How Laura Lewis Met Richard Brown

Chapter Five

Laura woke up on Saturday morning to the sounds of birds chirping in the trees, despite the early hour and the fact that a layer of frost covered the ground . Didn’t birds fly south for the winter? She eased herself out of bed, thankful for the fluffy rug by the side of her bed and the sheepskin slippers she’d bought during her visit into town. The cottage consisted of a mixture of wooden and flagstone floors, both of which were too cold for bare feet.

Huddled in her dressing gown and with a blanket covering her shoulders, Laura made her way into the warmth and comfort of the kitchen. How she loved that Aga.

She busied herself making toast and a pot of tea while she listened to the news on Radio Four. She still had no internet access or 4G, and only hoped that when the engineer called on Tuesday it could all be sorted out. She’d tried to arrange an earlier appointment, but the earliest slot they had was Tuesday morning. Luckily, she was working the late shift that day. There was internet access at the home, so the village was obviously on the grid, just not her cottage.

After two cups of tea, a quick tidy of the already immaculately clean kitchen and putting on a machine-load of washing, Laura wondered how she was going to fill in the hours until bedtime. Could she get away with going to bed at eight? Such a thought filled her with sadness — she wasn’t an eighty-year-old woman. But wasn’t this what she had wished for? An uncomplicated life, away from everyone and everything.

It was still early days, she reminded herself. Her first weekend in the village. She needed to make a plan for the day, seeing that it was her day off. If she kept busy, then the hours would pass more quickly.

Laura opened her bag and pulled out the notebook that she used at work. Ripping off the top piece of paper, she picked up her pen and wrote Plan for the day at the top of the page.

What did she need to do?

She didn’t need to go shopping — the fridge and kitchen cupboards were already groaning with food. She had done the washing and the cottage had been cleaned.

Laura stared at the blank piece of paper.

Frustrated, she scrunched it into a tight ball and threw it across the room in the direction of the bin. It landed on the floor by the sink.

She should go for a walk. Stretch her legs. Maybe pop into the café — the Cottage Bun. She had walked past it every day to and from Cedar House, but hadn’t had the time to go in. At least it would be something to do. She would take a book with her. That way she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone if she didn’t want to.

A knock on the door as Laura stepped into the hallway made her halt in her tracks. It was too early for the postman. Even in the short time she’d been in the village, she knew that he never delivered the post until at least eleven o’clock.

Laura pulled her dressing gown tighter around herself, feeling embarrassed that she wasn’t yet dressed, and hesitated. Perhaps whoever it was would go away. A salesman or Jehovah’s Witness?

‘Laura, I know you’re in there. Let me in.’

What on earth was Lottie doing here?

* * *

Lottie threw her arms around her older sister and told her that she looked tired and had lost weight. Those were her first words before being ushered into the kitchen with the promise of a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit.

Laura still couldn’t believe that her sister had made a two-hour car journey to see her so early on a Saturday morning. It was her only time with her husband, Paul, and their two children, Evan, aged four, and Maisie, who had just turned three, to enjoy the day together. Paul always worked Sundays as he was a chef in the local pub.

‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ Laura told her sister.

Lottie tutted, but she couldn’t quite hide the start of a smile. ‘Well, if you charged your phone then you’d have got the message I sent you last night.’ Lottie pointed her finger towards Laura’s mobile which was now charging.

Laura huffed. ‘Nobody ever phones me and I’m not even sure if I’ve got a full working signal.’ Why did she always feel the need to explain herself to her little sister?

At just three years younger, Lottie had always been the vivacious, talkative and popular sister. Her red curls and petite frame were in direct contrast to Laura’s average build and height, and dark-blonde straight hair. Laura had always felt somewhat in the shadows, but this had never bothered her. She wasn’t the jealous type, and now, at the age of thirty-five, she knew her own mind and body. Or she’d thought she had, before what had happened to Mark. She was a different person now and still learning to grow into that skin. Lottie showing up on her doorstep, as nice and unexpected as it was, was not part of that plan.

‘Well, I don’t have your landline number yet.’ Lottie made yet another tutting sound.

‘Well, I’ll give it you and then I will never miss one of your important messages,’ Laura said, her tone clipped and sarcastic. She instantly regretted her words as she looked at her sister’s crestfallen face. Lottie had done something nice. She had wanted to show her sister some support and Laura had just thrown that back in her face.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just that . . . seeing you here is difficult. I hadn’t planned on seeing anyone so soon and it’s just thrown me a little to be honest.’

Lottie sighed, reached across the table and gently squeezed Laura’s hand. ‘I know and that’s why I left you a message. I just assumed you’d got it.’

‘Can we start again? It is nice to see you and I do appreciate you coming all this way. Do you want a tour of the cottage?’

Lottie’s face broke into a huge grin. ‘I would love that and then you can show me this village of yours.’

* * *

The two sisters linked arms as they strolled from the cottage in the direction of the Cottage Bun. To the casual observer they appeared as friends, not sisters, but anyone who looked closely enough would see the tight bond that they shared and the similar nose and laugh.

Laura noticed that the Christmas tree had finally been taken down, as had the twinkling fairy lights and other Christmas decorations. She felt a little sad at that.

As they stepped through the doorway of the café, Laura heard the old-fashioned tinkle of the bell as the door closed gently behind her. The sound took her right back to her childhood, when she and Lottie would visit the corner shop, full of hope and excitement in their anticipation for chocolate mice and cola bottles.

Laura scanned the room and found an empty corner table with a window view. They headed over and she draped her coat over the back of the chair. Before she had the chance to sit down, a woman came scurrying over, notebook and pen in hand.

‘I was hoping you’d call in. I’ve seen you walk past every day,’ the woman said with a wide smile.

Laura wasn’t sure if she should feel flattered or like she was being stalked. She went with the former thought. ‘I’ve been meaning to pop in, but I haven’t had the time.’ A white lie never hurt anyone.

The woman’s smile grew even wider. ‘Well, I’m Sue and this is my café. I saw you were wearing some kind of nurse’s uniform the other day, so I thought you must be the new nurse at the home?’

Laura began to shake her head. ‘No, I’m a new care assistant. It’s not a nursing home, but a residential care home.’

‘Oh,’ Sue said, sounding somewhat taken aback. ‘Well, I don’t know the difference. Sorry about that. My Dobbs always says I jump to conclusions. I just assumed you were all nurses.’

Before Laura could tell her that there was a world of difference, Lottie stepped forward and held out her hand. ‘Hello, I’m Lottie and this is my sister, Laura.’

Shaking hands and returning her attention to Laura, Sue said, ‘Well, welcome to Buttermarsh.’

* * *

‘Why didn’t you just agree with her and tell her you were a nurse?’ Lottie asked as soon as Sue had scurried away to get their drinks and cakes.

Laura placed the laminated menu back into its plastic holder. ‘I told the truth. I’m not working there as a nurse. They don’t employ nurses as it’s a care home.’

Lottie sighed and raised an eyebrow. ‘You know full well what I mean. You are a trained nurse and—’

‘I’m not employed as a trained nurse, but as a carer.’

‘But the knowledge is still there,’ Lottie said, tapping the side of her forehead. ‘They can’t take that away from you. You did all that training.’

‘I know. It’s just that here I want to be known as Laura the healthcare assistant, not Laura the nurse from the big city.’

Lottie sat back in her chair and narrowed her eyes. ‘Why does it matter so much to you that nobody knows? Surely people will start to guess. You know, the way you talk about medical matters.’

‘Nobody will guess.’ Laura was irritated at having to explain her actions once more to her sister.

‘I still don’t get it, though. Just tell people.’

‘No.’ That was louder than Laura had intended. The couple at the next table turned their heads in her direction.

‘It’s just simpler this way,’ she said in a more hushed tone. ‘If they know I’m a nurse then they’ll only begin to ask questions. They’ll become suspicious. You know what people are like. They will wonder why I am no longer practising. Have I been struck off? Killed someone? And I will feel the need to tell them why, the real reason I am here, and I don’t want to do that. I don’t want anyone here to know my past. I want them to see me for who I am. Not who I was.’

Lottie bit her bottom lip, but couldn’t quite stop the slight quiver and the tremble in her voice as she spoke. ‘You’re still the same person, Laura. And nobody has the right to judge you about what happened.’

Laura swallowed and tucked her hair behind her ear, stalling for time. The thing was, she was different. What had happened to Mark had changed her and she knew deep down that people would judge her. That they would blame her for what had happened to him if they knew the truth. But she also knew that Lottie would dismiss this version. Lottie had many flaws and annoyances, but she was a devoted sister. She would never see that the way in which Laura had acted, and the choices that she had made, had led to what had happened. Laura opened her mouth to tell her sister that this village was her new start and that she wanted her and their mother to just go along with it, to try to understand, when she was interrupted by Sue returning to their table with their drinks and cakes.

‘Here you go, ladies. Two lattes and two carrot cakes.’

Laura said thank you and offered a beaming smile as an apology. She hoped she hadn’t come across as aloof. She liked this woman with her warm and open face.

‘You’re most welcome,’ Sue said, smiling back and returning to the counter.

‘This is divine,’ Lottie said through a mouthful of cake. Swallowing, she continued, ‘I need to get the recipe. The kids would love this and I’d feel less guilty about giving them cake if it contained a vegetable.’

Laura couldn’t help but laugh. Her sister was a hopeless cook and even if she did manage to get her hands on the recipe, it would still end up as a hard biscuit or burnt.

‘How are the kids?’ Laura picked up her latte.

Lottie’s face lit up as it always did when she spoke about her children. ‘They’re fine. A handful, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

‘And how’s Paul?’ Laura half wondered if they’d had an argument and that was partly the reason for her sister’s visit. So she was relieved when Lottie smiled.

‘Busy, but fine. We’re fine,’ she said.

Laura sipped her coffee, the hot liquid scalding her tongue. She placed the cup back on the table.

‘Actually, I was worried about you,’ Lottie said. She held her hand up to silence her sister. ‘No, let me finish. I was worried. I was worried about you making a huge mistake. The fact that you were moving away from me, from Mum, to the country.’ She waved her hands around. ‘The thought of you not knowing anyone and having to start again just about broke my heart, Laura. But, now that I’m here, and have seen the cottage and the people who live here . . . well, it’s beginning to make a little more sense.’ Lottie let out a huge breath and sank back in her chair.

‘I still can’t believe that you did it, though, you know — that you just upped and left us.’

Laura gritted her teeth. It wasn’t as if she’d emigrated. She was only a few hours’ drive away.

‘Lottie, can’t you just be happy for me?’

‘Of course, I can.’ Lottie nodded. ‘I am happy for you. I just can’t help worrying. It’s just the way I am.’

Laura let out a puff of air. ‘Please don’t worry. I’m going to be happy here and I have my work. Just give me a chance.’

Lottie’s voice was barely a whisper. ‘I so want this to work out for you. It’s just you can’t run away from your problems or your past.’

Laura closed her eyes, trying to block out the words. Lottie was right. But it didn’t mean she needed to acknowledge that truth.