Chapter 3
3
It wasn’t much longer before the roads, wide and well maintained on the outskirts of Bristol, began to narrow, and as Gemma navigated her way towards their destination Charlotte took the opportunity to look at the landscape passing her window, which was becoming greener and more rural by the mile. She felt a little nervous: she’d lived in Bristol for ten years now, ever since she’d arrived as a wide-eyed undergraduate, and apart from the time she’d spent after her degree and before her postgraduate studies in South America, she’d barely been away from the city for any great length of time.
‘Well, it’s certainly going to be quiet!’ Gemma broke the silence that had descended between them as she took a left turn down an even smaller lane. ‘Looks like there’s not a lot of phone signal out here, either. We must be in a black spot.’
Charlotte glanced up from her phone, where she was struggling to find one bar of 3G, and noticed the lane they were on was nestled at the foot of a large expanse of woodland-covered hillside. The hill loomed large above them, and again she wondered at the remoteness of Lower Brambleton. Then, she chided herself: she’d been in far more cut-off places in her career. However, she was used to being able to stream the horror films she was so fond of at the tap of a finger: she wondered if that would be out of the question, here.
‘It’s got to be around here somewhere,’ Gemma muttered, glancing at the car’s sat nav and then back at the road in front of her. ‘Says we’re about half a mile from Nightshade Cottage. That was the name of the place you’re staying, wasn’t it?’
‘Yup,’ Charlotte confirmed. Nightshade Cottage in deepest, darkest Somerset, where Lorelai, her exotically named landlady, lived. Where there was virtually no phone signal, and the roads were barely wide enough to get a single car down. If that wasn’t the setting for a horror movie, Charlotte thought, she didn’t know what was!
She had to admit though, as she wound down the window to let in a bit of fresher air (Comet really did need that bath), the scent of cut grass, underpinned by a muskier smell of decaying, rust-coloured bracken that thrust its fronds towards them from the high banks on either side of the road, that it was beautiful in a ragged, untamed, earthy sort of way. Pushing away the thought that sprang to mind of the movie Jeepers Creepers , that she’d seen, far too young, late one night on the television when her mum and dad had thought she was tucked up safely in bed, she tried not to imagine the kind of creatures that might be lurking in the trees above. Don’t be so daft , she told herself impatiently. Her imagination really was starting to get the better of her. She had Gemma and Comet with her; no self-respecting creature of the night would dare try to attack the three of them.
‘Ah, this looks like it!’ Gemma’s exclamation broke into Charlotte’s reverie. ‘I knew we’d find it eventually.’
Off to their left, there was a narrow track, and at the foot of a space that seemed barely wide enough to get Gemma’s Touareg down in one piece was a beautifully written sign, black paint on a white background, announcing that Nightshade Cottage was this way. Turning onto the track, Charlotte caught Gemma’s amused glance. ‘And I think you can see now why there isn’t a regular bus! I don’t think this part of Somerset has seen any public transport since a hansom cab and two!’
Charlotte grinned at her friend. ‘Well, the guy I spoke to on the phone from Flowerdew Homes warned me it was a touch, er, “rural”. Seems he wasn’t kidding.’
‘There’s rural and there’s the arse end of bloody nowhere.’ Gemma pressed on her brake pedal to navigate a particularly deep pothole. As she did so, her expression grew more serious. ‘Charlotte, my darling, are you quite sure you want to spend the next few weeks here? I mean, you could be murdered, set in the concrete for a new patio and I’d never know…’
‘Now who’s letting their imagination run overtime?’ Charlotte laughed. ‘Just because you’re a town mouse who’s never lived anywhere but the city doesn’t mean you can go all Hot Fuzz on me and start casting aspersions about murderous locals.’
‘That may be so,’ Gemma replied as she manoeuvred over yet another pothole, ‘but I’ve got a feeling that things are going to change for you here, and you know what happens when I get a feeling.’
‘Don’t you usually just get a course of antibiotics for that?’ Charlotte quipped.
‘And that’s another thing,’ Gemma countered. ‘Have you even looked into registering for the GP? For all you know, it could be all herbal remedies and hacksaws in these parts. Sprain an ankle and they’ll cut your leg off, kind of thing.’
‘I’d better not sprain an ankle, then!’ Charlotte replied, a little shorter in tone than she’d intended. Being cautious was one thing, but she wasn’t a child, and she was beginning to get irritated by Gemma’s assumption that she wouldn’t be able to cope out here.
The hedges on either side of the track grew thicker as Gemma drove further, and the height of them on either side of the car felt claustrophobic. It was a relief then when Charlotte spotted their destination and she breathed out. There, in front of them, was a squat thatched cottage, with a pleasingly neat lawn and waist-high wrought-iron gates attached to pillars in front of a newly tarmacked driveway. ‘There.’ She turned triumphantly to Gemma. ‘Not a gothic turret or axe murderer in sight. I told you it was going to be all right.’
Gemma snorted. ‘You’re not through the door yet!’
They pulled into the drive and Gemma cut the engine. ‘Now, are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you? I’m quite happy to see you over the threshold.’
Charlotte grinned at her friend. ‘It’s fine. I’ll text you when I’m tied up in the cellar!’
Rolling her eyes, Gemma pushed open her door. ‘Well, at least let me help you unload your stuff.’
The two women moved to the boot of the Touareg and in very little time Charlotte’s suitcase and a couple of boxes of files and assorted possessions were stacked on the driveway.
‘Do you want me to wait?’ Gemma said again. ‘I mean, what if your new landlady’s not in?’
Charlotte shook her head. ‘Honestly, it’s such a nice day, I can sit on the doorstep. And she gave me her mobile number to call if she wasn’t in.’
‘If you’re sure…’ Gemma clearly wasn’t happy about just leaving her friend, but also knew better than to argue. ‘But if you do end up shackled in the basement, try to let me know somehow!’
‘I’m afraid I don’t have a basement,’ a dryly amused voice cut into their conversation. ‘It was filled in years ago, as it played havoc with the damp course. There’s a coal cellar in the back of the garden where I keep all of my victims, though, if that helps you to visualise where your friend will be!’
Charlotte jumped guiltily, and Gemma had the good grace to blush, before they both started to giggle.
‘Oh, er, hi,’ Charlotte said, turning in the direction of the voice. ‘I’m so sorry… my friend is a little protective of me and has been teasing me all the way here about being out in the wilds of the countryside. I guess we both have pretty vivid imaginations!’
‘I’ve heard worse, believe me. My grandson gets hives if he has to spend too much time out here. He’s a proper townie, and no mistake. I’m Lorelai Ashcombe. Welcome to Nightshade Cottage.’
At the woman’s thrust-out hand, Charlotte began to relax. Lorelai was a slim woman who looked to be in her late seventies. Her white hair was cut short, and she was wearing an oversized grey-green shirt and cropped trousers, and a pair of gardening shoes. Some green-stained gloves poked out of one of the pockets of her trousers, and over her other arm was a Somerset willow trug basket containing various freshly cut pastel-coloured flowers and a couple of smallish courgettes.
‘Charlotte James,’ Charlotte replied. ‘And this is my friend Gemma Halloran.’ She glanced at Gemma, whose face still showed a little colour from being caught out. ‘This really is a gorgeous spot, Mrs Ashcombe.’
‘Oh, call me Lorelai,’ came the response. ‘Everyone else does, including my grandchildren when they’re cross with me.’ Lorelai’s eyes twinkled, but Charlotte got the distinct impression that the older woman was a force to be reckoned with. Anyone who could live out here, alone, at her age had to be pretty tenacious.
‘Well, I’ll be off then,’ Gemma said, breaking the slight pause that had descended between the women. ‘Give me a call if you’ve forgotten anything, and I’ll bring it down.’
‘Thanks, hon,’ Charlotte replied. ‘Let me just get Comet out and you’re good to go.’
Comet, who was looking curiously and excitedly out of the left passenger window, jumped delightedly out of the car as Charlotte released him from the belt buckle lead. Wagging his tail, he started to sniff all around the driveway before lifting his leg on a vibrant clump of delphiniums. Thankfully, Lorelai laughed. ‘He’s obviously had a long trip.’ She bent down with a slight creak and ruffled the dog’s neck as he came back to where the women stood. ‘Good boy. What’s your name?’
As Charlotte told her, Lorelai’s smile widened. ‘But of course. In your job, I wouldn’t have expected anything less. Now, why don’t you come into the house and get settled? It’s about time I had a cuppa.’
I think it’s going to be all right , Charlotte thought as she waved goodbye to Gemma, who was already reversing carefully down the drive, clearly keen to get back to Bristol. Picking up the first of the boxes, she followed Lorelai through the front door of Nightshade Cottage, Comet scampering boldly in her wake.