by Carole May.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I am a very mature student returning to university after a gap of many decades and fifteen years after retirement. At the start of this course I was worried about working with people who were so much more in touch with education, but have found that working with such clever young people is both fun and stimulating. Their help and advice is invaluable, particularly when it comes to IT. Both my brain and arthritic fingers find this infernal machine increasingly unconquerable. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Christmas in the Country<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n The sound of continuous traffic\nswishing along the rain drenched surface of Lordship Lane increased Amy\u2019s\nfeeling of isolation as she realised how blind she had been. She had become so\nwrapped up in her job as a mid-wife, working erratic hours, she had never thought\nto question the number of evening meetings, and weekend activities John claimed\nnecessary for the Deputy Head of a large comprehensive school. He had chosen\nthe week before Christmas to finally tell her that he had found someone new and\nwould be spending the holiday with her in Tenerife.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The\nprospect of spending a week here, in the house she had shared with him for over\ntwenty-five years was more than she could stomach. She opened her laptop and checked\ntheir joint bank balance. When she saw how much John had taken out, she didn\u2019t\ncare what she spent and searched for a holiday cottage somewhere where she knew\nno one. Somewhere where there was no danger of friends or neighbours dropping\nin. Somewhere she could spend the entire weekend in tears and no one would know\nor care. <\/p>\n\n\n\n There\nwere few places available, but one in a place called Pagan Hill had become free due to a last-minute\ncancellation. In no mood to celebrate the Christian festival, this seemed\nappropriate and the journey looked straight forward; A10, M4, M5, then turn off\nat Swindon. About sixty miles. Just right. <\/p>\n\n\n\n On\n23rd<\/sup> of December the traffic was manic. Driving was made more\ndifficult by rain so heavy that the wipers could barely cope. The compensation\nwas that she had to concentrate so hard that she didn\u2019t give John a thought\nuntil she turned off the M4. Then, the traffic became less was less dense. From\nthere the route to Stroud was quite straight forward. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Pagan\nHill was a mass of council houses and flats, not unlike those in Tottenham. The\npretty country lane she was looking for was nowhere in sight. Everyone she\nasked turned out to be a visitor to the area. <\/p>\n\n\n\n In\nTesco Express she struck lucky, as she paid for her groceries she asked for directions.\nA woman queueing behind her said, \u2018It\u2019s near where I live. You can follow me.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n They\nwent down a single tack unlit road and stopped at the entrance to a large\nGeorgian house. Amy pulled up behind. The woman stuck her head through the passenger\nside window of Amy\u2019s car and said, \u2018This is my house. The cottage you want is\nhalf a mile further on. On the right. You can\u2019t miss it. There\u2019s a huge\nChristmas tree in the garden.\u2019 Her parting words: \u2018If you need anything at all,\nsomeone will be here all over the holiday.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n Amy\ncouldn\u2019t miss the gaudy lights on a tree so big that it completely dwarfed the\ntiny cottage, but it did mean that she had no trouble finding the numbers to\npress on the key safe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Inside, Christmas had penetrated every inch. A\nlarge arrangement of holly stood on the table. Next to it, the local paper was open\nat the page advertising festive events\nin and around the neighbourhood. There was a Christmas card addressed to her on\nthe mantle shelf, and a pile of logs\nnext to the fire with a basket of fir cones bearing a message saying, \u2018When\nburnt, these give off a festive scent\u2019. A box of Christmas Crackers sat on the\nsideboard and, the fridge in the miniscule kitchen contained a box of mince\npies and a bottle of prosecco. Upstairs, by the bed, was a book entitled, A Cotswold Christmas.<\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n She\nhad finished her ready meal of lasagne, and settled down before the fire with a\nglass of Chianti, when there was knock on the door; carol singers from the\nlocal church. She listened politely to two verses of Away in a Manger<\/em> and handed over a fiver. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The\ngrateful vicar pressed her hand, \u2018I hope you can attend the blessing of the\ncrib tomorrow. It\u2019s a happy start to this important celebration.\u2019 He seemed\ngenuinely sorry when she made her excuses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n All\nthe usual programmes on the telly had been suspended in favour of Christmas\nSpecials. She switched off and began to read her library book. <\/p>\n\n\n\n An\nhour later, a mass of cars arrived next door, accompanied by the slamming of car\ndoors. Some kind of party was going on that lasted well into the early hours. <\/p>\n\n\n\n She\nlay awake mulling over her situation. She realised the only major effect of John\u2019s\nbetrayal was hurt pride and concern about her future.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As\nthe first rays of light penetrated the curtains, she made up her mind. She\nwould retire. She had lived in the Tottenham house for over twenty-five years.\nThe mortgage was paid off and her share of the equity should be sufficient to\nbuy a small cottage. She would like somewhere outside London, and more remote\nthan this,. Mortgage free, she should be able to live on her nurses\u2019 pension. Tomorrow\nshe would explore the area and see what kinds of properties were on the market.\nDecision made, she went to sleep. <\/p>\n\n\n\n She\nfound the addresses of three estate agents in the local paper. Armed with a map\nof Stroud, she drove into town. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Long\nqueues were at every car park. It was thirty minutes before she found a space.\nThe rain had stopped and the town centre was crowded with last minute shoppers.\nThe Farmer\u2019s Market was jam packed. As she fought her way through, stall\nholders offered tastes of locally produced cheese, pickles, wine and home\nsmoked trout, and cold meats. The whole place was festooned with holly and mistletoe.\nBuskers and carol singers were dotted through the town. There was even a mummers\u2019\nplay in progress outside the Tourist Information Centre. <\/p>\n\n\n\n The\nestate agents were deserted. \u2018We never have much custom over Christmas.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Houses\nwere dearer than she expected, and having seen Stroud and its environs in\ndaylight, she felt disappointed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n She\nreached the third agent just before twelve. He was on the point of closing for\nthe holiday, but let her in. When she\ndescribed what she wanted and the money she expected to be available, he said, \u2018We do have properties\nat that price but they are either flats, very small, town houses; or, property\nin need of modernisation. Like this.\u2019 He handed a brochure of a picture book\nCotswold cottage. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Could\nI really afford this?\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Yes;\nit\u2019s been on the market a couple of years. The owner died and the Trustees want\nit off their hands.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018How\nmuch renovation does it need?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n The\nyoung man shrugged and looked at his watch, \u2018If we go now, I\u2019ve just got time\nto show you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n They\nturned into a long winding hill marked \u2018Scenic Route\u2019. They passed a vast, area of open grassland. She\nwas told it was 180 acres of common land where farmers let their cows graze\nover the summer. Half a mile down an unmade track, the cottage came into view. Its\ncharm coupled with the idyllic setting convinced her that this was the place\nfor her, but she was worried about the cost of the renovations. In the living room she could see damp marks\nall the way up the wall to the top of the doorway, but the cottage was just the\nright size and the outlook was stunning. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018It\u2019s\nlovely,\u2019 she said, \u2018But there\u2019s a lot to think about.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n back\nin Pagan Hill, she brooded over the cottage. To qualify for a mortgage to help\nwith renovations she\u2019d need to find a job, and that wouldn\u2019t be easy at her age.\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n In\nhope of dispelling her dark mood, she decided to accept the vicar\u2019s invitation\nto the church service that afternoon. <\/p>\n\n\n\n She\nwas surprised by the number families in the congregation, until she realised\nthat the local primary school children formed the choir, and the pre-school\nchildren had been invited to put the figures into the stable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The\nservice was short and cheerful. Afterwards, tea, coffee, orange juice, and\nbiscuits were available at the back of the church. Pressed to join in, she\nstayed and was made very welcome. <\/p>\n\n\n\n She\nwas the centre of attention. \u2018I\u2019m house hunting. I viewed a cottage up on the\ncommon today.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n A\nyoung woman, struggling to hold a baby said, \u2018I know that house. At least two interested\nparties got as far as signing contracts, but something always happened to make\nthem change their minds.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n There\nwere tales of ghosts and murder. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Amy\nlaughed, and said, \u2018I expect the truth is that they were all frightened off by\nthe builder\u2019s estimate.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n An\nelderly man joined the conversation, \u2018The secret is to get a quote, before\nmaking an offer and then negotiate the price down to accommodate the cost.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Amy\nhadn\u2019t bought another house since the one in Tottenham and then John had dealt\nwith everything. She asked, \u2018How do I go about finding a reliable builder?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n The\nman introduced himself as Pete and told her that he was a retired builder. He\nsaid, \u2018A couple of year ago, before I retired. I quoted for the work on that place. It used\nto be an old stable. Came roughly to ten grand just to make it wind and\nwatertight and add a new kitchen and bathroom. I expect it\u2019s deteriorated a bit\nby now and the price would depend on exactly what you want done.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n Pete\nwrote his number on the service sheet, and said, \u2018If you\u2019re still around after\nChristmas, I\u2019ll could come with you and have a look. If you\u2019re still\ninterested, I could recommend a builder.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n She thanked him, then sought out the Vicar, congratulated him on the delightful service and slipped away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n\n\n\n John decided to buy Amy\u2019s share of\nthe London house and in April, she left London to live in her dream cottage. It\ntook her a while to get used to the sounds of the country. She had expected the\nnights to be quiet and peaceful, but found she\u2019d swapped the roar of London\ntraffic for the screech of owls and the sound of clanging dustbin lids as foxes\nrummaged for food. Sometimes, she could hear the late-night trains crossing the\nnearby railway bridge, but more often she heard the whinnying of horses. They\nmust be stabled somewhere nearby. <\/p>\n\n\n\n In July she heard the sad cries of cows grieving for calves recently sent to market. The most constant sound was of horses\u2019 hooves. Sometimes they sounded very close and added to the historic and rustic atmosphere of the hamlet where she lived. <\/p>\n\n\n\n A\nmonth before Christmas, double glazing was installed. The renovation had been\ncostly and hard work. To save money and prevent herself from brooding, she had done\nseveral challenging jobs herself. When she had finished painting the walls, she\nfrequented second hand shops and local auction rooms to replace the furniture\nshe\u2019d left behind in London.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Just\nin time for Christmas, she was able to hand her new curtains and the cottage was\nready. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Amy\nstood back to admire the effect of the cushion she\u2019d just placed on the newly-painted\nrocking chair in the corner, and. satisfied, she drove to the station to pick\nup her friend, Liz.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Perfect!\nA proper Christmas Cottage.\u2019 Liz said as they arrived. Inside, she looked\naround, her comments were; \u2018It\u2019s really delightful.\u2019 \u2018Everything is just\nright.\u2019 And, \u2018The views, they\u2019re lovely.\u2019 Her envy was obvious and her praise felt\nearned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On Christmas Eve they were gathering\ngreenery in the grounds of the nearby, derelict manor house when Amy tripped on\na large stone lurking in the overgrown and stubbed her toe. She swore loudly,\nand hopped around cursing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Liz\nfound a stout stick and attempted to clear some of the weeds. \u2018Just look at\nthis. I think it\u2019s a headstone,\u2019 and took a photo. Neither of them could make\nout the words engraved on the stone and they speculation about it all evening. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Next\nmorning, they put the turkey in the oven and then retraced last night\u2019s walk in\nthe daylight. Even with the sun shining\ndirectly on it, the words on the headstone were illegible. No other graves were\naround. <\/p>\n\n\n\n That evening they heard the sound of hooves\npassing close to the cottage, but these were much preferable the continuous\nsound of traffic that continued, day and night in Tottenham.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A short time later, while sitting on the sofa\nbefore the festive log fire, Liz said that she thought the rocking chair was moving. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I\nmust have knocked against it as I switched on the T.V.,\u2019 Amy said, thinking\nthat it was more likely the effect of three glasses of red wine with Christmas\ndinner, followed by a large brandy. She doubted if either of them would stay\nawake long enough to watch the special Christmas edition of Call the Midwife.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Liz\nwas brought back from the brink of sleep by the sound of the distressed whinny\nof a horse some very close by. She roused\nAmy. They crept down stairs and opened the door. They could see nothing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Maybe the sound is being carried on the wind,\u2019 Amy said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Sated with food and wine, they dozed companionably in the warm room, but were woken by the sound of horse\u2019s hooves, so near the animal must have been just outside. Again they could see nothing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n A\nshort time later, the living room door blew open, the curtains were stirring and\nthe rocking chair really did begin to move. Then there was a bang, as the back\ndoor flew open. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018It\nmust be blowing a gale force wind out there,\u2019 Amy said. \u2018Perhaps I didn\u2019t close\nthe doors properly when we looked out earlier on.\u2019 She recalled the tales of\nhaunting, but refused to admit this was a possible explanation. In such old cottages,\nnothing is square, and this one was no exception. The doors don\u2019t shut properly\nunless locked. Nevertheless, she was shivering and drew her chair nearer the\nfire. <\/p>\n\n\n\n A\nlittle later, Liz asked, \u2018Are you sure the doors and windows are all shut, I could\nswear that rocking chair is still moving.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n Amy\nlooked at her friend in concern, Liz had turned quite pale, \u2018Too much Christmas\nspirit, it\u2019s time we turned in.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n They\nhadn\u2019t been asleep for long when the sound of whinnying woke them both. It\nsounded like a horse in real distress. Again\nthey looked outside. Nothing. Amy wondered exactly where the horse was stabled.\nShe knew horses were unsettled by strong winds and hoped someone was there to\ncomfort it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n After\nthat neither of them could settle. At around two in the morning, they made tea\nand revived the dying embers of the living room fire. Reluctant to return to\nbed they snuggled together under a blanket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They\nwoke late next morning to find the wind had dropped. They went out to see what\ndamage had been done, but everything was intact. They re-laid the fire and\ntidied up ready to welcome and Amy\u2019s nearest neighbour, Enid, who coming for\nlunch. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Edna\nadmired the newly decorated living room, \u2018With the log fire and all that holly\nand ivy its very festive and cosy.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018We\ncollected the greenery from the old Manor House garden,\u2019 Amy said, and told her\nabout the discovery of the gravestone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Edna\nshowed no surprised, \u2018That\u2019ll be Kruger. Sir Henry really loved that horse. They\nserved together in The Battle of Balaclava and both survived.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018And\nSir Henry brought him back here?\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Yes.\nKruger lived on for several years. They say, Sir Henry cared for that horse\nmore than for his family.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n Liz got out her phone and showed Enid the\nphoto of the headstone. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Enid\nknew the inscription by heart: <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018In memory of Kruger, my faithful\nfriend, departed this life 26.12.1864. Rest in peace\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n After\nEdna had left, Liz said, \u2018What do you make of that? Perhaps this place is\nhaunted.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Amy\nwas beginning to think this might be the case, but shook her head and replied,\n\u2018I have never believed in ghosts, but phantom horse or not, this is a far\nbetter Christmas than any I ever spent in London with John.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n She sat quietly, thinking. For the first time in twenty-five years, she was experiencing the real meaning of the season: the clouds had lifted and the seeds were sown for an adventurous new beginning.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":0,"template":"","categories":[398],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-5379","project","type-project","status-publish","hentry","category-student-stories"],"acf":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/uniofglos.blog\/creativewriting\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/project\/5379","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/uniofglos.blog\/creativewriting\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/project"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/uniofglos.blog\/creativewriting\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/project"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/uniofglos.blog\/creativewriting\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5379"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/uniofglos.blog\/creativewriting\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5379"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/uniofglos.blog\/creativewriting\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5379"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}