Rainy Nights, Rainy Days

Sometimes things turn out better than we hoped.

 

 

RAINY NIGHTS, RAINY DAYS

 

In spite of the windows being shut tight the sound of the raging storm was still audible in the bedroom. The cottage was tiny, and the upstairs was just below the roof. The bedroom ceilings sloped right down at one end where the wall was not as high as an adult. Lena had been invited to the cottage by her cousin Amabel who had always lived in the country, whereas Lena had managed to avoid living in the English countryside for nearly all her life, by residing in a more benign climate. Now the rain was making a terrible din as it hit the window panes and then the lightning and thunder were adding to making it impossible to sleep. Lena loved storms, so she wasn’t up to lying in a bed however warm and comfy with all that excitement going on outside. Grabbing hold of the quilted bedspread and the pillow she went downstairs to the living-room where the all-night fire was burning at the minimum. Lena pushed the sofa round to face the window and then lay down on it, put her head on the pillow, covered herself with the bedspread, stared at the heavy rain falling and the loud raindrops as they hit the dark leaves, leaving them dripping, and was soon sound asleep.

A few hours later Amabel woke up and opened her curtains and stared at the grey skies, shivered, put on her dressing-gown, slippers, and went downstairs. The noisy night had given way to a miserable day, although it had stopped raining the atmosphere was heavy with moisture. Amabel went into the kitchen to begin breakfast. Then while she was waiting for the kettle to boil and bread to toast, she walked into the living-room. It was still warm, the sofa being out of its usual place and the open curtains puzzled her. She went to the sofa and saw her cousin, Lena, lying there in slumberous bliss. Amabel nudged Lena awake, “Wasn’t the bed comfortable enough?”

Lena smiled up at her, “Yes, it was, but the storm made me feel as if I were in the wrong place. Lovely and noisy, wasn’t it?”

Amabel remembered Lena when they were small girls doing something very similar when she was staying with them at the farm. Now they were two aging ladies, but both still with girlish traits. Lena’s was lying down on the sofa for any reason and Amabel, well, she had a lot of traits, one was being a tea drinker at all times of the day and even just before going to bed. “The kettle is on, I don’t suppose you want any, do you?”

“No, thanks. I’ll have coffee.” Lena looked at the clock on the mantelpiece it said seven. “Why are you up so early? Thinking of going somewhere?”

Amabel was used to Lena’s inane questions, replied, “We have to visit Dudley this morning. Hopefully the rain will be well and truly over when we go. He’s invited us for coffee.”

Lena got up from the sofa, folded the bedspread, picked up the pillow, and said, “Do I have to go too?”

“Yes, you do. Where are you going now?”

“To get dressed, make the bed, and then I’ll be down for breakfast.” Lena said as she left the room. Amabel heard her climbing the stairs.

 

The cottage tidied up. The two elderly ladies began their walk in the sodden countryside to see Dudley, who was the local bigwig. They both carried umbrellas and wore waterproof  boots. The house and gardens, which had once been large and impressive in their elegance, now needed a good going over. It was in terrible decline and anyone could see that there was a severe lack of money. As they neared the building water was dripping from the masonry and running down the stone steps, which were almost covered in fitted moss. Dudley had been waiting for them and showed them in.

“Terrible weather for your visit, Lena, if we’re lucky it will have left off raining by lunchtime.” He showed them into the drawing room.

“Where’s Greta?” asked Amabel.

“She’s upstairs on the bed trying to keep warm.”

A voice was heard from above. “Dudley, can you make me some tea, please?”

“That’s Greta calling me. I’d better go and make her some tea.”

As he spoke the door came crashing open and a lot of dogs came rushing into the room. They were a varied bunch. Dudley stroked them all on their heads and then said, “I’m going into the kitchen to make the tea.”

Full of curiosity, Lena followed Amabel and Dudley into the kitchen. She had never seen anything like it. There was one dismal light hanging from a yellowing ceiling. The walls were not dark but were dirty, the sink was deep, dirty, and Victorian. Lena felt as if she had walked in on a scene from a Dickensian novel. Amabel and Dudley appeared not to notice anything odd or strange about the state of the kitchen. The dogs were drinking noisily out of drinking bowls. Lena couldn’t stand it and wondered how Dudley and his wife could bear living there.

Tea made, Dudley invited Amabel and Lena upstairs to see his wife. Amabel and Greta were friends, as they had both lived in the same area for most of their lives, a thing that for Lena was incomprehensible when there were so many nicer places to live in, and with better climates. The dark heavy wooden door opened onto a miserable bedroom. Lying on the bed fully dressed was a woman similar in age to Amabel and Lena. She must have been quite a beauty once, thought Lena when she saw Greta.

“Here you are, my dear, piping hot tea and biscuits,” Dudley said as he placed a tray on the bedside table, “Amabel’s cousin Lena is visiting for a few days so I invited her to meet you.”

“That’s very kind of you to come over with all this nasty rain. I’m up here trying to keep warm.”

“Why don’t you sell this place and use the money to go and live somewhere warmer and with less expenditure?” Lena asked, to Amabel’s astonishment.

Dudley smiled and said, as if he had heard this question many times from the tiredness in his voice, “It’s not so easy as you might think. We think it would make a good hotel. People who know what they’re doing and have the resources are the buyers we need. For the moment there doesn’t seem to be anyone interested.”

Lena gazed around the bedroom which she thought had to be about as dark and dirty as the kitchen. From outside the bedroom door came the sound of scratching. The dogs had climbed the stairs looking for Dudley.

“I’ll take them for a walk before they go crazy,” Dudley said.

The two ladies said goodbye to Greta, who was ready for sleep, and followed Dudley and the dogs down the stairs.

 

“We need to go into the village to buy some bread,” Amabel told Lena, as they were walking away from the house.

 Back in the horrid bedroom, Dudley was looking out of the window. From the bed Greta said, “Have they gone yet?”

“Yes, they have just got onto the main road, it’s more than likely they’ll go back to the cottage to get the car. The village is too far to walk to in this rain. Did we catch you unawares?”

Greta grinned and said, “No, not at all. I’ve been surfing the web for a buyer. I don’t know what to offer them. You know, something special to rouse their interest.”

“Maybe we should ask Lena for help. She seems to know all about a lot of strange carryings-on where money is concerned,” Dudley declared.

 

The village was not exactly a hive of activity but there were a few shops, mostly of the basic necessities kind. There were two pubs, one at each end of the high street. The baker’s was between the butcher’s and the small grocer’s. Amabel and Lena walked in and saw that the shop was empty apart from them. A buxom female was standing behind the counter. “Good morning, Amabel, what would you like today?”

“As you can see, I’m accompanied. This is my cousin Lena, she’s staying for a few days. Therefore, I’d like my usual loaf and some cakes and crispy bread rolls and some crumpets. Yes, that should do,” Amabel told the baker’s wife.

“Here you are, not very nice weather for your visit, is it?” the baker’s wife said to Lena.

“No, I must say, it really isn’t,” replied Lena.

 

Outside in the street, Amabel turned to Lena and told her, “Can you imagine that she and Dudley had a romance some years ago and her son is his child. The problem is that she expects Owen, her son by Dudley, to get some kind of an inheritance when he dies.”

“Haven’t he and Greta got children?” asked Lena.

“Yes, they have, but can you see what a scandal there’ll be if the said Owen decides to push ahead with his mother’s idea?” Amabel answered.

“Is there no baker? Only the mother and son?” Lena put in.

“Yes, there is, but if there’s anything to be got out of the situation, he’ll go along with the other two. Now you can understand why Dudley doesn’t spend anything on the house apart from the essentials.”

Lena looked at Amabel and asked, “How come you know so much about their business?”

“Once upon a time Dudley and I were very friendly, before he met Greta.”

“I never knew that. Was it before you moved into the cottage?”

“Yes, in fact the cottage belongs to his estate.”

“So, when the estate is sold, the cottage will no longer be your home, have I got it right?” declared Lena.

“Yes, that’s it,” responded Amabel.

They got into Amabel’s car and drove in the direction of the cottage. Both had their heads full of ideas and questions.

 

What neither of them knew, was that the baker’s wife had been using blackmail to get money from Dudley as the bakery was not making the money it had done in the past. According to his mother, Owen was due the education that his half-brothers had received, and nothing less. Dudley, not wanting to have a scandal on his hands had never stopped paying, but now he was not at the same financial level he had been. Meanwhile, the baker’s wife was busy making plans for her son, whom she idolised in spite of his being a shock to her and the baker, and of course Dudley. She had worked out to the pound how much Owen would need to finish college and be helped with somewhere to live. For many years Owen’s mother had had her eyes on the cottage where Amabel lived. All she had to do was to threaten Dudley a bit more and the cottage would be for Owen.

 

 That night was a weaker repetition weather-wise of the previous one. Up at Dudley’s mansion Dudley and Greta were busy surfing the web for possible buyers.

At the cottage the two cousins were watching television.

In the baker’s house all was quiet, and why not - the baker’s wife had it all worked out.

Lena lay in bed listening to the storm and thinking, and came up with an idea of how to help Dudley and Greta to get rid of the estate and spend what was left of their lives living in a beautiful place instead of that dilapidated and filthy dump, and suffering the infamous baker’s wife and her eternal blackmail. Dudley would never be free of her demands of his money. He was becoming poorer and poorer at the expense of an unfortunate incident in which Owen had been engendered. Since the baker’s wife had known she was pregnant by the most important man in the area she had pulled out all the stops to her own advantage, and now Dudley and Greta were more than fed up with the whole situation. They could see no end to it, hence the compulsion to sell and get as far away as possible from the village. Lena had always been the one with the ideas ever since she had been a child and, being of a benevolent nature, she now had an opportunity to help the married couple and her cousin Amabel. She was getting ideas.

Amabel was feeling rather out of sorts and wondered what would happen next. The village wasn’t the centre of anything, only dispute. How much things had changed since she had gone there to live after being widowed. She was happy that Lena was with her, as her cousin had a more open disposition as respects doing something different. The two ladies turned off the television and Lena poured herself a glass of rum and offered one to Amabel, who accepted. Then they went up to bed.

 

The following morning everyone in the village woke up to a damp day. The hottest place was the bakery where the smell of newly baked bread leaked out onto the street every time the door was opened.

Dudley and Greta bleary eyed after being up all day and all night on the internet, now armed with Lena’s plan, were sitting in the living-room having breakfast when they received the e-mail they had been waiting for. They had to toast each other with a cup of tea. Dudley rang their children, and then Amabel.

Amabel and Lena were at breakfast in the kitchen when the phone rang. After a short conversation Amabel put the phone down, and declared in a low voice as if no one should hear, other than Lena, “Guess what! Dudley and Greta have sold the house and all the estate, privately, over the web. What do you think of that then?”

Lena smiled, “Good for them.”

Amabel sat in front of her unfinished breakfast, “And now what happens to me? What am I to do?”

“Leave it all to me, I’ll fix it.” Lena said happily.

 

Dudley and Greta sold up the estate to a hotelier who is making drastic changes to it. The cottage has gone and the house has been gutted, to make way for it’s new purpose, an hotel for holidays, short stays, weddings, and conferences.

The new owners of Dudley’s estate were only too happy to follow Dudley’s instructions (thanks to Lena’s know-how) to arrange the handover of the money, without giving the authorities the ‘exact’ details.

 

A year later, somewhere in the Caribbean, on the first anniversary of Dudley and Greta’s departure from rainy, windy England together with their dogs, they decide to have a celebration. Amabel, who now lives with Lena and her family in a nearby property, are the only guests invited. They are sitting in a splendid garden. There is champagne in flutes on the table and the quartet are laughing about how well it all turned out.

 

“It’s so much nicer out here than back in England. What a luxury all the sunshine is and the white sandy beaches to walk along. I’m so delighted you invited me to come out here and live with you. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be,” Amabel said, looking around the tropical garden.

 

You don’t need a good imagination to guess how the baker’s wife and Owen felt when they saw the new owners arrive, and the cottage pulled down.