Page 31 of The Beekeeper's Cottage
She walked on carefully to the point on the slope where the cover from the trees grew thinner and she was able to look out across the fields planted with flowers. They looked as if they were sleeping under their silvery blanket. She took a couple more steps but then stopped suddenly, her heart leaping into her mouth at the sight in front of her. On the slope below lay Amos, not injured as she had first thought, but instead, fast asleep. A blanket had been spread on the ground and Amos lay flat on his back, one hand resting on his chest with the other held loosely by his side. His head was turned slightly to one side, allowing moonlight to play across one cheek.
Crouching down where she stood, a feeling of enormous calm stole over her and Grace touched a hand to her heart without even knowing that she had done so. It felt as if she had never seen a man asleep before, but she must have. There would have been nights, surely, when she and Paul were first together, when she would have gazed at his face as he slept, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember doing so. In fact, Amos looked more peaceful than she could ever remember seeing anyone look before and the more she tried to tell herself that it was wrong to be watching him without his knowledge, the harder she found it to tear herself away.
A faint golden glow began to breach the horizon and within minutes it seemed the first glint of the sun’s glowing orb became visible, streaking the sky with bright orange and fading to a delicate pearlescent pink. She watched the shadow lift from Amos’s face, saw the slight flicker of his eyelids as perhaps, subconsciously, he registered the first stirrings of the dawn. And still she sat, quiet as a mouse, listening to the swelling excitement of birdsong around her.
She had no idea who this man was, nor where he had come from. They had spoken about all the things that Amos might help with, both in her house and across at the farm, but that still didn’t explain the mystery of why he was there in the first place. The thought should have filled her with anxiety, but strangely it didn’t seem to matter at all. And even though she knew that it was an odd thing to find a man lying asleep in her garden, and that sitting watching him was equally weird, what was just as bizarre was that instead of making her feel like Amos was an intruder, what she felt was that she was no longer alone.
As the sun continued to bring light to the day, Grace got slowly to her feet and crept from the garden, walking through her house with feet damp from the dew and utterly at peace; something she hadn’t felt in a long time. She was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.
Just below her, on the gentle slope of the hill, Amos shifted slightly in his sleep and smiled.
11
Grace awoke to the jarring sound of the telephone ringing. She lifted her head from the pillow but it felt so heavy that she immediately let it rest back down again, snuggling into the dent she had already made. She felt languid, deeply relaxed and incredibly comfortable and, given the choice, would happily have stayed in bed. Most unlike her.
The telephone stopped ringing and she closed her eyes, thankful for an end to the awful noise, but no sooner had she drifted off to sleep again than it rang for the second time. And kept ringing. She dragged herself into a semi-upright position and tried to focus, eventually managing to lift the phone from the receiver beside the bed.
‘What thehelldo you think you’re doing?’ said the voice from the other end.
There was only one person who would speak to her like that.
‘Paul,’ she said, closing her eyes in resignation. ‘Do you mind not yelling at me down the phone? If you’ve got something to say perhaps you could say it politely.’
‘When you tell me what game you think you’re playing with the estate agent, I might consider it. Don’t try and be clever, Grace, it doesn’t suit you.’
Grace pulled herself up into a sitting position, glancing with horror at the clock as she did so. She switched the receiver to the other hand and tried to concentrate.
‘I really have no idea what you’re talking about, Paul.’ She sighed.
There was a huff of indignation from the other end. ‘Evan Porter?’ he intoned. ‘The estate agent, who made an appointment with you yesterday to take down the house particulars and was given the runaround by some idiot gardener.’
‘Oh, Amos you mean.’ She gritted her teeth. ‘Well, firstly, he’s not an idiot, and second, he did me a favour by standing in for me, actually. I got called away at the last minute. He was trying to be helpful, that’s all.’
‘What utter rubbish, Grace. I don’t know what you think you’re going to achieve but it won’t make any difference. The house is going to be sold no matter how many silly games you play.’ He paused for a moment to speak to someone in the background. ‘Besides, we don’t even have a gardener, and I better not be bloody paying for him.’
‘Actually, Amos is working for free, which is just as well given the amount of time it takes to keep the grounds of this place looking at their best.’
‘Payment in kind, is it?’ he sneered. ‘Very creative, Grace… or should I call you Lady Chatterley?’
Grace could feel her pulse begin to quicken and was about to bite back when she stopped herself. She’d had enough of her husband’s insults and jibes and it was about time she refused to let them affect her.
‘I’ve always known in which direction your moral compass points, Paul, you don’t need to remind me. But as far as the garden goes, perhaps you’d prefer me not to bother with it… see how those prospective purchasers like the house when the garden looks a complete mess… It’s peak growing season just now, Paul, and it really wouldn’t take long for it to look completely overgrown.’ She let her words sit with him before adding, ‘Was there anything else you wanted? Only I’m rather busy.’ She stretched out her legs languorously.
‘Just get it sorted out. And next time the agent needs to call, make sure you’re there.’
‘Yes, of course, darling,’ she replied. ‘Anything you say.’ And then she dropped the receiver back on its stand and scrambled from the bed.
She stood in the middle of the room full of indecision. There were so many things she would normally have done by this time in the morning she didn’t know where to start. But then, out of nowhere, came a burst of laughter as Grace realised that she didn’t care. She felt free for the first time in years.
Looking back towards the telephone she made a rude gesture at it, quickly covering her mouth as if someone might see her naughtiness. That was so unlike her as well. She stared at herself in the tall mirror on the other side of the room, gave a nod of satisfaction and went downstairs to make a coffee.
There was a text waiting for her on her mobile.
Morning!it said, followed by a sunny-face emoji.We’re drawing up battle plans for the milking shed at lunchtime, come over if you fancy it… and bring your notebook. About one. Flora xxx
Grace looked at the clock again: 10 a.m. That was perfect. She texted back a reply to say that she would be there and crossed the room to throw open the patio doors. She stood there for a moment, half expecting to see Amos’s curly head of hair bobbing about somewhere, but knowing that he would have woken hours ago and would certainly no longer be in her garden. The image of him sleeping under the stars last night still made her smile. Pouring hot water into the cafetière, she picked up her mobile phone again, only this time she rang her solicitor.
It didn’t matter how many times she saw it, Grace always thought the table and chairs laid out under the trees at the farm was like a 1950s’ advert for the quintessential family day out. The table was covered in a red-checked cloth, a huge vase of flowers stood on top, and dish after dish of lovingly prepared food was laid out ready. Add to this a big pitcher of lemonade, several happy people and a backdrop of lush greenery and it was nigh on perfect.
