Date:02 February
Subject:No dancing cats, as promised
Hi Eve,
Surprise, an actual email, just as promised (with not a single dancing cat in sight). I hope this finds you safely back in Norfolk and settling in alright. St Claire is already feeling a touch quieter, and I’m not sure if that’s the famously refreshing Yorkshire air or just the absence of a certain undercover hermit keeping me on my toes. Either way, I thought I’d fulfil my end of the modern-letter bargain before the village gossips accuse me of forgetting you entirely.
It turns out the rest of my time here has been rather eventful in a gentle sort of way. Jon and Abby have taken it upon themselves to feed me like I’m preparing for a winter in the Arctic. I’ve had two helpings of pie tonight and an offer of a third I only narrowly escaped. I suspect they’re trying to send me back to London with some extra Yorkshire insulation. I won’t complain. Their steak-and-ale pie could convince anyoneto stay up north. Between that and the long walks, I’m actually sleeping better. Who knew fresh air and friendly company were a cure for chronic restlessness? Will is going to be insufferably smug when he hears his “take a break” plan actually worked.
Speaking of friendly company, you’ll be pleased to know I ran into Mrs Higgins and Bernard the beagle again yesterday. I spotted them holding court outside the bakery and went over to say hello. Bernard, of course, zeroed in on the ham-and-chutney sandwich in my hand with the focus of a seasoned professional. You’ll be relieved to hear there were no, ahem, ‘tactical evacuations’ this time. Bernard was on his best behaviour. In fact, he gave me the most heartbreaking puppy eyes until I surrendered a bite of my sandwich. Consider it a bribe for his continued good conduct. He promptly decided my shoe was a good spot to nap on afterwards, which I’m choosing to take as a great honour. Mrs Higgins was delighted. She said Bernard doesn’t warm up to just anybody, so I must be ‘one of the good ones’. I tried not to let it go to my head, but having a beagle’s approval does feel rather nice. Don’t worry, I haven’t started hanging around the bakery purely to spoil him. Yet.
In the interest of science, I’ll also report that the sandwich itself was excellent. Probably an 8 out of 10 on the official Sunshine Cottage Sandwich Scale. I’m docking two points. One because Bernard swiped a hefty portion of ham when I wasn’t looking, and one because I had to eat it without a certain witty linguist across the table. Turns out sandwiches are far better with company. Who would have guessed?
I’ve got a few days left in St Claire, and I’m already half-wishing I didn’t have to leave. The Dales have a way of growing on you. Or, possibly, I’ve just grown lazy with all this pampering. This morning I hiked up the little hill behind the cottage and watched the mist roll off the valley. It was beautiful, but I kept thinking how you might have described it better than I ever could. You have a knack for observing things, even if you don’t always share them out loud. I suppose I just mean that your presence made this place feel a bit more special. All right, that came out dangerously close to sentimental. I did warn you I’m new at this heartfelt-email thing. What I’m trying to say, in a roundabout way, is that I’m glad our paths crossed here. Between the fresh air, friendly locals, and an unexpected new friend, I’d say this little getaway ended up being exactly what I needed.
Enough about me. How are you doing back home? Was your journey back smooth and uneventful? I kept imagining you on the train (or was it by car?) with a pair of noisy strangers in the next seat, and hoped you’d been spared that particular torture. Is Norfolk treating you kindly so far? I wonder if everything looks different now that you’ve had a taste of Yorkshire life. Have you slipped back into your old routine, or are you managing to hang onto some of that holiday relaxation? Did you return to an overflowing inbox of urgent requests, or are they giving you a little grace period before throwing you to the wolves? If anyone pressures you too much, feel free to tell them you’re recovering from an acute pie overdose. I can providea doctor’s note. Jon is a paediatrician, that counts, right?
In all seriousness, I hope you’re feeling all right being home. Sometimes coming back from a quiet escape can be its own challenge, but maybe it helps to know a small corner of Yorkshire is missing you. Mrs Higgins asked after ‘that nice, quiet girl’. I think you made more of an impression here than you realise.
On that note, I should probably wrap this up before my email gets flagged as spam because it is so long. Or worse, before I start quoting actual inspirational sayings. I’ve rambled on enough for one email. I’d love to hear how you are when you have a moment. No rush at all. This isn’t meant to be pressure. Think of it as me sliding a folded note under your virtual door, which you can read and answer whenever you like. I promise to keep my inbox patient. And I swear I’ll refrain from sending any motivational cat posters in the meantime, as per our agreement.
Take care of yourself, Eve. I’m really glad I met you.
Talk soon,
Aaron
To:Aaron
From:Eve
Date:05 February
Subject:Re: No dancing cats, as promised
Hi Aaron,
Your email arrived just as I was about to talk myself into tackling the laundry pile, so thank you for the well-timed distraction. I’m now pretending I chose not to do it out of principle.
The journey back was... uneventful, which is all I ever hope for. I paid for an upgrade to first class. Entirely out of character, and yet worth every penny. One gloriously wide seat, no noisy neighbours, no children demanding snacks from strangers, and an unrestricted window view. A small luxury, but I felt like I’d won something.
Work has resumed in its usual understated fashion. The inbox was full, but mostly of people asking where things are filed or whether I’ve seen the latest version of something I definitely sent them before my trip. I’ve spent most of the last 48 hours fighting the urge to auto-reply with the words “try reading the actual document.” Progress is slow. My patience is slower. I did finally finish analysing a particularly odd email chain for a client yesterday. Seven messages, no punctuation, and at least three uses of the word “u” as a pronoun. I aged several years reading it.
Your story about Bernard made me laugh out loud, which in this house is a high honour. I’m relieved to hear he’s behaving himself, although I suspect he’s just biding his time. His sandwich strategy sounds highly effective, and your boot clearly passed whatever criteria he uses to measure loyalty. You should be proud. Not everyone gets beagle-blessed.
The pie updates are also appreciated. I’m both delighted and quietly envious. I can’t remember the lasttime anyone offered me a third helping of anything that didn’t come with a lecture about portion control. Please tell Abby she’s skewing the national average for hospitality.
I’m glad St Claire gave you what you needed. Or at least, what you didn’t know you needed. That hill behind the cottage sounds lovely. Now I regret having not done more walking whilst there. Something about rain and not wanting to be blown sideways by an overconfident gust of wind. Maybe next time. Not that I’m inviting myself back. I’m just saying the hill isn’t going anywhere.
As for the quiet... yes. It’s different here. Familiar, obviously, but also louder now in some odd way. I suppose when you leave silence behind and then return to it, you notice how much of it you were carrying yourself.
And finally, just so you know, I’m glad we met too. That wasn’t the plan, but then again, neither was the hot tub.
Take care,
Eve
To:Eve
