“Oh. Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Mark never… I didn’t know…I’m so sorry…”
“It’s years ago, now, my girl. Water long, long under the bridge and out to the all-embracing sea. So…”
He went silent, the phone cracked for a moment.
“Damn and blast this dust,” he muttered, voice strangely thick. “Samantha, I would appreciate it greatly if you could stop by the house tomorrow morning. I will ensure that there are some keys ready for you; Margaret will want to hand them over herself and, I suspect, make her own apology to you. As she should.”
“Sir Malcolm… I can’t…”
“You can, and you must. I cannot accept no for an answer, Samantha. You are the nearest thing to a daughter that I will ever have, and I will always think of you as such. Besides, my dear, it’s not pure altruism, you see – you’ll be sparing me a significant amount of money and no small amount of irritation to boot. I detest having anything to do with the local tradesmen, they are not reliable men, and my usual man is, sadly, committed elsewhere.”
I made a face but had to admit he probably had a point there.
“I suspect you’ll approve of the farmhouse in its current state. And that you will find it a warmer and… more accepting place than that… glass monstrosity with which my son ruined the western parkland. But I am rambling now, and you no doubt have things of your own to do. So, with that, my dear – adieu. We shall see you tomorrow.”
“Good evening, Sir Malcolm. And… thank you! Thank you so much!”
“Please, my dear, don’t mention it.”
The phone clicked.
Sam’s handset fell from her fingers and plopped onto the duvet.
“Holy fuck,” I breathed. “I thought my role was to be the knight in shining armour. And I just got schooled in spades. Wow.”
She slowly sank down onto the bed.
“Sam? Hey, love, are you okay?”
She shook her head as if trying to dislodge something.
“This feels… utterly unreal,” she murmured. “There’s just no way all this could have just resolved itself so completely and so neatly. I don’t… I don’t know what to think. I honestly hadn’t thought any further than… than tonight… and I was anticipating some huge, horrid drawn out process where I got dragged through the mud for months on end. He’s… he’s just made it all go away. All of it.”
“He… clearly likes you. It’s so bizarre. Everyone I know hates him because he’s apparently such an exacting and tight-fisted landlord…”
“I know his reputation, but he’s actually a… a really decent and… and lovely old man, once you get to know him.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me that you were one of those Spaldings?”
“Because I’m not,” she protested, flushing. “I’m just some daft girl who married one of them. And it’s not like they’re hereditary peers or anything.”
“You still should have told me.”
“Look. I… I just didn’t want things to get weird. It’s not the sort of thing you trot out when you meet someone, is it? And then… later… it… it just didn’t seem to come up, and I didn’t want to… to talk about Mark and his family. Not really. Does it… matter?” she said, as she looked up at me.
I knew her well enough to know that she was worried that it would.
I thought about it for a moment.
It didn’t. Not really. Not much at all.
“No,” I decided. “And it won’t ever. You’re the you I love. Nothing less. Are you going to take him up on it?”
“Do… do you think I should?”
“You’d have a home of your own. Space of your own. A safe place for you and Beth.”
“For a while…”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we have to.”
I reached out and took her hand. “Hey,” I added. “Look at it this way – you got your wish.”
“What wish?”
“For… a cottage out in the countryside.”
“Oh. Right. I forgot,” she said with a strange little smile. “Anyway, that stopped being my wish long ago.”
“Oh,” I said softly. “I thought it was quite a nice wish, all things considered.”
“Oh, it was quite lovely and innocent, as far as wishes go…” she breathed, as she reached out to gently touch my cheek. “But I think my new one is better.”
.:.
I pulled my small weekend suitcase out of the taxi that Sam had ordered for me and closed the door behind me. I listened with half an ear as it clattered and rumbled off into the gathering dusk.
I took a moment to just breathe.
It was Friday evening, and I hadn’t seen Sam since she’d dropped me off on Monday morning and gone to fetch the cottage keys.
Cottage, he’d called it.
Cottage.
I shook my head.
It was a wonderful old red brick house – double-storied – with climbing roses well-established on the south-facing walls. A wisp of smoke curled upwards from the tall brickwork chimney; I could smell the faint whiff of woodsmoke on the evening air.
A pre-Sam me would have unironically called it a “sodding great mansion.”
“Highwood”, proclaimed the little white sign on the gate.
Beneath it was the embossed oak leaf motif of Surrey.
I looked up the short flagstone path that wound through small patches of flowering shrubs.
Everything looked neat and utterly lovely. It felt like a wonderful place.
I lifted my luggage and fumbled my way through the gate.
I passed by Bertha – parked at a jaunty angle on a small patch of grass, one wheel fondling a disused flowerbed.
Warm lights glimmered beyond the cottage pane windows; as I drew nearer I could see into the homely kitchen.
My breath caught in my throat as Sam passed by the window, busy with something.
I suddenly realised just how much I’d missed her.
She looked up from whatever she was doing as I stumbled across the column of light that the kitchen cast out into the darkness.
She stared out at me for a moment, then flung down a dishcloth and dashed off.
I took a step towards the door.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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