘Shit!’ She stomped to the nearest window and tried hard to ignore the sight of the dingy bathroom that surrounded her. She struggled to open the window to shout at Jack who was merrily hosing down the roof but the window wouldn’t budge. By the time she had made it downstairs and pointed out the dripping to Leo who was lost in a game, the noise and water had stopped.

Jack sauntered into the cottage. ‘Did you find any leaks?’ he asked with a smirk.

‘You bloody idiot! I’m soaked. What if that gets in the electrics?’ Beth shook her hands and droplets of water flew off her.

‘Electrics are switched off. I assumed you’d be getting a professional to check those over before trying them.’

Beth wanted to scream. She hated pretending she knew what she was doing and she hated Jack’s smugness. He was obviously playing games.

‘Yes, the electrician is already booked but dousing everything, including me, in water is not the way to find out where the leaks are!’ She made a show of pulling her hair into a ponytail and wringing it out.

‘Okay, so how would you have done it?’ Jack looked intrigued.

‘Well, I … I would have looked for damp patches, like you said before and … gone up on the roof to check the pointing.’ She wasn’t entirely sure she’d used the right term but she had heard her dad talk about pointing before so it was worth a punt.

She noticed that Jack momentarily raised an eyebrow, perhaps she was on the right track.

‘Don’t let me stop you,’ he said. ‘The ladder is outside.’

Beth swallowed hard. She was okay with heights when she was inside and safe like in a lift or looking out on a spectacular view; then she was fine. Climbing up ladders, on the other hand, she was not good at but she wasn’t going to back out of this obvious challenge. ‘Fine, could you hold the bottom for me?’

Jack failed to suppress a schoolboy smirk. ‘Sure thing.’

The first few steps were fine. She kept telling herself it was like going up stairs, only it wasn’t. Her foot slipped a fraction. She squealed and tried to hide it with a cough. She didn’t want to fall. Beth was trying hard to control her breathing but the fear was making it speed up. She clutched the cold metal tightly and slowly moved her hands up as she took another step.

‘You okay?’ said Jack.

‘Wonderful,’ lied Beth, as she muttered a string of inaudible obscenities to herself.

Each step was a fear conquered as she went higher and higher. She was suddenly very grateful that she hadn’t bought anything taller than a cottage. As she neared the roof a thought struck her. What the hell was she going to do when she got there? She had no idea how to check the pointing. She didn’t even know what pointing meant. When her feet were at last level with what remained of the cottage’s ancient guttering, she slowly moved her head so that she could scan a section of the roof.

‘Are you getting on the roof?’ called Jack, followed by something that could have been a cough or a laugh or a bit of both.

‘Um, no, I can see perfectly well from here,’ she replied, her voice shaky.

‘What’s the pointing like?’

Beth stared at the tiles, row upon row of them. They all looked the same, all shimmering wet as the summer sunshine glinted off them. ‘I think they’re okay.’

‘Really?’

‘Well … they’re definitely all pointing in the same direction.’

Chapter Seven

Carly loved going to the hairdresser’s. Danny had been keeping her style on trend for the last few years and he was full of gossip, so it was an indulgent couple of hours that she always looked forward to. As she expected, Danny was on form and he got completely carried away when she told him about the treehouse getaway and the imminent proposal.

‘OMG. That is the epitome of romantic. This boy’s a keeper,’ said Danny as he snipped confidently. ‘You know, there was an amazing article in one of the mags only the other day about treehouses and one of them was like this microcosm of luxury. I bet that’s where he’s taking you. Lucky bitch.’

Carly giggled.

‘You should look it up on the internet,’ he said with a wave of his scissors. Carly wrinkled her nose. ‘Dear God, have you still not joined the twenty-first century. Carly darling, you need to catch up with the human race. Here,’ he handed her his phone – the latest from Apple.

‘It’s okay, thanks. It’s just not my thing.’ She gave the phone back.

‘You sound like one of those people that said a hundred years ago “planes will never take off!”’

Carly wasn’t sure if the pun was intended but it made her laugh anyway. She was feeling good about things. She was over the whole non-proposal upset and it was only a couple of weeks to the weekend away and she was now convinced that the idea of a proposal in a treehouse was so much more romantic than the Whispering Gallery.

While Carly was paying at the reception desk, Danny hunted for the magazine. ‘I can’t find it, darling, but I will if I have to turn this place into Primark. I will leave no surface unturned. I’ll drop it round to the flat when I uncover it.’

‘Are you sure? That’s really kind, thanks.’

‘Ooh, looks like someone is getting another surprise.’ Danny pointed to the door. As it opened a large bouquet of yellow and white roses came in and a smidge of dark hair was barely visible above them. Carly’s stomach did a little flip although at the same time her brain was telling her that the roses’ deliverer wasn’t tall enough to be Fergus. The roses came towards her, obscuring her view of the holder as Danny vigorously nodded his approval at her side. As she took the flowers she saw who was holding them.

‘Nick?’

She immediately pushed away the flowers. ‘I don’t know where she is.’

‘These are not for Elizabeth. They’re for you to say I’m sorry for being a jerk the other night. It’s all getting on top of me. I love her, Carly. I need her back.’ He handed her the flowers.

Carly shooed Nick out of the salon and away from the open mouths of clients and stylists alike. ‘Here,’ she thrust the flowers back at him crushing them slightly. ‘I don’t want your flowers.’ She turned and started to walk purposefully away. Unfortunately, it was in the opposite direction of the flat and at some point she was either going to have to turn round and look like the numpty she felt or walk miles out of her way.

Nick caught up with her. ‘Can I walk with you?’

Carly stopped. ‘How did you know I’d be here? Are you stalking me? Because there are laws against that.’

Nick looked contrite. ‘I came here earlier in the week to see if Elizabeth had booked herself in.’ He cast his eyes downward at the same time as Carly’s jumped up. This was proper resourceful stalker territory. ‘And I saw your name on the screen. I figured there weren’t two of you in the area. I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped a line.’ He looked sorry. He looked lovely. Carly had always liked Nick; he was funny and easy on the eye – everybody liked Nick. On some level she felt he had hurt her too by doing what he had done to Beth.

‘You overstepped the line when you hit my friend.’ Carly’s jaw tightened.

‘Can we talk somewhere? Can I get you a coffee? Can I at least explain? Please.’ His eyes looked full of remorse and, against her better judgement, Carly said yes.

Carly sipped her black chai tea and eyed Nick wearily. It was difficult to reconcile what she had heard from Beth with the calm and worried-looking man who sat opposite her. Nick was looking his usual immaculate self. Black hair in a neat but trendy short style. He was wearing a fitted white shirt, his suit jacket neatly placed on the back of his chair. He didn’t look the type to hit anyone but there was rarely a typical look for someone that dished out domestic violence. That was the problem, you just didn’t know. Carly glanced around at the other hotchpotch of London life catching a few minutes respite from the busy world outside. They all looked pretty ordinary but who was to know what any of them were capable of when under pressure.

‘How have you and Fergus been?’

‘We’re fine, Nick.’ Carly felt she had to ask the responding question. ‘And how about you?’

‘Awful. Devastated. I think I was in shock at first when she left. Now I’m just sick with worry.’ Carly didn’t speak but she hoped her expression conveyed her lack of sympathy. ‘I love her, Carly. I can’t believe this has happened and I need to get her back.’

‘I don’t think that’s going to happen, Nick.’

Nick briefly put his head in his hands. ‘I keep going over and over it.’ He looked up slowly and held Carly’s gaze. ‘Leo was being so testing …’

‘He’s six, that’s kind of his job,’ pointed out Carly.

‘Yes, I know, but he was pushing all the boundaries and with Elizabeth not there he seemed to think he could do what he liked. All I did was tell him off and he went crazy.’ Nick emphasized his point with his palms spread wide. ‘I had to restrain him or he would have hurt himself. That was all I was doing. I swear to you.’

Carly sipped her tea as Nick awaited her response. ‘Beth saw you hurting Leo.’

‘No, no, she didn’t. She thought she did but I was grappling with him and trying to catch hold of his hands so he would stop lashing out.’

Carly was quiet while she mulled over Nick’s new version of events. ‘Even if she did misunderstand what she saw, I’m not saying that she did but if she did, then how do you explain you hitting Beth?’ Carly stared at him unblinking, watching his face, studying his response, trying very hard like all the TV detectives she’d ever watched to spot a sign that he was lying.

Nick blew the air out of his cheeks and shook his head, then stared at his hands for a bit as if they held the answer. Finally he looked up and made eye contact. ‘I don’t know.’

Carly’s eyes widened. ‘You don’t know how you hit her?’

‘No. I’ve no idea how it happened but the important thing is that it wasn’t intentional.’

Carly snorted and wished she hadn’t as it irritated her throat and now she was coughing uncontrollably.

‘You okay?’ He looked concerned.

‘Fine, carry on,’ she croaked.

‘One minute it was just me and Leo and he was screaming and, God, can that kid scream.’ He gave a half-laugh. Carly sipped her tea carefully which soothed her throat as she waited for him to explain further. ‘I think Elizabeth came up behind me as I stood up and somehow she got knocked into the wall. But, honestly, I don’t know exactly how it happened.’ He shook his head. ‘Carly, what do I do?’

Carly didn’t like this. Nick’s version of events did sound plausible but then so had Beth’s, and Beth had the bruises to prove her account. However much she hated herself for it, Carly couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Nick. It all seemed so out of character. She studied his face – was that a tear in his eye?

Carly wasn’t sure what to say. She would always be steadfastly loyal to Beth but was there even the smallest possibility that Beth had misread the situation?

‘I don’t know what you should do, Nick. But I guess if you really love her you try to put things right.’

‘That’s exactly what I intend to do. Whatever it takes. But first I need to know where she is.’

By the time Beth was safely at the bottom of the ladder Jack had finally stopped laughing. Beth was breathing heavily through her nostrils and was aware that she sounded a little like a cranky horse.

‘What is so funny?’ Her stern face seemed to set Jack off again.

He took a deep breath to quell the laughter. ‘Come on, I’ll buy you one of Rhonda’s famous bacon butties.’

Beth didn’t like being laughed at. At school she had never quite fitted in and had frequently been the butt of jokes she never quite understood and, right now, she felt exactly the same – self-conscious and awkward. Having made a concerted effort after Leo was born to carve out a successful career for herself, she was filled with dread at the thought of shrinking back into the uncomfortable and unsure person she had once been. It appeared all the old doubts had never actually gone away; they were just dormant awaiting a situation like this to reawaken them and bring them flooding back at full force.

‘Thanks, but I don’t think so,’ said Beth as she looked around for something to busy herself with. Jack had stopped laughing and was watching her closely and Beth found she was grinding her teeth so she stopped.

‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘You’ve not.’ Beth took hold of the ladder and, finding the catch that released the upper sections, she pushed it into place with her thumbs. The ladder slid down at speed.

‘Noooo!’ Jack lunged at the ladder and managed to grab the first rung, only just stopping the rest of it from sliding into Beth’s face.

She looked startled and stumbled backwards.

‘Bloody hell, Beth, what did you do that for?’ He was still clutching the rung of the ladder and he looked cross.

‘Well, not for fun! It was an accident!’ She felt foolish enough without him pointing it out.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, as he finished the job and laid the ladder on the grass. Beth nodded. She daren’t speak because for some ridiculous reason she felt like crying and if she opened her mouth she feared it may be a great blubbing sob that escaped rather than something coherent. ‘Come on, I need a bacon butty. Okay?’

Beth nodded.

‘I’ll take Doris home, and you and Leo can meet me at the tearoom.’ His voice was still gruff. She knew he was still cross with her but his eyes seemed to convey concern.

The tearoom was teeming with the Dumbleford lunchtime rush but Rhonda quickly cleared them a table by the window and Beth was soon staring at the biggest pile of bacon slapped between two halves of a white roll that she had ever seen. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten white bread; living in London there were always lots of options and Nick had had wheat intolerance so they’d mainly eaten rye. Beth and Jack reached for the ketchup at the same time and when their fingers touched they both recoiled in a flood of apologies. Beth didn’t like how her body had reacted to the contact.

Jack quickly turned his attention to his butty. ‘Dive in,’ he said, his bouncing eyebrows giving away his enthusiasm.

Leo didn’t need telling twice. He grabbed his and stuffed as much as he could into his mouth, making his mother wince at his lack of table manners.

Beth gave her plate a sideways look. ‘There’s like half a pig in there.’

‘I know, it’s fabulous!’ Jack took a huge bite out of his.

Beth wanted to ask for a knife and fork but even then she wasn’t sure how exactly to tackle the teetering tower, the smell of which was making her senses tingle. Sod it, she thought as she picked it up, opened her mouth as wide as it would go and bit into it. Leo grinned at her.

Beth closed her eyes as she chewed. It was crispy bacon heaven. Without speaking Beth and Leo communicated their mutual enjoyment with a series of exaggerated facial expressions and eye rolls. Beth popped the last morsel into her mouth and almost felt sad – she didn’t want the bacon butty to end.

‘I told you they were the best.’ Jack’s expression conveyed that he was pleased with himself.

‘Amazing,’ said Leo. ‘I’m bored now. Can I play outside?’ He looked to Beth for her approval.

‘Well, okay,’ she said reluctantly, ‘but stay on this side of the village green where I can see you.’ Leo didn’t respond – he was already running for the door and artfully dodging Maureen and a laden tray.

‘I’m sorry about laughing earlier,’ said Jack.

‘It’s okay. I’m not used to this sort of renovation so it’s …’

‘I don’t think you’re used to renovation at all,’ stated Jack over the top of Beth’s explanation. She was about to protest but he continued. ‘Pointing is the cement-like filler between tiles or bricks and over time it crumbles and therefore lets in moisture.’

‘Right,’ said Beth, feeling embarrassment flush in her cheeks.

‘And when I said I liked the Flemish bond I meant the wall, it’s a style of brickwork.’

‘Right, not James Bond then?’

‘Nope.’

Beth looked at Jack and into his pale grey-blue eyes. He looked sympathetic rather than mocking but she felt stupid all the same. She sighed. ‘Look, I might not have been entirely truthful, but the thing is …’

A wheelie trolley suddenly appeared at the side of their table interrupting Beth’s flow.

‘Hello, Jack. Hello again, crazy lady,’ said the old woman, with a chuckle.

‘Shirley, this is Beth. Beth this is Shirley, one of Dumbleford’s oldest residents.’

‘Aye, cheeky!’ said Shirley, giving him a pretend clip round the head.

‘I mean you’ve lived here the longest.’

‘Oh, okay, I’ll give you that.’ She eyed their mugs of tea and winked at them dramatically. Shirley bent over and rummaged in her trolley before producing a hip flask. ‘Just the thing to liven up tea,’ she said unscrewing the top.

‘We’re okay, thanks, Shirley,’ said Jack, and Beth looked relieved at not having to refuse whatever was in the flask. The woman was a mobile off-licence although it could be poison for all Beth knew – she was clearly potty. Shirley looked disappointed but returned the flask to the trolley and patted the lid affectionately. She then shuffled next to Beth. ‘Budge up,’ she said, as she lowered herself onto Beth’s chair. Beth only had a moment’s notice to move over to Leo’s vacated seat. Beth recoiled and tried very hard not to breathe in through her nose but when she did she wasn’t expecting the gust of lily of the valley thrust up her nasal passages. She was surprised; not pleasantly surprised as she loathed the smell, but it was better than she had been expecting from the bag lady.

‘So you’ve heard about Wilf’s place?’ Shirley said to Jack.

‘Yes, I’m giving Beth here a hand,’ said Jack, trying to pull Beth into the conversation.

‘Huh, she’ll need more than that! More like a miracle!’ Shirley started to giggle.

‘I think the property is sound, Shirley. Did the survey throw up much?’ asked Jack, turning to Beth.

Beth blinked hard and failed to hide her annoyance, which was mainly with herself at the rash bidding decision that had landed her here, but also at being interrogated.

‘I didn’t actually have a survey done but there was one I received when I got the keys and …’ Beth tailed off as Shirley had slowly swivelled round and was staring at her from an altogether far too close proximity.

‘And?’ prompted Jack.

‘And I started to read it but it was all a bit overwhelming.’ Beth shuddered at the memory of how many times the report mentioned the words ‘significant defects’, ‘overhauling’, ‘upgrading’ and ‘inadequate’.

‘I could look at it for you?’ offered Jack.

Beth felt a stab of humiliation as Jack gave her a pitying look. How had she gone from being a totally in control sought-after individual in the business world to this? Nick, that was how and she hated him even more for it.

Chapter Eight

Beth had the survey report clutched in her hand and she put it on the B&B kitchen table before answering her mobile.

‘Before I forget, Danny says you’re due a cut and colour,’ said Carly as soon as Beth picked up.

‘Hiya, I don’t know where I’ll go for that.’ There was no hairdresser in the village and nobody she had come across had a haircut that would prompt her to ask where they got theirs done.

‘Anyway, Danny had seen this article on treehouses in a magazine in the salon and, love him, he dropped it round to the flat and they are simply stunning. Beth, you want to see them, they’re amazing. They’re like the best hotel suites up in a tree and some are catered, so they deliver this gourmet meal for you to have by candlelight. One of them was full of flowers; flower garlands, arrangements and even flowers threaded around the bed headboard.’

‘They sound lovely.’

‘Eek, I can’t wait,’ said Carly, her excitement obvious. ‘They are the perfect place for a proposal. He is such a sweetheart. We both love the outdoors and we like a touch of luxury, so this combines the two perfectly.’

Beth loved her friend and the last thing she wanted to do was burst her bubble of happy expectation but she did feel that, although it all sounded very plausible, she was setting herself up for another possible disappointment.

‘That does all sound fabulous. Are they expensive, these tree-house breaks?’

‘Yeah, hundreds, but when you are looking at something so unique then that’s what you have to pay.’

Beth hesitated before she spoke. ‘And do you think this is the sort of thing that Fergus could afford on his income?’

There was silence and Beth felt awful for having brought Carly crashing back to reality. Eventually Carly spoke but a lot of her previous gusto had dissipated. ‘Perhaps he’s been saving up.’

‘Yeah,’ said Beth, trying to sound enthusiastic, ‘you’re right, he could have been building up to this for ages. I’m sure it will be totally brilliant.’ There was a silence that went on a fraction too long.

‘Nick has been in touch again.’

Beth could tell by Carly’s voice that there was more she wanted to impart. ‘And?’

‘He looks really sorry about everything that happened and he says he wants to put things straight between you. He’s really worried about you, Beth. He’s looking for a second chance.’

‘No way! Why would I risk me or Leo being in the firing line the next time he loses his temper?’

‘Oh, I know,’ said Carly, ‘I was just passing on the message.’ There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation. ‘He nearly cried,’ added Carly.

‘He could be bawling his eyes out for all I care. I’ll never go back. Carly, please don’t get suckered in by him. He’s a tricky bastard.’

‘No, of course not. You are completely right. He’s a bastard. A very charming and handsome one, but a bastard all the same.’

Beth hadn’t shared everything with Carly, so the fact that Beth and Nick’s relationship ended so abruptly had been a shock to her. She’d talk to Carly about it when she had eventually sorted it all out in her own mind but for now Beth was still trying to make sense of it all herself.

When the call was over Beth started to think about the treehouse. It sounded like a lovely place, but then so had Willow Cottage but now it was a disaster she was stuck with. Perhaps she could knock down bloody Willow Cottage and build a treehouse in the willow. She was pretty sure it would cost less and it would definitely be easier than sorting out the mess she currently had to deal with.

Beth was drowning her sorrows in a particularly large glass of Chardonnay as she sat in the B&B kitchen mulling over the full structural survey report. It didn’t make for an entertaining read. She felt sorry for herself. She knew it was a bit pathetic but she couldn’t help it. It was like she’d been dropped into someone else’s life and it was alien. Everything here was almost the opposite of what she was used to: before she had a clean, sleek and modern home and now she had a tumbledown filthy wreck. She used to have a good job, now she was playing at being a property renovator – and doing it very badly, she thought, as she ran a thumb over her reddened palms that were sore from the splinters. And love it or hate it she was used to the noise, bustle and vibrancy of London and now she was in a village that was so sleepy and inactive if it were a person it would be lying on a slab with a tag on its toe. She was the proverbial fish out of water or in her case she was the middle-class mum out of Waitrose.

She was also trying very hard not to think about Nick. It was bugging her that he’d been in touch with Carly but it niggled her more that Carly had obviously listened to him. Nick was charming and that was a wonderfully effective mask to hide behind.

This was all Nick’s fault. If he had only been all the things he had promised to be, and not the hateful manipulator with a swift backhand, then right now she and her little boy could be sitting in the apartment she loved, and had worked so hard for, with the man of her dreams. Because, before Nick had shown his true colours, that was exactly what he had been. At first when Nick had done things for her she was flattered, pleased that someone was thinking of her and it had made her feel special. The few thoughtful gestures had become more and more frequent until virtually everything outside of her work was sorted out for her by him, making her feel cosseted. It was a while before she noticed that her independence was evaporating, almost unnoticed, like a puddle in the sun. Perhaps on some level she was missing Nick too. She started to feel anxious as the memories forced their way into her conscious mind and she washed them away with a large slug of wine. There was no point going over the past. Beth realized she was grinding her teeth and stopped herself; it was a nervous thing she seemed to have developed, thanks to Nick, and she needed to break the habit.

She looked around the B&B kitchen – it was painfully twee. Frilly floral curtains hung at the small window and were tied back with ribbons, the units were all pine which overpowered the small room, on top of the wall cabinets was a collection of pottery jugs in various gaudy colours, most of which clashed spectacularly with the migraine-inducing magenta walls. Beth knew she was being uncharitable but she was used to clean lines, minimalism and good design, none of which was evident here.

She looked round the kitchen again. It was all superficial. The kitchen wasn’t a bad size; but was overcrowded by cupboards and overwhelmed by colour and chintz. She could easily change it given the chance, it was only one room. That was it. She could easily change one room. Willow Cottage was the same; she needed to look at it as a series of single rooms, one thing at a time, rather than one massive insurmountable disaster. The cottage might have a lot that needed changing but, with the exception of the roof, there didn’t appear to be anything structurally wrong. Yes, it needed repointing – thanks to Jack she now knew what that meant – it needed rewiring and a damp course but that was all doable. She took another swig of wine. That was the last time she was going to feel sorry for herself; from now on, she was going to change things bit by bit and she was going to start with moving out of the B&B.

Jean failed to hide her obvious disappointment at losing her guests and she seemed rather concerned about Beth’s plans.

‘Honest, Jean, we’ll be fine. We’ve loved it here but it makes sense to move out now.’ Beth needed to have a much tighter hold on her money than she had done up until now. The B&B had been ideal but in a prime Cotswolds location it wasn’t cheap. Beth had no regular income so for the first time in a long while she had to get used to living on a budget.

Leo shook his head as he followed his mother to the car and they drove away. Beth swung the car past the pub car park, pulled up outside the cottage, jumped out and flung open the boot. An earlier trip into town had allowed her to stock up on a cleaning product for every known surface type, as well as two long-handled brushes of differing brush coarseness, and a mop and bucket with spare heads. She also had industrial quantities of bleach, most of which was destined for the toilet and bathroom.

‘Right, we are only cleaning one room. That’s all. We’ve got all day. Ready?’ Beth was bubbling with enthusiasm. Leo was not.

‘But it’s just the two of us and it’ll be soooooooooo boring!’ Leo’s shoulders slumped dramatically forward.

Beth’s plan was that since the living room appeared to be watertight even if the upstairs landing wasn’t, they could get that one room liveable and then work on the rest bit by bit. The electrician was due to start rewiring in a few days and she had already called Kyle the builder to fix the pointing. She had felt so proud when she had explained what pointing was, though Kyle hadn’t seemed that impressed. Beth gathered up armfuls of cleaning products and headed towards the cottage with a spring in her step. Leo huffed and harrumphed behind her. She nearly dropped the whole lot when Ernie jumped out of the willow tree.

‘Hello,’ he said, his voice brittle. She hoped he hadn’t been there all night.

‘Good morning, Ernie. We’re going to give the cottage a spruce up. Well, the living room at least.’ Ernie grinned and, without asking, he followed Beth and Leo inside. Beth ignored the feeling of Great Expectations as she bobbed under a large cobweb in the hallway and went through to the musty-smelling living room. There was a wide windowsill that, like the rest of the room, had a layer of dust on it. After a lot of shoving and grunting on Beth’s part she finally managed to open the window. She put on the mask that Jack had given her and handed the other to Leo, which he put on and briefly found entertaining before quickly returning to being bored.

Beth wiped down the windowsill and laid out the cleaning products.

‘Let’s start at the top and work our way down,’ she said, her voice bright.

Leo pointed at the bulb hanging from the light fitting. ‘I can’t reach up there. Can I go and explore somewhere?’

‘No, Leo, I need you to help. You can sweep the floor.’

‘What?’ Leo looked alarmed but reluctantly took the brush from his mother and despite it being taller than him he started to slowly push it around the floor.

The next couple of hours were a slow torture as Beth dusted, brushed and scrubbed to the background white noise that was Leo’s whining. Ernie had given up and gone to sit under the willow tree. Beth flung another bucket of black grime-saturated water over the big plant in the back garden and filled the bucket up again from the outside tap. She straightened her back and watched a couple of cabbage white butterflies dance around the out-of-control purple buddleia before disappearing. It was a lovely sunny day and it did seem to make the countryside come alive, even the horses in the field looked a bit more frisky today. She would have liked to have been sat outside in the garden – even in its overgrown state, it was more welcoming than the inside of the cottage – but she had work to do, so lounging in the garden would have to wait. She picked up her half-full bucket and went back inside. She stopped in the living-room doorway and surveyed the room. It looked a little better than it had done. It certainly smelled better. The floor had sturdy-looking floorboards that now looked a dark oak colour and Beth could already start to visualize what they would look like offset against white walls and with a cosy rug placed on top of them. Leo was sitting on the window ledge looking thoroughly bored.

‘One more mop over and we’ll get some lunch. Okay?’

They decided to try out the delights of the pub for a change and see if they had a less heart-disease-inducing menu than the tearoom. As it turned out, it wasn’t too bad; not a gastro pub but good honest home-cooked food, and there were two salads on the menu. It was the right weather for salad, with the gentle breeze and persistent sunshine, and what better way to eat it than in the pub garden. There was a lonely swing there that Leo made a run for and he only got off it when his food arrived.

Petra, the landlady, came out with a third plate and a knife and fork and set it down next to Beth.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ asked Petra. As Beth was about to protest, Ernie joined her on the bench seat and started to tuck into his pie and mash dinner.

‘No, it’s fine,’ said Beth, with a smile.

While they were eating, a small boy with a mop of black hair came outside and stood hugging a football. As Petra ferried past another round of meals he asked her something.

‘No, Denis, you can ask him yourself.’

The boy sidled over towards the table where Beth, Leo and Ernie were eating and stood a few feet away, hugging his football tighter still. Leo looked up and the boy smiled.

‘I’m Denis, you wanna play football on the green?’

‘Yeah,’ said Leo, shovelling the last piece of chicken into his mouth and clattering his cutlery down onto his plate and the remaining salad. ‘Can I go, Mum, pleeeeeeease?’ said Leo, as he stood up.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Beth, craning her neck to see if she could see enough of the green from where she was sitting.

‘He’ll be fine,’ came Petra’s gentle voice behind her. ‘Denis is my son. Everyone knows him and he plays there all the time. People round here keep a look out for each other.’ Beth didn’t like to say that it was the people round here that bothered her the most.

Beth wasn’t sure but Leo was already pushing back his chair and his face was a contortion of pleading expressions.

‘Okay, just for a few minutes.’ But Leo was gone before she had finished the sentence. Ernie finished his food, laid his knife and fork dead centre on his clean plate, and left without a word.

Beth sat alone and looked around her. Everyone else was chatting, lots of groups of people and couples. She had no idea who was local and who was a tourist. She wasn’t sure what category she was in. She didn’t feel like she belonged here but she had nowhere else to go.

Petra’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘I’ll watch the boys if you want to get on. I’ve seen you working at the cottage.’

‘Cleaning mainly but it’s okay. I’ll get Leo to give me a hand.’

Petra raised an eyebrow. ‘A boy that cleans?’

Beth laughed. ‘Well, no, not exactly.’

‘Then let him play. Look, he’s having fun with Denis.’ Beth watched as the boys raced after the ball and wherever they kicked it they seemed to be celebrating a goal. It was good to see Leo smiling and Beth realized she hadn’t seen him do that much since they’d been in Dumbleford.

‘Okay, if you’re sure.’ Beth headed back to the cottage for round two of cleaning the living room, her first step at conquering the cottage and, if she felt very brave, she might blitz the bathroom too.

Beth switched her phone to music and with some of her favourite teenage tunes belting out she got to work. She found it was a lot easier to clean when you were singing and also doing the odd dance move with the duster. She was giving a particularly energetic rendition of ‘Is This The Way To Amarillo’, including overenthusiastic waving of thumbs over her shoulder, when she thought she saw something out of the window. She didn’t hear anything because it wasn’t possible over her screeching.

Beth turned the music down and crept to the window: she couldn’t see anyone but she suddenly felt self-conscious and smoothed down her hair. She went to the front door, just to check, and there on the doorstep was a black kettle barbecue. Beth looked around but there was nobody about, not even Ernie. The barbecue was a little battered and whilst she was pondering what it was doing there she lifted up the big dome-shaped lid. On the very clean grill inside was a sticky note, which read:

‘I was chucking stuff out and thought of you – Jack’

Blunt as ever, she thought. She picked up the note and saw that under the grill was a bag of charcoal and she smiled. The barbecue looked quite old but it would definitely do the job and there was nothing quite like eating outdoors to pick up your spirits. It was a nice gesture. Perhaps the villagers weren’t so bad after all, even Jack.

Chapter Nine

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.

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.

‘I like your wood …’ started Beth, realizing her mouth had gone dry. She pointed to the driftwood shelf in the picture. ‘It’s really lovely.’

‘I can give you one if you’d like?’

Beth’s eyebrows shot up and Jack’s face registered the overtone of the otherwise innocent conversation. Their eyes widened at the same time.

‘Anyway, I had better get back …’ Jack was looking awkward as he moved quickly towards the front door.

‘Oh, and us too.’ Beth stood up, clutching the robe around her, and beckoned Leo to his feet. He stood up, holding his towel with one hand and still spooning food into his mouth with the other as he inched round the table. ‘We need to get the tent dried out.’

Jack opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

‘It’s a long story,’ said Beth, as she squeezed passed him. ‘Thanks for the use of the shower and for breakfast. We really appreciate it.’ She took the spoon from Leo and dropped it in the sink as they passed. ‘We’ll wash these and drop them back sometime,’ she said, indicating the bathrobe and towel as she slipped out of the front door and let out a sigh of relief. It was still early so hopefully not too many people would see them make the dash back to the cottage but anything was better than being trapped in an innuendo nightmare with Jack.

A couple of hours later Denis called for Leo and the two disappeared to play in the pub garden as the green was fully occupied with lots of people rushing about with boxes, cakes, plants and large vegetables. Thankfully, Kyle the builder had heeded her plea and arrived early and imparted the glorious news that he thought the ceilings might be covered by her insurance. A few lengthy calls later and it was agreed that she could get quotes for the water damage and an assessor would visit the following week.

Beth felt surprisingly good walking Kyle through her priorities and from his previous visit he was able to confirm what he could and couldn’t do for the money she was prepared to pay. Kyle did some makeshift repairs to the roof so it was temporarily watertight, and promised to drop the quote round for the insurance work in the next couple of days.

Beth went out into the back garden to check on the progress of the tent, sleeping bags and bedrolls that were drying out nicely on the improvised washing line which was one of the bushes. She thought she heard a noise like someone knocking on a door and, suspecting that Leo was back, went back into the house and opened the front door.

‘Surprise!’ said an overenthusiastic Carly as she threw her arms round Beth and squeezed her.

Beth stood rooted to the spot. Her mind went a complete blank for a moment, perhaps she was in shock. Eventually Beth hugged her back. ‘Wow, um, this is a surprise. Where’s Fergus?’ she asked, looking behind Carly.

‘Huge disaster. Treehouse was exactly that. It was a hut in a tree in a field and there was no proposal so … bloody hell, this is a shithole!’ she said, suddenly noticing the hallway she’d walked into. She glanced into the living room. ‘What the hell happened?’ Carly swung round and it was as if she went into slow motion giving Beth time to observe every detail; she was immaculate from her sleek dark glossy hair, to her perfectly pedicured toes. She was wearing a petite summery dress and casual jacket and looked like an advert for summer. Beth on the other hand had dried-by-itself hair with roots that were well past the ‘need touching up stage’, was wearing a now rather tatty Ted Baker blouse, thanks to its encounter with the cottage’s overgrown shrubbery, and a pair of cheap flip flops. She wiggled her unpainted toes self-consciously.

Beth didn’t like the feeling that came over her. It was a mixture of embarrassment and jealousy and it wasn’t pleasant to admit to. The contrast between her and Carly was now a chasm whereas only a few weeks ago they had been like two perfectly fashioned peas in an organic designer pod. Beth found she was grinding her teeth again, so she stopped.

‘Let’s go to the pub and I’ll explain,’ said Beth, putting an arm around Carly and steering her out of the front door. Carly put on her sunglasses and didn’t argue. As they walked towards the pub, Beth sniffed the air. ‘Can you smell poo?’

Two large glasses of wine later, both women were feeling a whole lot better having offloaded all of their woes to the other. Beth was feeling more settled in Carly’s company and now felt bad for having had her earlier pang of jealousy. It was lovely to see Carly even if it was unexpected. And at least now Carly had seen Willow Cottage in all its awfulness she would appreciate its transformation when it was eventually renovated.

‘I’ve missed this so much, Beth. I’ve missed you.’ Carly looked teary as she reached out a hand.

‘I’ve missed you too.’ Beth gave Carly another hug. She’d missed having someone to talk to that knew her inside and out. ‘Right, you get yourself another glass of wine and I’ll take Leo and Denis to investigate this Summer Fete. That should buy us some more chatting time.’

The boys were like pinballs at the fingertips of the legendary pinball wizard as they charged around the village green from stall to stall. A lot more children seemed to have appeared, some of whom Denis knew, and before long there was a small gang of children dominating one stall at a time. All the old favourites were there; Hook A Duck, Coconut Shy, and Splat the Rat as well as newer ones like face painting, temporary tattoos and Football Penalty Shootout. The latter was a big hit with the boys and, while they were rejoining the lengthy queue for yet another go, Beth went to investigate the marquee. She walked across the spongy grass taking in the pale azure sky and the sound of people laughing and generally having a good time. Beth was enjoying the village green fete, you didn’t get anything quite like it in London. The marquee was huge inside and had been sectioned off for different competition items; the results of the best cake were being announced as Beth made her way nearer the front and tried to ignore how uncomfortably warm it was.

A woman in a floaty top and leather trousers was tapping a microphone. ‘So, in third place … Mr Pleasance with his giant pineapple cake. One to rival Mr Plumley’s marrow,’ snorted the woman at her own joke. Mr Pleasance happily accepted his third-place rosette and returned to the crowd amidst lots of backslapping. ‘Second place goes to the wonderful gooey chocolate cake by Mrs Oldham.’ A lengthy round of applause followed as a miffed Mrs Oldham, putting on her best valiant-loser face, accepted her rosette and prize. ‘And the worthy winner of Dumbleford’s Summer Fete Best Cake Competition is …’ The woman left too much of a pause and the crowd started heckling. ‘Mrs Pritchard and her 1960s cherry and almond cake!’ Beth was wondering what qualified it as 1960s when a violently coloured swirly patterned cake was lifted up high to whoops of applause.

To Beth’s surprise, the person that collected the red rosette and glinting glass trophy was none other than Shirley the bag lady. Beth joined in the enthusiastic clapping as Shirley took the microphone. ‘It’s also a proper 1960s cake inside, if you know what I mean! Pound a slice, come and get it!’ Before she could hand back the microphone there was a surge of people towards her.

Beth was laughing as she left the marquee and on checking her watch realized that the time had sped by and she had left Carly on her own for a lot longer than she’d intended. She found the now-penniless boys who were sitting under a vast gnarled oak tree swapping sweets they had won, and the three of them made their way back into the pub.

Leo and Denis disappeared out into the garden and Beth strode towards where she had left Carly. She could hear Carly’s raucous laughter before she saw her and it made her smile. The small table now had two empty wine bottles on it and someone else was sitting there with Carly draped over them. For a moment Beth thought that Fergus had turned up until she took a proper look. Jack had his arm around Carly and she was going in for a kiss.

Chapter Eleven

‘Carly!’ said Beth, her voice sharp.

Carly spun in Beth’s direction with an exaggerated movement. With slow blinks she looked at Beth until something registered.

‘Beth! This is … um … what was your name again?’ She swung precariously back towards Jack who stopped her falling on him with one hand whilst holding the pub table steady with the other.

‘I know who it is.’ Beth was trying to suppress the annoyance that was rapidly developing within her.

‘He’s lov-erly,’ cooed Carly whilst she stroked his arm in a deliberate action.

‘I’d like to know what he’s planning on doing with my drunk friend?’ Beth retorted. Jack let go of Carly as if she were a lit firework.

As the accusation slowly registered, Carly looked hurt. ‘I’m not dunk!’ she protested as she slowly slid towards the floor.

Jack was looking blindly from one woman to the other as if he’d just been teleported there. ‘I was just …’

‘For someone that wasn’t looking for a relationship a few hours ago you’ve sure as hell come round to the idea quick!’ Beth stepped forward and grabbed Carly by one arm and hauled her into a standing position. ‘Come on! We’re leaving now.’

Carly wobbled on unsteady legs, grinned inanely at Jack and was towed away.

They stumbled into the sunshine and the mêlée of the Summer Fete quickly surrounded them.

‘Ooooh, coconuts!’ squealed Carly, veering off.

Now that the flash of temper had subsided Beth wasn’t entirely sure where she was heading. Having separated Carly and Jack she wasn’t certain why she’d interfered but in that moment it had seemed like the only thing to do.

‘Beth, hang on!’ called out Jack, jogging up to them and catching Carly mid-sway.

Beth raised her eyebrows. ‘Shall I leave you to it?’ she asked, her question aimed pointedly at Jack.

‘I’m fine, really fine. Oh, hello, it’s you again!’ Carly grinned broadly, full of surprise at the sight of Jack keeping her upright.

‘She needs to sober up. Help me take her back to my place, will you?’ asked Jack.

‘And how safe will she be there?’

‘Bloody hell, Beth, I’m trying to help here.’

Beth didn’t really have another option. She couldn’t see Carly being able to crawl into her tent even though it purported to be a three-man version; she and Leo hadn’t had enough space.

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