Chapter Nine
‘Oh, Cindy,’ I breathed, as I paused in an attractive flagstone hallway.
This issued into a surprisingly spacious open-plan room. To the left was a cosy lounge area. To the right, a modern kitchen with mini-island and tall stools.
Mr Garroway might be an older gentleman, but he had very contemporary taste. I’d been expecting chintz sofas, twee curtains and gingham cushions. Instead, everything was in neutral tones of taupe, cream and the palest mushroom. It might have been bland had it not been for some bold abstracts on the walls, and colourful cushions that lined a squashy L-shaped sofa.
I took a closer look at the paintings. Originals. Wow, they were signed too. I peered at the artist’s swirly signature. Audrey Garroway. Oh, blimey. They’d been painted by the vendor’s deceased wife.
I quickly deduced that it might be the artist who’d had the impeccable taste in the cottage’s modern décor. Certainly, the soft furnishings were worthy of an interior designer.
Moving around the kitchen, I admired the stainless-steel range with its shiny ceramic hob. Opening the door to the oven, I peered within. Spotless. Just like the cottage.
Gazing about, I noted the plentiful cupboard space, the fitted units in the lounge’s alcoves, the handsome woodburning stove, the artfully stacked logs alongside, all set off by a large brightly jewelled rug.
Opening what appeared to be a cupboard door proved to be a well-kept secret. For beyond the door, was a cloakroom-cum-downstairs loo. Perfect.
‘What do you think?’ I said, turning to Cindy.
I think I’d like to curl up on that very cosy looking sofa.
‘Mm,’ I agreed.
I could easily visualise me and Cindy lolling around in its squashy depths. I’d also wiggle my toes in front of that wood burner. I could imagine it lit. Logs flaming. The comforting sound of crackles and pops.
The daydreaming continued. There I was again. This time flopped down on the rug. Guzzling a hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and whipped cream. Cindy warming her belly while contentedly chewing on one of my old slippers.
‘Let’s check out the upstairs,’ I said eventually.
Cindy bounded ahead of me, nimbly whisking up a rather steep staircase.
A compact landing revealed just two doors. Beyond these were two generously sized double bedrooms. The front bedroom had picture windows that looked out across the fields. The rear bedroom overlooked a cottage garden that gave way to woodland.
Each room had its own ensuite. One contained an enormous copper bathtub shaped like a giant open egg. The second bathroom – a wet room with open shower – was generous enough to take two people.
I wondered if Albert and Audrey had ever showered together. Larked about. Thrown soapy sponges at each other. I instinctively felt there’d been a lot of laughter in this house. It had a happy vibe. I could almost hear its echoes as I moved around the upstairs rooms, pausing in front of the dressing table to look at an old photograph.
A young Albert Garroway looked back at me. His wedding day. The lovely bride on his arm beamed at the camera lens. I regarded the happy couple. Touched the frame. If Lisa had clapped eyes on Albert Garroway in his heyday, she’d have been smitten. He’d been quite a looker. And Audrey looked like a film star from a bygone Hollywood era.
I sighed and moved back to the landing, once again taking the door to the second bedroom. From here I could take a closer look at the spacious garden. At the rear was a large shed that looked like it had seen better days. When the cottage was mine, I’d probably remove it. Either that or replace it with one of those gorgeous gazebo thingies covered in climbing plants. Clematis and honeysuckle sprang to mind.
The flowerbeds were full of heavily pruned shrubs. Ornamental trees edged an immaculate lawn. In summer, lupins, foxgloves and roses would bloom and froth giving a riotous explosion of colour. How gorgeous. The whole property was delightful. My mind was made up. I wanted to buy Starlight Cottage.
‘Oh, universe,’ I intoned.
Oh, not again, my dog sighed.
‘Hush,’ I admonished. ‘Do you want to live here or not?’
I suppose.
Cindy flopped down at my feet. Sighing heavily, she rested her nose on her paws. She knew when she had to be patient.
Shep was nice, she said . I think he could become a mate. Especially if he likes chasing squirrels.
I tutted.
‘I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with squirrels.’
I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with checking out Samantha’s social media .
That brought me up short.
‘Shh,’ I hissed, nervously glancing about, as if I’d been caught in the act. And yes, it was true. I often stalked Samantha’s Instagram profile. Repeatedly curled my lip at her pics. Particularly the one that had showed off her figure in last summer’s bikini.
She’d been somewhere hot and sunny with her gal pals. Samantha had been grinning at the camera, taut tummy on display, ample cleavage thrust forward. She’d been kitted out in the sort of skimpy beachwear I could only dream about.
After one evening of feeling particularly sorry for myself, I’d poured a large brandy, then duplicated one of Samantha’s insta pics and sent it off to my printer. Armed with an A4 printout, I’d grabbed a black felt pen and had a lovely time making certain adjustments to Samantha’s image.
I’d sniggered tipsily whilst drawing a handlebar moustache over her upper lip. A pair of blacked out teeth had followed. Moments later, Samantha had been the proud recipient of some Harry Potter specs. I’d then coloured in her torso so that she appeared to be wearing a staid one-piece swimsuit . I’d also added a generous spare tyre around her midriff. Perfect! Childish? Of course. But the exercise had been immensely satisfying.
‘Oh, universe,’ I intoned again. ‘I’ve already asked for Starlight Cottage. Hetty Cartwright – one of the residents in this village – fancies herself as a bit of an intuitive. She thinks I’m going to live here. Anyway, I know you’re currently busy making sure this happens – positive vibes etcetera. However, I’d like to add a footnote to my previous request. I miss Robin. No, scrap that. I don’t miss him. What I mean is, I miss having a man in my life. Someone to love. And it would be so nice to have someone who loves me for being me . Do you understand? Can you find me a man who doesn’t care that I’m a menopausal woman with a muffin over the waistband of her jeans? A man who doesn’t give two hoots that I tweeze the odd hair from my chin. And if he could also be reasonably goodlooking and financially sound, that would also be most acceptable.’
I stared down at the little apple tree in one corner of the garden. Currently it was devoid of its leaves and fruit. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if human beings could rejuvenate annually, just like nature did? If that were possible, then by next spring I’d have glowing skin, luscious hair and a toned figure.
Have you finished daydreaming? Cindy interrupted. Because I’m mighty bored.
‘Yup,’ I said, moving away from the window. ‘Come on. Let’s have a quick walk to the duck pond and back. Then, when I’m back at the office, I’m going to make a formal offer on Starlight Cottage.’
Together we headed back across the landing and down the stairs.