A Cottage in the Country: Escape to the cosiest little cottage in the country. Linn Halton B.
hacking off the plaster on the two damp walls is going to be a nightmare, but hopefully the worst of the mess will be out of the way in the first couple of days. Ash Cottage, here I come.
By the time the removal van arrives, the rain is driving hard at a forty-five-degree angle. The wind makes it impossible to use an umbrella and I end up settling for an old woollen hat, pulled down tightly over my ears. Gareth, the van driver, seems oblivious to the rain.
"Can I help carry a few boxes?" I offer, as he passes me in the hallway and I notice rain drops dripping off the end of his nose.
"It's not a problem, Miss Brooks. I'm used to it. Nothing gets through this jacket or these boots," he gazes over the box he's carrying and down at his feet. "Best boots I've ever had," he adds.
"Oh. Good. Well, I'll get back to cleaning, then…"
The pile of boxes is quickly diminishing and I'm only thankful I decided to move them all into the hallway yesterday. With the dust sheet covering the carpet, at least I won't have a soggy mess to deal with. Those boots must be at least size tens and the number of times they've been in and out – well, I've lost count.
He's finished loading by ten past nine. A quick flash around with the vacuum cleaner, then two phone calls to confirm the final gas and electricity meter readings, and I find myself locking up the front door for the very last time. Goodbye house, thank you, but no apologies for saying that it hasn't been the best period in my life. Things can only get better from here on in.
"What do you mean, the funds still haven't arrived?" It's almost noon and I'm sitting in the car, which is parked two streets away from the estate agent's office. The windows keep misting up. I think of the plumber, who has been sitting in his van outside Ash Cottage for well over an hour now. The removal guy, poor chap, has been there for nearly two hours and has already phoned me four times to remind me of that fact. "So what's holding it up?"
I'm conscious that in about an hour's time there will be several lorries arriving at the cottage and expecting to gain access to drop off their goods. The plumber says the oil tanker hasn't turned up yet, so fingers crossed that's not a complication I'm going to have to face.
"The funds have been sent, Miss Brooks, I can assure you. The transfer is in the system and it's a matter of waiting for confirmation from the bank's solicitor."
"Can't you at least let me have a front-door key? If the funds are on their way, then surely it's as good as mine now?"
"Ooh, we can't do that," his tone infers complete disapproval. "Anything could happen, even at this stage."
"Really?" Now I'm seething. "Really? You think I might change my mind, even when all my belongings are in a van outside Ash Cottage as we speak? If this purchase doesn't go through today, I have nowhere to sleep tonight. I hardly think the bank will change its mind and decide they aren't going to sell it to me after all. The money is practically in their account. Don't you think you are being just a tad unreasonable here?"
I'm afraid the sarcasm in my voice is disappointing; I should know better and the response it invokes is deserved.
"Hassling me, Miss Brooks, is not going to get you access to Ash Cottage until I've received the call from the bank's representative. I require their authority to release the key. I will ring you when that happens." The click cutting off the call is instantaneous and my heart sinks into my boots.
Okay, keep calm Maddie and think of a plan. My fingers dial quickly.
"Mr Trent, do you need access to the cottage in order to replace the vandalised oil pipe?"
The plumber sounds hesitant.
"Well, no, but if you don't have the keys…I don't want to end up being prosecuted for trespassing."
It's just my luck that I've picked probably the only plumber in the world who would ask that question. I push back my shoulders, not that he can see, but it has the desired effect.
"They're fine with it, but we can't have access to the house just yet. The funds are in the system, so they've assured me it will be any moment. As soon as I have the keys I'll be on my way. Can you…erm…do me another favour?"
He doesn't respond. Funnily enough, I don't seem to have any pangs of guilt about lying to him, which I presume will absolve him of any blame if anything goes wrong. That still doesn't prevent me from feeling awkward imposing like this.
"There are several deliveries on their way. They've all been told not to deliver before one o'clock, but key release by then is looking doubtful now. If they turn up, could you see if the garage is unlocked and ask them to leave the parcels inside? I'm not expecting you to check the boxes or anything, but if they won't leave them without a signature, could you sign for them? I accept the risk is mine if they mess up, but I simply don't have any other options."
On my last two visits the garage has been unlocked. After all, it's empty and I mentioned to Sarah that I would be grateful if she could make sure no one locked it, just in case we had problems today.
Heavy breathing accompanies the silence as Mr Trent rather reluctantly hurries off to check the garage.
"It's pouring with rain here, you do know that?" he mutters. "They have the sandbags out down on the lower road again, so it doesn't look promising."
Promising?
"In what way?"
"A repeat of the big flood they had last winter. The road through the village was closed for the best part of three weeks."
Flood? What flood? A feeling of utter panic hits me square in the gut and then starts to spread outwards. No one mentioned anything about flooding. What if the deliveries can't get through? What if I can't get back to the cottage even when I have the keys in my hand? Pull yourself together, Maddie, panicking isn't going to change anything. You can only deal with one thing at a time and it's too late to back out now.
"Nope, it's not locked. You're in luck."
Luck has nothing to do with it. I thought ahead and anticipated this scenario, although in my head it was worst-case. How can it take over three hours to move money from one account to another? I thought it was instantaneous these days. They type in the details, press the enter key and there you go!
"Thank you for checking. I really hope that I'll be there before any of the deliveries arrive. The oil tanker isn't due until later this afternoon. How long will it take you to replace the pipe?"
Heavy breathing and rustling indicates that he's walking back to his van.
"Maybe an hour. It depends. Once the new pipe is in I'm going to have to flush through the system, so I'll need to turn on the central-heating boiler."
"Oh, right. Well, I'm glad it's outside. You could possibly have it all done by the time I arrive, then! That's brilliant news."
He makes a sound that doesn't sound very encouraging.
"Nope. You'll need to turn on the heating first to fire it up. The thermostat is inside the cottage and I assume the electricity is off at the moment?"
This is one of those awful ‘doh’ moments. He must think I'm a total idiot.
"Yes, yes, of course. Sorry, too many things going around inside my head at the moment. If you can start on that pipe, I'd be very grateful."
"It's still raining," he mutters, before the line goes dead.
“Why me?” The pitiful half-sob that comes out of my mouth is unbidden and I look around to check that it wasn’t so loud that pedestrians around me heard it. Fortunately, no one seems to be looking directly at me, but I’m going to have to pull myself together. You can get through this, Maddie, I whisper from behind gritted teeth.
"Mum, it's me. How's the move going?"
It's lovely to hear