Escape to Willow Cottage: The brilliant, laugh-out-loud romcom you need to read in autumn 2018

‘Hang on, Leo. Careful!’ she called, wishing she hadn’t worn a skirt and heels. Leo squeezed himself between the ancient wall and the plant and disappeared. ‘Leo! Ouch!’ she said as her bare legs found some hidden nettles. When she eventually managed to wriggle through the gap, destroying her Ted Baker blouse in the process, her eyes searched quickly for Leo. He was leaning over a low wire fence into a field looking at three horses that were eyeing him speculatively.

‘Look, Mum, horses!’ said Leo as he jumped up and down with delight. When he stopped bouncing Beth stood behind him and hugged him. It was a view to behold. The field the horses were in was part of a magnificent patchwork thrown over the undulating hillside that surged away from the cottage. They could see for miles. A small stream trickled its way down the side of the cottage, the gentle natural sound of flowing water instantly calming Beth’s senses. She breathed in the light warm air that held a hint of lavender. Somewhere in this forest of a back garden there must be a lavender bush, she thought. The back garden was considerably smaller than the front, as if they had built the cottage as far from the willow tree as they could and without considering the best layout for the occupants. Or perhaps it was to angle the cottage so it had these amazing countryside views from the rear windows?

She hugged Leo as he excitedly pointed at his surroundings. Beth suddenly felt very out of her depth. What had she been thinking to move this far away from London? She’d never lived in the countryside before, she’d only ever lived in the city. It all looked very picturesque but already she could feel her nose tickling, perhaps it was hay fever. She knew nothing about the countryside and, if it were possible, she knew even less about restoring a dilapidated property.

Willow Cottage from the back was no prettier than the front. More boarded-up windows and more galloping greenery. Beth left Leo, who was frantically waving grass at the horses who were observing him mildly as they chewed their own plentiful grass supply. She stood by the back door; it was a stable door, split in two and sturdy. It was unusual and she liked that. Beth stepped back and took in the old tired building. It was in a state but perhaps it was better inside. She decided she wasn’t going to give up just yet as she felt a sprig of optimism take root.

‘Come on, Leo, let’s find somewhere to have a drink. That tearoom looked good and I bet they do a good scone.’

‘Yay, cake,’ said Leo, throwing the grass over the fence and wriggling his way back through the gap at the side of the cottage. Beth followed and was taking Leo’s hand as they reached the willow when the bush-like branches of the tree parted and an old man stumbled out towards them. His face was red, he was waving his arms and looked rather cross, a little like a baby who had been woken from a nap.

‘Argh!’ shouted Beth as Leo screamed and ran towards the gap in the fence where the gate had once been. Beth ran after Leo and didn’t look back until she had hold of his hand and they were safely on the village green. Leo started to laugh. Fear and adrenalin mixed inside her and, whilst Beth was now frantically looking back towards the willow tree, she was laughing too.

‘Does he live in our garden?’ giggled Leo.

‘I really hope not,’ said Beth with feeling.

They were still chuckling as they entered the tearoom. Having not seen many people about the village, the tearoom held the answer – it was packed. There was one small table left near the door that appeared to be where the other customers had deposited used cups and plates. Leo sat down and Beth automatically handed him her mobile phone to play games on. Beth piled up the empties as best she could, creating a bit of a teacup tower and turned with the laden tray to return them to the counter.

As she turned, the door swung open and caught her elbow. As the heavy tray started to tip its load towards her son she countered the effect and promptly deposited the entire cargo over the person entering. The crash was quite spectacular as everything smashed on the floor.

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake!’ yelled the man who had failed to dodge the impact.

‘I am so sorry,’ said Beth, feeling the prickle of sweat on her chest as a violent flush engulfed her. Leo giggled behind her.

‘Look at the state of me!’ declared the teacup tower victim as dregs of tea and coffee dripped off his otherwise pristine white shirt. Beth surveyed the man who was now trying to kick cake crumbs off his shoes. He was in his mid to late twenties, clean-shaven, his dark hair had a hint of auburn and under neat dark brows were the palest grey-blue eyes she’d ever seen. Right now they were glinting like ice crystals as he grumbled to the fully tuned-in audience who all sat in silence staring at the floorshow.

A big-haired woman came bustling from behind the counter wearing a floral waist apron. ‘Oh, Jack, whatever happened?’ she said, attempting to dab at his suit trousers with a sponge.

‘Your new waitress threw a tray at me.’

‘Excuse me, I don’t work here,’ said Beth, feeling her temperature go up a notch with indignation.

‘Then why did you have a tray of crockery?’ asked Jack with a frown.

‘Yes, why?’ added the aproned woman.

‘I was helping, well trying to …’ said Beth, her voice now a lot smaller than it had been.

Jack huffed, ‘Yeah, great help.’ He shook his head and then watched the aproned woman as she continued to dab at his lower half.

‘Er, Rhonda, that’s not helping.’

Rhonda appeared to be in her own little world for a moment. ‘Oh, um, sorry. Here,’ she offered him the sponge.

‘Could you get me a double espresso to go, please, and I’ll be back in five minutes when I’ve changed.’ He aimed the last words in Beth’s direction and turned and left.

‘I’ll pay for that and the broken crockery,’ offered Beth.

‘It’s okay, accidents happen,’ said Rhonda. Beth crouched down as best she could in the fitted skirt and started to pick up the worst of the broken porcelain.

She was thankful for the sympathetic smile Rhonda gave her. ‘Don’t worry. Maureen will do that.’ A large lady who would be a prime candidate for over-60’s cage fighting, if there were such a thing, appeared from behind the counter brandishing a dustpan and brush.

Beth retreated to the small table and sat down. As Maureen cleared up, the tearoom clients went back to their drinks now that the entertainment was over. Beth waited patiently and Leo swung his legs and huffed a lot. The tearoom was equally quaint inside with mismatched crockery and simple wooden tables and chairs with gingham seat cushions in an array of colours.

Out of the window they had a good view of the village; a car trundled past and stopped to let the ducks waddle across the road before it drove through the ford and out of the village. Beth checked her watch. She needed to book them in somewhere for the night and she hadn’t seen any hotels since they left the motorway.

‘What do you want?’ asked Maureen, gripping a small notepad, her stubby pencil poised, her tone disgruntled.

‘A cranberry juice and a caffeine-free Coke, please,’ asked Beth with her best ‘I’m sorry’ smile.

Maureen stared at her and a muscle near her eye twitched. She tapped the laminated card on the table. ‘Teas, coffees, hot chocolate, lemonade or squash.’

‘Oh,’ said Beth hurriedly, familiarising herself with the items on the card. ‘Is it sugar-free lemonade?’

‘No.’

‘What flavours of cordial do you have?’

‘Orange and it’s squash,’ said Maureen. There was more twitching.

‘Hot chocolate, hot chocolate …’ Leo chanted.

‘Um,’ Beth frantically reread the list again. ‘Just two iced waters then, please.’

Maureen didn’t bother to write it down. She shoved her note-pad in the front pocket of her apron and marched off behind the counter. Beth let out a sigh. This wasn’t going well. A couple went to pay and, although she couldn’t quite hear the conversation, Beth was pretty sure they were discussing her. A series of furtive looks over their shoulders accompanied by huffing from Maureen confirmed her suspicions.

The door opened and in came Jack. He was wearing a similar well-fitted dark suit and despite his deep frown he was quite good looking. He strode purposefully across the tearoom to collect his espresso. When Beth saw him get out his wallet she dashed over to intervene.

‘I’ll get that,’ she said, opening her purse. As she looked up she saw she was moments away from bashing into Jack once again. ‘Oh, sorry.’

Jack shook his head. ‘Bloody tourists,’ he murmured as he sidestepped her and exited the tearoom. Beth felt decidedly awkward as she handed over a ten-pound note and silently Rhonda gave her the change and passed the two glasses of tap water to her.

‘Could you tell me where the nearest hotel is, please?’

‘There’s the B&B on the south side of the green and there’s the Bleeding Bear,’ said Rhonda. ‘The Bear does a great breakfast.’

‘Right. Thanks. And where would be the nearest Hilton or Marriott?’

Rhonda thought for a second. ‘That’d be Tewkesbury but Cheltenham’s nearer and there are hotels there.’

‘Thanks,’ said Beth and she slunk back to Leo with the glasses of water.

‘What about the scone, Mum?’ asked Leo looking totally unimpressed with the glass of water and its solitary ice cube.

‘Not now, Leo. Let’s drink this and go.’

A few short phone calls later she discovered that, thanks to a Medieval Festival, there was no room at the big hotels in Tewkesbury or Cheltenham or anywhere nearby. Staying in a bed and breakfast was never going to be the first choice for Elizabeth Thurlow-Browne. However, it appeared the village of Dumbleford was pretty short on options and she didn’t like the sound of the Bleeding Bear pub despite its recommended breakfast.

Thankfully, the landlady at the B&B was very friendly and keen to have residents for the night. She welcomed them by bustling around and thrusting leaflets at Leo that detailed all the local attractions.

‘And there’s the Morris competition tomorrow on the green. You’ll love that!’ she insisted. Leo let out a giant yawn.

‘Morris? Are they those funny little cars?’ asked Beth.

The landlady laughed, ‘No, dancing. Morris dancing, it’s a big thing round here. You might get to join in if you’re lucky!’

Beth could think of nothing worse.

She settled Leo in front of the small television and dashed out to the hire car to grab their case and Leo’s rucksack of toys. Seeing as it was dark she also grabbed her pink unicorn onesie from the overstuffed small car and shoved it under her arm. The hire car was parked further away than she’d thought and Beth was concentrating on where she was walking as she struggled with the case.

It was the dog she spotted first. A huge muscle-bound beast with flailing jowls that intermittently showed large white teeth as it hurtled towards her. Beth tried to get out of the way as the huge dog ran past her but at the last second she saw a large hooded figure running behind the dog and they barrelled into her, sending her sprawling across the pavement. If she hadn’t been winded, she would have had a lot to say.

‘Where the hell did you spring from?’ came a gruff and accusatory male voice that was worryingly familiar.

‘Could you get off me, please,’ was all Beth could manage, her response muffled by the onesie over her face. The large hooded figure was heavy and she was pinned to the case. He rolled onto his haunches, sprang up and dusted himself down. Beth pulled the onesie off her face and tried to hide the mass of pink furry material. She looked up and despite the hoody she recognized her assailant – it was Jack.

‘I think that makes us quits,’ she suggested as she sat up and started to get her breath back.

The dog must have kept going at first but now, realizing it was running alone, it was racing back towards them. Jack made a lunge for the beast’s collar and missed, and Beth found herself lying on the pavement again, this time with a huge dog slobbering all over her.

‘Argh! It’s trying to bite me!’ she yelled.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Doris wouldn’t hurt a soul.’ He got hold of the collar and winched the large dog off. He held out his other hand to help Beth to her feet.

‘I’ll manage, thanks,’ huffed Beth. ‘That thing should be on a lead.’

‘You should look where you’re going. Come on, Doris.’ Jack turned and jogged away.

Chapter Three

Carly had finished work for the day and stopped off at a small café on her way home. She sipped her black chai tea and jotted down her latest contract into her diary. As a British Sign Language interpreter she was in demand and received many different requests. Hospital work was her bread and butter but she took on other projects when they interested her. She popped the lid back on her half-finished drink, slipped the papers into her oversized handbag and left the café. She loved her job but sometimes it did feel like she was the grown up with the proper job and Fergus was … well he definitely wasn’t a grown-up with a proper job.

Carly loved Fergus, there was no question about it, but some of the things she loved about him were also the things that drove her slightly crackers. As she opened the front door she could hear him chattering excitedly in his playroom. That was what she called their spare room; he grandly referred to their converted second bedroom as his office but, seeing as all he did was play computer games all day, she thought her label was far more appropriate. She pushed on the door so it opened a fraction. It went quiet inside and he popped his head round the door in greeting.

‘Hiya, C. Good day?’ he asked, his game controller clutched between his thighs and his uncombed dark hair falling across his face.

‘You’ve not got dressed.’ Carly puffed out her cheeks.

Fergus looked down at his Minecraft lounge trousers and grinned. ‘I have, I was wearing Batman ones this morning.’ The door shut behind him. Every day was a pyjama day to Fergus – how he managed to pay his share of the bills into the joint account each month Carly had no idea. He had tried to explain how it worked a couple of times but, whilst she did use the Internet occasionally, she didn’t really get it and it still baffled her how he got paid for playing children’s games.

She pouted at the shut door and listened to him gabbling on to himself like a total loon. His own grandmother’s phrase popped into her head, recited in her broad Irish accent, ‘Thick as manure but only half as useful.’

Carly started chopping vegetables for a stir-fry and found the action quite therapeutic, although the more she chopped and sliced the more disgruntled she became. It was Wednesday night and she always saw Beth on a Wednesday night; it was takeaway and natter night, a chance to have a night off from signing and give her aching wrists a rest. That had all changed now that Beth had gone.

The flat’s door entry buzzer interrupted her thoughts. She put down the knife and went to see who it was. There was a hunched figure on the screen.

Carly pressed the button to speak. ‘Yeah?’

‘Carly, it’s Nick. Can I come up?’

Carly felt her heart start to race. ‘No, you bloody well can’t. Sod off.’ She leaned across the hallway and opened the playroom door. Fergus looked irritated at first until she pointed at the screen to show Nick’s face peering at them in black and white.

‘Come on, Carly. Elizabeth has blown this all out of proportion. I want to fix things but I can’t if she won’t take my calls.’

Carly felt the need to shout, ‘Out of proportion! You shit, you hit her!’

‘Carly, this is between me and Elizabeth. Tell me where she is. I just want to know she’s all right.’

‘I don’t know where she is,’ she lied, ‘but she is fine now she’s away from you.’

‘What’s he saying?’ asked Fergus and Carly relayed the conversation. ‘Tell him to feck off,’ said Fergus.

‘I’ve tried that. You go down and see him.’

‘Dressed like this?’

Carly shrugged; perhaps he would now see the benefits of getting dressed on a daily basis. She turned her attention back to Nick.

‘Nick, you can stand there till Christmas for all I care. You’re not coming in and I’ll never tell you where she is … even if I knew.’ She put down the entryphone. Nick stood and stared at the screen for a bit. She watched as he tried the door a couple of times and pressed the button again. Carly ignored it. Nick leaned on the button.

Carly swore and then answered. ‘I’ll call the police.’

‘I need to speak to her.’ Nick’s voice had a harsh tone to it now.

‘Never going to happen.’

‘I will find her. I guarantee it,’ warned Nick as he stared into the monitor. Carly watched him, her heart racing. He gave the door one last try and then walked away.

Fergus hugged Carly. ‘You okay?’

‘No, not really. Beth said he’d come looking for her. I think I’m starting to understand why she’s run so far away.’

Beth woke early in the small twin room of the B&B and pulled the pink candlewick bedspread up to her chin. It was many years since she’d slept under sheets and although she’d heard stories of bedspreads this was her first. She plucked at it as she listened to Leo snoring lightly. She hadn’t slept much, her mind full of buyer’s remorse. What had seemed a wonderfully romantic and spontaneous act at the auction now seemed like the epitome of stupid. Despite the state of the cottage, she had had a good feeling when she stood in the back garden with Leo. But her plan of buying something, doing superficial restoration, some painting and decorating and then a flourish of interior design before moving on to the next property was not likely to work with Willow Cottage. It needed major renovations, shoring up most likely or possibly knocking down, and she didn’t know where to start.

What was she doing? She was a Business Operations Manager. She knew about planning and executing efficiency strategies and adhering to compliance as well as how to cope in a male dominated world. She knew nothing about renovation and she feared the money she had would soon be gobbled up by this project. Most of her money was tied up in the London flat and discussing its sale with Nick was something she couldn’t face anytime soon. He had successfully blocked her access to their joint account so that didn’t leave her with much. Just thinking about him made her feel anxious.

Leo stirred and Beth turned onto her side to look at him – her gorgeous boy. He had slept well. He seemed okay even though he was miles away from London but at least he was safe. Maybe everything wasn’t such a disaster after all.

Beth was rethinking that statement later that day as yet another Morris dancer whooped towards her with a handkerchief and an exaggerated wink. Leo was dancing and laughing as if he was high on sugar, which he definitely wasn’t as Beth was fairly strict with both his sugar and fat intake. There had been lots of skipping about, banging of sticks and plenty of very repetitive music but it was quite jolly and Leo loved it. It was all a bit bonkers and quintessentially English, especially when it was performed on a village green.

After a jacket potato for lunch in the hectically busy tearoom, where the unsmiling Maureen served them, Beth decided they should have another look at Willow Cottage. She was really hoping that her brain had exaggerated what she had seen yesterday and now in the full sunshine it wouldn’t be quite so bad. Beth was also keen to see if she could get a look inside because that might actually be better than the exterior would have her believe. With the lure of an apple, Beth persuaded Leo to come and have another look at the cottage. She liked the fact that she didn’t have to answer to Nick, she could do what she wanted here and even if Willow Cottage had been a stupidly impulsive decision, at least it was her own decision. The village was a hive of activity today and there were cars parked everywhere and slow-moving jolly people clogging up every inch. They mingled their way through and, as they reached the pub, someone called to them.

‘Yoo hoo! Hello!’ It was the small elderly lady with the wheelie trolley. Beth looked around but nobody else was acknowledging the woman so she assumed she must have been talking to her.

‘Hello again,’ said Beth, stopping and waiting for the woman to get to her.

‘Now, lovey, tell me again,’ she said, slightly puffed by the effort of the last few steps.

‘Sorry?’ said Beth totally confused.

‘I want to make sure I heard right. What was it you told me yesterday?’

Beth raised an eyebrow, the bag lady was clearly quite potty, poor old soul. ‘I asked you where Willow Cottage was because I’ve recently bought it.’

The old lady burst into hysterics and all Beth and Leo could do was watch her in puzzled bewilderment.

Eventually, after lots of hand waving, she caught her breath and slowed to a chuckle. ‘Oh, my, I haven’t laughed that much since Maureen shat herself at the harvest festival.’ The memory of this event seemed to set her off again. ‘Mittens,’ she said as if remembering something.

‘Right. Well, it was nice to see you again,’ said Beth as she tentatively inched Leo away.

‘She’s funny, Mum,’ observed Leo. ‘She said “shat”! Is that the past tense of …?’

‘Leo!’ warned his mother.

There was no breeze today and the willow tree stood resplendent, a magnificent cascade in shades of summer green. Beth felt herself smile as she stepped over the broken gate, a new one of those couldn’t be that expensive. She made Leo wait there as she peeked into the willow to see if their lodger was in residence. Thankfully he wasn’t.

‘Come on,’ said Beth, her spirits starting to lift as she tried to take Leo’s hand. Leo pulled it away and munched on his apple as they stood and examined the cottage again. She didn’t know what she was looking for. She moved forward to look at the brickwork. On closer inspection it was obviously very old but there were no major cracks that she could spot. Goodness only knows what is under the climbing plants, she thought but for now she couldn’t worry about what she couldn’t see. They squeezed round to the back of the property and Leo immediately went to see the horses, who were soon attracted by his apple and came walking over with interest.

Beth had a closer look at the stable-style back door. It was quite beautiful. She gave it a rattle. It didn’t seem to fit too well in its frame so she gave it a shove. Surely it couldn’t be breaking and entering if it was practically your own house?

From right behind her there came shouting and Beth jumped away from the door as if it were alarmed. Fear punched her in the gut. The old man that had scared them half to death yesterday had come back to finish the job, only this time there was nowhere for Beth and Leo to run. He was blocking their exit down the side of the house. Beth backed away and clutched Leo to her. The horse that had so very nearly made it to the apple made a bolt back across its field.

‘Arghhhhhhh!’ shouted the man. Beth had no idea what to do. Was this village full of mad people? Her heart was racing and she wanted to run but there was nowhere to run to.

She decided to try to be the voice of reason. ‘Look, it’s okay, we’re not burglars. This is our house.’ There was a flicker of recognition although he was still shouting. Leo had his hands pressed tightly over his ears and looked frightened. ‘We’ve bought the cottage,’ said Beth, her voice raised just enough to be heard. ‘It’s ours.’ She pointed to the cottage. The man stopped shouting.

‘No. It’s Wilf’s,’ he said, his words muffled as if he had a speech impediment. Beth remembered the lady in the shop saying something about Wilf yesterday.

‘Yes, it was Wilf’s but he’s sold it to me,’ she explained in what she hoped was a calm and soothing tone. However, this had the opposite effect as the man started to shout again.