Tuesday, 16 February 2021

Snippets of Downshire Life – Shrovetide – Ash Wednesday

 

Downshire is a relatively small English county but like a pocket battleship it packs a lot in, a short but beautiful coastline, a channel port, the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock, the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and farm land as far as the eye can see from the Trotwood’s and the Grace’s in the south to the home of the Downshire Light infantry, Nettlefield, and their affluent neighbour’s, Roespring and Tipton in the north but cupid struck its mark in the East, or more precisely, 20 miles inland from Sharpington-By-Sea, equidistant between Finchbottom and Pepperstock Green, in the sprawling village of Denmead and in the south east side of the village was Oak Leaf Cottage where 30 year old Anne Perkins lived alone.

She hadn’t always been alone, in fact she had never lived alone until she was separated from her husband of ten years, Jack.

Anne had thought they would live happily ever after in her dream cottage, but Jack had other ideas, and those ideas didn’t involve her, she had been traded in for a much younger partner, and an alternate future, a future without Anne. 

But she still loved him and didn’t really think it was over in fact she fully expected him to come to his senses and return to her, full of regrets and penitence, at least up until the point that the postman delivered a registered letter to her at the beginning of Shrove Week.

Her first reaction was excitement, she didn’t often get special mail, but then she opened the envelope and she went into complete meltdown.

The first day passed in a blur of tears and ice cream and ended in a red wine haze.

 

The next day, despite a fierce hangover she reread the divorce papers and then descended into a spiral of comfort eating, which as it was Pancake Day naturally involved the consumption of copious quantities of Pancakes.

 

On Ash Wednesday she felt fat, frumpy, unloved, unwanted and when she looked at her reflection in the mirror she despised the grotesque creature that stared back at her, the jowly, alcohol ridden wreck with bags under her eyes and a bad complexion.

“No more junk food, no more wine, no more pity partying”   

 

By midday she had showered, was smartly dressed and had made herself up and as a result Anne felt much happier about her appearance and herself in general, but her arrival downstairs was greeted by the rattle of the letter box followed by a flutter of mail falling to the mat.

Anne picked up the mixture of letters, circulars and takeaway menus and took them to the kitchen where she deposited them on the table while she made a much-needed black coffee, then she sat down at the table.

It didn’t take long to sort the wheat from the chaff, which left two letters, one was a bank statement and the other was a blue handwritten envelope which she recognised as having been written by her soon to be ex-husband.

“Hand written” she said “Very interesting”

As he had put pen to paper rather than texting or emailing, her immediate thought was that it was a letter of reconciliation, and that he was reconsidering the divorce and he wanted to come back to her.   

So, with a smile on her face she put the statement to one side and opened the blue envelope.

But she didn’t need to read for long before the smile disappeared from her face.

“You bastard!” she screamed and threw her coffee cup across the room.

 

The letter wasn’t an apology and Jack hadn’t had a change of heart, he wanted her to pack up the rest of his belongings, clothes, books, music, and his precious golf clubs, and he would send someone around to pick it all up.

With her undrunk coffee still running down the wall from where the mug smashed, she opened a bottle of wine and when that was gone she opened another.

 

While Anne drank she stomped around the cottage and ranted and muttered as she gathered all his stuff together.

But she didn’t pack it neatly for him instead she threw it down the stairs or out of the windows into the garden.

It was late in the afternoon by the time she had finished inside and then she went outside and as stumbled drunkenly in the gathering darkness she collected every item of clothing, every shoe, CD, DVD and book and piled them all on the lawn, and with the aid of some white spirit she set light to his belongings, and as they blazed away she threw on his golf clubs, one by one, and then finally as his Golf bag joined the pyre she tossed on the divorce papers and the hand written letter, but then she made a mistake she would not have made had she been sober, she threw the plastic container of white spirit onto to fire and within a matter of seconds as she was walking away the container melted and a ball of fire erupted which ignited the shrubbery.    

“Oh God what have I done” she squealed and ran around in a panic like a headless chicken “What am I going to do? what am I going to do?”

She suddenly sobered up and as she ran back towards the cottage and as she went inside she shouted

“Water! Water!”

 

Five minutes later she waddled back out of the French Doors with a bucket of water in each hand and she made slow progress back up the garden and was still panicking and muttering under her breath.

But when she reached the site of the bonfire she found the tall, lean figure of her next-door neighbour Andy Pennington who had already dealt with the blazing shrubbery and scorched fence panel and had begun to dampen down the bonfire itself.

She put the buckets on the floor and said

“Oh, thank you so much”

Then she dissolved into tears and slumped to a sobbing heap on the damp grass.

“Hey, hey” he said as he put down his hosepipe and pulled her up to her feet

“No harm done”

“I’m sorry” she responded and fresh tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him, so he took her in his arms and she completely broke down in tears again.

“It’s ok Anne” he whispered, “let it all go”

And as she sobbed uncontrollably into his chest he kissed the top of her head.

As he held her close and stroked her back, he thought of how often he had imagined holding her in his arms, but it wasn’t quite like his dreams but as she sobbed he didn’t care what the reason was that resulted in him holding the woman he loved.

 

When she had finally got her crying under control she lifted her head and said

“I’m so lucky you were here”

“When I saw the bonfire was getting a bit big, I got the hose out just in case” he explained 

“Thank God you did, I could have burnt the cottage down”

“It wouldn’t have come to that” he reassured her 

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be”

“Come up to the cottage and have a drink” she suggested as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve

“Ok, but let’s make it a coffee” he retorted

 

“You must think I’m a bit of a nutter” she said “and a bit tragic”

“Not at all”

“And you’re probably wondering what the bonfire was all about” she said

“Well I assumed by what was left of the Golf clubs that it has something to do with your husband” he said

“Ex-husband” she corrected him

“Ex?”

“Soon to be, yes” Anne said

“So, no hope of a reconciliation?” he asked

“No”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, I didn’t take it well at first” she said and laughed “But I found the bonfire to be very cathartic”

“So, a new start then”

“Yes, Jack is in my past and my future starts as soon as I sign the papers” she said and then she turned to him open mouthed

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked with great concern

“I put them on the fire” she replied and got a fit of the giggles and Andy laughed along with her and she put her arm around him, and then the laughter stopped, and the kissing began.  

 

The following day when the ashes had been raked over and were cold and dead Andy helped Anne shovel them into suit cases and carried them to the garage from where they were collected by a courier and delivered to Jack.

  

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