8. All Mod Cons
Chapter 8
All Mod Cons
T hey drove through the village and alongside the beck towards Elder Fell Farm, over the old slate bridge. The campsite, where they’d stayed the previous summer, was empty and only the hand-painted sign on the yard gate gave a clue to the field’s summer purpose. The door of the farmhouse was shut against the cold. Amy knew Peter, the sheep-farmer who ran his parents’ traditional Lakeland sheep farm, would be waiting for them at the cottage, up the track beyond the main farm buildings. Harry was excited to be the one to open and shut the gates into and out of the yard; Oliver was happy to stay in the warmth of the car and let him. Once through the yard the track became narrower, unmetalled and just wide enough for one car. The cottage lay ahead, a glimpse of whiteness in the growing dusk, dwarfed by the huge bulk of the mountains all around.
‘There! Look, there’s Elder Fell Cottage.’ She pointed it out to the boys.
The car lurched alarmingly over some potholes. They passed the spot where Amy and her mum used to park when they came to stay in the cottage many years before. Now there was a proper track which passed the cottage and continued up the valley towards the tarn, and Peter had made a parking area to the side of the cottage with room for a couple of cars. An old Land Rover was parked here and they pulled up next to it.
The last time she’d seen the cottage, back in the summer, it was in a poor state with flaking paint and grass growing in the gutters. In the dusk it was easy to imagine it was still in that condition. They only had Peter’s assurances it was ready to stay in, and the ancient gate and tumbledown wall around the garden didn’t inspire a huge amount of confidence. What if her idea of fit for habitation and Peter’s weren’t the same?
‘He’ll be here somewhere, why don’t you knock on the door, lads?’ Matt said as the boys tumbled out of the car, and the grown-ups followed more slowly. He stretched and yawned, and continued to clench and unclench his fingers as if they were cramped. Harry went straight over to the door of the cottage and knocked to be let in.
‘I don’t think there’s anyone in, can we go and sleep in the campsite again?’ Harry was saying as the door swung open. A warm beam of light shone out into the dusk, lighting up their path, and there was Peter Thompson, coal shovel in hand. His family had owned this cottage, and the farm upon which it stood, for generations.
‘Here you are. I was trying to get the place nice and cosy for you,’ Peter said in his warm, northern accent. ‘Come on in, see what we’ve done since you were last here.’
The coal he’d heaped on the open fire crackled and spat as they crowded through the low doorway. Peter put the shovel down next to a brass coal scuttle at the side of the fireplace placing a fireguard to catch the sparks. At nearly six foot tall with a shock of dark hair and a thickset build Peter wasn’t a small man, but Matt was slightly taller, and he had to duck to avoid bumping his head on the doorframe.
Amy was pleased to see the interior of the cottage was much more welcoming than the exterior. Comfortable furniture and freshly painted walls replaced the peeling paint and empty shell of a room she’d seen back in the summer, and the fire which blazed in the grate made the room feel warm and lived-in again. The brass candlesticks on the mantlepiece and the fire irons and coal scuttle on the hearth all gleamed in the light from the flames. Well-worn rugs covered the slate floor and on either side of the fireplace moss-green sofas, which seemed to have grown organically in this ancient house, invited them to sit. An ancient dark wood chest carved with leaf patterns served as a low table between the sofas. The old, broken harmonium which had stood beside the door to the back kitchen had gone, and in its place stood a freshly-cut Christmas tree, scenting the room with pine. Shutters closed over the original window in the deep-set window recess. The only things she recognised from when she’d last seen the cottage in its semi-dereliction were the carved oak spice cupboard set into the whitewashed wall beside the fire, and the deep shelves at the other side. They were still the same, though clean and scrubbed.
‘You’ve worked wonders,’ she said to Peter.
‘Ay. Well, there’s carpets yet to go in upstairs, and the heating’s not finished. You’ll find them portable heaters in the bedrooms. The curtains are all ones our mam’s altered – some of them don’t fit too well, but they’ll do for now. You can check everything else out, tell us if it works or not. We’d never’ve got this place sorted if you hadn’t given us the idea, and we’d never’ve been able to afford it if it weren’t for them grants that ex-husband of yours helped us apply for. It was good of him to do it for nowt.’
‘He owed us – and we owed you,’ Amy said. ‘If it wasn’t for your advice last summer we might not have got together.’ She smiled at Matt, but he was focussed on Peter.
‘How are your mam and dad?’ Matt asked.
‘They’re grand. Our mam’s icing the Christmas cake, and our dad’s probably checking on the dogs. He’s in a bit of a fret, like, ‘cos Jess’s puppies are due any day now, spends half his time in the back kitchen with her.’
‘Puppies! Awesome!’ Harry had stopped to empty the contents of his backpack onto the floor inside the doorway, and now he looked up. ‘Will they come before we go home?’
‘Due any day now, so you might be lucky. We’ll see, young’un. Old Jen’ll be pleased to see you two lads again,’ Peter said.
‘Can we take her for a walk again, like we did in the summer?’ Harry asked.
‘I dare say. Only this time, don’t get yourselves lost.’
‘We didn’t!’ Harry protested. ‘We knew where we were. We didn’t get lost – we got stuck.’
‘Ay. Well, be that as it may, everyone was in a right tizz looking for you.’ Peter ruffled the hair on the top of Harry’s head.
‘Are all your dogs called names that start with a J?’ Oliver asked, as he came in trailing a carrier bag stuffed with a cushion and a blanket he’d been using in the car.
‘Ay, they are. Always have been, from what our dad tells us. We’ve got Jess, Joe and Jack right now – and old Jen, of course,’ Peter told him.
‘My Granny Diane likes dogs,’ Oliver told Peter, with a great sense of occasion.
‘Does she, now,’ Peter replied .
‘She’s coming to stay for Christmas. Can we show her the dogs?’
‘I’m sure Granny Diane won’t have time, if she’s only here for Christmas Day,’ Matt said.
‘Perhaps she could stay another day.’ Oliver’s face was hopeful. ‘To see them.’
‘I don’t think she’ll want to be doing that. She’ll have things to get back for,’ Amy said.
‘Anyways, I’ll leave you to settle in,’ said Peter. ‘Your food delivery arrived and it’s all in t’ kitchen. Our mam put the cold stuff away for you, and she’s made you some mince pies; they’re in a tin on the dresser.’
‘Tell her thank you. But she needn’t have gone to all that trouble.’
‘Eh, you know our mam. Loves to have people to look after, she does. Proper old fashioned farmer’s wife, and proud of it. Before I forget, there’s a few things you should know about the cottage. The electricity can be a bit dodgy in bad weather. We’ve got a generator if the worst comes to the worst, and you don’t need to worry about the gas for the stove and the heating; the bottle’s nearly full and there’s another back at the farm. You need to be a bit careful about the septic tank, but your water’s piped down the hillside from the spring up yonder, fresh as you can get – the pipes are deep enough they shouldn’t freeze. There’s even an upstairs bathroom and a telephone now, see? All mod cons.’ He gestured towards a shelf half-hidden behind the enormous Christmas tree. Where everyone else in the world was getting rid of their landlines, telephone connections had only just arrived at Elder Fell Cottage, which had a very dubious mobile signal and no broadband.
‘What’s mod cons? Is it a kind of toilet?’ Harry demanded.
‘No, it means mod ern con veniences.’ Amy explained.
‘What’s that old telephone for?’ Oliver asked.
‘For emergencies,’ Matt said. ‘Just in case.’
‘Just in case what?’ said Oliver.
‘In case something goes wrong, and we can’t use our mobile phones. If we need an ambulance, or a fire engine.’
‘Or if we need an emergency laundry because Harry’s crawled in the sheep poo like last summer,’ Oliver said, conveniently forgetting that Harry wasn’t the only one who’d ended up rather smelly.
‘That’ll do,’ Amy said. ‘No-one’s going to fall in sheep poo this time. It’ll all be frozen, for a start. Now, why don’t you go and find your bedroom?’
‘Come on, Olly! Race you!’ The two boys thundered up the stairs and in and out of the bedrooms It was a good job the cottage had been solidly built.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Peter said as he put his coat back on. ‘You know where we are if you need owt. Mam’d be pleased to see you if you want to pop down tomorrow morning.’ He stopped in the doorway, something clearly on his mind. ‘And I wonder, did you decide to bring your mam’s ashes in the end?’
‘I did. They’re in a special box in my case. I hope to scatter them up on the tarn later in the week. I’d like it if you joined us,’ Amy said.
‘I’d like that. I still think of her, miss her, like.’
‘I know. I wish things had been different and you and she could have been together.’
‘Ay, well. All water under the bridge now. A long time ago, me and your mam. We were fools to let all that slip away. At least you’ve found yourself a decent young man now,’ he said with a wink towards Matt. ‘And don’t forget to look up when you go into the kitchen yonder. Another little gift from our mam.’ He nodded towards the door leading from the main room of the cottage towards the kitchen, which was built in an extension at the back of the original cottage.
As Peter opened the front door, a gust of bitter air blew in, but as soon as the door was shut warmth and peace enfolded them. Well, it would have been peace if it wasn’t for the sound of Harry and Oliver above them quarrelling about who should have the bed nearest the window.
‘What do you reckon he meant about looking up?’ Matt opened the door into the hallway which divided the living room from the kitchen, its rough-hewn stone walls smoothed over by plaster. Dark, wooden stairs at one end led up to the first floor, and at the other side what had once been the bathroom was now a small downstairs toilet and shower-room and a big cloakroom with storage for wet coats and boots. He looked up at the beamed ceiling in the hallway and there, above his head, tied with a loop of red velvet ribbon, was a ball of greenery: holly, ivy, laurel and mistletoe.
‘Mistletoe!’ Amy smiled and held out her hand.
‘It would be a pity to waste it.’ Matt took it and drew her towards him, though he checked carefully over his shoulder first. ‘While I’ve got you on my own, I’m sorry I’ve been so grumpy recently. Just … you know … problems at work, and then all this stuff with Diane. But now we’re here, I’m going to forget all about it – at least until she gets here.’
‘I’ll have to see what I can do to help you forget.’ She reached up to kiss him. This was better, this was what she had been hoping for.
‘I’d like that very much.’ He kissed her, gently at first, but with increasing urgency. Everything was going to be all right after all. Diane would only be here for two nights, and with any luck she’d arrive late on Christmas Eve and leave early on Boxing Day. After that they’d have the house to themselves, just Amy, Matt and the boys, and she could soothe those worry lines from Matt’s forehead. Long, leisurely days in the countryside with the children and nights snuggled up with Matt when the boys were worn out from the fresh air and exercise; whole nights to be with each other instead of snatched, guilty moments together. Perfect.
‘It feels like ages since we’ve been alone.’ She slipped a hand into the back-pocket of Matt’s jeans and pulled him closer.
‘It does, doesn’t it?’ he said between kisses, which had moved from her lips to her neck. ‘Do you think the boys might want an early night tonight?’
‘I think we should try and persuade them they do.’
‘Then it’ll be just you and me and a brand new double bed for the longest night of the year.’
‘And the mistletoe. Don’t forget the mistletoe!’ Amy added with a grin, the white berries gleaming like pearls amongst the dark foliage above her.
‘And I think we should –’
She never got to find out what Matt thought they should do, because the boys came thundering back down the stairs and Matt and Amy sprang apart like guilty teenagers caught behind the bike shed.
‘There are lots of rooms upstairs, and it’s great for hide and seek. Can we play now?’ Oliver asked.
‘After tea. We need to unpack and sort everything out first; we’ll have a game before bedtime, I promise,’ Amy told them.
‘And we’ll save the mistletoe for later,’ whispered Matt, winking at Amy as they went to unpack their cases.