Seven
At least the sun was shining, and after Dad dropped me off, I strolled over the old wooden bridge from the car parking area towards my cottage, looking down at the babbling brook as I did so.
The water looked icy, but it sparkled in the sunshine as it tumbled over the rocks, and playfully tugged at the reeds nestled at its edges. A moorhen glided beneath the bridge and popped out the other side glancing back at me as though it were playing hide and seek. I couldn’t help but smile.
I looked up at the clear, blue sky and closed my eyes and listened. All I could hear was the gurgling water, and birdsong. I recognised the robin’s melody, and when I opened my eyes, one was perched on top of the red post box situated by the fence of Far Cottage. As I stood and watched it, Adele opened the front door and, on seeing me, briefly raised her hand in a hello gesture.
The robin flew off, but I quickly waved back and shouted, ‘Isn’t it a beautiful morning?’
I saw the shrug and the hesitation and hurried towards her before she had a chance to step back inside.
‘How are you?’ I asked, opening her front gate and marching down her garden path. ‘I haven’t seen you for a few days.’
The expression on her face was one of concern. And anxiety.
‘I’ve been unwell,’ she said, avoiding my eyes.
‘Oh no. I’m sorry to hear that. Are you feeling better now? Is there anything you need?’
She seemed surprised now. ‘Erm. No. I don’t need anything … Thank you. And yes. I’m better now, I think.’
‘Let me give you my number,’ I said. ‘Then, if you’re ever ill again, you can text me and I can pick up anything you want or need.’
I’d previously suggested to both Adele and Marcus on separate occasions, that we should exchange numbers, just for emergencies, but each had said there was no need as we lived next door to one another. Which basically meant that neither of them wanted me to have their number.
‘Okay,’ Adele now said, which I must confess, took me completely by surprise.
So you can imagine my astonishment when she added, ‘My phone’s in the kitchen. I was about to make some coffee. Would you like a cup? Unless you’re too busy, of course. Which you probably are.’
I almost fainted on the spot, and strangely enough, Adele seemed as surprised as I was by her invitation.
‘I’d love a cup!’ I exclaimed hastily and loudly, before she had a chance to retract. And then in a more reasonable tone I joked, ‘I’m never too busy for coffee.’
‘Oh. Erm. Come in then,’ she said, stepping aside to allow me to pass.
This was the first time I had been inside Far Cottage and although it appeared to be, from what I could see so far as I followed her towards the kitchen, the same layout as mine, the sitting room looked bigger. The door was wide open and there was an old gas fire, like the one I’d had removed, set on a fireplace from the 1930s, a coffee table, a sofa that had seen better days many years ago by the look of it, and a TV on another coffee table pushed into one corner. I hate to say this, but welcoming, it wasn’t.
Neither was the dining room opposite. That had a table and a couple of chairs, and that was it. And the cottage was almost as cold as mine was with my heating off. There were radiators but they clearly weren’t on.
‘Don’t tell me your boiler is playing up as well?’ I said as she opened the door leading to the kitchen.
She gave me a sheepish look and shook her head as a wave of warm, and deliciously scented air washed over me. She held the door open and closed it behind us once we were both inside.
‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s fine. I don’t have the heating on when I’m spending most of the day in the kitchen. There doesn’t seem much point in heating the entire house when I’m only in one room. Is … is there a problem with your boiler?’
‘Yes. It’s not working properly. I woke up to a freezing cold cottage yesterday and I spent last night at my parent’s house. There’s nothing worse than waking up in a bitterly cold bedroom, is there?’
She stiffened at my comment. ‘I prefer a cold bedroom,’ she said, but her tone told me that wasn’t entirely true.
The kitchen was more modern than the other two rooms, although I had only glanced at those. The huge Aga, however, was ancient, although clearly working much better than my boiler because the kitchen was as warm as toast.
‘How do you take your coffee?’ She pointed to a pine chair with a padded seat cushion, at a small circular, pine table.
‘Milk, no sugar, please.’
‘It’s only instant. I hope that’s okay.’
I sat down and glanced around the room. This was much cosier and a lot more welcoming. The kitchen was clearly the heart of this cottage.
‘That’s perfect, thanks. What is that heavenly smell?’
She turned and looked at me as if she wasn’t certain whether I was being sarcastic or genuine.
‘Cinnamon biscuits,’ she said a crease forming between her dark brows. ‘Erm. Would you like one? I’ve got a batch cooling, and another one in the oven.’
‘Oh yes, please. I adore cinnamon biscuits.’
‘Me too,’ she smiled.
She switched the kettle on and then picked up a pair of tongs from the counter and lifted a biscuit from the metal cooling rack beside the kettle, and transferred it to a plate. Then she added another, and another, and another.
I hoped they weren’t all for me. As much as I loved cinnamon biscuits, I had recently had a Full English breakfast. Mum believed every day should start with a Full English.
Adele placed the plate in the centre of the table and smiled again.
‘Help yourself.’
I took a bite and couldn’t believe it.
‘Oh my god, Adele!’ I exclaimed after I swallowed. ‘I’ve never tasted anything as delicious as this. I thought my own Christmas cookies were good but this makes mine pale into second place.’
The surprise on her face was genuine. And then she beamed at me.
‘Really? You … you’re not just saying that?’
‘Really,’ I confirmed. ‘These are unbelievably good. I know you said you worked in a bakery and café but I didn’t realise you did the baking.’
‘I don’t. I’m a waitress.’
‘A waitress? With baking skills like this? Do you make other things? Or are these your speciality?’
She shrugged. ‘I make lots of things. I love baking. It makes me happy.’ She smoothed down her apron with both hands and breathed in, pulling in her tummy just a fraction. ‘So does eating what I make. As you can no doubt see from the size of me.’
‘Size of you? There’s nothing wrong with the size of you.’
Adele shook her head crossly. ‘Look at me!’ She held her arms out at her sides and did a fast twirl. ‘I’m overweight, underpaid, and struggling to pay my bills. So what do I do? I spend money on ingredients I can’t afford and bake biscuits and cakes and then sit here alone and stuff my face!’ She blinked several times and then stared at me open-mouthed, no doubt mirroring my own expression. ‘I … I don’t know where that came from,’ she continued. ‘Ignore me. I … I didn’t mean to say that. This was a bad idea.’
‘No, Adele.’ I got to my feet and reached out for her hands, taking them in mine and giving them a friendly squeeze, and then, as a tear trickled down her cheek, I pulled her in for a big, and hopefully comforting hug as I wrapped my arms around her. ‘This was a good idea. A very good idea. We all have times in our lives when we feel overwhelmed. You’ve been ill. You’re not at your best. It’s good to let it all out. I do it all the time with my best friend, Madi. I know you’ve got friends and probably family too, but I’d like to be your friend, Adele. If you want to be mine, that is.’
She looked me directly in the eye and wiped her own with the back of her hand.
‘Really? You … you mean that? You … you’d like us to be friends?’
‘Absolutely.’
I relaxed my hold on her and she eased herself away to grab a tissue. She blew her nose loudly.
‘Still want to be my friend?’ she quipped.
I nodded. ‘Yes. But I want you to tell me why that surprises you.’
The kettle clicked itself off and she turned to look at it. ‘I’ll make the coffee and then I’ll tell you.’
I sat down again and waited until she had put two mugs of coffee on the table and we’d both eaten one biscuit.
‘Of course,’ I said, ‘it was these biscuits that sealed the deal. That was a joke, in case you think that might be true. They are delicious, but I’ve been trying to be a friend since the day I moved in.’
She smiled wanly and let out a long sigh. ‘I know you have. At least, I thought you were. But I wasn’t sure, you see. And after what happened before. Well. I thought it might be best not to get involved.’
‘What happened before? Sorry. I’m not following.’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve seen you chatting with Marcus.’
‘I’ve been trying to be friends with him too. Is … is that a problem?’
She shrugged. ‘Not for me. But we don’t like each other.’
‘Did something happen between you two? Did you date or something?’
She snorted a bitter laugh. ‘Date? Marcus date me? That’s a joke. Not only is he way out of my league, I’m not even on the same planet as far as he’s concerned.’
‘I don’t think that’s true. You’re really pretty, Adele.’
She scowled at me. ‘That’s a joke too.’
‘No it’s not!’ I snapped. ‘Why do you have such a low opinion of yourself? Do you own a mirror?’
‘Of course I own a mirror. But I don’t look in it if I can help it. And pretty is a word that’s never been associated with me.’
‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Adele. You may not behold beauty when you look at your reflection, but I can assure you, others see beauty when they look at you.’
She tutted loudly.
‘I mean it. Madi and I both think you’re really pretty. But I will agree you don’t make the most of your natural beauty. And Madi’s fiancé, Tristan said he thought so too. I don’t lie to people. Not even to boost their ego or make them feel better. I’m being completely honest. And I can prove it. We can call Madi now on speaker and I can ask her if she thinks you’re pretty. Then you’ll hear her say so yourself.’
I pulled out my phone and Adele’s eyes opened wide.
‘No! Please don’t do that. I’d feel so embarrassed.’ She smiled sheepishly again and twisted her coffee mug around in her hand. ‘I … I believe you. I’m … I’m just not used to compliments.’
‘Well you should get used to them, because if we are going to be friends, you are going to have to believe people think you’re pretty.’
The smile grew wider. ‘I can try.’
‘Excellent! I held out my mug and clinked it with hers. ‘Cheers to friendship.’
‘Cheers to friendship,’ she repeated.
‘Now tell me, what happened before to make you wary of me?’
She let out another sigh and took in a deep breath.
‘Well. There were a lot of things that caused friction between all of us. But it all came to a head when I told Marcus his wife was having an affair with his best friend, who lived next door, in your cottage.’