Green Beans and Summer Dreams

It was a wrench having to leave my sanctuary.

But as I headed down the stairs, I suddenly thought how lovely it would be to see a friendly face again after two weeks of self-imposed solitary confinement.

Tears pricked my eyes.

How could I have forgotten what an amazing comfort friends could be in times of crisis?

A warm feeling spread through me and I almost ran the last few steps.

‘At long bloody last!’ Anna shouted. ‘I’m freezing my bloody bollocks off here.’

She blew in on a gusty wind, along with a delivery of crisp autumn leaves from the beech trees outside my door, and marched straight through to the kitchen, winding off her scarf and yelling back, ‘I couldn’t believe your text saying Jamie buggered off at the weekend. That bastard has been gone three days and you never thought to mention it till this morning?’

I pulled my gaping dressing gown together and trailed after her. Having made it to the front door, I was now completely knackered.

I slumped down at the kitchen table. ‘What day is it?’

‘Wednesday. Why?’

‘Actually, it’s two weeks and four days.’ I eye her apologetically. ‘Since he left.’

Anna, who was pacing round the kitchen, boot heels clacking on the flagstone floor, stopped and spun round.

‘But your texts said you’d gone away. You’ve been here all this time?’ She fell into a chair opposite, her face softening. ‘Look at you! So calm and so brave.’ Leaning across the table, she imprisoned my hand in her freezing fingers. ‘Well, don’t worry. You’re not on your own any more.’

‘Um – good,’ I said, trying my best to look encouraged. All this messy human interaction was taking a bit of getting used to after two weeks in a vacuum. And I was aching all over. Even my skin felt sore. Every cell in my feeble body wanted to be in bed with the covers pulled over my head.

Anna gave my fingers a tight squeeze and I tried not to wince. ‘Let’s have a night out! Just you, me and Jess. And we can rubbish men to our heart’s content.’

She sighed happily at the prospect. This was Anna in her element, rubbishing men. Which was strange when she had lovely, funny, rugby-playing Peter tending to her every need and whim.

‘Or maybe a spa day would be better? Or’ – her eyes lit up – ‘how about a girls’ weekend? To Prague? Or Barcelona or something? Would that cheer you up?’

I tried to look enthused. But to be honest I was desperate to get back to Deal or No Deal. The contestants were like one big happy family. Watching it made me feel safe. And I knew for a fact that Noel Edmonds would never do the cheating thing.

But to make Anna feel better, I nodded and said, ‘Yes, that would be nice.’

I had an odd feeling it wouldn’t happen, though, and I was right because the next day I came down with the worst cold I’d had in years. As I snuffled my way through the last of the tissues (eventually resorting to the posh lilac ones in the guest bedroom), I couldn’t help wondering if illness was my body’s way of getting me out of a tight spot.

I hated to seem ungrateful, but I knew exactly what a ‘cheering up Izzy’ evening would be like. Jess and Anna would be feeling bad for me so I’d have to make a mammoth effort to smile and ‘act normal’ to reassure them I was fine, when all I really wanted to do was drive home, drag my duvet through to the living room and watch back to back reruns of Grey’s Anatomy in my pyjamas.

My cold, while pretty revolting, was a great excuse for remaining immobile in the house for another week. No-one could come near me because, of course, colds are highly infectious and this one had me practically at death’s door (at least, that’s what I told everyone).

And so it might have gone on, with me inventing new ways of remaining out of circulation in order to legitimately mope my days away.

But then that horrible text arrived from the bank and the scariest word in the home-owner’s dictionary leaped immediately into my head. Repossession.

After Jamie left, I’d buried my head in the sand over money. It was always there in the back of my mind – a vague threat cloaked in black, keeping its distance. But I somehow thought that while I was still in mourning for the end of my relationship, I couldn’t possibly be expected to start exercising the logical part of my brain and work out a plan. So the only action I’d taken to prevent my life going into complete financial meltdown was making gallons of vegetable soup and crossing my fingers. Admittedly, I was keeping them firmly crossed that Jamie would feel sufficiently guilty for doing the dirty on me to keep on paying the mortgage for a while.

Apparently I had been deluding myself.

OCTOBER (#u280aa637-c211-5d70-8486-fff00b654792)

Autumn has arrived. The leaves are changing colour daily. And I’ve run out of ways to cook apples!

My four Bramley trees have been unusually heavy with fruit this season. I went out with the step-ladder last week and picked all I could reach. I’m not great with heights so I tried not to look down. But then a terrier ran into the garden and started yapping around the ladder, so I was forced to descend.

But every cloud has a silver lining. The dog’s owner happened to be a very tall gentleman who, when he realised my difficulty reaching the top branches, climbed the ladder himself and had the rest of the apples down in minutes!

I’ve now got enough Bramleys to feed the five thousand. I’ve stored dozens in the garage, each one wrapped in newspaper to hopefully keep them from rotting.

And when Izzy arrived on Tuesday, we went out blackberrying in the lanes around the house then spent a lovely morning baking. The scent of blackberries, apples and buttery pastry filled the house and was so heavenly, we couldn’t resist eating pie for lunch and dinner as well!

Yesterday, I staked out a small area in a sunny spot of the garden so Izzy could have her very own vegetable plot. We went to the garden centre and she chose what she’d like to plant – with a little guidance from yours truly, of course.

When we got back with our spoils, Izzy remembered the pumpkins she’d planted during the summer holidays, in a spot just beyond the terrace. She rushed outside, eager to find out if they had sprouted but there was nothing to be seen.

She was so disappointed, I hatched a plan.

Magically, when I went out into the garden this morning – hey presto! There was a single, average-sized pumpkin, partially hidden by foliage, just where she’d planted the seeds!

Izzy was amazed.

Although later, she did comment that she was quite sure it hadn’t been there the day before and that it looked very like the pumpkins in my own vegetable plot. She’s too wise for her own good, that one!

I told her one pumpkin was indeed very like another.

We made soup with hers and it was absolutely delicious.

Chapter Two (#u280aa637-c211-5d70-8486-fff00b654792)

‘My treat.’ Jess reaches for her purse. ‘Call it a celebration.’

‘Of what?’ I ask, blanching at the vast sucking noise coming from the café’s industrial-sized coffee machine.

Every sudden noise is freaking me out. I suppose it’s because, apart from quick food raids to the local supermarket, I haven’t been out in the real world for months.

Jess beams in a proud, motherly way. ‘Moving on. Your brilliant new life.’

I smile at her hopeful optimism.

In recent weeks, I’ve got back to the job-hunting. But to be honest, my heart isn’t really in it. I need to feel positive about what I’m doing, otherwise I worry I might spiral down into the depths again – and sadly, I don’t think my old career in PR will give me that lift any more.

I’m hankering after a new direction altogether.

I glance around at the familiar low lighting, black leather sofas and chrome tables. The landscape of my life might look very different from two months ago, but the Fieldhorn Deli Café is exactly the same.

Today it’s full of Saturday shoppers taking shelter from the autumn wind that’s blowing leaves along the High Street. The low hum of a dozen conversations is actually quite soothing. It feels good to be somewhere familiar that evokes only good memories.