The Girl in the Scrapbook by Carolyn Ruffles (reading women TXT) 📕

without having the distraction of another person to worry about. Taking a deep breath, she got out of the car and helped Alex out of his car seat. The front door of the cottage opened and a slim, blonde-haired woman with a broad smile walked down the path to greet them.

‘Hi. You must be Emily and Alex. I’m Jennifer. Welcome to Horseshoes Cottage. I’ll give you a hand with your luggage.’

‘There’s quite a lot of it, I’m afraid.’ Emily smiled ruefully as they unloaded her three matching blue suitcases while she held on tightly to Alex’s hand. ‘You’ll think we’re planning on staying for a month rather than a week! I can never decide what to pack so I end up taking pretty much everything.’

‘I’m the same,’ Jennifer nodded. ‘Better too much than too little, I say.’

They manoeuvred the cases through the front door. ‘I’ll show you to your room first and let you get settled. Then I’ll show you round the cottage. It won’t take long as we’re very small and cosy! Just come along to the kitchen,’ Jennifer gestured to the room on her right, ‘as soon as you’re ready. I’ll put the kettle on.’

They walked through the tiled hallway and along to what was clearly a newer part of the cottage where their room was situated.

‘Oh, this is lovely!’ Emily exclaimed.

The room was bright and sunny with a large window overlooking a frosted field of wheat still in its infancy. It had been decorated in neutral tones but there were lots of vibrant touches, like the brightly coloured patchwork throws covering each of the two single beds and three small landscapes on the far wall.

‘What a fabulous room!’ she continued as she gazed around her, soaking up the details. ‘I love those paintings.’

‘They’re wonderful, aren’t they,’ Jennifer said, very pleased by Emily’s reaction. ‘They’re all views of Great Chalkham painted by a local artist. ‘You’ll be able to see those places for yourself this week and more of the artist’s work, if you’re interested. He has a small shop just off the High Street.’

‘Mummy, I’m hungry.’ Alex tugged impatiently at Emily’s arm. ‘When’s teatime?’

‘Not for a while yet,’ she replied, ‘but we’ll have a drink in a minute and maybe you can have a biscuit.’

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Jennifer. ‘You have tea and coffee etcetera on the tray over there but you are welcome to join me for a drink in the living room if you would like. I’m sure I can rustle up a biscuit or two.’

‘That would be very nice. Thank you,’ Emily smiled.

She unpacked swiftly, toys for Alex first to keep him entertained while she did so. He was such a good boy, she thought fondly as she placed piles of woolly jumpers on the shelf in the oak wardrobe. Mostly, he was quite content to sit building something or drawing a picture when she was busy. She stood for a moment at the window, staring out at the landscape before her. On the far edge of the field, she could see a small copse and, beyond that, she caught glimpses of water - a pond or a lake. How had it looked when Norah had stood watching out from her window over eighty years ago? She waited for a moment, half expecting to see Molly appear beside her (she still couldn't think of her as Norah) but there was no sign of her. ‘We’re here, Molly,’ she whispered under her breath. ‘What should I do now?’

The first thing would be to talk to Jennifer. She still hadn't decided how much of her background she might share with her, if any, but she had warmed to her immediately and, she thought, she might well prove to be a useful source of information, depending on how long she herself had lived there. She found her in the spotless, modern kitchen getting a tray of biscuits out of the oven.

‘Have you just baked those while I’ve been unpacking?’ Emily asked in astonishment. ‘I can’t have been much more than half an hour.’

Jennifer was a little flushed. ‘Biscuits don’t take long to make,’ she said dismissively. ‘I thought some home-baked ones would be nicer.’ The truth was that she'd found, to her dismay, that she had no biscuits in the cupboard and, having promised some to young Alex, had flown around the kitchen to ensure some were provided.

‘Wow, home-made biscuits! I think I’m going to love it here - we both are, aren’t we Alex?’

Alex buried his face in his mum’s jean-clad legs, suddenly shy.

‘What would Alex like to drink?’ Jennifer asked.

‘Some squash, if you have it, or water’s fine.’

Emily looked around the kitchen as Jennifer assembled a tray of drinks. It was small but modern and very functional- lots of cupboards and worktop space. There was a strong sense of order and everything gleamed with cleanliness.

‘Was this room part of the original cottage?’ she asked.

‘It was - this and the living room, which is just through here.’

They walked out of the kitchen, across the narrow hallway and into the room opposite. This room was full of olde-worlde charm, with a large, oak beam running across the ceiling, a wood stove burning brightly in the hearth, thick, beige carpeting and uneven walls painted the colour of apricots.

‘Oh, it’s lovely!’ Emily exclaimed. ‘I love all these nooks and crannies in the walls. They give the room such character. You just don’t get that with modern houses.’

Jennifer smiled. ‘I think it was the sense of history which drew me here. This part of the cottage has been here since the seventeenth century. Probably this cupboard sized space around the corner here,’ she indicated a concealed alcove where a bookcase was standing, ‘was where they kept the larder.’

Emily tried to picture it. What would this space have been like in the 1920s and 30s when Norah lived here? There would have been a sink and a stove, a table, maybe some comfortable chairs, maybe a rug near the