A Cottage in the Country: Escape to the cosiest little cottage in the country

"I only need to take a few measurements, Connor," I explain, fearful he might burst into tears after the assault on his hand.

"I'll…um…sort out the key, then," he mumbles, digging deep into his jacket pocket. I follow him down the winding path as we head towards the front of the cottage, when, suddenly, a loud, "Hello" makes us both stop in our tracks. Spinning around, I see a guy in his late fifties, sporting a mass of unruly grey hair, ambling towards us with a big grin on his face.

"So glad to have caught you," he remarks, jovially. "I'm Terence Darby. My wife, Joanna, and I live in Bay Tree Barn – the one at the end of the track," he points his finger along the overgrown lane that runs high up behind Ash Cottage.

"Great to meet you, Terence, I'm Maddie Brooks. This is Connor from Cooper and Tate Estate Agents. I've come to measure up."

Terence steps forward and we shake hands, his firm grip reassuring me that I wasn't being over-zealous earlier. I notice that Connor stands well back, no doubt still nursing a sore hand.

"It's going to be lovely having a neighbour again," Terence replies. He's obviously a seasoned walker, his boots have that lived-in look and his stout walking stick has probably fended off many a bramble.

"I had hoped to be in by now, but there have been several delays." I shoot a glance at Connor, who is engrossed in scraping his shoe against a small mound of long grass. He swipes it several times to remove the dust from the lane. Even if he was listening, I think it's unlikely he'd know what was happening anyway, but it was worth a try.

"Ah," Terence shakes his head. "I can only imagine what it's like today with all the paperwork. We've been here for nearly thirty years and the house before that was our first. We do miss Aggie, she was a lovely lady."

I realise that Connor is waiting impatiently, his shoe-scuffing has stopped and he's now sorting through a handful of keys, with purpose. Terence and I exchange glances, his eyes twinkling and a little smirk lifts his lip as he tries his best not to laugh.

"Well, lovely to meet you, Terence, and fingers crossed that Ash Cottage won't remain empty for much longer."

Terence gives a little salute, a brief nod to Connor, who is still head-down and totally oblivious and he walks off down the lane whistling.

"Nice chap," I say out aloud, as I crane my neck to see if I can spot the barn. The track has a turn in it and already Terence is out of sight.

"Is this the only entrance to Bay Tree Barn?" I enquire, assuming Connor will at least have some knowledge of this property.

He shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know". With that, he turns on his heels and heads off back down the path, still sorting through his handful of keys.

"Are they all for Ash Cottage?" I ask, rather surprised there are so many. When Sarah showed me around I'm sure she only had a small ring of keys in her hand.

"Well, I thought they were." He begins trying each one in turn, picking out a few that obviously won't fit and putting them back into his jacket pocket. Several look as if they belong to outbuildings and one is quite primitive, made out of cast iron. He's becoming rather frustrated and the colour is rising in his cheeks, so I wander off to give him space and begin looking around the garden. However, it's hard not to simply stand and admire the view, though I'm also excited to explore. I remember the wooden shed that stands halfway down the sloping garden, raised on a semicircular patio area and with an old wooden bench running alongside it. The view from the bench is at a different angle to the view you get from the house and on a bright, warm, autumnal day like today it's a little sun trap.

The colour of the trees now has an orangey hue, the breeze carrying a few leaves here and there as it teases them from the branches. In a week or two they will be falling by the sackful and it dawns on me that this garden is going to be quite labour-intensive. But the stunning vista is mesmerising, and I'm actually looking forward to the hours I'll be spending taming this garden and getting it back into some semblance of order.

"It's no good," Connor calls over his shoulder. "None of these keys fit. Seems I might have picked up the wrong ones from the cabinet. The problem is," he looks at me with unease, "I'm due at my next viewing in twenty-five minutes. I don't have time to drive back to the office to pick them up."

While I do feel sorry for him, I also feel exasperated. "It's taken me over an hour to get here. Can you ring the office and see if someone else could pop out with them? I don't mind waiting – now that I'm here."

He seems annoyed, as if I created the problem and am being unreasonable expecting him to sort it out.

"It might be better if you make an appointment for another day," he replies, drily, fixing me with a stare. A flash of anger finds me struggling to hold back the first retort that pops into my head. Instead, I take a deep breath and speak slowly, but distinctly.

"I think it might be even better if you ring the office now and have the conversation, so that you aren't late getting off to your next viewing."

Connor looks at me, surprised by the forcefulness of my words and heads off back to his car, mumbling something totally incoherent as he brushes past me.

I wander down to the bench by the shed, fighting my way through one of the overgrown pathways that traverse the garden. A large fuchsia bush is covered in deep, double pink heads, the branches hanging low overhead causing me to duck. On the other side a climbing rose has suckers extending three feet and making it almost impossible to squeeze through without getting snagged. However, I persevere and take the final steps down to the bench. I was right, the view from here is completely different and it feels protected, despite being very open. With the terraced garden rising high above it to the rear, the sloping grassy bank falling away below it and a high hedge to the side, it sits in a hollow.

The sun is warm on my face and I close my eyes for a second, taking in the peacefulness of the setting. All you can hear are the birds and the odd ripple of leaves caught in the breeze. A crack in the overhanging branches of a hazelnut tree, about five feet away, announces the appearance of a young, grey squirrel. He jumps with ease across to a large branch on a neighbouring ash tree. It isn't until this moment that I scan around and really take note of the trees. The variety is amazing; however ash seems to grow particularly well here and is a fitting winner for the aptly named cottage.

"Mrs Brooks!" Connor's agitated voice calls out – a few seconds later he emerges from one of the overgrown pathways.

"I'm here and it's Miss Brooks," I reply, trying hard not to over-react to his faux pas.

He approaches the bench, inspecting the arm of his jacket as he walks.

"I think that rose has pulled a thread," he utters, sounding really fed up and choosing to ignore my comment.

"Poor you," I reply, dourly. "What did the office say?"

"There's no one available. You'll have to ring in to arrange another appointment and I'm going to have to shoot off now." He looks at his watch impatiently and that makes me really cross. I make no attempt to move, despite the meaningful glance he throws my way.

"So, I've driven all this way and I can't get access to the cottage today?"

He at least has the good grace to look a touch embarrassed, but I realise there's absolutely no point in making a fuss.

"Well, just so my journey isn't a complete waste of my time, is it okay if I take ten minutes to look around the garden?"

My request clearly presents him with a new dilemma. He's torn between having to think through the implications of leaving me here to my own devices and, after yet another flick of his wrist to check the time, being late for his next appointment.

"Well…I suppose it will be all right." He looks at me as if appraising whether or not I can be trusted.

"I am in the process of buying the property and contracts have already been exchanged." I throw this in, not to reassure him, but to remind him I'm not some total stranger who is here merely to nose around.

He nods and without another word begins his retreat back through the undergrowth.

"An apology would have been nice," I pipe up, "or a goodbye…" hoping my words will carry and perhaps remind him of common courtesy, let alone good manners.

I wait until I hear his car pull away and then venture down to locate the boundary at the bottom of the garden. The grass is on such a steep slope that it's not easy to walk down without slipping. Thankfully, I manage it without mishap and discover two crowns of rhubarb hidden among a border that also holds a beautiful mock orange blossom shrub. Everything is leggy and overgrown, sadly neglected over the past few years by the looks of it. Behind this is a hedge that runs along the bottom. The other side abuts a large grassy area, belonging to a cottage that is almost completely obscured by trees. Well, it's private, that's for sure.

Making my way slowly back up the grassy bank, I notice that the two large apple trees are badly in need of pruning. Hidden in the branches is a telegraph wire that is almost low enough to touch. Aside from that, the garden needs a lot of weeding and a tidy to take away the debris that has built up over a number of years. However, it is packed full of a whole variety of plants, trees and shrubs. It's enchanting, and a little thrill courses through me. This is going to be my garden very, very soon.

I discover a different pathway to take me back up to the top level that isn’t quite so overgrown. Thankfully, it doesn’t have any thorny branches to contend with. As I emerge, directly in front of me is the garden room. It’s still full of old furniture, although I’m sure it will be emptied before I take possession. It was used as a piano room and that, too, is built into the slope of the hill. Either side of it are storage rooms hewn into the rock face. Both are rather dank and full of cobwebs, but they will be useful. To the left stands the oil tank for the central heating and I’m dismayed to spot a small pool of oil on the floor. A little investigation is enough to confirm that the pipe going into the tank appears to have been vandalised. Well, maybe today hasn’t been a total waste after all. If I hadn’t spotted this it would have been a nightmare moving in to discover the tank was empty. I make my way back to the car to ring Cooper and Tate, thankful that this is one problem I’m not going to have to sort out on moving day.

LEWIS

CHAPTER 3

"Can I speak to Sarah Manning, please, it's urgent?"

"Who's calling?"

"Lewis Hart."

"Hold the line, I'm putting you through."

Clearly, Sarah isn't there. It switches straight to her answerphone and I'm in no mood to leave a message. I'm so angry, my hands are shaking. As if the long drive home wasn't bad enough, when I passed Ash Cottage there wasn't just a For Sale sign outside, but it was almost obliterated by a Sold banner. Now I know what they mean when they say a red mist can descend out of nowhere.

I slam down the phone, desperately trying to regain control of my anger. I can't remember the last time I lost it – the feeling isn't a welcome one and reminds me of my youth. I simply can't believe that Sarah has sold Ash Cottage to someone else.

I try to straighten out my thoughts. The last couple of weeks have been a nightmare; planning a funeral messes with your head and I thought I'd made it clear I had every intention of buying Ash Cottage once it was on the market. Heck, I rang Sarah and left a message!

It dawns on me that I haven't checked my own messages for a while and, sure enough, the flashing icon tells me that was a mistake. There are two messages and they are both from Sarah. I let out a sigh, unable to stop myself from shaking my head at my own stupidity.

"Hello, Lewis, I'm ringing to let you know that Ash Cottage is officially on the market. I have no idea if your situation has changed and whether you are still interested, given recent events. I was sorry to hear the news about your mother, such an awful time for you. I'll await your call."

Damn! That must have crossed with the message I left her. What did I say? My mind tries to replay the phone call, but there was so much going on at the time. Maybe I only asked her to call me back. I meant to give her permission to match the asking price once the bank pressed the ‘go’ button. I listen to the second message.

"Lewis, I'm returning your call as requested. I don't know what you were going to say to me … um … oh, I hope this isn't going to be bad news for you. Ash Cottage is sold. If it makes you feel any better, an offer was made on it before I received the message to ring you. When we finally received the instruction to market it, there wasn't anything I could do without confirmation that the sale price was acceptable to you. I'm honour-bound to forward every offer that is made in a timely fashion, once a property is officially up for sale. This purchaser happened to be in the right place at the right time. Let me know when you are back and I'm sorry if your plans haven't changed, but there was nothing I could do."

It’s not Sarah’s fault, it’s mine. I understand her situation. For me nothing has changed, but she wasn’t to know that. This is a bitter blow I’m going to find very hard to accept. In my head Ash Cottage was already mine and I can’t believe some stranger has stepped in to snatch it away from me.

MADDIE

CHAPTER 4

Popping back to the cottage the following Saturday to finally measure up and have a really good look around, Ryan offers to drive me. He knows how much I hate being behind the wheel and it's a thoughtful gesture. This time Sarah is the one to greet us and, after unlocking the cottage, she very kindly allows us to walk around unaccompanied. Ryan seems mesmerised by her. She's an attractive woman; blonde, quite curvy and a smart dresser.

"Take your time," she smiles, encouragingly. "I booked out a forty-minute slot. I have a few phone calls to make if that's okay with you, but if you need anything, just let me know. Here are the keys for the shed, garden room and store rooms. Enjoy!"

"Lovely woman," Ryan comments as he watches Sarah walking back up to her car.

"Yes. And extremely polite. You should have met her colleague, Connor. Well, what do you think – first impressions?" I'm buzzing and holding my breath to find out what his reaction is to Ash Cottage.

"Well, there's only one word to describe it, really, and that's wow!" Our eyes are, of course, focused only on the view. The valley is now sporting a full coat of autumnal colours; deep reds, oranges and browns, reflecting the drop in temperature early in the morning and late at night. The chill has begun and autumn is making its mark.

"You'll never get any work done. How will you be able to drag yourself away from this?"

That now-familiar little thrill courses through my body. It's a sense of excitement at the prospect of actually living here and waking up each morning to this beautiful picture of tranquility.

"I haven't heard a single car since I've been here. It's so peaceful and so very you." Ryan turns to face me, placing his hand on my arm. He gives it a friendly squeeze, his grey eyes warming as he takes in my expression. "I can see that you love it. I'm excited for you, Maddie – your new start."

In fairness, the conservatory is probably the only part of this property that doesn't need extensive work, but I can see he is caught up in the ambience. As we walk around I talk him through some of my ideas for the renovation and he throws in a few suggestions of his own.

"Who is going to do the work?"

"Well, that's the big question. Christmas is looming and, obviously, I'm unlikely to find anyone prepared to work over the period between Christmas and New Year. But the kitchen is small and even if it isn't finished in time, I hope to have the essentials installed ready for the holidays."

Ryan nods, then his jaw drops when I throw open the door to the bathroom.

"Another wow. That's what I like about old cottages, you never know what to expect. Rather bizarre having the bathroom off the kitchen, but this is going to be amazing."

I'm delighted Ryan can see beyond the current sorry state as I glance around at the very tired, and slightly musty-smelling, room.

"Think slipper bath, white accessories and shaker-style panelling on the walls."

Ryan peers up at the Velux window, watching the clouds floating by as if it's the first time he's ever seen the sky.

"Imagine this at night," he exclaims.

"Soft candles, aromatherapy bubble bath and a glass of wine in one hand – I'm already stretched out in the tub and enjoying the view!" I laugh.

"Well, it's going to be a lengthy project, but this is a diamond in the rough. What did the home survey report say? Any nasty surprises?"

"Um…not exactly. I didn't want to hold things up in case the bank changed its mind and kept it on the market until contracts were exchanged. Ironically, with all the silly questions my solicitor has raised, there would have been plenty of time to…"

"You've buying a house without having a survey? I know that technically you don't need one because you are a cash buyer, but please tell me you're joking, Maddie. Financially, you're putting everything you have into this property and that represents a big risk."

One look at my face confirms I'm telling the truth and he shakes his head in dismay. A little quiver of fleeting doubt enters my head and I shake it off.

"The cottage has been here for more than a hundred and fifty years, I doubt it will suddenly decide to slide down the hill."

Ryan shrugs his shoulders. His expression is enough to make me feel more than a little uncomfortable.

"Let's continue the tour," I say jauntily, pushing back my shoulders in an attempt to reassure myself I know what I'm doing.

We retrace our steps back through the cottage. Climbing the stairs, we walk around the two small bedrooms and poke our heads into the rather dank shower room. Descending back into the sitting room, Ryan remarks on the beautiful old cast-iron fireplace, which is in remarkably good condition for its age.

"An open fire – imagine those winter evenings…"

"There's a dining room through here, too, but I'm thinking I should turn that into a media room. I'm not sure a TV would look right in the sitting room, what do you think?"

The dining room is perfectly square and lends itself to a variety of uses, including a home office. When space is at a premium you have to make the most of every square foot. My eyes sweep the room, imagining the computer in the corner, two comfy chairs facing the TV and an elegant sideboard to house all my paperwork.

"Great idea. Why would you want to eat in here when you only have the one window looking out onto the valley? If this was mine I'd live, eat and probably spend all of my time in the conservatory."

I let out a huge sigh of relief.

"What?" Ryan looks at me with concern reflected in those telling eyes of his.

"I wondered if you'd think I was completely mad taking this on…you know – at my time of life."

He looks at me rather sharply. "Your marriage might be over, but Maddie Brooks' life part two is about to begin. I know you are still devastated and it's dented what little confidence you had, but I think you need this project. Yes, if I'm honest, it is a lot to take on for anyone and it's a pity you don't have the summer stretching out ahead of you. But life, as we know, is never perfect. There are worse things than being on your own." He shoots me a reassuring smile.

"Yes, like living with a love rat."

He cringes, wincing at my words.

"Come here! You need a hug."

I step forward and he throws his arms around me quite casually, as only long-standing friends can. We've known each other for longer than I knew my ex-husband, initially working alongside one another for nearly five years as project managers. Mostly designing re-fits for shops and stores, but occasionally working on the high-end domestic market. I gave up work about a year after I married Jeff to have our eldest son, Matt. Ryan and I lost touch for a while, but following a big promotion he contacted me to see if I was interested in working part time from home as a consultant. By then Matt was three and youngest son, Nick, was four months old. His timing was perfect, as work on our house was eating up every spare penny we had. From there on our friendship continued to grow. When he started his own business, it seemed only natural to take the job I was offered, particularly as it meant I could continue to work from home. Our friendship was something Jeff could never really accept, but I guess the money was an adequate pacifier.

"Do you know what I miss?" I ask, turning to look up at him as he shakes his head. "That struggle to keep everyone happy. I'm not used to making all the decisions without having to accommodate other people's needs and wishes. It feels lonely at times, and scary." A sudden hitch catches in my throat and seems to coincide with a distinctly watery view of Ryan's face.

"It's called freedom, Maddie. You'll get used to it. Heck, it's kind of like a drug once you grow accustomed to it and it's the reason why I'm still single. Being with someone permanently means life is a constant compromise. Sometimes it works out okay, but often it's one-sided and…" He hesitates, obviously in two minds about how honest he can be with me when it's clear I'm still very emotional.

"You can't stop there. You might as well finish off your sentence and get it over and done with."

His frown deepens. "Sometimes one person becomes a doormat."

My chest constricts, forcing me to draw in one long, deep breath. The ache in my heart is becoming less about losing Jeff's love as the days roll on, and more about a bigger loss. I feel betrayed and unloved. I gave everything because I cared, and my reward? People looking in on my relationship could see with a clarity I didn't have. I'd been fooling myself I was loved in return, but the truth was that I was being walked over and used.

"Hey," Ryan moves closer and places a hand on each of my shoulders. "Look at me! Come on, raise that chin! You're a good person, Maddie and you've brought up your sons well. Don't let anything rob you of that fact, because there aren't too many selfless people around these days. You're a nurturer; you simply forgot that there was a person inside there who deserved to have her voice heard. That's what threatens to hold you back now, if you let it.

"Now me, I'm selfish through and through. I'm in total control of my life; it runs smoothly because I don't let other people mess it up emotionally, or otherwise. Am I missing out? In some respects, yes: I'll never have a son, or daughter, of my own. But I'd make a terrible husband and an even worse father. To me it's simple. Understanding who and what you are is fundamental to attaining a life that has the right balance for you. Think of the future as a blank sheet. You get to start all over again, but this time it's all about you."

He draws back, letting his hands slip down to catch mine and give them a reassuring squeeze.

"I know you mean well, Ryan, but you've missed the point." I raise my tear-filled eyes to meet his enquiring gaze. His expression is pained and I know it's hard for him to offer the advice he's so convinced will make me see sense. "What if I don't want my life to be all about me?"

"Then you run the risk of putting yourself through this all over again. If nothing changes, then you'll be like so many others going around and around in the same flawed circle. I don't want that for you, my friend. You deserve more than to let people simply use you."