Page 6 of Hope and Happiness in Bluebell Wood
‘Sorry,’ the man says, breathing heavily. He bends to pick up the lead, then he passes it to me. ‘Did I make you jump?’
I nod as I take the lead. Automatically I back away from him a little, my gaze lowered. Then when I feel I’m at a safe distance I look warily up at him.
The man is wearing a grey hoodie, blue tracksuit bottoms and green running shoes. Even though he’s wearing his sweatshirt hood pulled up over his head, I have to admit he doesn’t look very threatening. He has kind blue eyes, dark hair that pokes out just a little way under the front of his hood, and black stubble peppered with grey covering his chin. He looks with concern at me while he awaits my answer.
‘You and Merlin there will have to come back when the wood is in full bloom,’ he says eventually, when I don’t speak. His breathing is still laboured as he tries to catch his breath, and he stands with his hands on his hips. ‘It’s glorious here then.’
I nod again.
‘Right, well, I’d better get back to my run,’ he says, rightly sensing I’m in no mood for conversation. ‘No rest for the wicked, as the great man says! Enjoy the rest of your walk.’ He glances past me down the path. ‘It’s entirely up to you, of course, but I should warn you it gets dark quite quickly here. I wouldn’t want you to get lost in the wood. I’m taking a loop; I’ll be on my way out soon.’
When I don’t respond he glances over at Merlin, who’s examining the bark of one of the trees. But when I still don’t speak, the man just nods at me. ‘See ya then,’ he says,picking up his speed again and jogging away along the path into the trees.
As he departs, I realise he’s not the only one breathing heavily. I put my hand against a nearby tree trunk to steady myself, and then I attempt to control my breathing and calm my racing heart in the way I’d practised so many times in my therapist’s office.
The feeling of the tree bark under my hand while I try to steady my erratic breath stirs a distant memory, which I immediately push back down where it belongs.
‘No, not now,’ I mutter, shaking my head. ‘I won’t have the serenity of this wood sullied by you.
‘Time to go,’ I tell Merlin after a minute or two, when I feel a tad calmer and ready to move on. ‘The wood isn’t quite as empty as I hoped it might be.’
I feel annoyed with myself as I walk quickly back to the cottage with Merlin. The wood had felt like it might be a refuge for me while I was staying here – somewhere to come where I could be calm and in control – but then that jogger had come along, quite innocently tried to engage me in conversation, and as usual I’d freaked out.
It wasn’t him – he seemed perfectly nice. I just couldn’t cope with being surprised like that. These days I liked to be in control of situations that might put me on edge and where I might have to think and react fast.
‘But you coped, Ava,’ I tell myself as we reach the edge of the clearing again and take the path back to the cottage. ‘Yes, you didn’t speak, and that wasn’t great, but you survived; you should be proud.’
I look back at the trees as we step on to the pavement again.
Maybe they did help me, after all. Perhaps we might be able to go back again another day . . .
To my enormous relief we arrive back at the cottage without having to see or speak with anyone else, and the moment I shut the door on the outside world, I immediately feel happier. I’ve only been here a few hours and this cottage has already become a sanctuary to me – but I was determined it wouldn’t become my prison.
One of the reasons I’d agreed to taking on Merlin was because I knew it would force me into going out when he needed walking. When I stopped working and was living on my own in London, it had become far too easy to stay inside for days, sometimes weeks, at a time. The only occasion I’d had no choice but to leave my flat was when I had an appointment for therapy, but I’d always rushed back home afterwards. I had no interest in being among people – especially those I didn’t know.
It’s very dark in the cottage now, so I turn on a few lights, and make up a fire in the hearth in the sitting room to make it seem cosier. Then I feed Merlin, and wait for my own dinner to cook – nothing special, just a ready meal from the little bit of shopping I’d managed to fit in Matt’s car alongside all my other stuff. But the familiarity of preparing food for us both helps to soothe me, and I begin to feel calmer.
‘We’ll have to get ourselves organised tomorrow with some proper food,’ I tell Merlin as he happily curls up next to me on the sofa while I eat my dinner in front of the fire. ‘I’m sure we must be able to get a supermarket delivery out here.’
I’d become so used to buying everything online in London and having it delivered, I had no intention of changing that habit now we were in the country. There was the local shop in Bluebell Wood, where I was sure I could get a few supplies, but if I ventured out it would mean having to talk topeople, and them asking questions, and that was the last thing I wanted.
As far as I was concerned, Merlin and I, tucked away in our little cottage in the wood, was all I needed. And I felt happy for it to remain that way for as long as possible.
Three
The next morning I’m sitting in front of the French windows in the lounge in one of the comfy armchairs, letting the spring sunshine warm me through the glass.
This would have been lovely and relaxing, if I wasn’t at the same time preparing myself for a simple but possibly traumatic trip to the local shop.
Last night I’d sat at my laptop and ordered a delivery of food for me and a supply of dog food for Merlin from the nearest large supermarket.
This on its own hadn’t been too much of a problem, they’d had everything I wanted, and I’d ordered enough to last me about a fortnight. The problem had come when I’d tried to book a delivery: the earliest slot I could get was Wednesday afternoon – almost two days away.
I probably could have managed if it had just been me, but I certainly didn’t have enough dog food for Merlin to last until then – and I didn’t think he’d appreciate toast and butter as anything more than a snack, certainly not a substitute for his proper food. It was no use; I was going to have to brave a trip tothe village shop to see if they had some food that would keep us going until Wednesday.
Yawning, I decide I’ll put it off for a little longer. It’s warm and comforting in the sunshine, and I’m going to need all the comfort I can get before I have to venture out.
Why do I have to be so silly about something as simple as visiting the local shop?I think as I sit and look out at the little garden.Fretting about that was probably one of the reasons you didn’t sleep very well last night.
