What’s that old saying? “You can’t choose family, but you can choose friends and they can become family”, or something like that.
Perhaps I should’ve moved to Somerset when I had the chance. It might’ve been better for everyone.
Now there I was again, looking on the dark side. This had got to stop.
If I had moved to Somerset, I wouldn’t have met Berry, and I wouldn’t have met Paul. I probably would’ve still started my own business, and maybe I’d have met someone else, but perhaps this was meant to be.
I was fairly certain, having dreamt about Paul all night and gone over and over the things he’d said and the looks he’d given me, that he was going to ask me out. Who knew where things might go from there? My life might be about to turn out even better than I could’ve hoped.
And if I hadn’t moved into Middle Cottage, would whoever had lived there instead been so keen to get Adele and Marcus talking? Would they have wanted to play matchmaker?
This was definitely meant to be.
As the old saying goes, “Everything happens for a reason.”
I must stay positive, no matter what.
But if everything happens for a reason, why was my boiler playing up?
Maybe I should cut back on quoting old sayings.
And maybe, like Midwinter Brook, I should simply go with the flow, and wait and see what happened next.
Seven
At least the sun was shining, and after Dad dropped me off, I strolled over the old wooden bridge from the car parking area towards my cottage, looking down at the babbling brook as I did so.
The water looked icy, but it sparkled in the sunshine as it tumbled over the rocks, and playfully tugged at the reeds nestled at its edges. A moorhen glided beneath the bridge and popped out the other side glancing back at me as though it were playing hide and seek. I couldn’t help but smile.
I looked up at the clear, blue sky and closed my eyes and listened. All I could hear was the gurgling water, and birdsong. I recognised the robin’s melody, and when I opened my eyes, one was perched on top of the red post box situated by the fence of Far Cottage. As I stood and watched it, Adele opened the front door and, on seeing me, briefly raised her hand in a hello gesture.
The robin flew off, but I quickly waved back and shouted, ‘Isn’t it a beautiful morning?’
I saw the shrug and the hesitation and hurried towards her before she had a chance to step back inside.
‘How are you?’ I asked, opening her front gate and marching down her garden path. ‘I haven’t seen you for a few days.’
The expression on her face was one of concern. And anxiety.
‘I’ve been unwell,’ she said, avoiding my eyes.
‘Oh no. I’m sorry to hear that. Are you feeling better now? Is there anything you need?’
She seemed surprised now. ‘Erm. No. I don’t need anything … Thank you. And yes. I’m better now, I think.’
‘Let me give you my number,’ I said. ‘Then, if you’re ever ill again, you can text me and I can pick up anything you want or need.’
I’d previously suggested to both Adele and Marcus on separate occasions, that we should exchange numbers, just for emergencies, but each had said there was no need as we lived next door to one another. Which basically meant that neither of them wanted me to have their number.
‘Okay,’ Adele now said, which I must confess, took me completely by surprise.
So you can imagine my astonishment when she added, ‘My phone’s in the kitchen. I was about to make some coffee. Would you like a cup? Unless you’re too busy, of course. Which you probably are.’
I almost fainted on the spot, and strangely enough, Adele seemed as surprised as I was by her invitation.
‘I’d love a cup!’ I exclaimed hastily and loudly, before she had a chance to retract. And then in a more reasonable tone I joked, ‘I’m never too busy for coffee.’
‘Oh. Erm. Come in then,’ she said, stepping aside to allow me to pass.
