The Lost Guide to Life and Love. Sharon Griffiths

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СКАЧАТЬ the deep stone windowsill was a curious collection of objects. A clay pipe, some small ridged blue bottles, a larger green one, two doughnut-shaped circles made of clay, I think, with holes in the middle, a brooch with no pin, a bone comb with no teeth, a Victorian penny…

      They were, I supposed, all things that had been found round and about. Small objects lost or thrown away hundreds, maybe even a thousand or more years ago, by people who had lived here. I thought of that huge grey misty emptiness. Hard to imagine that anyone had ever lived here, so remote from anywhere.

      Gently picking up the brooch, I wondered who’d worn it and when, who’d bought it for her and why? Who had used the comb or the liquids from the little bottles? They’d lived here, probably surrounded by mist and sheep too. And they’d been my ancestors. Down the years, I felt a small connection with them, whoever they had been. This had been their home. For now, at least, it was mine.

      My tummy rumbled. And I remembered that the little box of emergency supplies I’d packed for our supper—cold chicken, cheese, bread, butter, a bottle of wine, was still in the boot of Jake’s car. This definitely wasn’t the place where you could dial up a pizza. Even if the phone worked. I wondered idly where the nearest takeaway was and I remembered something from Mrs Alderson’s notes.

      ‘Ready meals in freezer. Price list on lid. Settle up at end of stay. Emergency cupboard in back porch. Anything used from this MUST be replaced as soon as possible. Very important. Thank you!’

      I looked in the freezer at a neat stack of obviously homemade dishes. Lamb casserole. Lamb stew. Lamb and capers. Lamb curry. I thought of the sheep whose bleat had made me jump. ‘Aha,’ I thought, ‘I know where you’ll end up.’

      There were also some pork, beef and chicken meals too. It seemed rude to eat lamb while the creatures were roaming round outside. So I opted for a chicken and herb casserole and bunged it in the microwave. While I was waiting for it to ping, I went to look at the Emergency cupboard in the back porch. Candles, Primus stove and gas cylinders, torches, a couple of lanterns, a tin marked ‘matches’, tins of beans, sardines, corned beef, tuna, soup, a selection of vacuum-packed ready meals, two pairs of wellies, a spade and a snow shovel. Thank goodness it was still only October.

      I found the wine in the fridge—thank you, Mrs Alderson—and what with that and the casserole—very good, proper chicken, with parsley and lemon and a touch of thyme, followed by some of the light, crumbly Wensleydale cheese—I had a very nice supper in front of the fire. Being independent, I found, makes you quite hungry. Yes, of course, I still felt a bit nervous, but I was warm and cosy and had already got used to the sound of the sheep.

      I thought about Jake. Had I been a bit too hasty? It would be much nicer if he were here with me, beside me on the squashy sofa, watching the flames in the fire…Except we probably wouldn’t be, would we? He’d be working or watching what he wanted on television. I cradled the phone in my hand and looked at Jake’s picture on the screen. Did I really love him? Did I miss him? Had I ever loved him?

      The last few weeks had been tricky. Jake had been moody, distracted. When I was talking to him he had hardly been listening to me. His mind was elsewhere. I wondered if he’d found someone else. He had plenty of opportunity with his work.

      Maybe he was just fed up with me. I sometimes wondered if we’d only got together because we were the two left behind when everyone else had paired off. Yes it was good, but…We still had separate lives. Or rather he still had a separate life. I gazed into the flames and tried to find answers. There weren’t any there. Not tonight at least. I was suddenly very tired.

      After locking the doors and windows—and going round them all again to make sure I had—I went up the stairs, singing loudly as I went. I needed a noise. I didn’t like the silence. I wasn’t used to it. Another thing I’d never known. At home there was always a buzz from the street and from the other flats. You’d hear people going up and down the stairs, the distant murmurings from a television, music or bathroom. I regularly went to sleep with the noise of the drunks rolling home and woke to the sound of traffic. But here there was nothing. Apart from the sheep, all I could hear was my own heartbeat, pounding away more loudly than usual.

      I sang louder, wondering what people would think if they saw me. The double bed seemed very big and cold without Jake alongside me. I shivered slightly. ‘Good night’, I said to his photo on the phone, preparing myself for a night of worrying, as outside the mist swirled, the sheep bleated. I was miles from anywhere, with no man, no car, no phone signal, no Internet. Utterly alone.

       Chapter Four

      I slept like a log. It was gone eight o’clock when I opened the bedroom curtains and peeped out on a sunny autumn morning. I could see for miles to some distant smoky blue hills. In the farmyard below me the day had clearly begun hours before. Cows were wandering back to a field, followed by a young lad with a big stick, a couple of dogs were barking and someone was loading bales of hay onto the back of a quad bike.

      I showered quickly, made some coffee and wondered what to do that day. I had only myself to think about. Odd. And only I could decide what to do. Odder still. There was no one else to dictate to me or to discuss it with. I had work to do but not for a few days. I was completely free. Which was wonderful but unnerving too. I tried to think, to make a mental list.

      If I was going to stay here on my own then I needed to get in touch with the outside world. I needed to be able to use my phone and the Internet. I needed to do some shopping, buy some food. Where were the nearest shops? And how would I get there? Admiring the view was all very well, but I needed to be out and about. Above all, I desperately needed a car. I was well and truly stuck. I had already arranged a couple of Foodie interviews for the week and how was I to get there? Totally impractical. What an idiot I was to think I could. Jake was right, after all. But I didn’t want him to be. Maybe, after all, I should get in touch with him…

      I thought about all this while I drank the coffee and then made some more, lingering at the window to drink in the view. But I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit here all day.

      I had just decided that I would walk down to the farm and consult Mrs Alderson, maybe ask if I could use her phone—quite simple really—when I heard a car struggling up the hill and then pull up outside the house. Jake! I unlocked the door and stood there, suddenly somehow shy, wondering what was going to happen.

      Had last night just been a tiff—the latest of many that could just be forgotten, smoothed over? I’d proved my point, stayed the night by myself. Maybe we could just get back to where we were. But was that what I really wanted?

      Jake smiled at me, a polite smile, not unfriendly, but he didn’t rush and kiss me. ‘You OK?’ he asked.

      ‘Fine,’ I said. I didn’t rush and kiss him either. Part of me was relieved to see him. But another part wasn’t quite so sure. It looked as though I could get things back to normal, but already I was wondering if I wanted to. Coffee?’ I offered, at ease in my new home.

      ‘No thanks. Just had some.’

      I looked, questioningly.

      ‘Found a bed and breakfast, back down the dale. Bit old fashioned but pretty decent. Internet access and a reasonable mobile phone signal. Enormous breakfast. It’s a double room. I said you might be joining me. I thought…’

      It would have been so easy. I could have just packed my little bag, given the СКАЧАТЬ