The Magic Cottage (8 page)

It was a fine morning for a change on Moving Day and we stood in our now empty apartment, the van loaded and waiting downstairs. We were suddenly wistful: we’d had good times in this place, even though we’d yearned for something more, something that would be our own. And love had deepened here.

We hugged each other and took one long, last, look around. Then we left.

With the humpers following close behind in the van, we drove down to Hampshire, the New Forest, and Gramarye.

In

By six o’clock that evening the humpers, with tenners in their pockets and tired grins on their faces, were gone, leaving Midge and me alone in Gramarye.

Standing at the door, we watched the empty 3-tonner disappear around the curve in the road, and even then we lingered awhile, drawing in the slowly cooling air. I let my gaze wander over the grassy stretches and woodland opposite the cottage, wondering if the road ever became really busy, and if the quietness of it all might eventually send me slightly crazy. From Baron’s Court to the wilderness in one bold leap. Daunting.

But I felt good, oh so
good
. Exhausted too, but pleasantly so; I didn’t resent my aching muscles at all. I pulled Midge close and she slipped an arm around my waist, resting her head against my shoulder.

‘I’m so happy, Mike,’ she said softly. ‘I can’t tell you how much. Gramarye means so much to me.’

I smiled and kissed her forehead. ‘Me too, Pixie. Me too. I think we made the right decision. Look, even the flowers out there have revived themselves to make us welcome.’

‘It must be all the rain we’ve been having lately. The colours are so beautiful.’

‘No need to look far for your inspiration around here.’

‘I’ve got all I need right beside me.’

‘Yuk.’

‘I know, but it feels good to tell you.’ Her pale eyes shone up at me. ‘Things are going to work, aren’t they, Mike?’

‘No question. Things are gonna be terrific. God, I feel a song coming on!’

‘Spare me that!’

‘I can’t help myself!’

I opened my mouth wide, but she dug me in the ribs. ‘You’ll frighten the animals.’

‘Oh yeah. Forgot. Jeez, I could sleep for a week.’

‘Can I get you a beer?’

‘You mean Igor and Mongo didn’t finish ’em off?’

‘I kept them too busy shifting furniture. One half-hour for beer and sandwiches was all any of you were allowed.’

‘I remember. You know what I’d really like?’

‘You said you were tired.’

‘Not that. Well, not right at this moment. No, I’d like some tea.’

‘Can this be the same hellraiser I shared a flat with in London? Must be the pure country air. Not even coffee?’

‘No. I’m in the mood for tea.’

‘Simply because you’re near me.’

‘Funny but when you’re – ’ I began to sing. Then, ‘Just put the kettle on.’

She skipped inside, chuckling to herself.

I strolled to the front gate and heard a car approaching. It soon appeared round the bend and I watched it pass by, thinking entertainment sure was spare in this neck of the woods. The Citroën’s occupants gawked back at me and I gave them a friendly wave. One of the two passengers, a girl in the back seat, smiled and then the car was gone, leaving only a faint smell of engine fumes in the air.

The show over, I sauntered back down the path, taking in the chocolate-box view of the cottage with its brooding woodland behind, the wild array of flowers enlivening the foreground. I experienced a deep flush of contentment. This new life might take some getting used to and there was still a lot of hard graft ahead to make the place comfortable, but the good vibes were already weaving their spell, calming and delighting me at the same time, alerting my senses to everything that was around. I was acutely aware of Midge’s presence within those irregular-shaped walls, as if she had instantly become a part of Gramarye’s personality, a little of its essence. She belonged in such a setting.

I stopped dead. Hold on here, I admonished myself. Let’s not get carried away. I wouldn’t like to upset you, Mrs Chaldean, but we’re talking about bricks and mortar with a pleasant view, not a goddamn shrine. Shaking my head at my own cogitations, I walked on.

I came to a halt once more when I noticed the chaffinch on the doorstep. The bird’s back was to me as it peered into the gloom inside with jerky stretching movements, occasionally cocking its head to one side as if listening for something. I waited, not wishing to scare it off; this was my first close encounter of the feathered kind.

Midge appeared inside the doorway and she was moving smoothly forward, cooing a gentle welcome. She knelt as she drew close and I was surprised that the chaffinch didn’t hop back or fly away. It watched with bold interest.

Midge had breadcrumbs in her outstretched hand and she offered them to the bird, who eyed them with suspicion. I remained frozen, enjoying the scene. Midge placed the crumbs on the floor just inside the doorway, only inches away from the bird. The chaffinch cocked its head again and watched her, ignoring the food. Then it hopped to the very edge of the step and I felt sure it would venture inside. Not so, though; it skipped back again, gave one loud chirp that could have been a ‘goodbye’ and off it flew.

We both laughed as the bird swooped and glided around the garden before disappearing into the nearby woods, and I think that little episode made Midge’s day.

‘That’s it,’ I said good-humouredly as I went into the cottage. ‘Now they know we’re here they’ll be expecting a house-warming party.’

‘We’d make them welcome,’ replied Midge, her face flushed with joy.

Still grinning, I crossed the room and squatted down by the wall, running my fingers across the surface there, feeling for any dampness.

‘Looks like O’Malley and his crew did a good job,’ I remarked. ‘Did you get a chance to take a look at that crack in the wall upstairs?’

Midge was busy opening a cardboard box containing easy-fix food. ‘Yes,’ she answered, delving in. ‘You wouldn’t know it’d been there. The whole room’s been painted over so there are no marks at all. You hungry yet?’

‘Something light’ll do.’

‘Something light is all you’ll get. I’ll pop into the village tomorrow and stock up, but for now, pizza, burgers, or soup?’

‘Uh, soup. Let’s give it an hour or so, though, to get straight.’

‘Okay.’ She brought over the mug of tea she’d already made. ‘Water’s running clear, by the way.’

‘Yeah, I already checked.’ I stood and took the mug from her. ‘Seems like we’re set, doesn’t it?’ I guess by now my grin had turned a little sloppy. My free hand curled around the back of her neck.

Her eyes began to glisten with moisture and there was no need for her to reply, no need at all.

Later we relaxed on the old, rooted bench at the back of the cottage, watching the sun sink lower into the darkening woodland and dunking the last of our bread into mugfuls of hot soup. The evening was still warm and we were bathed in a soft glow, the white walls of Gramarye hued a pale pink. O’Malley’s men had worked expertly on those walls, scraping them clean and repairing, then giving them a couple of coats of cement-based masonry paint. We could hear the chatter of birds getting ready for bed, and occasionally the muted sound of a passing car drifted round the corner of the cottage from the road.

Most of the essential stuff had been unpacked: my music gear, still in cases or under covers, was in one of the attic rooms I intended to use for writing and taping; Midge’s art equipment and drawing board was in the round room, which would obviously be our living room, but in which she had decided she would also like to work. It was a sensible arrangement and one we were used to, her particular occupation being so unobtrusive anyway. I’d fixed up our bed next door to the freshly painted room, neither of us wanting to breathe in fumes while we slept; because the latter was slightly bigger, we’d move the bed in there when the smell of paint had faded. Framed paintings leaned in stacks against the walls, and ornaments stood in various groups around the place like friends sticking together in a strange environment; but chairs and tables and lamps and things were more or less positioned – refining could be done over the next few days. Big Val had rung earlier to make sure we’d settled in okay; fortunately she was never one to waste time on idle chit-chat, and the line was awful anyway, so Midge wasn’t on the phone for long. We’d decided to quit as soon as the sun was halfway down its lazy glide.

‘Tastes good,’ I said, smacking my lips appreciatively.

‘You’re sure you don’t need something more?’

‘This is fine. Too tired to be hungry.’

‘Mm, me too. Doesn’t the forest look tantalizing with the sun turning its roof reddy-brown, while underneath it’s so dark and mysterious.’

‘Looks kinda creepy to me.’ I finished the last of the soup and put the empty mug down beside me, picking up a can of beer as I straightened again.

‘And already there’s a mist rising.’

‘Must be pretty waterlogged out there in the open with all the rain.’ I pulled the tab and drank from the can. ‘D’you think it gets really cold here at night?’

‘Maybe a bit more than city boys are used to, but I don’t think you’ll need your thermals for a while yet.’

‘Bet it gets dark too. No street lamps.’

Midge stretched out her slim legs, her shoulders snuggling down against the back of the bench. ‘You’ll get used to it, Mike.’ She sighed long and deep, a comfortable sigh, and said, ‘It’s good to be back.’

‘Still a country girl at heart, eh?’

‘I suppose I must be. Nine years in the city can’t completely eradicate an upbringing, nor would I want it to.’ The change in mood was swift – often the case with Midge. She lowered her eyes. ‘I wish they could have seen Gramarye, Mike; I know they would have loved it here.’

Putting down the can, I took her hand in both of mine and held on to it.

She said quietly, ‘I think they had hopes of me eventually marrying a nice country vet, or a parson.’ She smiled, but it was an expression of sadness. ‘Dad would have loved that. Imagine the long evenings they’d have spent talking shop.’

‘He wouldn’t have found much in common with me.’

‘Oh, Mike, I didn’t mean it like that. Dad would have loved you. You’re both very alike in many ways.’

‘I’d have liked him, Midge. From all you’ve told me, I think I’d have loved him too.’

‘Mother would have thought you a rascal. That’s how she’d have put it – a
rascal
. And she’d have enjoyed that.’

The first tear emerged to dampen her cheek. ‘It was so cruel, Mike, so horribly cruel.’

My arm went around her shoulders and I moved my head close to hers. ‘You’ve got to try and forget that part of it. They’d have wanted you to remember the good things.’

‘It’s impossible to forget what happened to them.’

‘Then accept. Accept the cruelty of that along with all the good times. And think of how proud they would have been of you now.’

‘That’s what hurts. They can’t know, they can never know about my work, about you . . . about – about this place. It would have meant so much to them. And to me, it would have meant so much to have them proud of me.’

There wasn’t a lot I could say, so I just held her close and let her weep, hoping as I had many times before that the tears were part of her letting go, each measure of outward grief part of the healing process. How much hurt was still locked deep inside, I had no way of knowing, but I could be patient; she was worth that.

‘I’m sorry, Mike,’ she said after a while. ‘I didn’t mean to spoil everything.’

I kissed away tears. ‘You haven’t. Here and now, with me, is a good time for you to cry. I only wish there was more I could do to ease it for you.’

‘You’ve always helped, you’ve always understood. I know it’s foolish of me to be still grieving after all these years . . .’

‘There’s no special time limit for such things, Midge, there’s no clock you can suddenly switch off. It has to run down on its own.’ I lifted her chin with my finger. ‘Just remember what the doctor told you: don’t let that sorrow taint everything else. You’ve a right to be happy, and that’s what your parents would have wanted.’

‘Am I that bad?’

‘No, not at all. Though it’s when you’re at your most contented that memories seem to edge their way in.’

‘That’s when I miss them so.’

I felt inadequate, as I suppose we all do at such times, and all I could offer was the comfort of my arms and the depth of my own feelings for her. Her weeping had stopped, the darkness in her spirit relenting enough to allow other emotions to seep through.

Her kiss was tender and my senses sank into hers. I was used to the sensuous intensity of our intimacy, especially after tears had been shed, but now I was almost overwhelmed. When we finally broke away from each other, I literally felt dizzy and had to draw in breath like a swimmer emerging from a long dive. Midge, too, was a little shaky.

‘This country air has a weird effect,’ I quipped and was unable to control a mild tremor in my voice.

‘I think . . . I think we should go in,’ she said, her face bathed in a warm glow from the setting sun. Although there wasn’t a hint of lasciviousness in her tone, we both recognized our mutual need.