rachel hore ups and downs at upalong cottage

Now the kids were grown up, the cottage was their first holiday together, just the two of them…

It was always left to Sally to book their summer holiday. Her husband Mike’s excuse was that she was better at it – he’d just pick the cottage with the biggest TV screen and somewhere to keep his fishing rods, and wouldn’t notice things she cared about like light and airiness and where to dry the washing.

This year she started thinking about the matter late and with a heavy heart, for it

would be their first holiday without the children. Ben was on a work placement all summer before heading off for his second year at college, and Chloe was spending every spare moment with her boyfriend Jaz before starting university – exam results permitting.

“Let’s go in September,” Mike said firmly. “It’ll be cheaper, and Cornwall’s lovely out of season without the crowds. You’ve always wanted to see the Eden Project, and I could take a boat sea fishing.” She gave him a look so he added hastily, “We’ll do loads of things together as well, of course.” She cheered up when scrolling through properties p within their budget on the self-catering s websites, returning to the quaintly q named Upalong, a tiny, white-painted w cottage on a river estuary. e There were two bedrooms, an enclosed e back garden, and dogs were allowed a so Coco, their elderly spaniel, could c come too. The available dates worked w perfectly, so she pressed the book button and paid the deposit.

The long weeks of summer crawled by. Results day came. Chloe had scraped into her chosen uni. Ben’s

placement was going well. Time to relax.

As the date of the holiday approached, Sally mused over a guide book and built a pile of novels to read. Two weeks by themselves! Perhaps it would be like the romantic early days of their marriage.

“You’ll bring your new chinos, won’t you?” she said to Mike when they were packing. “And a smart jacket. We could go somewhere nice for dinner, maybe.”

“If this is what it’s like to be EMPTY NESTERS, I’m all for it,” he said

“You’re the boss,” Mike said with a smile. He’d always been easy-going, Sally thought fondly. There were times when his diffident approach to life held him back, but she valued his gentleness. Chloe was like him, but Ben was more of a go-getter, like Sally’s own father had been.

Alate afternoon sun cast its golden glow over the cottage as they got out of the car after the long drive.

“So pretty,” Sally breathed, admiring the pots of geraniums as Mike retrieved the key from under a window box. Her heart lifted as the door opened into a bright, clean hallway redolent with the scent of fresh flowers.

Coco’s claws ticked across the pale wood floor. In the spotless new kitchen a basket of goodies awaited.

“Oh, how kind!” Sally exclaimed. She explored the house from living room to master bedroom.

“Come and see,” she called down to Mike. “The view’s fantastic.”

Mike clumped upstairs, a suitcase in each hand, and they stood together at the bedroom window to admire the stretch of river dotted with sailing boats and, beyond, a vast canopy of trees.

A glass of wine, supper in the friendly village pub, a good night’s sleep from which they were wakened by birdsong, and the cares of daily life began to slip away. A day of glorious sunshine followed, with a walk along the river and a picnic lunch in the grounds of a ruined castle. Coco rolled on the lawns as though he was a puppy again.

“If this is what it’s like to be empty nesters, I’m all for it,” Mike sighed as they ambled home in the balmy early evening. “I don’t miss Chloe and Ben squabbling one bit. Have you heard anything from them, by the way?”

Sally stopped to glance at her phone and shook her head. “No, but there’s no signal here.”

“Thank heavens for that,” Mike laughed. He was very disciplined about switching off from the hospital where he worked as a pharmacist, and could never understand why Sally, a counsellor who hated the thought her clients might need her, didn’t do the same thing. “Shall we look into hiring a boat tomorrow? We could go upriver and look for kingfishers.”

“Oh, that’s a lovely idea.” Just the two of them in the peace of the countryside.

“It really is magical here,” her husband said. “It’s the sort of place I’d like to retire to.”

“Only twenty years to go,” Sally reminded him with a laugh. “But I know what you mean.”

The mobile signal returned as they reached the outskirts of the village. The ringtone meant Chloe.

“Hello, darling,” Sally said affectionately into her phone. The only answer was a wail! “Chloe, are you all right? What’s happened?”

“It’s Jaz!” Another wail. Eventually Sally worked it out. Chloe’s boyfriend had called it a day. The girl was desolate.

“If your brother’s out at work all day you’d better come down here.” Sally was concerned. “I’ll check the train times.” She caught Mike’s eye and Mike nodded, a sympathetic expression on his face.

“Thank heavens there’s a spare bedroom,” she remarked after Chloe had rung off. Her brain was already computing. There would be no boat trip tomorrow. Chloe had announced last week she’d become vegan and the village post office wasn’t up to that. They’d have to find a supermarket in the morning.

Early the following afternoon they drove a dozen winding miles to meet Chloe at the nearest station. She stumbled from the train and collapsed

sobbing into Sally’s arms. Mike rescued an overflowing holdall and headphones she dropped on the platform and shushed Coco, howling in sympathy.

On the drive home the full story came out. Jaz had dumped Chloe because he wanted to start uni as a free man. Secretly, Sally wasn’t surprised as they were too young to be serious, but he’d been Chloe’s first steady boyfriend and she had been besotted. Now she gave every appearance of the break up being the end of her world. Sally’s heart ached as she comforted her.

Chloe rallied a little when she saw Upalong Cottage. She perched sorrowfully on the bed in the narrow boxroom with its flowery wallpaper, sipping a cup of sweet tea while Sally unzipped the holdall. Bottles of make-up and shampoo spilled out. Skimpy tops and underwear and a delicate party dress were scrunched up around half a dozen pairs of strappy, high-heeled shoes. No stout footwear, no coat or cagoule. Sally bit her lip, as she smoothed a tiny cardigan with pearl buttons into a drawer, then straightened.

“How about a walk?” she asked brightly. “It’s lovely down at the river.