Chapter 53
Naomi’s offer of a Sunday morning lie-in forgot to include one small problem, or should I say two furry problems named Sid, an Irish Setter, and Nancy, a Golden Retriever.
‘Naomi, why is Sid sitting on me?’
I hear her downstairs, laughing. ‘Because he loves you,’ she replies. ‘Or he wants to play. Is his tail wagging?’
‘Yes.’
‘Play,’ she confirms. She calls him downstairs. He’s off like a shot when he hears the word ‘ball’.
Esk Farmhouse sits on an acre of land, which is just enough to maintain and plenty of space for the dogs to run themselves ragged.
Originally two acres, Naomi sold one to a developer shortly after she moved in.
With the money she was able to do repairs on the cottage, while they opened an extremely expensive glamping site.
‘I had a wander down last month. It’s look good and there’s hardly any noise. Well, except that one weekend when they had a wedding, and I could hear them singing “Mr Brightside” at ten p.m., before someone started yelling something about a quiche. Always wondered what that was about.’
Unable to get back to sleep, I drag myself into the shower.
The water pressure is fantastic, and nothing smells like air freshener.
Not even the air freshener. There’s a room spray which smells like heaven.
Naomi’s always had good taste. Philip has taken the boys to school before work, so it’s just Naomi and me. I step out into the garden.
‘You hungry?’ she yells. ‘Help yourself to whatever.’
Coffee is first on my list, followed by some toast and honey. I stand at the door and watch her play with the dogs.
It’s so peaceful. I understand why Naomi chose to bring up her boys here. The quietude is—
‘Buck-buck-buuuuck.’
I look to my left and see the massive chicken enclosure, stretching all the way to the bottom of the garden.
The bucking and clucking continue. I wander over.
There are six noisy hens roaming around in the enclosure. It’s adorable. A well-built fence around it, complete with a large chicken coop that looks bigger than my flat. Ladders, peck toys, branches, hanging toys and even a chicken swing are spread throughout.
Naomi joins me with the dogs. ‘Nice, huh?’
‘Your chickens have toys?’
‘Of course. They spend most of their day out here. Don’t want them to be bored. That’s Rihanna at the back. We got him to replace Mavis.’
‘What happened to Mavis?’
‘We ate her.’
She laughs at the look on my face. ‘I’m joking. Old age. She was almost ten.’
I watch the dogs sniffing around. Nancy is especially interested.
‘They don’t attack them?’ I ask. ‘Chase them? Stare at them menacingly?’
‘Not at all,’ she replies. ‘But the chickens never leave their enclosure. They have tons of space.’
Naomi is sweet to her animals. It’s just people who annoy the hell out of her, occasionally me included. I don’t take it personally.
At 5 p.m., Philip brings the kids home. I hear them before they even get inside the house.
‘Aunt Sophie!’
Michael and Grant have grown since I saw them last year. They’re still small but they have far more to say for themselves and they do it loudly.
‘Hi! How are you both?’ I ask. They’re wearing matching red jumpers and jeans. If Grant didn’t have a freckle on his nose, it would be impossible to tell them apart.
‘Fine,’ they say in unison.
‘Were you at the afterschool club?’
‘Yeah,’ Michael replies. ‘Grant got in trouble for farting next to Emily.’
I’d like to think Grant will grow out of that, but the chances are slim. I’ve yet to meet a man who doesn’t find farting hilarious.
‘Boys, you can play with the dogs until dinner’s ready. Bonus points if you can find Nancy’s ball. I misjudged a throw, and it vanished.’
‘Why are your kids nice but everyone else’s are terrible?’ I ask as they run out to the garden with the dogs.
‘My kids are also terrible,’ she replies. ‘You’ve just taken the time to get to know them. Can you pass me those peppers?’
‘What are you making?’
‘Beef stir-fry,’ she replies. ‘I think we’ve finally moved past the effing fajitas.’
‘Can I help?’
‘Grab me the noodles from the cupboard on the left, will you?’
She begins to slice. ‘You know, you really must get over this “kids are annoying” phase, Sophie,’ she continues.
‘No one is forcing you to adopt them, babysit them or even play with them, but they exist in the world. You’re beginning to sound like one of those old spinster witches who curse children and puncture their ball with your big pointy finger if it comes over your fence. ’
‘You say that like it’s a bad thing.’
She chuckles as she calls Michael and Grant to help set the table.
In a rush to get back to their Xbox, there’s no attention to detail.
Cutlery in the wrong places, napkins left in a pile, salt and pepper shakers balanced precariously against a spoon.
Naomi drags them back through to do it properly.
Dinner is excellent, even though Marco isn’t here to serve us.
I hope his next guests tip him handsomely.
Philip has made a shortcrust apple pie and that alone is worth the visit.
I’ve spent the past week eating with company and I don’t relish the thought of going back to eating alone every evening.
I’ve become sociable again and vow to eat out with company at least once a week.
Being a work-focused hermit is no longer an option.