Willow Cottage – Part One: Sunshine and Secrets. Bella Osborne

Going once, going twice …’

      Beth waved her bidding card in the air. ‘Three hundred thousand,’ she croaked, wondering what on earth she was doing. She was meant to be waiting for her second choice of flats to be auctioned.

      ‘Three hundred thousand on my right, thank you,’ said the auctioneer. After checking with the other bidders he finally concluded. ‘Sold to the lady on the right brandishing the upside-down bidding card.’ And the gavel gave a satisfying thud as it hit the wood.

      ‘You have reached your destination,’ announced the Sat Nav with ultimate confidence. Beth pulled the hire car into the kerb, switched off the engine and looked around. She was parked by a large area of greensward, which was dotted with trees and encircled by impressive old properties of differing sizes.

      Beth picked up the auction catalogue and peered at the small grainy photograph, then reread the description underneath – ‘Willow Cottage stands in a secluded position overlooking the village green within the picturesque Cotswold village of Dumbleford. Rare opportunity to purchase this freehold detached dwelling. Plot circa 0.6 acres with stream running through the property. Renovation opportunity.’

      Somewhere in the back of Beth’s mind she recalled a certain person saying that he wouldn’t live in the countryside if his life depended on it and right now that felt like an added bonus. She checked the back seat. Leo was stirring from his journey-induced slumber and he instantly smiled when he saw his mother. The six-year-old was too tall for his car seat and would soon need to upgrade to a booster, but for now Beth just wanted to keep him safe.

      ‘I wish you’d brung my iPad,’ said Leo as he stretched.

      ‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t find it. And brought is the past tense of bring. Okay?’ What did they teach them at these private schools? ‘Shall we go and explore our new home?’ Beth waved the auction details excitedly.

      Leo yawned and stretched. ‘I’m hungry, Mum.’

      Having anticipated this, Beth went to rummage in the boot and handed Leo a small bag of dried mango pieces as he got out of the car. Beth crouched down and showed Leo the small photograph of Willow Cottage on the auction sheet.

      ‘Now all we have to do is find our cottage. Which one is it, do you think?’

      They both studied the small photograph. It was taken at an angle and part of the cottage appeared to have a climbing plant growing prettily up one side. There was a biggish garden in the foreground and very obviously a willow tree. It was quite a dark picture so it was hard to make out much else.

      ‘It can’t be hard to find a cottage with a tree like that in the garden, now can it?’

      Leo shook his head as he shoved another mango piece into his already full mouth. He thrust the empty packet at his mother and hand in hand they started to walk around the green, checking out each house.

      ‘There’s no swings in the park,’ observed Leo.

      Beth chuckled. ‘It’s not a park, it’s the village green. It’s more like a garden.’

      ‘Whose garden is it?’ asked Leo.

      ‘No one’s and everyone’s, it’s for everybody to use.’

      ‘Huh,’ said Leo, looking a little perplexed at the concept and possibly at the pointlessness of a space such as this without any swings.

      It really was a divinely pretty village, thought Beth as she looked about her. The village green itself was the biggest she’d ever come across with well-worn paths crisscrossing it and a mixture of mature trees that she would need to consult Leo’s Book of the Countryside to identify correctly. Well cared for benches, with no signs of graffiti, were dotted at strategic points and the whole area was surrounded by the prettiest white chain-link fence that scalloped its way from post to post around the perimeter. A very grand mock-Tudor building had a prized position overlooking the centre of the green and two very symmetrical red-brick buildings either side stood slightly back, as if knowing their place. A couple of the smaller ones were thatched and Leo shouted excitedly as he spotted a thatched figure on the roof.

      ‘Pigeon!’ he squealed.

      Another sign her son was London born and bred. ‘No, I think it’s meant to be a peacock,’ said Beth, squinting a little at the odd-shaped creature with the long tail. A small pond was home to a handful of fat ducks and what looked like a few of this year’s ducklings. There was a tearoom that had the look of a converted cottage, the only thing giving it away was the swinging sign in the shape of a large teapot. Each window had pristine white shutters making it stand out against the other not so well dressed properties. At the other end of the green was the village store cum Post Office, which appeared to be semi-detached to a very sweet looking cottage with a white picket-fenced front garden. Beth studied the small photo again. No, Willow Cottage was meant to be detached and there was no sign of the tree. Next to the store was the pub – the Bleeding Bear. It had a pub sign that could easily give a six-year-old nightmares so Beth hurried them past. As they drew near to the hire car Beth realized they had done a whole circuit. She spun round to see an ornate sign that clearly stated ‘DUMBLEFORD’ so they were definitely in the right place, but where was Willow Cottage?

      A clanging bell announced that the door of the village store was opening and Beth and Leo watched as a figure dressed head to toe in beige came out, pulling a tartan wheelie trolley.

      ‘Let’s ask someone,’ said Beth, and she and Leo approached the hunched-up person. ‘Excuse me. Please could you direct me to Willow Cottage?’

      The beige-clad old lady jumped and clutched at her heart. She was barely bigger than the trolley. ‘Oh my life, you gave me a turn!’ she said as she started to rummage in her trolley. She pulled out a bottle of sherry, unscrewed the top and took a large slug of the contents. Beth knew her eyes were as wide as an owl right now and she was very unsure what to do. Leo was mesmerized. The lady went to return the bottle to the trolley but stopped and suddenly thrust it under Beth’s nose.

      ‘Mind my manners, dear. Would you like some?’

      ‘Uh, no, thanks.’

      The lady shrugged and returned the bottle to the safety of the trolley, giving the lid an affectionate pat as she did so. She then stood up as straight and tall as nature would allow and grinned a perfect false-teeth smile at Beth. Neither of them spoke. Beth sort of half grimaced back. The lady raised an eyebrow and tilted forward on her toes as if about to speak and Beth and Leo waited expectantly.

      ‘Willow Cottage?’ said Beth when she could stand the suspense no longer.

      The old lady started to laugh; it was a giggly laugh that befitted her size. She stepped forward and gently shoved Beth in the middle. ‘Huh, silly me. Of course.’ She stopped laughing and frowned. ‘Who wants to know?’

      Beth shook her head slightly. She had no idea what was going on but she had an uncomfortable feeling rising inside and she didn’t like it. She’d asked what she thought was a very simple question and a very simple yes or no really would have worked a treat.

      ‘I’m Beth …’ she thought for a second and decided on a whim to amend her name slightly. ‘Beth Browne. I’ve bought Willow Cottage.’ Just saying it out loud made Beth smile. It sounded so perfect. It was the last place she had intended to buy when she went to the auction but, when the sensible-looking flats had been snapped up for more than she wanted to pay, she made a snap decision and went with her heart and Willow Cottage was the result.

      ‘Huh?’ said the old lady screwing up her wrinkled face and making it look like a discarded piece of parchment.

      Beth handed her the estate agent’s details, tapped the photo with a perfectly manicured fingernail and repeated slowly, ‘Wil-low Cot-tage.’

      The little old lady scrutinized the page and started to laugh again. This time it was hysterical giggles that were coming in waves. As she laughed her head bobbed about making her mop of unruly white hair swirl about her head like smoke.

      ‘Mum,