‘But yet thou shalt have freedom’
(The Tempest)
The morning dawned cool and quiet as Kelsey, bundled in her white cotton sheets, came round then dozed away again. The morning air from the window with its gently flapping lace curtains smelled of hot dust and sweet, distant summer rain. Slowly, the memories came back to her: the long journey, the shock of arriving in her new town, the fact that she would be diving headlong into a new job today. The world outside was still asleep and there were no sounds at all from the neighbouring rooms.
Reaching for her phone, she hoped Fran had seen last night’s message. Nothing. He’s probably busy getting ready for work. Or, he’s heartbroken and inconsolable round at his parents’ place? No matter how sad and alone that thought made her feel, she knew she had to face the day. Standing, straightening her spine with a long stretch, she tried to breathe away thoughts of Fran.
Making the three short steps from her bedside to the tiny nook that constituted her kitchen she cut two wonky slices of bread, popping them into the toaster. The mouth-watering scent of walnuts and sunflower seeds turning deep brown and starting to sizzle and crack made her ravenous. Holding the honey jar close to her nose as she popped the lid, her senses were assaulted with the deep fragrance of sweet clover and dark molasses. There was nothing to distract her from the slow pleasure of watching two dripping spoonfuls pour onto the hot toast.
Gathering up her breakfast, a mug of milky tea and her camera, she tiptoed out the door, taking her keys with her. She was about to head downstairs for a barefoot stroll around the dewy lawn, but decided to have a quick peek upstairs first.
There can’t possibly be more flats up there under the eaves, surely? We’re squeezed in like battery hens up here as it is.
The stairs leading upwards from her own small landing were straight and steep and made of black cast iron. At the top there were two small hatches. One had a laminated sign pinned to it.
‘Cleaner’s Store. Oh well, that solves that mystery then.’ Kelsey was getting used to talking to herself already. ‘This is how all mad women in attics start out,’ she told herself as she pushed the other door, its round wooden handle turning easily in her hand.
Kelsey inhaled sharply as she opened it, slowly at first before letting it swing open with a bang on the wall behind. She was met by the rush of fresh air and the bright glare of the June morning sunshine. Grabbing the handrail she pulled herself up the last few steps out onto a tiny terrace sunk between two sloping slate roofs; one obviously belonging to the original building, the other newer and part of the extension that housed her own apartment.
On sun-baked terracotta tiles there stood a chair and a small mosaic table. Squeezing past them, Kelsey looked out over the low railings that enclosed the little suntrap, but a vertiginous dizziness forced her back from the edge. The view was beautiful in the morning light beneath a cloudless sky and there was heat in the sun already.
The spire of the big church by the river was just visible over the tree tops and red roofs. Far off to her right she could just make out a strange monument, a towering stone obelisk standing alone on a range of low rambling hills that she didn’t even know the name of. There were no signs that anyone had been on the terrace recently; no plants growing in pots or cigarette ends in ashtrays. It was as immaculately tidy as the rest of the building.
Settling down with her breakfast, Kelsey didn’t mind the astronomical rent on her tiny bedsit quite so much in that moment, not if she had the use of this perfect little space high above her new town.
There’s plenty time to shower and dress before work. My new commute’s going to take no more than ten minutes on foot. Kelsey stretched her body in leisurely comfort. For now, she was going to enjoy her amazing find in perfect solitude.