A Cottage in the Country: Escape to the cosiest little cottage in the country

Ryan nods, then his jaw drops when I throw open the door to the bathroom.

"Another wow. That's what I like about old cottages, you never know what to expect. Rather bizarre having the bathroom off the kitchen, but this is going to be amazing."

I'm delighted Ryan can see beyond the current sorry state as I glance around at the very tired, and slightly musty-smelling, room.

"Think slipper bath, white accessories and shaker-style panelling on the walls."

Ryan peers up at the Velux window, watching the clouds floating by as if it's the first time he's ever seen the sky.

"Imagine this at night," he exclaims.

"Soft candles, aromatherapy bubble bath and a glass of wine in one hand – I'm already stretched out in the tub and enjoying the view!" I laugh.

"Well, it's going to be a lengthy project, but this is a diamond in the rough. What did the home survey report say? Any nasty surprises?"

"Um…not exactly. I didn't want to hold things up in case the bank changed its mind and kept it on the market until contracts were exchanged. Ironically, with all the silly questions my solicitor has raised, there would have been plenty of time to…"

"You've buying a house without having a survey? I know that technically you don't need one because you are a cash buyer, but please tell me you're joking, Maddie. Financially, you're putting everything you have into this property and that represents a big risk."

One look at my face confirms I'm telling the truth and he shakes his head in dismay. A little quiver of fleeting doubt enters my head and I shake it off.

"The cottage has been here for more than a hundred and fifty years, I doubt it will suddenly decide to slide down the hill."

Ryan shrugs his shoulders. His expression is enough to make me feel more than a little uncomfortable.

"Let's continue the tour," I say jauntily, pushing back my shoulders in an attempt to reassure myself I know what I'm doing.

We retrace our steps back through the cottage. Climbing the stairs, we walk around the two small bedrooms and poke our heads into the rather dank shower room. Descending back into the sitting room, Ryan remarks on the beautiful old cast-iron fireplace, which is in remarkably good condition for its age.

"An open fire – imagine those winter evenings…"

"There's a dining room through here, too, but I'm thinking I should turn that into a media room. I'm not sure a TV would look right in the sitting room, what do you think?"

The dining room is perfectly square and lends itself to a variety of uses, including a home office. When space is at a premium you have to make the most of every square foot. My eyes sweep the room, imagining the computer in the corner, two comfy chairs facing the TV and an elegant sideboard to house all my paperwork.

"Great idea. Why would you want to eat in here when you only have the one window looking out onto the valley? If this was mine I'd live, eat and probably spend all of my time in the conservatory."

I let out a huge sigh of relief.

"What?" Ryan looks at me with concern reflected in those telling eyes of his.

"I wondered if you'd think I was completely mad taking this on…you know – at my time of life."

He looks at me rather sharply. "Your marriage might be over, but Maddie Brooks' life part two is about to begin. I know you are still devastated and it's dented what little confidence you had, but I think you need this project. Yes, if I'm honest, it is a lot to take on for anyone and it's a pity you don't have the summer stretching out ahead of you. But life, as we know, is never perfect. There are worse things than being on your own." He shoots me a reassuring smile.

"Yes, like living with a love rat."

He cringes, wincing at my words.

"Come here! You need a hug."

I step forward and he throws his arms around me quite casually, as only long-standing friends can. We've known each other for longer than I knew my ex-husband, initially working alongside one another for nearly five years as project managers. Mostly designing re-fits for shops and stores, but occasionally working on the high-end domestic market. I gave up work about a year after I married Jeff to have our eldest son, Matt. Ryan and I lost touch for a while, but following a big promotion he contacted me to see if I was interested in working part time from home as a consultant. By then Matt was three and youngest son, Nick, was four months old. His timing was perfect, as work on our house was eating up every spare penny we had. From there on our friendship continued to grow. When he started his own business, it seemed only natural to take the job I was offered, particularly as it meant I could continue to work from home. Our friendship was something Jeff could never really accept, but I guess the money was an adequate pacifier.

"Do you know what I miss?" I ask, turning to look up at him as he shakes his head. "That struggle to keep everyone happy. I'm not used to making all the decisions without having to accommodate other people's needs and wishes. It feels lonely at times, and scary." A sudden hitch catches in my throat and seems to coincide with a distinctly watery view of Ryan's face.

"It's called freedom, Maddie. You'll get used to it. Heck, it's kind of like a drug once you grow accustomed to it and it's the reason why I'm still single. Being with someone permanently means life is a constant compromise. Sometimes it works out okay, but often it's one-sided and…" He hesitates, obviously in two minds about how honest he can be with me when it's clear I'm still very emotional.

"You can't stop there. You might as well finish off your sentence and get it over and done with."

His frown deepens. "Sometimes one person becomes a doormat."

My chest constricts, forcing me to draw in one long, deep breath. The ache in my heart is becoming less about losing Jeff's love as the days roll on, and more about a bigger loss. I feel betrayed and unloved. I gave everything because I cared, and my reward? People looking in on my relationship could see with a clarity I didn't have. I'd been fooling myself I was loved in return, but the truth was that I was being walked over and used.

"Hey," Ryan moves closer and places a hand on each of my shoulders. "Look at me! Come on, raise that chin! You're a good person, Maddie and you've brought up your sons well. Don't let anything rob you of that fact, because there aren't too many selfless people around these days. You're a nurturer; you simply forgot that there was a person inside there who deserved to have her voice heard. That's what threatens to hold you back now, if you let it.

"Now me, I'm selfish through and through. I'm in total control of my life; it runs smoothly because I don't let other people mess it up emotionally, or otherwise. Am I missing out? In some respects, yes: I'll never have a son, or daughter, of my own. But I'd make a terrible husband and an even worse father. To me it's simple. Understanding who and what you are is fundamental to attaining a life that has the right balance for you. Think of the future as a blank sheet. You get to start all over again, but this time it's all about you."

He draws back, letting his hands slip down to catch mine and give them a reassuring squeeze.

"I know you mean well, Ryan, but you've missed the point." I raise my tear-filled eyes to meet his enquiring gaze. His expression is pained and I know it's hard for him to offer the advice he's so convinced will make me see sense. "What if I don't want my life to be all about me?"

"Then you run the risk of putting yourself through this all over again. If nothing changes, then you'll be like so many others going around and around in the same flawed circle. I don't want that for you, my friend. You deserve more than to let people simply use you."

He walks away from me and out of the cottage, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open. In all the years I’ve known him he has never opened up his deepest feelings to me; never offered advice or judged me. To find out now that that wasn’t the case and he held back because he didn’t want to risk destroying our friendship is a surprise. But his words were so raw. That little speech wasn’t just about me – it was also about something buried deep within Ryan. What exactly the root cause is I have absolutely no idea and clearly it’s something he isn’t about to share.

CHAPTER 5 (#u9e65b9f4-ac6e-589d-81f9-b9de8d05752b)

Project managing is what I do, so now contracts have been exchanged and I have a completion date of the nineteen of December, there's a lot to do in a short time. My solicitor is still concerned about a potential boundary issue, ironically to do with the path that runs along behind Ash Cottage; the one leading to Bay Tree Barn. It began when I asked her to check it out after meeting Terence that day, and I now wish I hadn't raised it at all. She's like a dog with a bone and she won't give up. It's hard to believe that the bank don't have something in Miss Agatha Brown's paperwork that will show who owns and maintains the track. Prior to the existence of Land Registry, most of the paperwork was by way of notarised letters people kept with their deeds.

"What's the worst-case scenario?" I ask, trying not to let my voice reflect the frustration I'm feeling.

"Well, Miss Brooks, without clear ownership there is the issue of maintenance – which could raise its head if the owners of Bay Tree Barn feel the track is becoming neglected. If a third party owns that strip of land, then that is another unknown…"

She continues in the same vein, listing a whole host of problems that might crawl out of the woodwork – might being the operative word. I ask her to leave it with me to make a decision about what I want to do next. Her preferred option is to insist the banks get to the bottom of it or, failing that, take out an indemnity insurance policy. The problem is that this is something I should have alerted her to much earlier. Now we've exchanged, we're locked into the deal and she has no real leverage. I was hoping to mention the vandalised oil tank, which is something I feel is much more important to me, but I don't feel I can raise that now. I hadn't realised that 'sold as seen' had such an impact. It's a simple statement and, it seems, a licence to wriggle out of answering virtually any question raised. There's one thing I need to do before I instruct my solicitor to drop her enquiries and hopefully it will give me some peace of mind.

"Sarah, it's Maddie Brooks – Ash Cottage?"

"Hi, Maddie, how can I help?"

"I want to ask your opinion about something. Have you ever met the owner of Bay Tree Barn?"

"Terence? Yes, lovely man. I had a long chat with him the day I was there taking photos, before we put Ash Cottage on the market. He's lived there for nearly thirty years. Why? Is there another problem?" Her voice reflects a weariness we both feel. This has turned out to be the purchase from hell, considering it's the shortest chain possible.

"To be frank, my solicitor isn't giving up on the issue over the track at the rear of the cottage. I've been online and found a telephone number for Bay Tree Barn. I wondered whether you thought it was a good idea, or not, to contact Terence to have a chat about it? Is it too cheeky? I wouldn't like my new neighbour to think I was being pushy or anything."

"To be honest, if I was in your position it's what I would do. He's a genuinely helpful man and if he has any issues with the track then you are better off knowing about that now."

"Thanks, glad you agree. My solicitor is annoyed I left it so late to query it, but the lease on my rental property runs out at the end of December, so it was crucial to ensure everything was tied up before then. At one point I thought I'd actually find myself homeless. So I am relieved, to be honest, but this issue is a little worrying." I can't even contemplate what Ryan would say if he knew.