Amelia Grey's Fireside Dream (17 page)

Nico came in through the front door. ‘Hello, ladies,’ he said. ‘Wow, looks like I timed this perfectly.’ He glanced over at his daughter and then touched her softly on the cheek. She quietened a little.

‘And for the grown-ups, I come bearing treats,’ he said, holding up a lemon drizzle cake from M&S.

‘Thanks, Nico,’ I said. ‘I’ll help you in the kitchen. Actually, can I ask you a quick question?

‘Sure,’ Nico said.

‘At the Go-Kart track, do you ever need any apprentices?’

*

I left London Bridge on the train as the sun was setting orange over the city. I wrote out a reply to Trey’s letter, thanking him for sending my things back, and for the essay. The anger I’d felt about him stealing from me in the first place was gone now.

I added in Nico’s email address, and told him to get in touch if he was interested in getting some experience at the track. Not quite cars, but a step in the right direction. Who knows, he might just give it a try.

I arrived back at the cottage just after seven, and Jack greeted me with a kiss. ‘How was Sunita, and the baby?’

‘Suni seems great. And Bella’s lovely,’ I said. ‘Baby-like … yet surprisingly amenable to letting us have a conversation.’

‘I can’t wait to meet her. I called Nico and arranged to go by there after work next week. He seems really happy.’

‘Yes. Suni was a bit concerned about him having a wobble just before the baby was born, but it looks like he got over it pretty quickly once Bella arrived.’

‘It must be an amazing feeling, becoming a parent for the first time.’

‘I guess so,’ I said with a shrug. ‘If it’s what you want.’

‘So, it was good to catch up?’ Jack asked.

‘More than that,’ I said. I thought of the letter in my handbag. ‘How have things been here?’ I asked. ‘Did you manage to get started on the living room?’

I felt excited at the prospect. Once we had the living room sorted, we’d have a real haven in the house. Somewhere we could be cosy, and entertain guests, even while the rest of the rooms were being finished.

‘Sort of – I’ve made a bit of progress.’

‘You did?’ I said, pushing the door open to take a look. The ratty brown carpet had been pulled up at the front of the room, but other than that, it looked much the same. The fireplace still had broken tiles, and the paint on the walls was a dull grey.

‘I started, but we’ve had a bit of a setback.’

‘Really? What’s that?’ I went in and bent to look at the flooring. ‘Floorboards look good in here. I think we could do something with them, don’t you?’

‘OK, so the first thing is the window frames,’ Jack said. ‘I got in a local joiner, but he said that as there’s quite a lot of work needed, and as this place is Grade Two listed, we’re going to need to get permission to replace them. Same goes
for the broken banisters and our stairs. It should be doable, but it’ll take a while.’

‘How long did he think it would?’

‘About eight weeks, he said.’

‘That’s a pain. Did he say anything else?’

‘Well, he wasn’t sure, but he was concerned there might be woodworm.’

‘You’re kidding,’ I said. ‘Surely that would have shown up on our survey?’

‘I don’t know why it didn’t. But I think we should get someone in for a second opinion.’

‘OK. So I guess we’re not going to be cosying up by this fire any time soon.’

‘There are a few things we need to do first,’ Jack said.

‘Any chance you’d be able to take a day off, help me out next week?’ I asked.

‘Really sorry, Amelia. I’ve got a work trip next week. Don’t you remember me saying? I’m going to Berlin for a few days.’

‘Oh yes,’ I said, trying to seem nonchalant. Of course, he’d mentioned it weeks ago, but with the move it had completely slipped my mind. I realized I didn’t want Jack to go away – not now, not at all. I didn’t want to be on my own in the cottage. ‘How long is it for again?’

‘Four days.’

‘Right.’

‘Yes. We’re going to talk to a small animation studio over there, to see if they can work together with us on
LoveKatz
, if we get funding for it. I’ve seen some of their work and it’s amazing. Now that we’re down to a skeleton staff in London we’re going to need more people on board to do the work, and I have a feeling they’ll be perfect.’

‘Are the whole team going with you?’

‘Yes – Hiro, Jason, Ben, Sadie,’ Jack said. ‘The timing’s terrible, I know. I wish I could be here to help you sort things out, but I’ll be back before you know it – and if anything comes up just call me and we can talk it through.’

‘OK …’ I started. I took a deep breath and tried to steady my nerves.

‘What is it? You know I can’t miss this, Amelia. I helped to arrange it, and it’s a really good opportunity for us.’

‘You said we’d be working on the cottage together. I thought it would be a chance for us to spend time doing something, you and me. But it hasn’t felt like that at all.’

‘That’ll change soon, I promise,’ Jack said. ‘But with you at home – well, it just makes more sense. And one of us needs to be making money.’

‘I know that. But you agreed to support me when I gave in my notice, and now it feels like you’re taking that back. Do you think doing up the house is just a hobby for me?’

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. He was getting frustrated, and so was I. ‘But the cottage can wait.’

‘And I suppose I can too,’ I said.

Google streetview shows: cottages, parish church, post office, school and newsagent.

Wednesday, 25 September

‘Amelia!’ Mum said, opening the door to me the next day with a smile.

‘Hi. You still got room for one more?’

‘Of course. I’ve made the spare room up for you. Here, let me take your bag.’

I was grateful to come in out of the damp, foggy morning. I handed her the small sports bag I’d packed with essentials for my overnight stay – clothes, make-up, my iPad, a copy of
Country Homes & Interiors
and my sketchbook, so I could continue to work on ideas for the house. When the plumber
told me he needed to switch off the water while he worked, I’d decided to decamp and head over to my mum’s.

‘Are you not feeling well?’ I asked. It was unusual to see her still in her dressing gown at ten – she was usually up and dressed early.

‘Bit slow this morning,’ she said.

‘Fair enough. I’m certainly not one to judge. I’ve been in overalls most of this week.’

‘How are the renovations going?’ she asked.

‘Not bad,’ I said. ‘Actually, that’s not completely true. Hence me being here. We’ve got a suspected case of wood-worm and some permissions to negotiate, but we’re slowly getting there. The kitchen looks good.’

‘Oh lovely,’ she said. ‘I’m dying to see it.’

‘Yes – I’d love to have you round. But when we’ve got things sorted out a little bit more. Is that OK?’

‘Of course, I understand. Just give me the word when you’re ready. It’ll all get better soon, darling, I’m sure of it. It can get complicated with listed buildings, I’ve heard.’

‘We’ll get there,’ I said. ‘But thanks for letting me stay, really. I needed a break from the house.’

‘You know you’re always welcome. I thought – if you’re not busy – you might like to help me out with something. I’m making some cakes for a charity bake sale tonight, and I could do with a hand. You can come along too, meet some of the locals.’

I thought back to my experience with Jack at the Three Kings pub. ‘I don’t know,’ I said, sitting down on the sofa. ‘I’m not sure I’ve found Hazelton that welcoming so far.’

‘Oh dear,’ Mum said. ‘Well, you probably just haven’t met the right people, that’s all.’

‘They don’t seem to like Londoners much. Have you not found that?’

‘Not at all,’ Mum said, waving a hand dismissively. ‘You’ll be fine, Amelia. Teething problems, that’s all it is.’

‘If you say so. Anyway, back to these cakes. What are you planning on making?’

‘A hazelnut and carrot cake, and a classic Victoria sponge.’

‘Nice. Let’s get to work then.’

Mum and I tied on aprons and got together the ingredients for the two cakes in her kitchen – clear wooden worktops, a brand new oven and matching polka-dot crockery.

‘Did you have to do a lot of work to get the room like this?’ I asked.

‘No, It was like this when I moved in,’ Mum said. ‘I was lucky, I suppose – I think my time for big house renovations is probably over.’

‘You and Dad did a bit in back in the day, didn’t you?’

‘When I was pregnant with you we painted the flat – your dad was longing to knock down a wall but I persuaded him to wait until you were born before we did anything major. Couldn’t bear the thought of a flat full of plaster dust when
you were still so young. Anyway, along you came and we never got round to any of that.’

‘Sorry,’ I said.

‘You were worth it,’ she said, smiling.

For a moment, working alongside each other, it felt as if we’d always done things like this, Mum arranging cooking equipment on the worktop as I perched on a stool. But it hadn’t always been like that. I watched as Mum began to measure out ingredients. I remembered the letter Dad had sent me, the week after he left. The words were embedded in my mind.

‘Right. Now, where were we?’ Mum said, pushing her hair back from her face and tying it with a band. ‘Are you OK to grate the carrots?’

‘Sure,’ I said, getting down from the stool and opening the fridge.

*

In the early evening, when our baking was finished, Mum and I walked into Hazelton, and she led me inside the village hall, where women buzzed around stands and chattered over cakes. My stomach twisted, as if I were going into a really important interview rather than just meeting a few village locals. Hazelton was my home now, but I felt out of place. How was it that I could feel comfortable in front of a group of thirty teenagers, and yet now I felt vulnerable and shy?

‘Rosie!’ A woman my mum’s age, in a purple pashmina,
was weaving her way over to us. ‘How are you?’ She gave my mum a hug before turning to me. ‘And you must be Amelia. I’m Rachel.’

I shook her hand and smiled. ‘Yes. Pleased to meet you.’

‘You look alike, you know. It’s the eyes – I’ve always wanted blue ones. Anyway, your mum’s told me lots about you. Ever so proud of you, she is.’

I glanced at my mum, wondering if that was true. She was busying herself getting our cakes out of her bag and placing them on the central table.

‘You’ve just moved in nearby, I hear. Brambledown Cottage?’ Rachel asked warmly.

‘Yes, that’s right. My husband Jack and I are doing it up.’

‘Oh – good luck with that. I do love a bit of home improvement.’

‘It’s slow going, but we’ll get there. Thought I’d have a break from it all at Mum’s this weekend. I’m still trying to find someone who can restore some of the original features, like the window frames; quite a few of them are rotted.’

‘Ah – I know just the person. You should meet my daughter Sally. She’s just bought her own place, and has run into a few hitches too. She’s over here …’

Rachel walked me to the small kitchen, where Sally was talking to some friends.

‘Sally, this is Amelia, Rosie’s daughter. She’s just moved here,’ Rachel said.

Dressed in black skinny jeans and a red blouse, with shoulder-length dark-blonde hair, Sally stood out a bit from the flowery dresses at the bake sale. She and I must have been roughly the same age.

‘Good to meet you,’ I said.

‘How are you settling into village life so far?’ she asked kindly.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘I haven’t had much of a chance to explore. But it seems nice here.’

‘It’s Eleanor McGuire’s place you’ve moved into, isn’t it?’ Sally said. ‘Beautiful location.’

‘It’s stunning – nothing for miles around. I still have to pinch myself in the mornings.’

Sally laughed. ‘Yes, it’s lovely and peaceful out here. And I’m enjoying my lie-ins since I stopped helping Mum and Dad with the farm. I say lie-ins – I’m still up at seven, but that feels like a luxury when I was used to mucking out the animals at five or six in the morning.’

‘Rachel has a farm?’

‘Yes, she and my dad, Fred, run it. She didn’t mention it? It’s their life – there are cows and chickens, the usual, but then there’s their real pride and joy – three horses – and Mum’s big passion, a dozen alpacas.’

‘Wow. That sounds like a lot of work.’

‘It is, but they love it. Mum’s been getting the alpaca wool spun – beautifully soft stuff. It was hard to leave them, knowing that they could still use an extra hand, but there are things I want to do in life that don’t involve putting my hand up cows’ bottoms.’

‘What could possibly be more appealing than that?’ I asked, smiling. I couldn’t help warming to Sally and her laid-back, unpretentious manner.

‘I run a bakery and cafe on the high street. I started it up last year with my husband, Dan. We specialize in wedding cakes. Got to make our own last year,’ she said, beaming. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got anything lined up?’

‘Been there, done that, I’m afraid,’ I said, flashing my wedding ring.

‘You’ll have to pop in anyway, next time you’re in town. We’re just next to the post office.’