Chapter Ten

Meeting A Stranger

Moly woke up with a jerk, and she sat upright at once. Toby had been lying down by her feet, as usual, over the bed covers, and it got up, frightened with her motion, running out of the room. It took Molly a moment to take in the image of the room. She had forgotten to close the blinds the night before and the day outside greeted her grey and unpleasant.

She took her hands to her face, yawning. She had no idea what she had been dreaming about, or what made her wake up like this, but at least she wasn't sleepy anymore. She took care of her morning routine, fed Toby and then, dressed in comfy clothes, she picked up a few vases and seeds, the potting soil and tools she had bought in town, and her straw hat. It was cold outside, and there was a high chance of rain, but there was no power on earth that would stop her from using that hat. She sat on the porch, spreading her legs open and placing the small vases and tools between them. Toby rummaged around, meowing occasionally, demanding attention.

There was something soothing about dirty hands and humid soil, and Molly started humming even without realising. Then, she got up and turned on the radio, singing out loud, making sure she planted the flowers' seeds right.

She heard a noise coming from the side of the forest and she raised her head. Someone was riding a bicycle on the other side of the stream, across the macadam road. A tall man, possibly a bit older than her, and Molly's eyes caught his. The stranger stopped his bike, turned around and crossed the small bridge. Molly picked up her tools.

"Hey, there!" the man shouted, and he smiled. He was wearing some worn out jeans and sweater.

Molly got up, still holding a hand trowel firmly in her right hand. The man stopped at some distance, getting out of his bike.

"Sorry about the intrusion," he apologised, "I live a few miles away from here. I used to know the former owner of this house."

Molly nodded but didn't say a thing.

"I didn't know it had a new owner," he carried on, "It was a bloody shame Mrs. Dane passed away. My father and I were very sad to hear it. She was a nice old lady."

Molly was surprised when she recognised her aunt's name, and she let her guard down a bit.

"Oh, you knew my aunt?"

The man smiled at Molly's interaction, seemingly pleased that she was finally speaking to him, "Oh, Mrs. Dane was your aunt? Yes, I knew her; she used to buy fruit, eggs and vegetables off us, and wood off my uncle. She used to come here to spend the weekend all by herself quite often."

He was speaking loudly to make himself be heard, so Molly approached him. Toby followed her, swaying its tail slowly.

"I inherited the house," she explained. She had no idea why she was making conversation with a complete stranger, but she missed having someone other than Toby to talk to, "When she passed away. I'm here on vacations now."

"I hope you enjoy this part of town. It's quite country-like around here," then he inquired still, "Where do you come from, then?"

He had a nice accent, and Molly couldn't help but notice his calloused hands.

"London. I'm a pathologist," she added. At his inquisitive look she explained, "I pretty much cut people open and sew them back together, and other things."

It was too late that she realised what she was saying, and how her morbid humour might not go so well on this young man as it usually went with her work colleagues.

"I mean, I work at a hospital's morgue. I perform autopsies, amongst other things."

"Oh," he said, smiling a little again. Then he started laughing, and that took Molly by surprise, "I just thought you were going to murder me with that hand trowel and you were just confessing your crimes before taking care of me for good."

Molly looked at him, then at the trowel in her hand and she laughed too, a bit more at ease.

"I'm Nicholas," he said, extending a hand towards her, "Nick."

Molly moved the trowel to her left hand and shook his, "Nice to meet you."

Nicholas nodded, and then he got on his bike again, "Anyway, if you need anything, just walk down the stream and the first farm you'll see is mine, then the second farm you'll see is my uncle's. My father and my uncle had a bit of a fight a few months ago, so it's probably for the best if you don't mention one to the other."

Molly could not picture a time when she would possibly need to speak to any, talk about mentioning one to the other, but then something Nicholas had said struck her.

"Wait a moment," she asked, "You said your uncle sells wood?"

The man nodded in agreement, "Yeah, he does. He is in charge of making deals here every autumn. There's a sort of auction to buy wood and you can get good prices. Actually, if you are interested, there's going to be an auction this weekend, by my uncles' house. Lots of people are expected to come by, so if you are good at bargaining and you have a bit of money to spend, it may be worth going by the place."

Molly considered the offer, "I will come around, then. I need to buy wood for the fireplace."

"I suppose I'll see you there, then. I am usually working in the fields right across on Saturdays."

"Sure," she said.

He stared at her and Molly understood what he was waiting for.

"Oh, my name is Molly."

He smiled.

"See you Saturday then, Molly."

He raised a hand in lieu of goodbye, crossed the bridge again and continued in his path. Molly smiled. He seemed nice. She went back to her vases; the radio was playing The Beatles and she cranked it louder.

Molly wanted to explore the place behind the cottage, so she decided to go for a walk in the afternoon. She locked Toby in the house and then put her keys in her bag, buttoned her coat and started walking down stream, after crossing the bridge. Nicholas had told her that she would find his and his uncle's farms easily if she went in that direction, and she wanted to know more details about the wood auction. Now she regretted having scared Nicholas out of her way, with her defensiveness and gardening tools, but leaving in London had taught her that you can never be too careful. Except that in London there were people everywhere and here she was all alone in the cottage, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded only by forest. A cold breeze kept her hair out of her face, and she followed the road.

There were fallen leaves everywhere and Molly lost track of time, stepping on some of them and hearing the pleasing sound they made under the soles of her boots. She was walking leisurely when she saw the shape of two farms in the distance. They were separated only by a fence, but as she approached them she realised it was possible to contour one to access the other. Both farms showed signs of the work that was done there. All very rural. There were chickens and other birds in the first house, which from what she remembered, was Nicholas'.

The front entrance to each of the farms was on the opposite side, and Molly was wondering if she would find anyone at the back of the house, or if she would have to go around to ring the doorbell, when something caught her eye.

A tall, exquisite man was standing there, hands behind his back and his curly hair quivering with the wind. He was talking to another shorter man and looking around, as the man – dressed in working clothes and wearing a flat cap - seemed to be explaining something to him. He caught sight of Molly quite immediately and as Molly hesitated for a moment, taking this in and deciding if she should approach them or not, she could swear that behind the look of surprise in his face, there was also a wicked grin dancing on Sherlock's lips.