Four
Sally pulled onto her driveway, switched off the car engine and sat for a moment, looking at the front of her house through the raindrops sliding down the windscreen. The move she’d been planning with Steve hadn’t gone ahead and she was still in the same pokey semi-detached new build, on a characterless estate in the Midlands.
She looked across to her neighbour’s house – a mirror image of her own, just like every house in their little cul-de-sac. They’d been marketed as starter homes and she and Steve had been thrilled with their new purchase the day they’d moved in, even though they’d known it was only a stepping stone. They’d already begun discussing their move up the property ladder before the lottery win; the only thing the extra bucks had changed was the chance to climb a few more rungs.
She picked up her handbag and let out a little sigh as she got out of the car. After locking it and going inside, she pondered why this was going through her head now. She no longer wanted to leave this house – her memories of Steve were here and while the place wasn’t a mausoleum for him, she didn’t feel she was quite ready to leave him behind.
‘Hey, Herbie-baby, how’s my little smoochy man?’
She picked up the cat and revelled in the vibrations of his warm, purring body against her chest.
‘Would you like some yummies for your tummy, baby boy? Come on then, let’s get you fed.’
She carried the cat through to the kitchen, putting him back down on the floor while she sorted out his meal. She flicked on the kettle and after pouring some hot water over his food and mashing it up, she made herself a cup of tea and stood looking out the window into the postage stamp garden while Herbert slurped up his meal behind her.
An unsettled sensation kept sliding around her chest and stomach and Sally tried to figure out what had brought it on.
After unlocking the patio doors and sliding them open for Herbie to have a runabout in the wet, cat-proofed garden – the only upside to it being so small – she wandered through to the lounge, dropped down onto the sofa and picked up her tablet. She stared at the blank screen for a few minutes while she sipped her tea, then, placing her mug on the coffee table, booted up the device and after logging in, typed “Bramblebush Farm, Ditchley” into the internet search bar.
Much to her disappointment, very little came back in the results. A few websites provided the address and some others had very old articles regarding cattle sales. The latter clearly dated back to when it was still a working farm.
She clicked over onto the images but all she found there were a couple of ordnance survey map pictures and about a thousand images of bramble bushes!
A little humph of frustration slipped from her lips and her fingers tapped her thigh while she sat thinking.
‘Ah, I know…’
Her index finger flew across the screen and thirty seconds later she let out a small exclamation.
‘Hah! Gotcha!’
She expanded the aerial satellite picture as much as it would allow. It wasn’t ideal but it was the best she could get to be able to explore further.
Sally turned the tablet round until she got her bearings.
‘Right,’ she murmured, ‘this is the main farmhouse where I was standing this morning.’
She pulled her finger down the screen, moving the image and letting her see what lay behind the main building. Judging by the expanse of roof, the farmhouse went back further than she’d expected. Beyond it were three more rooftops, one along each side creating a sheltered square in the centre. The two side buildings were narrow in comparison to the one directly opposite the farmhouse. She suspected it may be a kind of hay barn, or something along those lines while the side buildings could be cattle stalls perhaps… Her knowledge of farming was decidedly limited and she certainly had no intention of expanding on it now. She was just being nosy. The old, desolate building had piqued her interest. She’d said to Karen that she’d picked up a feeling of sadness from the farmhouse but she now realised that it wasn’t sadness she’d sensed.
It was loneliness.
And that was something she had become rather well versed in!
“In a quarter of a mile, turn right.”
Sally followed the satnav instructions once again but this time it was taking her where she wanted to go. Back to Bramblebush Farm.
She’d finally acknowledged this morning, after a night of dreaming about it, that the farmhouse had found its way under her skin. Her sleep had been erratic and she’d only drifted off properly as the sun was coming up which meant she’d overslept and was sitting at the small dining table, sipping her first coffee of the day, after ten o’clock! Herbert had been less than impressed and it had taken a handful of dry treats to mollify him.
When Steve had died, she’d moved their wedding photograph from the lounge and brought it into the kitchen where she seemed to spend more time than was probably considered normal talking to it.
She would tell Steve about her day, relaying some of the things either his or her family had said or done and, more often than not, tell him how much she missed him. In the early days though, most of her comments had contained the words “selfish”, “bastard”, “bloody car” and “how dare you die on me”. She’d moved on from those now although there were still occasions when she felt it necessary to repeat them.
This morning, however, she had asked his opinion on something quite different, knowing as she did so, that it would have made him smile.
The night they’d first met, Steve had been trying to squeeze past her in a crowded pub. He’d apologised for being so close and personal with her and when she’d smiled at him, saying it was okay, he’d stopped in his tracks, returned her smile, and then asked, ‘What would you do, in an ideal world, if money, life and people weren’t a consideration.’ She’d thought it over for a moment before giving her tongue-in-cheek reply, ‘I’d have a small Bed & Breakfast with a cat rescue attached.’
He'd looked at her for a few seconds before giving her the widest grin and asking, ‘Will you marry me?’ They’d gone on to spend the rest of the night talking and he’d later told her it was probably the best reply he’d ever had to the question and definitely the most unusual. He’d also asked her how the setup would work and she’d said simply, ‘The profits from the B&B would go towards the upkeep of the rescue although, in this ideal world, there would be no stray cats needing to be rescued in which case, I’d have a small but highly exclusive B&B.’
Their conversation had come back to her through the night as she lay awake in her bed and for the first time since her husband’s death, she’d felt a small tingle of excitement.
Over her coffee, she’d told his photograph about the farmhouse, how she’d sensed its loneliness and reminded him of their long-ago conversation.
‘What do I do, Steve? We both know I need to force myself forward. Like it or not, Karen was right in what she said – sitting at a supermarket cash desk is not where I should be. I just don’t want to go back to where she thinks I belong. I now have the means to follow that old dream from when I was young but am I strong enough to do it alone? Can I follow this through without you by my side?’
She paused in her musings, almost as though listening to him speak.
‘Yes, I know I was a strong, independent woman before you came along and quite capable of looking after myself but being with someone changes you. You become used to sharing your decisions, having someone to give you their opinion and reining you in when you go too far. Or pushing you on when you have no faith in yourself. I’m in a different place now and it’s scary. I don’t know what to do. Help me…’
Sally hadn’t expected an answer to come and she wasn’t disappointed. What she did get, however, was an overwhelming urge to revisit the old farmhouse, which is why, two and a half hours later, Frida the Focus was bouncing back up the pot-holed lane with a set of garden shears, some extra thick gardening gloves and a pair of sturdy boots rolling about in her boot.