Summer at the Little Cottage on the Hill_An utterly uplifting holiday romance to escape with Read online

  Isobel had hoped that the change of scenery might make a difference, and that her nightmares wouldn’t find her here, but it would seem that it made not one ounce of difference where she was, the dreams followed her because of who she was.

  She threw back the covers and sat up, pulling at the hair that had stuck to her bare back and trying to waft a little air onto her neck while she waited for her pulse to stop racing. Eventually, when she felt calmer, she stood and crossed to the window, her gaze extending out across the garden, the curves of her naked body thrown into soft relief by moonlight. Of course, there was no sign of the thatcher now. He had eventually climbed down from the roof when she had finished playing and she’d watched him make his way across the garden in the rapidly dimming light.

  She was surprised she had noticed him at all; he had been sitting so still when she had glanced out of the living room window the evening before. She often walked as she played – it helped her loosen up – and, initially, she’d thought he must be engaged in his own work, but some half hour later she realised he was still there and that, in fact, he was listening to her play.

  It was the most extraordinary feeling. She was certain that he couldn’t see her – the evening sunlight reflecting on the window made sure of that – and it was likely therefore that he was unaware she had seen him. But his presence intrigued her; there was something very intimate about it, and she found herself playing to him, drawing strength from her invisibility, becoming more and more immersed in her music until she found the perfect stillness deep inside of her and knew that she could have played forever. It had been years since she had felt even a glimmer of that, and as she’d played the final few bars of music, tears had run freely down her face. She shivered suddenly at the memory of that short release. In the end though it had made no difference; the nightmare had come again just as it had on so many nights before.

  Her feet padded through the thick rug by the bed and she made her way carefully out of the bedroom, navigating the stairs and the hallway until she reached the kitchen. She collected a glass of water, and took it through to the living room. It was tempting to play the piece again, just one more time to clear her head, and she almost took up her violin, stopping at the last moment and taking a long drink of water instead. She held the cold glass against her cheek and breathed deeply. There would be time to work tomorrow, and the day after, she reminded herself, and here without all the interruptions of home she could focus, and she could heal.

  The bed felt cool and inviting as she slipped back into it, and she drew the covers back over her. This time she slept.

  Tom switched off his phone and groaned as he rolled over. It was only eight o’clock, and a third text message from Angie had just pinged onto his phone. It was his own fault; what he should have done last night was tell her that he had simply changed his mind about their date. Instead, after listening to Isobel play, he had embellished his earlier text about a broken-down car, saying that his phone had died on him when he’d rung the local garage and he’d had to wait to be towed home. He’d even suggested she drop him a line so they could rearrange, but he really hadn’t expected her to, assuming that he wouldn’t hear from her again. He composed another apologetic reply, but this time made it clear that he was calling it a day; nothing to do with her, his fault entirely, and sent it before he could change his mind. Then he stared at his phone, biting his lip as his finger hovered over his Tinder app. He pressed delete. He really couldn’t do this any more.

  His wake-up call had come a couple of weeks ago. A gig with the band had turned into a late-night drinking session and he had woken up the next morning beside a girl whose name he didn’t even know, or certainly couldn’t remember. He would be the first to admit that from the outside his morals looked questionable, but that was low even for him. The trouble was, it was too easy. He was good-looking and there was something about being in a band that made him seem even more desirable. A succession of shallow relationships and one night stands were the perfect bandage for the hurt he felt inside, and so he had continued to play the role of handsome cad with an eye for the ladies for as long as he could. Even at Joy’s Acre, among friends, he went along with the charade.

  He had already made up his mind to clean up his act, and last night something about the music he had heard had reinforced that feeling. It had been too beautiful a moment to be sullied by what would in all likelihood have been a one night stand. Isobel had not even known that he was listening to her, and that had made the music even more poignant; she had played for no other reason than because she could – for the sheer joy of the music, the sense of being at one with an instrument, and the knowledge that she could create magic from a collection of strings bound over a wooden box. Tom understood what it was to play, but he had never been able to really play as Isobel had, and for some reason it had moved him greatly.

  He squinted one eye at the clock and gave another moan. It was time to get up. In fact, if he didn’t get a shift on, he would be late. He tutted as he caught sight of a piece of paper by his bed. It was a request for a quote on a re-roof; he had meant to contact the customer yesterday, but by the time he got home, he had clean forgotten. He picked up the note and took it downstairs, placing it by the kettle while he searched for a clean mug. He found one which didn’t look too bad, swirled it under the hot water tap just to be on the safe side, added two spoonfuls of coffee and waited for the kettle to boil.

  Grabbing a clean tee shirt from a pile on the kitchen table, he returned upstairs to shower, but by the time he had washed, groomed the stubble on his chin to just the length he liked it and hunted for his wallet, he was so late he had to run from the house, both his coffee and the note from a potential customer forgotten.

  Work for the day was already well underway when he arrived at Joy’s Acre, and he gave a cheery wave to Trixie as he passed by the kitchen window. With any luck, she would be out with bacon sandwiches shortly, and if it was a real red-letter day, she would also have made some of her cheese and onion muffins.

  He peered up at the sky, but it was already set into a cloudless blue. There were hours of work ahead of him yet and having the pink-haired ex-barmaid on site to cook for them all was an absolute godsend. She hadn’t been with them long, in fact, she had joined them not long after Maddie had been employed to whip Joy’s Acre into shape before they all went bust. Maddie had discovered Trixie in a local pub, and it had only taken one sample of her exquisite cooking for Maddie to offer her a job. Trixie had jumped at the chance to come to live and work at Joy’s Acre and had become an instant part of the team.

  As he rounded the corner of the main house, the large barn at the far end of the site came into view. Its big double doors were wide open, the figures of Seth and Maddie silhouetted against the sunlight in the doorway. He made his way across the garden to them.

  Beside the barn were three more cottages, almost identical to the one that Isobel was now staying in. Tom’s current job was to re-thatch the first of these, with numbers two and three following as soon after as they could manage, but the barn was also a massive project, and would in time provide somewhere for Clara and Trixie to live as well as a communal space for guests to use. However, knowing quite how to achieve all this on a tight budget was proving to be tricky, and most of Seth’s time was occupied by his effort to keep costs to a minimum.

  Tom smiled a greeting. ‘Another gorgeous day,’ he remarked.

  Maddie looked at her watch. ‘And you’re on time too.’ But she was grinning, just teasing him. ‘So, did Angie not turn out to be the woman of your dreams? Or was she just very gentle with you? Usually when you’ve had a hot date you look a tad bleary-eyed the next morning.’

  Tom returned the grin. He was well used to having his love life ridiculed, and to be fair, he asked for most of it. But it was part of his character at Joy’s Acre and if he gave them no reason to think differently he couldn’t really complain. Besides, he enjoyed the banter… up to a point.

 
‘I’ll have you know I slept alone last night,’ he retorted.

  Maddie raised her eyebrows. ‘Stood you up, did she?’

  Tom just laughed. There was no point in making a big deal of it. ‘Something like that. Or maybe it’s time to turn over a new leaf. So, yes, I’m as fresh as a daisy this morning and ready to crack on…’ He pulled a face. ‘But I could do with some more spars if you’ve got a spare hour to make some today.’

  Seth rolled his eyes. ‘I love how he asks you now, and not me, but it’s my own fault, I suppose.’

  The spars were big ‘staples’ that held the straw tight to the roof as it was thatched, each made from a length of birch twig, twisted and bent along its length. There was a distinct knack to making them and now that Seth had taught Maddie how to do it, she was even better and faster than he was.

  Maddie grinned, but nodded. ‘No problem, Tom. We’re just trying to decide what’s next for the barn.’

  Tom looked around him at the huge empty space where there was still an awful lot of work to be done. He pulled a face. ‘Rather you than me.’

  ‘Yeah, we need a big magic wand at the very least.’

  Tom held out his hands to show they were empty. ‘Sorry, no can do. But I’ll get on with my roof as quickly as I can, that way at least we can finish off the cottage and get it ready for occupation. It would mean a bit more income coming in which would help, surely?’

  Seth nodded. ‘How are things going, Tom? Are we still on schedule?’

  ‘As long as the weather holds we are. I’m trying to get as many hours in as possible right now, but at least the days are long, which helps.’ He stopped, thinking for a minute, wondering how best to phrase his next statement. ‘I’ll get going in a minute, but I just thought I ought to remind you about the wedding at the end of the month. It’ll be here before I know it and I’m going to need a bit of time with the band, for rehearsals and stuff. I just wanted to check that you’re still okay with it? The timing is crazy, I know, but…’

  Seth sighed. ‘Tom, it’s fine. Your gig has been booked for ages and you can’t let them down. Besides, I never want Joy’s Acre to feel like somewhere we all have to clock-on and clock-off. Everyone here more than pulls their weight, so there’s plenty of room for give and take.’

  Tom smiled. That was exactly what he’d expected Seth to say, but Tom was also well aware that he hadn’t always pulled his weight in the past, and being a very old friend of Seth’s had meant that he’d got away with plenty that he shouldn’t have. Seth joined in with the banter about his timekeeping, his love life, his frequent visits to the pub and resultant hangovers – it was all part of the friendship they shared. But in fact only Seth knew the real reason for Tom’s wayward behaviour and cut him slack accordingly, even though it never really helped him address the problem. Perhaps not even Seth truly understood what Tom needed.

  Tom glanced at his watch. ‘Right then, I best get going. No hurry with the spars, Maddie, I’ve enough to be going on with. Just whenever you can fit them in.’

  He walked back out into the sunshine, smiling at the thought of another day doing what he loved most.

  Heights had never bothered Tom. As a child, he had climbed every tree in his village, thrilled by the view from up in the air, and the sense of freedom he gained; so different from the atmosphere on the ground where he felt stifled and confined. Airborne, he could see what others couldn’t see, he could hear what others couldn’t hear, and best of all, because he was alone in his little eyries in the sky, no one, especially his parents, could tell him what to do.

  They had been deeply disappointed in his decision to become a thatcher and not a doctor, or a solicitor, or banker. But for Tom, who had a deep love of the outdoors and craftsmanship, it represented the perfect career.

  He scaled his ladder quickly and surveyed his kingdom before checking over his work from the previous day. His gaze turned automatically to the cottage next door. There were no signs of life from within, but Tom hoped that at least he might get the opportunity to say hello. What he must not do, however, was make any reference to Isobel’s playing; it had been private, a performance just for her benefit, and if she knew he had been listening, he doubted he would ever hear her play again.

  Chapter 3

  The morning had not been a good one. Isobel was a creature of habit and when she had gone back to bed in the small hours of the morning, she had expected to wake at her usual time. Instead, she had fallen into a deep sleep which, on waking, left her groggy and at least an hour and a half behind schedule. Her days were always the same. She worked between nine and twelve and then stopped for a half-hour break. Another three hours would take her until half past three when she would again stop for thirty minutes. Restarting at four in the afternoon meant that she could fit in another three hours before dinner at seven. That was nine hours’ work a day, which was not as much as she had been used to in the past – things had been very different then, and she had been considerably younger. Today, however, even after showering and binding her hair into a plait rather than drying it, the time was still a quarter past ten when she switched on her computer. To make matters worse, around lunchtime, just as she was getting into the swing of things, there was an unexpected knock at the door.

  A tall, dark-haired woman dressed in simple, unfussy clothes held out her hand expectantly.

  ‘Welcome to Joy’s Acre,’ she said. ‘I’m Maddie.’

  Isobel took her hand and gave it a brief squeeze. ‘Thank you,’ she said, unsure whether she was supposed to say anything else. ‘I’m Isobel,’ she added, as an afterthought. ‘Isobel Hardcastle.’

  ‘And our first guest.’ Maddie blushed. ‘I’m sorry, we’ve probably all been fussing over you, rather.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Isobel lied. ‘Although you honestly shouldn’t worry. I’m very capable of asking if I need anything, and I really don’t require much. I’m here to work after all, so…’ She was beginning to sound like a broken record. ‘I’m sure everything will be fine.’

  She smiled at Maddie, hoping she would take the hint. Now that she had stopped working, she could feel a headache forming and if she didn’t get back to her desk soon and work through it, she would never get rid of it.

  ‘Right,’ said Maddie. ‘Excellent… well, I’ll just…’ She paused. ‘The thing is we’re just about to have lunch. Out here on the lawn. It’s such a beautiful day and it seemed too good an opportunity to miss…’ She took a slight step back and Isobel could see a long table had been brought out to the garden, a bright yellow tablecloth covering it. ‘You’re very welcome to have your lunch here of course, but we wondered if you might like to join us?’

  Isobel checked her watch, aware that things were already being ferried back and forth outside. Her heart sank. They had probably thought this would be a lovely surprise for her – both a way of breaking the ice, and of giving her a little special treatment as their first guest. It was the very last thing she wanted to do. She still wasn’t very good with people and, besides, the sequence of notes she had been working on was still there in her head; the solution to the problem that had been nagging her, just inches away, if only she could carry on for a few more minutes… But even as the thought flitted through her head she knew the notes were fading.

  ‘I hadn’t even realised the time, but what a lovely idea,’ she said. ‘Although you really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. I hope that wasn’t for my benefit alone?’

  Maddie looked slightly uncomfortable. ‘Guilty as charged,’ she said with a grin. ‘But, I’ll be honest with you – downtime has been a little hard to come by lately and once we’d decided to have a picnic everyone got ridiculously excited. Trixie has made enough food for an army.’ She gave Isobel a cautious look. ‘Although, of course if you’re busy feel free to say no, we really shouldn’t presume…’

  Isobel shook her head. ‘No, it’s fine, how could I possibly refuse such wonderful hospitality?’ It would be much the easiest thing, thou
ght Isobel. If she said yes to them now then they might leave her alone. Whereas, if she refused today’s invitation, this cajoling could go on for days. Far better to pretend to be sociable now and join in. Then, as soon as they saw she was happy and settled she’d be left alone to get on with things. ‘What time would you like me?’ she asked. ‘I might just go and freshen up a bit,’ she added.

  ‘Perhaps in fifteen minutes or so. Would that suit you?’ Maddie glanced behind her. ‘I’ll just go and give Trixie a hand to carry the last few bits. Come whenever you’re ready.’

  Isobel nodded that she would and closed the door, sighing as she walked up the stairs. She needn’t stay for long, just half an hour so that they wouldn’t think her rude.

  She examined herself in the bedroom mirror. Her hair would probably still be wet if she removed it from its braid, and so she decided to leave it, smoothing the ends away from her face, and peering at her reflection. She wore no make-up but her skin was clear and creamy, her cheeks and lips naturally blushed pink, and her brown eyes huge beneath perfectly arched and plucked brows. A slight widow’s peak sitting slightly left of centre was the only thing that marred the symmetry, but other than that, were it not for the slightly stern expression she habitually wore, she would be considered beautiful by most people she met. Isobel had no time for vanity, however, and she picked up a tube of sun cream that lay on top of the dressing table and began to rub some into the back of her neck where she felt the tension in the muscles, digging her fingers in harder.

  A bacon sandwich had duly arrived shortly after Tom had turned up for work, but by lunchtime he was starving again. He was also gasping for a drink. It was hot, thirsty work up on the roof and the sight of Maddie waving at him from down below was a welcome one.

  ‘Food is ready!’ she called up. ‘Come on, Trixie’s rustled up a feast.’