A Whole New World Settling in to a new life

Nothing seemed to sit right with Helen in their new location, but maybe all she was needing was to muddy her boots…

Are you sure you don’t mind upping sticks like this?” Tom asked for the umpteenth time as they sped down the motorway.

Helen suppressed a sigh. They’d probably overtaken the removals lorry several miles back, though she’d been too deep in thought to notice.

“Of course I don’t. I can’t deny some pangs, but how do you say ‘no’ when your company wants you to move? The children are grown, and I’m now a free agent, job-wise, so everything adds up. We were probably getting too set in our ways, anyway.”

For all her reasoning, her throat filled as the last of the hills faded into the distance behind them and a flatter landscape stretched out in front. She couldn’t help a sense of saying goodbye

“Once you SKIP the routine it’s DIFFICULT to get back INTO IT”

to old friends, leaving a gap that would be difficult to fill.

Come afternoon, there was no time for sentiment, as they carted boxes into their new house. Not-yet-familiar walls echoed eerily. Windows stared blankly at these usurpers.

Helen noticed they also got a few curious looks from passing dog walkers, presumably on their way to the fields just down the road. Several stopped to say hello. Some of their tail-wagging companions reminded her of their old dog, Pip, who’d died the year before.

She knew there were fields nearby. She and Tom had noticed them when house-hunting. They’d chosen the house partly because it was close to open country – or, at least, close enough to see if she leaned out of the back bedroom window and craned her neck.

The sight was comforting, yet it hardly compared in her mind with the moors embracing the village where they’d previously lived and where their children had grown up. Here the land was low-lying and gentle, the fields laid out in patchwork, a little like the quilts she’d always enjoyed making as a hobby.

As more walkers passed, it made her wonder about the fields as a destination in their own right, rather than merely a pleasant backdrop. They’d never match up to her favourite old routes, past tumbling streams and stone houses that seemed to have grown out of the earth, but they might still be better than nothing, if only a little.

“What do you think?” she asked Tom, when they finally sat down with an Indian takeaway. “It’ll mean we’ll still have a chance to use our walking boots. Once we’ve unpacked them, that is.”

“It might be a good idea, when we’re more settled,” he agreed. “My next few weeks at work are going to be hectic, but you could get out and explore.”

That turned out not to be so straightforward, courtesy of getting the house into shape and sorting out a sewing room, where Helen planned to turn her hobby into a business, as well as familiarising herself with the local shops, doctors’ surgeries and other essentials for keeping the cogs and wheels of everyday life running smoothly.

It was like learning a whole new geography. In the meantime, her boots, though unpacked, lay in the porch, undisturbed.

The weather didn’t help. Autumn bowed out to make way for winter. The afternoons darkened. The days shortened, at the same time feeling far too long before Tom finally came back, late in the evenings.

Helen hunkered down in her sewing den and marked out new designs, or sat with her laptop and checked on craft fairs where she could display and hopefully sell some of her creations.

Every now and then a movement caught her eye and she would glance out of the window to see yet another wellwrapped-up dog walker heading out, even as dusk fell. She knew now which tracks or paths they might take, often passing the beginnings of them when she set out on her various errands.

Those errands were increasing, with Christmas coming up and the family coming to stay.

“The house may be smaller than our old one, but we’ll still squeeze everybody in,” Helen told Tom over lunch, one Saturday at the beginning of December.

This was the first time they’d managed to get out properly together since the move. They had driven out to a country pub, past bare, ploughed fields which admittedly possessed their own stark beauty. Filigree trees revealed their

gnarled, variously shaped boughs, while the lane-side verges were mournful in the dull winter light. Helen was glad of the fire in the pub’s stone hearth, along with the Christmas tree in the corner reminding her that she normally enjoyed this time of year. Normally. She didn’t just miss her old landscape. She missed her husband even more.

“I’m sorry I can’t help out with the preparations as much as usual,” said Tom as they sat down with their drinks. “And that we’ve not been able to get out and about together as much as we’d hoped.”

“I’ve hardly been getting out at all,” Helen admitted. “The trouble is, once you skip the routine of doing something, it’s difficult to get back to it. I don’t know how I used to fit in walking Pip every day. Of course, the walks got shorter as he got older. I’d probably huff and puff if I had to climb any hills now.”

“Me too.” Tom laughed. “Maybe it’s just as well there aren’t any of those round here.” His expression became more serious. “Once the weather improves, we’ll make up for lost time. Things will get better. I promise.”

Helen hoped so.

When Sam and Tilly arrived for the festive season, they both made suitably admiring comments about the house. To her surprise, they made a few other comments, too, about the unusually clean state of her boots.

“They’re always covered in mud at this time of year,” Sam said. “Don’t you ever use them now, Mum?”

When Helen confessed that was the case, both son and daughter looked shocked.

“But you and Dad have always done lots of walking,” Tilly protested. “And you constantly nagged me and Sam to get some exercise instead of sitting in front of the television when we were kids.”

“I can still remember a rainy Christmas morning when I was ordered to take Pip for his walk while you and Dad organised the dinner,” Sam added, with feeling. “It was freezing. I was only ten. Talk about cruelty to children.”

“You survived, didn’t you?” Helen pointed out.

“Yeah, but it took me ages to warm up.” He looked thoughtful. “Maybe it’s time you and Dad got another dog.”

She shook her head as she coated the Christmas cake with royal icing.

“I don’t know. A lot has happened recently, and it was such a wrench when Pip went. I’m not sure we want another dog at the moment.”

“But it’s over a year since he died,” said Sam. “I’m sure if he could talk to you and you could decipher the woofs, he’d tell you to do it. Then you’d have to go for a decent walk every day, even on rainy Christmas mornings.”

Tilly giggled. “Do you remember how Pip always knew when it wasn’t a work day for Dad? He’d trot up to him with his lead in his mouth and stare reproachfully till Dad gave in. Get another dog, Mum. There are always loads needing a home, and this place would be perfect, with all those fields nearby.”

January brought a prolonged cold snap with cloudless skies, day and night. Frozen grass crackled underfoot, while Helen lost count of the number of times she had to break the ice on the bird bath.

On Saturday morning she opened the bedroom curtains to dazzling sunshine and a fairytale, frosted-rimed world.

“What a perfect day for a walk. Let’s tog up and head out.”

Tom groaned. “I don’t know. I’ve got a lot of reading to catch up on.”

Helen remembered what Tilly had said about Pip. Maybe dogs understood more than people realised. She might not have a lead or a reproachful stare, but she was just as determined not to back down as Pip had been.

“You’ve worked practically non-stop since we moved here. Last month you said we’d make up for lost time once the weather improved. Well, now it has.”

They followed the track and selected one of the paths across the fields, clambering over stiles and crossing a makeshift plank bridge over a brook whose still surface reflected the glare of the sunlight as if shocked by its brightness. The further they walked, the more Helen felt her stride lengthening. The glorious sense of open space raised her spirits and made her see her surroundings with a fresh gaze. The subtle blues and white of the scene around them filled her with inspiration for new designs. Her patchwork quilt business was gradually taking off, a craft fair the previous week resulting in sales of practically all her stock.

Tom also seemed more relaxed than he had in a long time. Helen noticed how every mile added colour to his cheeks. After a while, squeezing through a gap-stone stile, they came to a small, picturesque village with an old church, well-kept cottages and a quintessential cosy pub, perfect for taking a well-earned break.

Maybe her beloved Pip UNDERSTOOD MORE than people REALISED

As they settled with their drinks and a bowl of chips by the fireplace, she told him about Tilly and Sam’s comments over Christmas.

“They made me feel positively lazy, but when I thought about it, I realised they do have a point. We haven’t been doing a lot of the things we used to.” Tom put his elbows on the table. “It’s mainly my fault. I’ve been so obsessed with getting established in the new job, I’ve not made better use of any free time.”

“I’ve been guilty, too,” Helen told him. “I haven’t really given the landscape much of a chance. It’s so different from what we’re accustomed to. I still miss the hills, but after this morning’s trek I’m coming to learn this countryside has a character of its own.”

Tom nodded. “Just because it’s different doesn’t mean it’s inferior. Valleys can be as beautiful as mountains. Streams and brooks can be as calming as rivers and lakes.”

“Goodness, that fresh air really has had an effect.”

The walk back was perfection itself. Sunset streaked the sky pink and purple, setting the frosted land aglow.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” a lady walking a black labrador called out as she stepped over the plank bridge and stooped under an adjacent fence before taking a diverging path. “Sometimes I can’t believe how lucky I am, living here.”

“What about getting another dog, like Sam suggested?” Helen ventured, once they’d waved back and walked on. A crescent moon peered down between the slim, elegant limbs of willow trees.

“Sam might be right. Having a dog would give us an incentive to get walking again, but we’ll need to think seriously about whether we want the responsibility.” Tom’s lips curved into a smile. “Then again, it wouldn’t do any harm to contact the rescue centre and see if they think we’re suitable. I do miss the way old Pip used to lie across my feet of an evening, even if it did give me pins and needles after a while.”

“See if we’d be suitable” indeed. Helen had a good idea of the likely outcome.

As they made their way back up the track, she pictured the scene changing with the seasons. The trees would fill out, and hedgerows froth with hawthorn blossom, followed by elderflower, then the bounty of autumn. The fields would be coloured according to their crops, giving way to richer hues as Nature’s wheel turned again.

Looking back, she hadn’t been honest with Tom, the day they’d moved. She had minded upping sticks, very much. Now she was looking forward to putting down fresh ones, in their new landscape.