The Diarist
ENGLAND
1
Kate placed the diary on the kitchen table and, staring at it, pulled out a chair and sat down. She knew at a deep level that once she opened it there would be no turning back, her life would be changed. The strength of her curiosity soon outweighed any resistance, known or otherwise, and she reached towards the book with outstretched fingers that stroked its soft, leather cover. She sighed, pulling it towards her, resistance was futile, it was already written and, in that moment, the past, present and future merged and became one.
She had bought the cottage on a whim. Well, not exactly a whim, but in retrospect it had happened quickly, and she was not known for having an impulsive nature. It was not that she was unhappy, not at all, she loved her house, had been happily married and raised a family there. She had not planned to move, it was more an invitation. In fact, she had only known about the cottage by accident, a friend of a friend who had mentioned it in passing; someone he or she knew had bought it, renovated it and, due to a change in circumstances, wanted to sell. As soon as Kate saw the photo she knew she wanted to live there. It was the quintessential country cottage. Flower beds edged a path that led to the front door where roses arched and continued their climb above the windows on either side. She could almost smell their heady fragrance.
Suddenly her home of thirty odd years became large and unwieldy. The children had left home and were now busy building their own lives and since her husband's death a couple of years ago, there was an emptiness, echoes with nowhere to go haunted her on a daily basis. As she looked at the sale details for the cottage she could see herself walking in the front door and happily living there. She phoned the vendor immediately to arrange a viewing for the following Monday and showed the details to her daughter when she visited that weekend.
“What do you think, Emma?” she called from the kitchen.
“Think about what?” Emma asked as she sat down at the table next to her mother.
“This cottage…., oh damn, I’ve lost it,” she sighed, frustrated by her impatience with the new laptop. “It’s so sensitive. I hardly touch anything and it zooms off all over the place.”
“It’s alright, mum, you’ll get used it,” Emma smiled.
“Ah, here it is, see, doesn’t it look just perfect?”
“Well yes, it’s very pretty but I don’t see why you want to move. I thought you were happy here.”
“Oh Ems, I have been and I am, but I don’t know, I’d like something a bit smaller, more manageable – both financially and physically. You understand don’t you?”
Kate realised, of course, that it had been Emma's home as well, filled with memories of her growing and her father. She was not the only one who would be letting it go.
She remembered it as if it was yesterday as she stood in the porch facing the front door knowing that at some point she must turn the key in the lock and cross the threshold into what had once been their home, now hers. She knew now that it was final, there was no going back. The future stood before her, long and empty. Not only had she to grieve the man she had loved for the past thirty years but also her dreams. Dreams of a future, a future together, not the void she now saw as inescapable. She had always believed they would grow old together, endearingly old together and that had now been snatched away. He had been snatched away.
“Come on mum, let me ….” Emma raised her hand towards the lock.
“No, no, it’s alright, I can...” Without looking at her daughter, Kate turned the key and together they entered the house. Even though it was only an hour or so since they had left to go to the crematorium, to Kate it felt like forever. Time had changed since John’s death, it had stopped.
She felt a sudden pang of selfishness as Emma walked beside her to the dining room where everything was laid out for the imminent guests. Whilst she had been deprived of the love of her life, Emma had lost her father.
It’s odd, she thought, all her beliefs about life and death were now lost to her and what had been easy philosophies in life were now nowhere to be found. She must pull herself together she thought as she heard voices drifting into the house from the drive and David, her son, directing people. Oh dear, more sympathy and commiserations, she felt overfull already. Still, she took a deep breath and turning to Emma forced a weak smile. “We’d better go to the front and meet them.”
They had met in Paris. She was in her final year of a Modern Languages degree and in Paris for a long weekend to absorb some culture and practise her French. He was there for the weekend doing research for his Master's in English Literature into writers that had lived there. They were young, hedonistic and believed they could make a difference. Their romance continued beyond Paris and after graduation they each found jobs in London. Their lives evolved over a few short years to marriage, babies and mortgages, though not necessarily in that order. As they outgrew the flat they had struggled to buy, they uprooted their family life to Bath, taking advantage of its increased value that enabled them to buy a substantial house close to John’s new job at the university.
At first Kate missed her life in London, the buzz, the culture, but she soon delighted in the fresh air, open spaces and being able to spend more time with the children. As the children grew and became independent she longed for something more than the occasional teaching and translation work that had sustained her through their childhood. Before she was able to fully explore the possibilities John’s heart had stopped and life as she knew it had come to an abrupt end.
Several months passed as she became accustomed to the new rhythms of her life. Her daughter had flown the nest long ago and was busy feathering her own and her son, David, was teaching in Asia. At first Kate found the solitude both a blessing and a curse. The freedom to do what she wanted when she wanted was a joy until something went wrong and she realised there was no one to blame any more, only herself. It was a chastening and self revealing time as she slowly emerged from the grief of her losses and, little by little, began to appreciate life once more.
Gradually, she worked her way through the house. She cleared all the pictures and ornaments she had never liked, took any clothes she no longer wore to the charity shop, and, after sorting through years of accumulated paperwork, had a bonfire in the back garden. Finally she set about decorating, painting the walls in shades of white and using soft furnishings to bring in colour. By the time it was finished she had taken tentative steps towards reinventing herself and her home.
On viewing the cottage, she offered the asking price, which she thought was fair and put her house on the market the same day. She accepted the first offer and it was done and dusted within three months.
Moving day arrived accompanied by excitement and apprehension. It took longer than she anticipated to not only pack everything, but to downsize from a substantial four bedroom house to a small three bedroom cottage. As she veered between exhaustion and elation there were times she questioned why she was doing it at all.
Many of the larger items of furniture would either not fit or were totally unsuitable and, in exasperation, Kate called a local auction house to remove the offending items for sale while she went in search of more appropriate alternatives. By the time she closed the door and said goodbye to her old home and its memories, she felt lighter and freer than she had for years.
When she arrived at her new home, her eyes first scanned the front garden then the cottage itself as she claimed ownership of this new chapter in her life. She was pleased to have a short time alone to savour the moment of transition. Once inside she walked from room to room inhaling the clear and open space. It was only the kitchen that still retained anything from the previous owners; an oil-fired Aga, which she was overjoyed to now own, and a wide pine dresser that had probably been built into the wall years before and a sacrilege to break up and remove.
She heard the sound of footsteps on the path outside and was relieved to see the John Lewis van had arrived. She had arranged for the delivery to dovetail with the removal van and prayed they would not overlap. By her calculations she should have at least an hour before the removal men arrived, by which time her new furniture would be in place and the path clear for the arrival of her remaining furniture and possessions.
She watched as her new life took shape. A new bed and wardrobe disappeared upstairs followed by two new sofas that were allocated to homes in the living room. A pine table and chairs were taken to the kitchen, together with her additional purchases of rugs, bedding, cushions, throws and, most important at the moment, a new kettle. Kate rinsed it, filled it with water and went to the car to get the mugs, tea, milk and biscuits she had brought with her. After thanking and saying goodbye to the delivery men, she made tea, sighed and sank into a chair to await the arrival of the rest of her belongings.
A knock at the door shook her from her reverie. Her mind raced through possibilities as she walked the short length of the hall. When she opened it Kate was met by a woman, probably in her forties she thought, who had a disarming and friendly smile.
“Hello, I just wanted to introduce myself, I’m Annie and I live next door. I know, moving’s hell and if there’s anything …. well, I’m sure you have it all organised. Just let me know if you need anything, tea, coffee, a glass of wine. Anyway, welcome.” Annie eventually paused for breath.
“Oh, thank you, that’s very kind. I don’t think there’s anything at the moment,” Kate replied thinking there was a freshness about Annie she liked and hoped they might be friends, “but I may take you up on the glass of wine later. I'm Kate, by the way.”
“Great,” Annie beamed. “I’m just next door. Anytime.” And she turned and left.
Before Kate could close the door, the removal van pulled up outside and the next hour or so was spent directing furniture and boxes. Once the men had gone, Kate closed the front door and leaning her back against it, surveyed the chaos. It was a strange feeling, this in between time, she thought. Leaving one world behind and entering a new one yet to be discovered. Taking a deep breath, she walked along the hall to the kitchen and opened the first box.
Her mobile rang. It was Emma.
“Hi mum, how’s it going?”
“Oh Ems, hi. Well, the removal men have just left ….”
“Do you want me to come ….”
“No Ems, thanks, I’ll be fine. There’s no rush, come and see me when it’s all done.” Kate said, realising it was something she wanted to do on her own.
“Ok, but if there’s anything …. you will let me know?”
“Yes, of course darling. Now, I must get on and … thanks.”
The natural light was fading and Kate was surprised to see how much she had done. The kitchen and living room looked almost normal save for an odd box secreted behind a chair or discretely placed in a corner. The sun was setting and as the walls turned from gold through ever deepening shades of pink, Kate felt a warm satisfaction wash over her. She went upstairs to make the bed before surrendering to the need for food and relaxation.
The fridge contained the bare essentials. She had ensured she would have enough to get her through the evening and breakfast then, well then, she would explore the village shop and locate the nearest supermarket. Tonight she had the joy of a pizza which she put into the Aga’s oven and opened a bottle of Rioja. The warmth from the Aga and a few sips of red wine were comforting and soporific, and the energy that had sustained her throughout the day soon dissolved as exhaustion took over.
Meanwhile in the cottage next door, Annie was thinking about her new neighbour.
“Penny for them?” asked Ben.
“Oh, I was just thinking about Kate, you know, our new neighbour. She seemed …well, friendly.”
“What, you mean you’ve been round already? Really Annie, the poor woman has only been here a few hours,” he sighed but there was a warm affection in the tone of his voice.
“Oh, I only popped round to say hello and welcome, I didn’t stay or anything. I just thought ….”
“And I just thought,” Ben said embracing her from behind and lowering his cheek to hers, “that I might like to take my wife out to supper, what do you think?”
“Mmmm, I’d like that. Where shall we go?”
“Well, I’ve heard good things about that pub just outside the village. It’s under new management, we could give it a try.”
“Ok, do you think we should …”
“No,” he said firmly, pre-empting her suggestion, “not tonight, let the poor woman unpack and settle in.”
“Alright then, give me five minutes and I’ll be ready.”
As Annie went upstairs she remembered when she and Ben had first moved in and, despite having lived in the village for almost twenty years, they were still considered newcomers. It wasn’t that the other residents were unfriendly, far from it, it was just that time had a longer rhythm here when it came to local families and their homes and she began to imagine introducing Kate to village life.
By the time Kate was ready for bed she felt a hollow exhaustion, maybe it was the wine, she thought, and flopped into bed before her mind could take it any further.
She woke early and it was still dark as she gradually became aware of unfamiliar surroundings. Then she remembered the previous day, the goodbyes, the moving, her new life and she felt in the dark to switch on the bedside lamp. A mistake, she thought as she looked at the boxes waiting to be unpacked. She felt as if she had been up for a week, her eyes dry, her limbs weak. She turned off the light and pulled the duvet round her in search of oblivion.
When she woke again, it was to a bright sunny morning. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and determined she must sort out some curtains. The unfamiliarity was less disturbing in daylight and she got up eager to create order from the chaos. It did not take her long to finish unpacking and find new homes for everything.
By the the end of the day, the last packing box was folded and designated for recycling, and it looked as if she had lived there for years. She filled the rooms with fresh cut flowers from the garden and thought about how she would dry the hydrangeas once the blooms were at their best. A ray of happiness touched a corner of her heart as she sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of her favourite earl grey tea.
It was getting late and she still had shopping to do so she went to open the dresser drawer in search of pen and paper to make a list. It stuck and, despite tugs and wiggles, refused to move. Odd, it had been fine yesterday. There must be something wedged, and she went in search of a means to investigate further. She returned to the kitchen with a wire coat hanger which she opened out hoping it would clear the length of the drawer. After more wiggling of the wire hanger and the drawer, Kate heard a clunk and the drawer, freed from the obstacle, shot out towards her. She took out a pen and paper for the shopping list, then bending down, opened the cupboard beneath the drawer to find out what had been causing the problem. It was dark and difficult to see behind the china to the wall so she reached in, fumbling with her fingers for the offending item.
"Ah, got you," she said folding her hand round it. She drew it out with care. It was a book, no a diary, and standing up, she placed it on the dresser shelf above the drawer. Closing the cupboard and ensuring the drawer was now opening and closing without hindrance, she decided to forget about the shopping list and grabbed her bag and car keys. She had a vague memory of a supermarket a few miles away, thinking it was probably too late for the village stores, which was confirmed by the closed sign on the door as she drove past.
An hour or so later Kate walked up the path to the front door, laden with carrier bags filled with essential food and supplies. Behind her the light was fading and deep pink-edged clouds offered the promise of a sunny day to come. As she put away the shopping her eyes fell upon the book she had found earlier and left on the dresser. She picked it up again, but her curiosity was postponed as her hunger took precedence.
She made a quick spaghetti peperoncino, a simple dish of olive oil, garlic and chilli that her Italian father loved and one she had learnt to make from an early age. She added some salad, poured a glass of Rioja, sat down and took stock of her day. She was pleased with her progress and able to relax now that the unpacking was done save for a few boxes which she had relegated to the spare room.
Her thoughts wandered to her new neighbour, Annie, and she decided she would knock on her door in the morning, invite her for coffee. It would be good to take a small step into this new life but before she could follow the thought any further she was pulled by a more mundane one, to do the washing up. When she had finished, she curled up on the sofa and watched some uneventful television, leaving the book, still untouched by her hand or mind, on the dresser.
ENGLAND
1
Kate placed the diary on the kitchen table and, staring at it, pulled out a chair and sat down. She knew at a deep level that once she opened it there would be no turning back, her life would be changed. The strength of her curiosity soon outweighed any resistance, known or otherwise, and she reached towards the book with outstretched fingers that stroked its soft, leather cover. She sighed, pulling it towards her, resistance was futile, it was already written and, in that moment, the past, present and future merged and became one.
She had bought the cottage on a whim. Well, not exactly a whim, but in retrospect it had happened quickly, and she was not known for having an impulsive nature. It was not that she was unhappy, not at all, she loved her house, had been happily married and raised a family there. She had not planned to move, it was more an invitation. In fact, she had only known about the cottage by accident, a friend of a friend who had mentioned it in passing; someone he or she knew had bought it, renovated it and, due to a change in circumstances, wanted to sell. As soon as Kate saw the photo she knew she wanted to live there. It was the quintessential country cottage. Flower beds edged a path that led to the front door where roses arched and continued their climb above the windows on either side. She could almost smell their heady fragrance.
Suddenly her home of thirty odd years became large and unwieldy. The children had left home and were now busy building their own lives and since her husband's death a couple of years ago, there was an emptiness, echoes with nowhere to go haunted her on a daily basis. As she looked at the sale details for the cottage she could see herself walking in the front door and happily living there. She phoned the vendor immediately to arrange a viewing for the following Monday and showed the details to her daughter when she visited that weekend.
“What do you think, Emma?” she called from the kitchen.
“Think about what?” Emma asked as she sat down at the table next to her mother.
“This cottage…., oh damn, I’ve lost it,” she sighed, frustrated by her impatience with the new laptop. “It’s so sensitive. I hardly touch anything and it zooms off all over the place.”
“It’s alright, mum, you’ll get used it,” Emma smiled.
“Ah, here it is, see, doesn’t it look just perfect?”
“Well yes, it’s very pretty but I don’t see why you want to move. I thought you were happy here.”
“Oh Ems, I have been and I am, but I don’t know, I’d like something a bit smaller, more manageable – both financially and physically. You understand don’t you?”
Kate realised, of course, that it had been Emma's home as well, filled with memories of her growing and her father. She was not the only one who would be letting it go.
She remembered it as if it was yesterday as she stood in the porch facing the front door knowing that at some point she must turn the key in the lock and cross the threshold into what had once been their home, now hers. She knew now that it was final, there was no going back. The future stood before her, long and empty. Not only had she to grieve the man she had loved for the past thirty years but also her dreams. Dreams of a future, a future together, not the void she now saw as inescapable. She had always believed they would grow old together, endearingly old together and that had now been snatched away. He had been snatched away.
“Come on mum, let me ….” Emma raised her hand towards the lock.
“No, no, it’s alright, I can...” Without looking at her daughter, Kate turned the key and together they entered the house. Even though it was only an hour or so since they had left to go to the crematorium, to Kate it felt like forever. Time had changed since John’s death, it had stopped.
She felt a sudden pang of selfishness as Emma walked beside her to the dining room where everything was laid out for the imminent guests. Whilst she had been deprived of the love of her life, Emma had lost her father.
It’s odd, she thought, all her beliefs about life and death were now lost to her and what had been easy philosophies in life were now nowhere to be found. She must pull herself together she thought as she heard voices drifting into the house from the drive and David, her son, directing people. Oh dear, more sympathy and commiserations, she felt overfull already. Still, she took a deep breath and turning to Emma forced a weak smile. “We’d better go to the front and meet them.”
They had met in Paris. She was in her final year of a Modern Languages degree and in Paris for a long weekend to absorb some culture and practise her French. He was there for the weekend doing research for his Master's in English Literature into writers that had lived there. They were young, hedonistic and believed they could make a difference. Their romance continued beyond Paris and after graduation they each found jobs in London. Their lives evolved over a few short years to marriage, babies and mortgages, though not necessarily in that order. As they outgrew the flat they had struggled to buy, they uprooted their family life to Bath, taking advantage of its increased value that enabled them to buy a substantial house close to John’s new job at the university.
At first Kate missed her life in London, the buzz, the culture, but she soon delighted in the fresh air, open spaces and being able to spend more time with the children. As the children grew and became independent she longed for something more than the occasional teaching and translation work that had sustained her through their childhood. Before she was able to fully explore the possibilities John’s heart had stopped and life as she knew it had come to an abrupt end.
Several months passed as she became accustomed to the new rhythms of her life. Her daughter had flown the nest long ago and was busy feathering her own and her son, David, was teaching in Asia. At first Kate found the solitude both a blessing and a curse. The freedom to do what she wanted when she wanted was a joy until something went wrong and she realised there was no one to blame any more, only herself. It was a chastening and self revealing time as she slowly emerged from the grief of her losses and, little by little, began to appreciate life once more.
Gradually, she worked her way through the house. She cleared all the pictures and ornaments she had never liked, took any clothes she no longer wore to the charity shop, and, after sorting through years of accumulated paperwork, had a bonfire in the back garden. Finally she set about decorating, painting the walls in shades of white and using soft furnishings to bring in colour. By the time it was finished she had taken tentative steps towards reinventing herself and her home.
On viewing the cottage, she offered the asking price, which she thought was fair and put her house on the market the same day. She accepted the first offer and it was done and dusted within three months.
Moving day arrived accompanied by excitement and apprehension. It took longer than she anticipated to not only pack everything, but to downsize from a substantial four bedroom house to a small three bedroom cottage. As she veered between exhaustion and elation there were times she questioned why she was doing it at all.
Many of the larger items of furniture would either not fit or were totally unsuitable and, in exasperation, Kate called a local auction house to remove the offending items for sale while she went in search of more appropriate alternatives. By the time she closed the door and said goodbye to her old home and its memories, she felt lighter and freer than she had for years.
When she arrived at her new home, her eyes first scanned the front garden then the cottage itself as she claimed ownership of this new chapter in her life. She was pleased to have a short time alone to savour the moment of transition. Once inside she walked from room to room inhaling the clear and open space. It was only the kitchen that still retained anything from the previous owners; an oil-fired Aga, which she was overjoyed to now own, and a wide pine dresser that had probably been built into the wall years before and a sacrilege to break up and remove.
She heard the sound of footsteps on the path outside and was relieved to see the John Lewis van had arrived. She had arranged for the delivery to dovetail with the removal van and prayed they would not overlap. By her calculations she should have at least an hour before the removal men arrived, by which time her new furniture would be in place and the path clear for the arrival of her remaining furniture and possessions.
She watched as her new life took shape. A new bed and wardrobe disappeared upstairs followed by two new sofas that were allocated to homes in the living room. A pine table and chairs were taken to the kitchen, together with her additional purchases of rugs, bedding, cushions, throws and, most important at the moment, a new kettle. Kate rinsed it, filled it with water and went to the car to get the mugs, tea, milk and biscuits she had brought with her. After thanking and saying goodbye to the delivery men, she made tea, sighed and sank into a chair to await the arrival of the rest of her belongings.
A knock at the door shook her from her reverie. Her mind raced through possibilities as she walked the short length of the hall. When she opened it Kate was met by a woman, probably in her forties she thought, who had a disarming and friendly smile.
“Hello, I just wanted to introduce myself, I’m Annie and I live next door. I know, moving’s hell and if there’s anything …. well, I’m sure you have it all organised. Just let me know if you need anything, tea, coffee, a glass of wine. Anyway, welcome.” Annie eventually paused for breath.
“Oh, thank you, that’s very kind. I don’t think there’s anything at the moment,” Kate replied thinking there was a freshness about Annie she liked and hoped they might be friends, “but I may take you up on the glass of wine later. I'm Kate, by the way.”
“Great,” Annie beamed. “I’m just next door. Anytime.” And she turned and left.
Before Kate could close the door, the removal van pulled up outside and the next hour or so was spent directing furniture and boxes. Once the men had gone, Kate closed the front door and leaning her back against it, surveyed the chaos. It was a strange feeling, this in between time, she thought. Leaving one world behind and entering a new one yet to be discovered. Taking a deep breath, she walked along the hall to the kitchen and opened the first box.
Her mobile rang. It was Emma.
“Hi mum, how’s it going?”
“Oh Ems, hi. Well, the removal men have just left ….”
“Do you want me to come ….”
“No Ems, thanks, I’ll be fine. There’s no rush, come and see me when it’s all done.” Kate said, realising it was something she wanted to do on her own.
“Ok, but if there’s anything …. you will let me know?”
“Yes, of course darling. Now, I must get on and … thanks.”
The natural light was fading and Kate was surprised to see how much she had done. The kitchen and living room looked almost normal save for an odd box secreted behind a chair or discretely placed in a corner. The sun was setting and as the walls turned from gold through ever deepening shades of pink, Kate felt a warm satisfaction wash over her. She went upstairs to make the bed before surrendering to the need for food and relaxation.
The fridge contained the bare essentials. She had ensured she would have enough to get her through the evening and breakfast then, well then, she would explore the village shop and locate the nearest supermarket. Tonight she had the joy of a pizza which she put into the Aga’s oven and opened a bottle of Rioja. The warmth from the Aga and a few sips of red wine were comforting and soporific, and the energy that had sustained her throughout the day soon dissolved as exhaustion took over.
Meanwhile in the cottage next door, Annie was thinking about her new neighbour.
“Penny for them?” asked Ben.
“Oh, I was just thinking about Kate, you know, our new neighbour. She seemed …well, friendly.”
“What, you mean you’ve been round already? Really Annie, the poor woman has only been here a few hours,” he sighed but there was a warm affection in the tone of his voice.
“Oh, I only popped round to say hello and welcome, I didn’t stay or anything. I just thought ….”
“And I just thought,” Ben said embracing her from behind and lowering his cheek to hers, “that I might like to take my wife out to supper, what do you think?”
“Mmmm, I’d like that. Where shall we go?”
“Well, I’ve heard good things about that pub just outside the village. It’s under new management, we could give it a try.”
“Ok, do you think we should …”
“No,” he said firmly, pre-empting her suggestion, “not tonight, let the poor woman unpack and settle in.”
“Alright then, give me five minutes and I’ll be ready.”
As Annie went upstairs she remembered when she and Ben had first moved in and, despite having lived in the village for almost twenty years, they were still considered newcomers. It wasn’t that the other residents were unfriendly, far from it, it was just that time had a longer rhythm here when it came to local families and their homes and she began to imagine introducing Kate to village life.
By the time Kate was ready for bed she felt a hollow exhaustion, maybe it was the wine, she thought, and flopped into bed before her mind could take it any further.
She woke early and it was still dark as she gradually became aware of unfamiliar surroundings. Then she remembered the previous day, the goodbyes, the moving, her new life and she felt in the dark to switch on the bedside lamp. A mistake, she thought as she looked at the boxes waiting to be unpacked. She felt as if she had been up for a week, her eyes dry, her limbs weak. She turned off the light and pulled the duvet round her in search of oblivion.
When she woke again, it was to a bright sunny morning. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and determined she must sort out some curtains. The unfamiliarity was less disturbing in daylight and she got up eager to create order from the chaos. It did not take her long to finish unpacking and find new homes for everything.
By the the end of the day, the last packing box was folded and designated for recycling, and it looked as if she had lived there for years. She filled the rooms with fresh cut flowers from the garden and thought about how she would dry the hydrangeas once the blooms were at their best. A ray of happiness touched a corner of her heart as she sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of her favourite earl grey tea.
It was getting late and she still had shopping to do so she went to open the dresser drawer in search of pen and paper to make a list. It stuck and, despite tugs and wiggles, refused to move. Odd, it had been fine yesterday. There must be something wedged, and she went in search of a means to investigate further. She returned to the kitchen with a wire coat hanger which she opened out hoping it would clear the length of the drawer. After more wiggling of the wire hanger and the drawer, Kate heard a clunk and the drawer, freed from the obstacle, shot out towards her. She took out a pen and paper for the shopping list, then bending down, opened the cupboard beneath the drawer to find out what had been causing the problem. It was dark and difficult to see behind the china to the wall so she reached in, fumbling with her fingers for the offending item.
"Ah, got you," she said folding her hand round it. She drew it out with care. It was a book, no a diary, and standing up, she placed it on the dresser shelf above the drawer. Closing the cupboard and ensuring the drawer was now opening and closing without hindrance, she decided to forget about the shopping list and grabbed her bag and car keys. She had a vague memory of a supermarket a few miles away, thinking it was probably too late for the village stores, which was confirmed by the closed sign on the door as she drove past.
An hour or so later Kate walked up the path to the front door, laden with carrier bags filled with essential food and supplies. Behind her the light was fading and deep pink-edged clouds offered the promise of a sunny day to come. As she put away the shopping her eyes fell upon the book she had found earlier and left on the dresser. She picked it up again, but her curiosity was postponed as her hunger took precedence.
She made a quick spaghetti peperoncino, a simple dish of olive oil, garlic and chilli that her Italian father loved and one she had learnt to make from an early age. She added some salad, poured a glass of Rioja, sat down and took stock of her day. She was pleased with her progress and able to relax now that the unpacking was done save for a few boxes which she had relegated to the spare room.
Her thoughts wandered to her new neighbour, Annie, and she decided she would knock on her door in the morning, invite her for coffee. It would be good to take a small step into this new life but before she could follow the thought any further she was pulled by a more mundane one, to do the washing up. When she had finished, she curled up on the sofa and watched some uneventful television, leaving the book, still untouched by her hand or mind, on the dresser.
