The Cottage
Emerald turned between two narrow wooden gateposts onto a gravelled driveway and drew the large silver Jaguar to a halt. She breathed a sigh of relief. Whilst not a novice behind the wheel, she had never driven a car as powerful... or expensive... as this one before.
She looked around herself. Straight ahead was a wooden garage. It boasted a pitched roof and wooden doors, with rusty hinges and peeling paint. To her right was a long, thin cottage, its rendered walls covered in slightly greenish white paint. It was only slightly less dilapidated than the garage. To her left was a smaller brick cottage. If not in majorly better repair, it looked somehow more lived in and homely.
With a shrug, Em reached for her purse and extracted a key. Now she was here she needed to have a look around and try to work out what needed to be done.
The front door opened into a small hallway. Straight ahead was a narrow staircase leading up, presumably, to the bedrooms. To the right was a wooden doorway of vertical pine planks, with black iron furniture. Em pressed the finger plate to raise the latch and peered inside. It was a cosy sitting room, with an oak floor, two small leather sofas and a Persian rug. A large inglenook housed a substantial, black stove. At the moment the room was cold and slightly damp, but with a fire burning in the grate it would be warm and welcoming.
The door to the left of the hallway led to a pleasant kitchen. It boasted a cream enamel cooking range, pine dresser and pine table with three Windsor chairs. An impressive (and new looking) American fridge was tucked alongside the dresser.
Two doors led off the kitchen. The one to the right of the range dropped down to a scullery containing a white porcelain butler's sink, a small gas cooker, and a stable-style door leading to the garden. The second revealed a well-equipped and modern bathroom.
Emerald was about to ascend the staircase to check out what was upstairs, when there was a knock on the door and a head poked itself around the door jamb.
"Coo-ee, anyone home?"
"Hello?" Em didn't know quite what to say but opened the door wider.
The lady on the other side invited herself in and offered her hand. "Elsie Wilson, I live opposite. You must be Miss Hurrell. I was told to expect you."
Emerald took in a lady in her mid-fifties, with tinted brown hair, a slightly frizzy permanent wave and a flowery housecoat. Not knowing what to do next, she backed into the kitchen.
Elsie followed her in. "Don't worry, I'll have this place put to rights in a tick. Just needs the stoves lighting and the beds made up." She was already pushing back her sleeves and collecting newspapers, firelighters and kindling from a basket alongside the range. Deftly, she had a blaze going in the range in short order.
Emerald sank onto one of the kitchen chairs, waited and watched.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" Satisfied with the flames, Mrs Wilson stood up, stretching her back and wiped her hands on the housecoat.
It hadn't occurred to Em, but suddenly she realised just how thirsty she was.
"Yes please, Mrs Wilson, but the stove..."
Elsie laughed. "Call me Else. Mrs Wilson was my mother... always been Else, and Else I'll stay. Now, the stove... it takes an age to get warm once it's gone cold. That's why Miss Hennessy had the gas put in. Couldn't be doing with the range when all she wanted was a cuppa." She bustled into the scullery, filled a kettle and put it onto the hob.
Now Emerald was more puzzled than ever. "Miss Hennessy?" The only Miss Hennessy she knew was Siobhan, but instinctively she knew this wouldn't be her.
Else smiled. "Since you're driving her car, I guess you're thinking of Miss Siobhan. No, this was her great aunt, Miss Alicia. Born here, lived here all her life."
Mrs Wilson looked philosophical. "I looked after Miss Hennessy for her last five years, then this place lay empty when she died in '41. Was really sad to see it going to rack and ruin. Then about a month ago Miss Siobhan turned up in that fancy car of hers. Told me the family had decided to do the place up, maybe rent it out, and would I mind getting it ready for visitors and cleaning up afterwards."
"Couldn't say no, not with what she offered me. Things have been a bit tight, one way or another since Reggie had his accident."
Emerald took a leap of faith that Reggie was Mr Wilson. She decided not to follow up on the 'accident' for fear of diverting Else from the main part of the story.
"So, what happened next?"
"Well, a team of builders turned up a couple of days later. You'd never know building materials were in short supply. Fixed up the windows, connected the electricity, new stove, re-plumbed the bathroom, even put in that fancy American shower... although I couldn't be doing with one of those myself. I like my baths..."
Emerald put two and two together and made five. Siobhan had expected to be spending time in the area... and didn't fancy staying in either the dilapidated Crown Hotel or the cat-pee scented bed and breakfast that was the only other accommodation on offer in the small town. Refurbishing great-aunt Alicia's forgotten cottage was an eminently practical solution.
The fact that she wouldn't be the first to use the building must have irritated her, but she'd offered the accommodation to MI5 regardless.
Else downed the last of her cup and hauled herself to her feet. "Beds and food, then we're done."
Food... Em had forgotten the wicker hamper in the boot of the car. She had no idea what it contained but was pretty sure she couldn't lift it on her own. "I'll give you a hand with the sheets if you can help me with the supplies."
Upstairs was simple and clean. Two bedrooms, built into the v-shaped pitch of the roof, with white plaster separated by blonde timbers. Each room had two small windows, a double bed with an iron bedstead, a small pine wardrobe and chest of drawers. Polished wooden floorboards and a rag rug.
Else gave a final plump to the pillows of the room over the kitchen. "This's the better one... t'other's a bit chilly."
It made sense, Em decided. Heat from the range would keep this room warm. She glanced at her watch. Time to be moving. Unpacking the car might have to wait. As if hearing her thoughts, she heard a car pull into the driveway. An army Jeep, she thought, smiling as she carefully negotiated the staircase. Outside, Will Fletcher was somewhat grumpily extricating a box from its interior. "I'm meant to be a sergeant-major, not some flippin' errand boy." He thrust the box into Em's outstretched arms. "Venison casserole, apple pie. Molly says to stick the casserole in the simmering oven for two hours. Pie goes in the roasting oven."
"Thank you, Will. You're a brick." Balancing the box in front of her, Em gave her uncle-in-law a peck on the cheek. "Tell auntie she's a hero."
Will huffed, but not with any great upset. Being assigned to Garrison's team had seemed like a death sentence at first, but this particular cloud had had a silver lining in the face of a wife he'd never have met otherwise and five feisty step-nieces he loved to bits. Even the four cons had a few good points, he had to admit begrudgingly.
"Don't suppose you can drop me at the Crown, can you?" Emerald had dealt with the box and returned adroitly. She might end up stranded at the hotel, but instinct told her she didn't want the encumbrance of Siobhan's car with what was coming next.
Will looked at Em carefully. Something was going on here, he could tell but he was darned if he knew what it was, and no one was telling. All he knew was that the Lieutenant hadn't come back from the last mission, yet his team were back off to France... and his butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth step-niece was in it up to her armpits.
She slid into the passenger seat of the Jeep, a brightly coloured scarf protecting her hair and a thick woollen great coat covering her suit. She sat and waited for the sergeant-major to give up his high-dudgeon and join her. "I don't know much more than you do, Will," she finally offered as they drew away from the cottage. "All I'm doing is following orders, just like you."