The Twilight Twenty-Five
thetwilight25[dot]com
Prompt: Cottage
Pen Name: Kimmydonn
Pairing/Main Character(s): Berty/Goff
Rating: 18A
This is a multi-chapter story
Photo prompts can be viewed here:
thetwilight25[dot]com/round-six/prompts
Tony landed at Heathrow with a sense of dread. Why had he thought this was a good idea? He looked around the airport for the luggage claim and considered just leaving his bag behind. As if the jet lag weren't bad enough, he'd come down with some sort of allergy or head cold that made it feel like his entire head were in its own fog.
And then there was the fog outside. Odd for summer, usually the fogs were worse in the other seasons. Just the motherland greeting him, he supposed. Pulling a tissue from his pocket he blew his nose ineffectually. Dragging his feet he finally found his luggage. At least he'd booked a bed and breakfast. He wouldn't have to deal with his father for another day or two. Tony had told the old man that he was coming two days from now, so he wouldn't even be missing him until Friday at the earliest.
Flagging a cabbie outside, Tony sneezed. Again, there was no dislodging the mucus gumming up his head.
"Sharpness."
"Sure." The driver didn't even really look at Tony. "Odd place to sight see. Most Americans stay here in London."
Tony tried again to blow his nose. He really didn't feel like talking to anyone. "I'm not American."
"Oh, I hear it now. You're actually from Sharpness. It's hard to make out. You had that cold long?"
"Nope. Just before take off."
"Isn't that the way? I'll let ye be."
Tony appreciated that and leaned his head on the window for the rest of the trip.
"Oy? You still with me back there?" The cabbie's accent jarred with Tony's familiar Washington surroundings.
"Hmm?"
"Where in Sharpness? We're here."
"Oh, um, the Ryan House."
"Ah, I see it there. B&B, innit? Here ya go."
Tony looked at the meter and groaned at the price but dug out his pounds sterling. He added a tip for the driver who'd let him sleep through the whole thing.
"Thanks," he said, snuffling again as he pulled his bag behind him. The Ryan House wasn't much more than cottage. It had been owned by an elderly couple when he grew up here. As he rang the bell, he wondered who lived here now.
A young woman with her blonde hair pulled tight in a bun opened the door.
"Well, if it isn't Tony Berty! You probably don't remember me..." The woman stopped and then grabbed his bag. "You look like day-old porridge. Let's get you in your bed."
"Tina? Tina Ryan?" She smiled and nodded. "You...look different."
She laughed. "You don't. Well, you look worse, but not different."
"Stupid cold," he muttered, trying to blow his nose again.
"That's it. Other than the bright red blinker there, you look the same as the day you got that visa."
Tony smiled. He'd been so excited to leave this tiny shire. He hadn't realized at the time that he was moving to an equally small town half a world away. Still, it wasn't here under his father's eye and thumb. That meant a lot to him.
"Here you go. Make yourself at home. I'll bring you up some tea, maybe help with the sinus."
"Thank you, Tina."
She smiled and closed the door behind her.
Tina Ryan. He'd dated her for all of two weeks. It shouldn't surprise him that she took over her grandparents' house. Did she live here alone? He didn't wonder long. As soon as he rested on the bed, he was dead to the world.
"Tony?" There was a slight jostling. "Tony. You should wake up."
"Huh?" he asked. The first thing he noticed was that he could hear himself. He could also hear Tina. His ears were clear. "Thank bloody god," he muttered sitting up. He had a quilt covering him, but other than his jacket, he was wearing all his clothes from the day before.
"It's morning, Tony. About ten. Thought you'd like to get on the right time schedule. I brought up tea."
Tony smiled, grateful. "Yes. That sounds marvelous. Sorry for missing your cup last night."
She waved a hand. "You needed the sleep. And apparently you didn't need tea to clear your head."
Tony took a deep breath and smile. "Nope. Much better." Toast and jam accompanied the tea. He was hungrier than he had expected. "Any chance of some more of this?" he asked, pointing with the knife at the toast.
"Of course. I wasn't sure how your appetite would be. I'll make you some bangers and eggs." She rose from the edge of the bed but stopped at the door. "Your da doesn't know you're here, does he?"
Tony hung his head. "He thinks I'm coming on Friday."
Tina nodded. Her hair, down today, fell across her face before she brushed it back. "I'll keep ye hidden," she promised. "Wondered why he hadn't said anything or come bounding over."
"Tina!" came a shout from below.
"I swear, that man," she muttered, closing the door behind her. Through it Tony could still her. "John, we have people in the house, you can't be shouting..." the rest was too faint for Tony to make out, but he grinned, biting into his toast. Apparently Tina wasn't living here alone.
The room, which he hadn't paid much attention to upon his arrival, had a sloping ceiling, right up under the rafters. The drywall panel had broken near the floor and Tony could see the stone behind it. The Ryan House was almost as old as Sharpness itself. With that age came drafts, cold floors, and a character that was lacking in every building of Forks. Through the window, Tony could see the purple tinged hills, green pastures dotted with white sheep and the edge of the church that was as old as Sharpness. He was home.
Now if only he wanted to be here.