part0015

Ellie had put aside the weekend to pack for her upcoming move. Only, as she’d rented the cottage fully furnished, the packing had been completed in record time. When she’d moved from London, it had been a spur of the moment decision, hence she’d arrived in the Cotswolds with three suitcases, a shoe bag, her laptop, and a few boxes that all fitted neatly into her car. She’d rented her London flat fully furnished to a friend, and she’d been back once to pick up a few things. Moving to the village might take more than one car trip, but no more than that. Packing up the cottage had been a cinch.

However, she still had to sort out what to do with her London flat. Her friend had just moved out, and Ellie had messaged Grace, asking her to move her stuff out: a bed, some paintings and a few boxes. She should have got her to take it all before she left, but it hadn’t seemed important at the time. She hoped Grace would now play ball.

With the flat unoccupied and Ellie’s life coming more into focus here, she was leaning more towards selling it. She could at least float it with the agent, see what the market was like. Grace wouldn’t approve but it wasn’t her decision. Ellie didn’t want to talk to her about it. She certainly didn’t need her judgment. But she might as well rip the plaster clean off, right?

She sighed, took a sip of her coffee and stared out the window of her cottage. Even though she hadn’t been that happy here, the place had served her well. A refuge for her to regroup, lick her wounds and get ready to start again. She was going to miss the views of the rolling hills but not the isolation.

Grace picked up after four rings. Had she been staring at Ellie’s name for the first three? Ellie wasn’t going to ask.

Even that irritated Ellie. So much entitlement in two words. Or maybe she was reading too much into it. That was also possibly true. “Hey.” They’d been together for five years, and yet even saying that single word to her ex was hard. Although ex might be stretching it a little. As was ‘been together’. They’d fucked for five years, been each other’s plus-one at events, and slept in the same bed on occasion. But for Ellie and Grace, they’d both always had one foot out the door. Five years, and she’d never even met Grace’s family.

“To what do I owe this pleasure? Are you finally coming your senses and moving back to the real world? I hope so. It hasn’t been the same here without you.”

Ellie doubted that very much. “The opposite, actually. I’ve decided to stay here, and I’m thinking of putting the flat on the market. Did you get my message about getting your stuff out and leaving the keys? You never replied.” That had irked Ellie, too.

Grace cleared her throat. “I heard you fine. I’m just a little concerned as to what you’re thinking. Staying in the Cotswolds? Are you mad? The phone reception alone is reason enough not to live there.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. She was right; the coverage in the countryside was awful. But the last few months had shown Ellie she should value her sanity more than phone reception. “There’s more to life, Grace.”

“Deadly. I’m opening an ice-cream shop, making a fresh start. After much thinking, I’ve decided that involves cutting my ties with London.” She hadn’t known that for sure until this moment, but it’d just solidified in her mind. Talking to Grace had made it more definite.

Ellie shook her head. That was the trouble with Grace: no evolution. She was happy to do the same thing over and over again, whereas Ellie needed some momentum, some change. “It’s not up for debate. Can you just move your stuff and leave the keys, like I asked?”

“The thing is, I have a friend staying there at the moment. And before you get angry, it’s just for a few nights. No biggie. So let me get her out, then we can talk. Maybe a drink when you’re here.”

Then it dawned on her. “Is it your new shag? Are you fucking someone else in my bed?” Suddenly, the calmness of the rolling hills and the blue sky faded into the background. Now, the only thing in Ellie’s head was thunder. “You’ve got some fucking nerve. Before I arrive, I suggest you get her out, leave the keys, and go crawl back under the fucking rock you crawled out from.” She clicked the red button on her phone, put it on the counter, then let out a blood-curdling scream.

Her insides began to twist into abnormal shapes, and the tendrils of a headache curled around her brain. This, along with crazy work hours, had been her life in London. Grace-induced stress, headaches, heartache. She opened her eyes and massaged her temples.

Not anymore. She was in the Cotswolds, about to truly embark on a new life. She wasn’t going to let Grace impact her day. She was going to shrug her off, deal with her when she went to London in a business-like manner, and then cut a Grace-shaped hole from her life. She didn’t need her anymore.

An image of Natalie smiling at her over her wish chest fell into the front of her mind. Their gin tasting hadn’t lasted long the other night after her dad’s interruption. Something had changed following it, and Natalie had seemed preoccupied.

Did Natalie ever play games like Grace? Ellie doubted it. She was far more straight-forward, lived a simpler life. Natalie knew who she was. She didn’t yet know who Ellie was. That she was gay. Ellie imagined being a lesbian in the country took more guts than in the city, where you could be far more anonymous. Here, your life was far more under the microscope. Ellie still had to come out in the Cotswolds, but that could wait. Did Natalie suspect? Ellie thought she might.

A text came through on her phone from her builder, Carl. Could she come down to the shop for a last-minute issue with the flooring? Ellie drained her coffee, pushing down the bad vibes Grace had swirled inside her.

She drove through the narrow, winding shrub-lined roads, the fields stretching out on either side. She didn’t miss London and its gridlocked traffic one bit. Why would she go back? There was nothing there for her now, and there hadn’t been for a while. It had taken getting away and staying away to highlight that fact, and Ellie wasn’t going to forget it.

She guided her Land Rover over the traffic bridge and into Upper Chewford, the old mill with its water wheel static as usual. She dropped her speed as she drove along the River Ale, used to the tourists taking photos on the footbridges now. She’d been one of them when she first arrived, lonely and broken last September. Now, months later, she was a local instead. She even had a parking permit to prove it.

She drove past the Star Inn and swung into the village square. Fi stood on the opposite pavement, her puppy in her arms. This was what being a local meant: driving into work, knowing people on the street. Ellie steered her car around the square, which was full of shoppers. As she approached, Fi put Rocky down, and bent to attach his lead. However, before she could manage it, Rocky squirmed and ran from her grasp — right out in front of Ellie.

Ellie let out a scream, her heart dropping into her shoes. She gritted her teeth and gripped the steering wheel hard, wrenching it left to avoid hitting the dog. She clenched her eyes almost shut, anticipating the sickening thud as she hit the puppy, but it never came.

Time slowed and colours whooshed in and out as the outside world slid by at speed, far too close. She pumped the brakes, and twisted the wheel to avoid crashing into her own shop. By some utter miracle, there were no people on the pavement as she mounted it, steering away from the buildings but ploughing into Natalie’s brand-new sign with a crunch.

Her car came to a stop on the pavement, her bumper inches from Natalie’s shop door. Ellie’s heart was almost jumping out of her chest. She put her forehead against the steering wheel, not ready to let go just yet.

When she eventually looked up, trying to regain control of her breathing, she sat back, her muscles unclenching one by one.