‘I’m glad that you suggested coming up tonight. I wouldn’t have fancied going through those roadworks on the motorway tomorrow. We might have got held up and been late for the game,’ says Will.
‘That would have been awful,’ I say, nodding my head in agreement.
I try and keep a straight face and not reveal that if my evil plan comes to fruition, he’ll be missing the game anyway, traffic or no traffic.
‘I can’t wait to get there now. I’m gagging to crack open a beer.’ Will’s wriggling in his seat and like a contagious yawn, it’s making me do the same. ‘Satnav says we’re almost there.’
I wish that was true, but we’ve still got to find our holiday cottage in the arse end of nowhere. It may be a fundamental part of my plan, but when you’re three hours into a journey, knackered from a week of work and desperate for a pee, it doesn’t seem like the smartest of choices.
I glance up at the screen and see that it says we’re only two minutes away.
‘Right, you’ll need to get the directions from my handbag,’ I say, pointing down at the bag at his feet.’
‘What? Isn’t the satnav taking us there?’
‘Yes and no. It’s taking us almost there, but apparently the road that the cottage is on isn’t in the satnav, so we need the directions for the last five minutes.’
‘Oh, great,’ says Will, laughing and picking up my bag.
‘They’re on the two Post-it notes on the top.’
I try and point, but it’s so bloody dark that I daren’t take my eyes off the road for a second. I’m so used to driving around our light-polluted town with an abundance of street lights that I’m finding it really scary driving in the pitch black. I hate that I can’t see where the road is really going in front of us, despite my headlights being on full beam. Usually on the wrong side of the speed limit, tonight I’m practically pootling along like my grandmother.
Will recovers the Post-its. ‘These are the directions?’
It may be dark, but I can see him pulling a face.
‘We’re not going to get lost,’ I say, ‘we’ll be there in no time.’
‘Uh-huh, I’ve heard that before,’ he says, chuckling.
To be fair, he has. Neither one of us is known for our sense of direction and we’ve been lost a lot over the past seven years. My map-reading skills are notoriously bad and Will’s stubbornness and refusal to turn round when we’ve gone wrong is legendary.
‘Right, here we are at the pub. This is where the directions start.’
My eyes fall on the well-lit pub – it looks so cosy and warm. It’s bathed in a soft warm glow and there’s a billow of smoke coming out of the chimney. I’d love nothing more than to pull in for a drink, but then we’d be even later getting to the cottage.
‘OK, so it says here that from the pub we go back the way you came.’ Will sighs loudly and looks at me. ‘What sort of directions start like that?’
‘Ones that will get us there,’ I say hopefully, as I turn out of the pub car park.
‘Take the second left.’
‘OK,’ I say, scanning the road. ‘Uh, hang on, is that a left?’
‘Um.’
I stop the car and we peer up in front to the left of us where there’s a turning. There’s no road as such, just a track that looks like it would hold a tractor.
‘No, that’s probably just field access,’ says Will. ‘Keep going. Ah, there’s a left turn.’
‘OK, so that’s one. We’re turning at the second one, then?’
I’m practically crawling along as we try and spot another left turn.
‘How about that?’ I say, wishing I’d eaten more carrots lately as not even the headlights are helping with this search.
‘I think that’s a footpath.’
I continue driving for another hundred metres and then I see a left turning that actually looks like a road. OK, so it might only be wide enough for one car, and there are no lines on it, but I can see some road amongst all the potholes.
We bump down the road (or track) and for a minute I start to regret bringing my little car. It’s bouncing all over the place.
‘Look out!’ shouts Will.
I screech the brakes on, and realise we’ve come to a dead end. All that’s in front of us is a gnarly old tree.
‘That’s odd,’ I say, ‘where’s the cottage? What do the directions say?’
‘They just say continue down the second left, then at the end of the road, turn to the right.’
We scan the hedgerows – there’s nothing there.
‘Maybe I should go back a bit.’
I put the car into reverse, hoping the turning is just before the end of the road. But there are only hedgerows.
‘What about that gate?’ says Will, pointing.
I look over the other side of the road at the big metal gate that’s glimmering in my headlights.
‘But that’s on the left and there’s no reference to a gate in the instructions. Not to mention that I can’t see anything in those fields,’ I say as I drive the car slightly forward and angle the headlights over.
‘We’re going to have to reverse,’ says Will.
‘Oh bloody hell, can’t I spin it round?’
Will gets out of the car and he looks around him, before getting back in.
‘There’s nowhere wide enough to spin it round. You’re going to have to go back the way we came.’
‘But I can’t see a bloody thing,’ I say.
‘Your reversing lights should help a little, and it is a straight road at least.’
I mutter all the swears under my breath as I crank the gear stick noisily into reverse. See, even my car is protesting at this plan.
‘Just take it nice and steady,’ he says, patting my knee.
I take a deep breath and try to relax as we bump along backwards. We finally make it back to the main road, or as main as it gets round here, and we go back in the direction we came.
The bumps are doing nothing for me needing a wee. I’d go by the side of the road if it wasn’t so bloody dark and scary.
I’m about to suggest going back to the pub when I see the only other proper road we’ve seen and turn down it.
‘Woah,’ says Will, looking up from the directions. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I thought I’d try this. At least it’s smoother than the other one.’
We get to the bottom of the road, and sure enough there’s a right-hand turn.
‘Great, so is the cottage down here?’
‘Um,’ says Will, shining his phone light over my scribbled notes.
‘It says continue over the small hill and the road will curve round, then there’ll be a track off to the left.’
I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but the further we drive down this road the thinner it’s getting. I feel like the trees and the hedgerows are going to squash us at any minute.
‘I’m getting the feeling that this is the wrong way,’ I say, as we drive down the road. It’s flat as a pancake – no hills in sight. What if we’re going to be driving around these little roads all night?
I begin to feel my heart race. I don’t know what scares me more, that I’m going to be lost here forever, or the thought that I might have to reverse down another road.
‘It might have been easier if we’d stayed somewhere in Swansea,’ says Will. ‘We could have been all checked in by now.’
‘It’ll be worth it in the end,’ I say through gritted teeth. Or at least it better bloody be. The cottage did look nice on the Internet and I think we’ve proved tonight that it’s isolated, which is perfect for my purposes. ‘Once you see how pretty it is round here, you’ll understand why I booked it.’
‘I’m sure I will. I can’t remember the last time we went away somewhere rural.’
‘Um, I think it was that trip to Devon.’
‘Yeah, it must have been. What was that, three years ago or so?’
‘I don’t think we’d been together that long, so more like six or seven.’
‘No way.’
He shakes his head and I can almost hear the cogs turning. ‘You’re right, it must have been. That was a great holiday. All that hiking.’
‘Hmm, and all those post-walk massages.’
I’m suddenly quite glad I brought my walking boots.
‘Oh yeah, I’ve never forgotten those. We should do that kind of thing more often.’
‘Yes, we should.’
‘Perhaps we could do this more often – you know, go to away matches but make a weekend out of it.’
I bite my lip. Not quite what I had in mind.
‘Oh, would you call this a hill?’
We go over what appears to be a large bump in the road and immediately after the road bears round.
Will shrugs, and with me not really wanting to reverse, we keep on going until we see a track on the left.
‘Is this it?’ I say, glancing at the track and sucking in a breath as I do. ‘Once I get down there I don’t fancy my chances of getting back up.’
‘If needs be I’ll reverse it out, but I think this could be us.’
I turn into the track, and sure enough at the end of it I can see a little cottage tucked away.
I pull up the car in front of the cottage and yank the handbrake up, and as I turn the headlights off we’re plunged into darkness.
‘Keep the headlights on while we unpack the car,’ says Will.
‘OK,’ I say, switching them back on.
We both get out and try to get our bearings.
The car is shining its lights on the side of the cottage. There’s a picket fence running round the side and a small wooden gate with an ivy-covered arch over the top.
‘Hideaway Cottage,’ says Will, laughing and pointing to the sign on the gate as he swings it open. ‘It’s certainly that.’
I follow close behind him and try to spot the flowerpot that the key is supposed to be hidden under.
‘The owner said she’d leave the key under the geranium pot.’
‘What does a geranium look like?’ replies Will.
‘I have no fricking clue.’
The only thing our tiny patch of garden at home seems to grow is weeds.
It’s pretty hard to see anything inside the garden, as the light from the car is obscured by the hedges. I’m hopping around from foot to foot trying not to wet myself and I bump into Will as he fumbles under a giant plant pot.
‘Sorry,’ I say.
‘Not to worry. Got it.’
He comes up to stand and I can just about make out the key.
I hold on to his arm as he walks to the front of the house and finds the lock.
‘You’d think they’d have left us a light on.’
‘She did say something about having a torch handy and I forgot.’
Will pulls his phone out of his pocket and uses it to see the lock, and it isn’t long before the heavy door swings open.
He quickly finds the light switch and I go in, desperately searching for a toilet.
The walls are thick white stone, with mismatched stone floor tiles. A narrow wooden staircase runs to one side, and straight in front there looks to be the kitchen. I spot a door under the stairs and my prayers are answered when I see it’s a small toilet.
‘I’ll get the bags,’ says Will as I shut myself in.
‘OK,’ I shout.
I’m sure I do a wee that could be entered into the Guinness Book of Records, it’s so long, and afterwards I head into the kitchen, wrapping my coat further around me as there’s a definite nip to the air. I gasp as I walk in – it’s like my dream kitchen. Cream cupboards, dark wooden worktops and a large dining table. There’s even a vintage-looking cream Aga.
I find the small utility room off the back and switch the heating on, as instructed by the owners, and as I walk back into the kitchen I spot the welcome basket on the windowsill, complete with a bottle of Prosecco.
‘Excellent,’ I say out loud. ‘Just what we need.’
‘What’s that?’ says Will walking back in.
I wave the bottle at him before popping it in the fridge.
‘Perfect. I’ll take the bags straight upstairs, shall I?’
‘Yes, great. Did you get the food shopping out?’
‘No, I forgot.’
‘No, worries. I’ll go and get it.’
‘I can go once I’ve dumped these.’
‘It’s OK,’ I say, a little too enthusiastically. ‘I’ll lock up the car while I’m there.’
‘I don’t think you need to worry about that around here.’
Will laughs and I head upstairs. Maybe not, but I need to put phase one of my plan into action.
It’s a lot easier to navigate outside now that Will’s switched on the external light. I head back to the car and see that he’s already switched the headlights off. I sit down on the driver’s seat and turn the sidelights on, before I switch on the light in the centre of the car and open the glove compartment.
With it being so dark outside it’s practically like the Blackpool Illuminations now that I’ve turned all of these lights on, but luckily the cottage doesn’t overlook the car, so hopefully Will won’t notice tonight.
I retrieve the food shopping from the back seat and lock the car. I give the lights one last look before I go. I hesitate for a second, wondering if I’ve gone too far. What if there’s an emergency and we aren’t able drive out of here with a flat battery? Then I laugh as in about ten minutes we’ll have started to drink the Prosecco and will be unable to drive anyway.
‘Find it OK?’ asks Will as I walk back into the kitchen. He’s digging around the cupboards and pulls out two champagne flutes.
‘Yes, fine.’
I fill the fridge with the bacon and eggs for tomorrow’s breakfast.
‘It’s a bit cold, but it’s probably a bit late to light the fire in the lounge. How do you fancy taking this bottle up to bed? There’s a great en suite up there, and I noticed it’s got one of those corner baths that looks big enough for two.’
‘Has it now?’
This cottage really does tick all the boxes.
‘Uh-huh.’
He pulls the bottle out of the fridge. I’m about to argue that it’s not had time to cool down enough, when he brushes past me and kisses me on the lips. And I sense that that warm Prosecco’s about to be the last thing on my mind.
It looks like I wasn’t totally lying after all, when I told Robin that I was going to have a passionate weekend.