Escape to the Cotswolds. Natalie Kleinman
a couple of cupboards. They’ve been dumped in the spare bedroom with my clothes but I’m happy to live out of boxes for the time being. In any case, there’s a huge built-in wardrobe cupboard in my bedroom that’ll take most of my clothes. The rest is for storage really and I’m in no hurry to move things from one place to another just for the sake of it. You serious about food?’
‘When was I ever not serious about food?’
‘Then I’d love to. Thank you.’
***
Holly’s kitchen was immaculate but sadly lacking in fundamental requirements – like crockery and cutlery and … well, it was a very long list so next morning Holly abandoned what was left of the unpacking and ventured out in search of a few vital items to add to the kettle and mugs she’d moved in with.
Tourists don’t tend to visit picturesque Cotswolds villages for new saucepans but, while a trip to the local retail park was on the cards in the near future, the general store at Emma’s end of the village would provide all she needed to tide her over. She mooched her way along the high street, popping in and out of shops every now and then to buy some essential and some not so essential items. She loved it that not a single business was one of a chain, something she’d been unable to get away from in London. Part of the joy was not knowing what to expect when she went through the door.
Without transport and the ability to reach and, more to the point, carry things back from outside the village, Holly decided to concentrate her efforts on the things she could do and applied herself for the rest of the day and those that followed to giving the side extension a much-needed facelift. Somewhere along the line ‘when it got too much for me to put things in the loft’ this room had become Mrs Foster’s storage room. It was immaculately clean, the whole house was, but it had a sad, neglected look.
Holly had bought paint, brushes, and stepladder prior to moving in, arranging for them to be delivered with everything else as she had recognised this as a priority. The rest of the house was a bit faded too but it had a warm, lived-in personality. There was no hurry to change anything there. Maybe without the matching roof the room felt like a poor relation. Holly hoped she’d be able to rectify that though she knew it would be expensive and certainly nowhere near the top of her to-do list.
Inside she set to with a will and that was when she discovered very quickly that the painting of walls and woodwork bears no resemblance at all to the watercolours that were her favourite medium. It wasn’t a task she enjoyed but she was pleased enough with the results. Country air and sheer hard work did their job and Holly slept like a baby those first few nights. She was keen for Emma to come round again to see the results and come round she did, the following Friday after school.
‘I like the make-up, Holly. Is this your new look?’
‘Yes, I know,’ she said, turning to the wall mirror in the hall and peering at her face, trying to pick yellow specks off with her fingernail. ‘I thought I’d managed to scrub it all away but it gets everywhere. I don’t think I got this much paint on me the whole time we were at college.’
Emma didn’t have a studio. Being a teacher, she had everything she needed at school. Holly though needed somewhere to work.
‘Let’s have a look then, Hol.’
Holly half dragged her to that part of the house where she now spent most of her waking hours, so glad at last to get hands-on in her new home, falling over her words as they went.
‘It’s nowhere near finished yet, but it’s clean and bright. And I had no idea how big that front window was. With a couple of coats of paint, well, you can see how the light just streams in and reflects off the walls – ét voila.’
Emma stood in the doorway, her mouth a perfectly formed ‘O’.
‘It’s a bit different from when you saw it last, isn’t it?’
‘It’s amazing. No wonder you’re so excited. You must have been decorating day and night. I can’t believe how much you’ve done since I was here last week.’
‘Well, I just couldn’t wait to get it finished, but I’ve discovered muscles I never even knew existed. If I hadn’t taken a day off in the middle to help out at the home I think everything would have seized up by now.’
‘I’d give my right arm for somewhere like this,’ Emma said, the envy discernible in her voice. ‘It’s an artist’s dream. You could get carried away in here.’
‘Well, Emma, for a small fee you can come and use the facilities any time you like.’
‘I can see what you mean about turning it into a retail gallery as well as a studio,’ Emma said, doing a three hundred and sixty degree turn as she examined the space. ‘It would work really well, but you’ll need more than just passing trade if you want to make a real go of it, particularly as you’re right out on a limb here at the end of the street.’
Emma knew about Holly’s dream; knew she wanted to build a viable business around her passion.
‘Yes, I know, and I’m going to need some help putting together a website, or more likely getting someone to do it for me. I’m not techie as you well know. I can design the flyers myself of course but I’ll get them run off professionally. My poor old printer would never cope with the quantity. It throws a hissy fit if I try anything larger than a three-page document. Then I’ll be walking the streets pushing them through letterboxes. Firstly, though, I’m going to the tourist information office and the library. I need advice from people who know what they’re talking about ’cos I sure as hell don’t.’
Holly’s voice got faster and faster as her excitement grew and it was only when she paused for breath that Emma said, ‘And next week?’
Not allowing her friend’s sarcasm to diminish her enthusiasm, she replied, ‘Okay, I know it isn’t going to happen overnight but if I’m a bit frugal – and, if I come round to yours three or four times a week to eat – I should be able to manage.’
‘Don’t be shy. Just ask. Move back in if you want to. No? I thought not. Maybe you’d like meals on wheels.’
‘Well, if you’re offering …’
‘You’re pushing it now, you know. There are limits to this friendship.’
‘But, Em. I’m a poor orphan.’
‘More of that wheedling and you’ll be a seriously bruised orphan.’
‘Anyway,’ Holly said, reverting to her normal voice, ‘I would like to be ready in time for at least some of this year’s tourist season, if I can. It’s only just February. No need to panic yet, I hope.’
‘Well, you didn’t collar every prize going at college for nothing. What was it Blush the Brush said about you? “Enormous potential to succeed”.’
‘Yeah, but …’
‘You were a little star, Hol. You know you were. This is not the time for false modesty.’
‘Emma, I know you …’
‘If anyone can make it work, you can. And when you’re rich and famous I’ll remind you how I helped set you on your way. In fact, I could be your business manager.’
‘That would be in your spare time of course.’
Emma didn’t have a lot of spare time, not with two boys and a husband to whom the adjective practical would never apply. Her work didn’t stop at the school gate either. There were always lessons to prepare and homework to be marked. Today she’d left the twins with a friend for an hour while she came over.
‘Ah, you’ve realised I’ve done a runner. No chance of any peace and quiet with my two. I’ve left them with Kate. Six-year-olds! Give me work any day.’
‘You’re not serious?’ Holly was quite indignant on behalf of her godchildren.
‘Absolutely.