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.
