A Cottage in the Country: Escape to the cosiest little cottage in the country. Linn Halton B.
fended off many a bramble.
"I had hoped to be in by now, but there have been several delays." I shoot a glance at Connor, who is engrossed in scraping his shoe against a small mound of long grass. He swipes it several times to remove the dust from the lane. Even if he was listening, I think it's unlikely he'd know what was happening anyway, but it was worth a try.
"Ah," Terence shakes his head. "I can only imagine what it's like today with all the paperwork. We've been here for nearly thirty years and the house before that was our first. We do miss Aggie, she was a lovely lady."
I realise that Connor is waiting impatiently, his shoe-scuffing has stopped and he's now sorting through a handful of keys, with purpose. Terence and I exchange glances, his eyes twinkling and a little smirk lifts his lip as he tries his best not to laugh.
"Well, lovely to meet you, Terence, and fingers crossed that Ash Cottage won't remain empty for much longer."
Terence gives a little salute, a brief nod to Connor, who is still head-down and totally oblivious and he walks off down the lane whistling.
"Nice chap," I say out aloud, as I crane my neck to see if I can spot the barn. The track has a turn in it and already Terence is out of sight.
"Is this the only entrance to Bay Tree Barn?" I enquire, assuming Connor will at least have some knowledge of this property.
He shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know". With that, he turns on his heels and heads off back down the path, still sorting through his handful of keys.
"Are they all for Ash Cottage?" I ask, rather surprised there are so many. When Sarah showed me around I'm sure she only had a small ring of keys in her hand.
"Well, I thought they were." He begins trying each one in turn, picking out a few that obviously won't fit and putting them back into his jacket pocket. Several look as if they belong to outbuildings and one is quite primitive, made out of cast iron. He's becoming rather frustrated and the colour is rising in his cheeks, so I wander off to give him space and begin looking around the garden. However, it's hard not to simply stand and admire the view, though I'm also excited to explore. I remember the wooden shed that stands halfway down the sloping garden, raised on a semicircular patio area and with an old wooden bench running alongside it. The view from the bench is at a different angle to the view you get from the house and on a bright, warm, autumnal day like today it's a little sun trap.
The colour of the trees now has an orangey hue, the breeze carrying a few leaves here and there as it teases them from the branches. In a week or two they will be falling by the sackful and it dawns on me that this garden is going to be quite labour-intensive. But the stunning vista is mesmerising, and I'm actually looking forward to the hours I'll be spending taming this garden and getting it back into some semblance of order.
"It's no good," Connor calls over his shoulder. "None of these keys fit. Seems I might have picked up the wrong ones from the cabinet. The problem is," he looks at me with unease, "I'm due at my next viewing in twenty-five minutes. I don't have time to drive back to the office to pick them up."
While I do feel sorry for him, I also feel exasperated. "It's taken me over an hour to get here. Can you ring the office and see if someone else could pop out with them? I don't mind waiting – now that I'm here."
He seems annoyed, as if I created the problem and am being unreasonable expecting him to sort it out.
"It might be better if you make an appointment for another day," he replies, drily, fixing me with a stare. A flash of anger finds me struggling to hold back the first retort that pops into my head. Instead, I take a deep breath and speak slowly, but distinctly.
"I think it might be even better if you ring the office now and have the conversation, so that you aren't late getting off to your next viewing."
Connor looks at me, surprised by the forcefulness of my words and heads off back to his car, mumbling something totally incoherent as he brushes past me.
I wander down to the bench by the shed, fighting my way through one of the overgrown pathways that traverse the garden. A large fuchsia bush is covered in deep, double pink heads, the branches hanging low overhead causing me to duck. On the other side a climbing rose has suckers extending three feet and making it almost impossible to squeeze through without getting snagged. However, I persevere and take the final steps down to the bench. I was right, the view from here is completely different and it feels protected, despite being very open. With the terraced garden rising high above it to the rear, the sloping grassy bank falling away below it and a high hedge to the side, it sits in a hollow.
The sun is warm on my face and I close my eyes for a second, taking in the peacefulness of the setting. All you can hear are the birds and the odd ripple of leaves caught in the breeze. A crack in the overhanging branches of a hazelnut tree, about five feet away, announces the appearance of a young, grey squirrel. He jumps with ease across to a large branch on a neighbouring ash tree. It isn't until this moment that I scan around and really take note of the trees. The variety is amazing; however ash seems to grow particularly well here and is a fitting winner for the aptly named cottage.
"Mrs Brooks!" Connor's agitated voice calls out – a few seconds later he emerges from one of the overgrown pathways.
"I'm here and it's Miss Brooks," I reply, trying hard not to over-react to his faux pas.
He approaches the bench, inspecting the arm of his jacket as he walks.
"I think that rose has pulled a thread," he utters, sounding really fed up and choosing to ignore my comment.
"Poor you," I reply, dourly. "What did the office say?"
"There's no one available. You'll have to ring in to arrange another appointment and I'm going to have to shoot off now." He looks at his watch impatiently and that makes me really cross. I make no attempt to move, despite the meaningful glance he throws my way.
"So, I've driven all this way and I can't get access to the cottage today?"
He at least has the good grace to look a touch embarrassed, but I realise there's absolutely no point in making a fuss.
"Well, just so my journey isn't a complete waste of my time, is it okay if I take ten minutes to look around the garden?"
My request clearly presents him with a new dilemma. He's torn between having to think through the implications of leaving me here to my own devices and, after yet another flick of his wrist to check the time, being late for his next appointment.
"Well…I suppose it will be all right." He looks at me as if appraising whether or not I can be trusted.
"I am in the process of buying the property and contracts have already been exchanged." I throw this in, not to reassure him, but to remind him I'm not some total stranger who is here merely to nose around.
He nods and without another word begins his retreat back through the undergrowth.
"An apology would have been nice," I pipe up, "or a goodbye…" hoping my words will carry and perhaps remind him of common courtesy, let alone good manners.
I wait until I hear his car pull away and then venture down to locate the boundary at the bottom of the garden. The grass is on such a steep slope that it's not easy to walk down without slipping. Thankfully, I manage it without mishap and discover two crowns of rhubarb hidden among a border that also holds a beautiful mock orange blossom shrub. Everything is leggy and overgrown, sadly neglected over the past few years by the looks of it. Behind this is a hedge that runs along the bottom. The other side abuts a large grassy area, belonging to a cottage that is almost completely obscured by trees. Well, it's private, that's for sure.
Making my way slowly back up the grassy bank, I notice that the two large apple trees are badly in need of pruning. Hidden in the branches is a telegraph wire that is almost low enough to touch. Aside from that, the garden needs a lot of weeding and a tidy to take away the debris that has built up over a number of years. However, it is packed full of a whole variety of plants, trees and shrubs. It's enchanting, and a little thrill courses through me. This is going to be my garden