THE TEA
The kitchen is so warm and inviting, with a fire crackling in the stove and the hot savoury smell of home cooking in the air. Marianne bustles around, placing a large chunk of butter and a jar of home-made blackberry jam on the table before sitting down.
‘Help yourself, my love! You must be starved after your journey.’
I settle into a well-worn chair, steam rising from my cup of tea I’ve just poured from the cast-iron kettle. I inhale deeply the aroma of the rich roasted beef-and-vegetable stew bubbling away on the hob.
Marianne bends over to light a candle in the middle of the table, and as she does so, I admire her Marilyn Monroe-style hair, glossy waves catching the candlelight and looking like spun gold, with only a few strands of grey visible around her temples. She’s perhaps in her late forties. About the same age my mum would have been. Maybe they knew each other? Maybe they were in the same class at school?
She tilts her head and smiles, her blue eyes sparkling in the low light. ‘Just to let you know,’ she tells me, ‘I won’t be here inthe morning. I’m at my craft morning at the town hall – candle-making tomorrow. Hopefully it won’t get on my wick!’
She has a contagious laugh and I can’t help but smile in response. Marianne seems the perfect host, making me feel right at home.
‘Not a problem though; my husband Gus and my daughter Grace will be here to serve you breakfast – if she isn’t out too late partying. Between them, they’ll make sure everyone’s taken care of.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about it,’ I tell her. ‘No need for you to go out of your way. Cereal and coffee will do just fine.’
She shakes her head and looks me in the eye. ‘No, I don’t think so! Not while you’re here under my roof! You’ll be taken care of like family!’
‘That’s really kind of you, Marianne,’ I reply.
‘Well, speaking of family.’ She smiles. ‘If you see a grumpy-looking man, with a big brown beard, in overalls stomping around the place, that’s my brother-in-law, Stephen – he helps us out with some odd jobs around the garden and such. He’s mostly in the shed or garage, but he does pop in here throughout the day.’ She lowers her voice and enunciates every word as if she wants me to lip-read. ‘He’s having some marital difficulties right now, and some personal difficulties, and some professional difficulties, so he’s staying with us for a while. In and out at all hours… but that’s family, eh?’
She wrings her hands in her apron, pours herself a cup of tea and joins me at the table. ‘So, tell me, Daisy, what is it you do for a living?’
Marianne’s eyes widen in surprise as I tell her about my work as a children’s illustrator, her face brightening with recognition at the mention of theForest Fablesseries.
‘Oh my word!’ she exclaims. ‘They were my children’s absolute favourites. Red Fox and Rev Magpie, Old Owl – mygoodness me does that take me back! My two loved those stories so much.’
She pauses for a moment and her eyes well up with tears as she reminisces about simpler times with her family. ‘I would do anything to have those days back when I had both my children clutched tightly in my arms – everything was simpler then. Such wonderful days! Unlike now. The eldest has already left and the other is just waiting for her chance to fly away. Do you have kids?’ she inquires. I shake my head. ‘You’ll understand once you do; it’s a roller coaster of emotions. One moment you’d give your life up for them and the next, you want nothing more than to strangle them.’ She chuckles, lightening the mood. ‘So, you’re here to find your “muse”, right? That’s what they say.’
‘I hope so! I think it’s good to get away from all the city noise, and hustle and bustle. Even on the bus journey here, I already felt a little spark of creativity, toying with some new ideas. Coming to Innisfree might just be the right thing at the right time for me.’
‘Yes, you’re definitely in the right spot!’ she says with enthusiasm. ‘I think my two kids loved those books so much because they felt like it was set right here – we used to picnic by The Lake House, reading the stories together. If you’re looking for inspiration, go there. It feels as though you’re walking into the very heart of it.’
My heart jumps at this description. Fate really has led me here. I want to ask Marianne more about The Lake House. I want to know everything; I don’t want to risk wasting my chances by treading too carefully and taking things slowly.
I jump in too quickly to tell her about my connection to The Lake House and end up swallowing a massive hot mouthful of tea at the same time. It goes down the wrong way and I start coughing uncontrollably. Marianne fetches me a napkin and gives me an opportunity to recover myself.
As I get my breath back, a large black cat strides in through the kitchen door and hops onto the counter.
‘Oh, you little devil, you! Always up to no good!’ Marianne scoops him into her arms and scratches him behind the ears. He’s obviously the apple of her eye. ‘This is my boy, Oscar. Say hello to our new guest, Daisy, and don’t be poking around in her business, making a nuisance of yourself!’ She laughs as she tries to shoo him away, but he just jumps back up on the counter and curls up into a ball, purring contentedly.
‘I think he likes you.’ Marianne smiles as she goes back to her tea.
I laugh, feeling completely at ease in this strange place. ‘He’s lovely. Hello, Oscar.’ I reach out and pet him cautiously on the head – so soft and fluffy. He likes that and purrs louder. ‘I’m sure I’ll see you around.’
‘You most certainly will! Oscar Wilde we call him, because he’s a rascal – so cheeky. If he tries to come into your room, feel free to send him away again – you’ve no respect for boundaries, do you, Oscar?’
I tickle him under the neck. ‘Well, he is a real cutie and I’d love his company. My boyfriend is allergic, so we can’t keep pets. My flat is too small anyway, so it wouldn’t be fair. I’ll be in my element with a new little furry friend,’ I tell her.
Oscar purrs and rubs his head against my hand.
‘He was my eldest son’s cat – Ciaran. But he left us all for a shiny new job in America – of course, Mum’s here to pick up the pieces, left minding the cat. Innisfree may not be Chicago, but it’s home.’
‘It’s charming,’ I say to my companion. ‘I can see why you love it here.’
‘Aye, that’s the truth. It’s a special place, to be sure. We may not have much, but what we do have is worth more than allthe gold in the world. Certain things you can’t put a price on – family, health, happiness. That’s what matters in life.’
