Changing places

A house swap with old friends takes an unexpected turn

Harriet could feel the sea breeze ruffling her hair as she unlocked the cottage door, then turned to her husband, ‘I can’t quite believe we have this place to ourselves.’ Steve picked up their cases and stepped after her into the hallway.

‘Yeah, it’ll be really strange without Jon and Sarah around. Wonder if they’ve arrived at our place yet?’

Harriet giggled. She felt just a little bit guilty at the thought of Jon and Sarah arriving at their semi on the outskirts of Leeds. But Sarah had been keen on the phone, saying, ‘I love the shopping in Leeds! And you’re so close to the Yorkshire Dales.’

Harriet ran through to the living room and flung open the veranda doors. It was early afternoon and the sun flooded into the room. Outside, pretty palms draped their leaves along the edges of the veranda, perfectly framing the shimmering sea of the bay.

‘It all looks so perfect!’ exclaimed Harriet.

Steve came out and stood next to her, book in hand.

‘I know, shall I dig out the wine?’

Harriet nodded and wandered back inside, still trying to shake off the odd feeling. They’d visited many times, but never been in their friends’ house just the two of them. She’d always wanted to inspect the array of photos in the living room, but she’d never been able to, not until now...

She could hear Steve clattering and clinking in the kitchen as she picked up the nearest photo. It showed Jon and

Sarah on the beach with a canoe in the background. Sarah’s hair was wet around her face, Jon’s blond hair curling behind his ears. Her mind drifting back to when they first met,

Harriet couldn’t help but reminisce; they had all become friends at university, and she smiled as she remembered how attracted she’d been to Jon, until fate had stepped in and paired her up with Steve, his roommate.

Harriet placed the photo back on the shelf as Steve reappeared. ‘Holiday time,’ he grinned, handing her a

Pinot Grigio on his way to admire the view.

Later, in the middle of the night when only Steve’s snoring cut through the silence, Harriet sat up in bed. She’d always found it difficult to settle when the bed wasn’t her own.

She pattered down the stairs to the lounge and switched on a lamp. She pushed her hair back and sighed, realising

she may as well read. There were some shelves in the corner where Jon and Sarah kept their novels.

As she searched hopefully among the coloured spines for an author she knew, she noticed the corner of an envelope peeping out between two books. Wondering what it was and knowing that she shouldn’t, Harriet knelt down and opened the letter. As she pulled it out, the letters of her name emerged, one by one. Shaking, she glanced towards the stairs and sat down under the lamp. Inside was a letter. She smoothed out the thin piece of paper and began to read:

‘Darling Harriet,

I cannot hold back my feelings for you any longer. I have loved you from the moment I first saw you. I have left you this note in the hope that you’ll find it while we’re away. I hope you feel the same way and that my feelings are reciprocated.

Jon.’ Harriet sat for a while, waiting for the fluttering feeling within her to subside. Once calm, she zipped the note into the innermost pocket of her handbag and headed back upstairs. It was the last day of their holiday and Harriet and Steve were eating ice creams while strolling along the beach. Steve reached to hold Harriet’s hand, but she brushed him away.

‘What’s wrong?’ he muttered. He’d stopped walking and was gazing out to sea. Harriet turned round to face him.

‘Nothing’s wrong. It’s just work. It’s… I’m not looking forward to being back in the office.’

‘But you’ve been funny all week,’ replied Steve, as he wandered over to a bin and threw in his ice-cream wrapper.

Harriet turned away from the sea, her eyes glistening, ‘Come on, let’s get back now, we need to pack.’ All she could think about was how she was going to break it to him.

Back at the cottage, Harriet heaved down her case from the top of the wardrobe. She wasn’t sure exactly what Jon wanted her to do. How should she reply to the letter?

Steve was in the bathroom, so when Harriet heard a key turning in the lock downstairs, she went to check it out. A girl, quite young, was standing in the hallway, quizzical.

‘Oh, hi, you’re still here. I’ve come by to clean up a bit before Jon and Sarah get back.’

She rested a slim arm on the banister, looking up at Harriet. ‘It’s funny, you know, we have the same name. I’m called Harriet, too!’