Page 2 of A Sky Full of Stars
Charlotte laughed. ‘I promise. Although she did say that she was a dog lover, so hopefully she and Comet will take to one another.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ Gemma echoed. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love the old boy, but he’s rather too fond of rolling in unsavoury things for my liking.’
‘Yes,’ Charlotte laughed. ‘I’ll never forget the day he barrelled in and rubbed eau de fox poo all over your living-room carpet! You’re a good friend to allow us both anywhere near your home, or your car, after that!’
‘Don’t remind me,’ Gemma groaned. ‘And Copernicus will definitely be glad he doesn’t have to share with Comet this summer, no matter how much I’ll miss you.’ Copernicus was Gemma’s fat, aged ginger cat, and although he definitely had the upper paw these days, having bopped Comet more than once on the end of his sensitive nose for stealing his food, there was no love lost between cat and dog.
‘So, what’s the name of your landlady, again?’ Gemma asked as the road began to widen, and the first of many pretty villages between Bristol and Lower Brambleton rushed by.
‘Lorelai Ashcombe,’ Charlotte replied. ‘She sounded nice on the phone. The university put me onto her as she often has people to stay on short-term projects. She lives a stone’s throw from the development, so her house seemed the best bet.’
‘Strange name,’ Gemma remarked. ‘I wonder if she’s one of those Somerset eccentrics, you know, hippies that never quite made it home from Glastonbury. I bet you’ll get there, and it’ll be all tie-dyed throws and incense.’
Charlotte laughed. ‘She didn’t sound like an ex-hippy on the phone, but I promise, if she gets too way out, I’ll ring you and you can spend the next few weeks driving me from your place!’
‘Just promise me you’ll have a good sniff of any weird-looking tea she makes you before you drink it,’ Gemma replied. ‘You never know what they’re likely to put in it, in the backwaters of Somerset!’
‘I will.’ Charlotte kept smiling. Gemma was a bit of a fusspot, but she loved her, and she was glad her friend was always in her corner. She knew that if things didn’t work out, Gemma would be there to lend a friendly ear and more practical help. But as they got nearer to their destination, excitement began to mingle with trepidation in the pit of Charlotte’s stomach. She couldn’t help wondering if she’d made the right decision to spend her summer in such an isolated spot.
3
It wasn’t much longer before the roads, wide and well maintained on the outskirts of Bristol, began to narrow, and as Gemma navigated her way towards their destination Charlotte took the opportunity to look at the landscape passing her window, which was becoming greener and more rural by the mile. She felt a little nervous: she’d lived in Bristol for ten years now, ever since she’d arrived as a wide-eyed undergraduate, and apart from the time she’d spent after her degree and before her postgraduate studies in South America, she’d barely been away from the city for any great length of time.
‘Well, it’s certainly going to be quiet!’ Gemma broke the silence that had descended between them as she took a left turn down an even smaller lane. ‘Looks like there’s not a lot of phone signal out here, either. We must be in a black spot.’
Charlotte glanced up from her phone, where she was struggling to find one bar of 3G, and noticed the lane they were on was nestled at the foot of a large expanse of woodland-covered hillside. The hill loomed large above them, and again she wondered at the remoteness of Lower Brambleton. Then, she chided herself: she’d been in far more cut-off places in her career. However, she was used to being able to stream the horror films she was so fond of at the tap of a finger: she wondered if that would be out of the question, here.
‘It’s got to be around here somewhere,’ Gemma muttered, glancing at the car’s sat nav and then back at the road in front of her. ‘Says we’re about half a mile from Nightshade Cottage. That was the name of the place you’re staying, wasn’t it?’
‘Yup,’ Charlotte confirmed. Nightshade Cottage in deepest, darkest Somerset, where Lorelai, her exotically named landlady, lived. Where there was virtually no phone signal, and the roads were barely wide enough to get a single car down. If that wasn’t the setting for a horror movie, Charlotte thought, she didn’t know what was!
She had to admit though, as she wound down the window to let in a bit of fresher air (Comet reallydidneed that bath), the scent of cut grass, underpinned by a muskier smell of decaying, rust-coloured bracken that thrust its fronds towards them from the high banks on either side of the road, that it was beautiful in a ragged, untamed, earthy sort of way. Pushing away the thought that sprang to mind of the movieJeepers Creepers, that she’d seen, far too young, late one night on the television when her mum and dad had thought she was tucked up safely in bed, she tried not to imagine the kind of creatures that might be lurking in the trees above.Don’t be so daft, she told herself impatiently. Her imagination really was starting to get the better of her. She had Gemma and Comet with her; no self-respecting creature of the night would dare try to attack the three of them.
‘Ah, this looks like it!’ Gemma’s exclamation broke into Charlotte’s reverie. ‘I knew we’d find it eventually.’
Off to their left, there was a narrow track, and at the foot of a space that seemed barely wide enough to get Gemma’s Touareg down in one piece was a beautifully written sign, black paint on a white background, announcing that Nightshade Cottage was this way. Turning onto the track, Charlotte caught Gemma’s amused glance. ‘And I think you can see now why there isn’t a regular bus! I don’t think this part of Somerset has seen any public transport since a hansom cab and two!’
Charlotte grinned at her friend. ‘Well, the guy I spoke to on the phone from Flowerdew Homes warned me it was a touch, er, “rural”. Seems he wasn’t kidding.’
‘There’s rural and there’s the arse end of bloody nowhere.’ Gemma pressed on her brake pedal to navigate a particularly deep pothole. As she did so, her expression grew more serious. ‘Charlotte, my darling, are you quite sure you want to spend the next few weeks here? I mean, you could be murdered, set in the concrete for a new patio and I’d never know…’
‘Now who’s letting their imagination run overtime?’ Charlotte laughed. ‘Just because you’re a town mouse who’s never lived anywhere but the city doesn’t mean you can go allHot Fuzzon me and start casting aspersions about murderous locals.’
‘That may be so,’ Gemma replied as she manoeuvred over yet another pothole, ‘but I’ve got a feeling that things are going to change for you here, and you know what happens when I get a feeling.’
‘Don’t you usually just get a course of antibiotics for that?’ Charlotte quipped.
‘And that’s another thing,’ Gemma countered. ‘Have you even looked into registering for the GP? For all you know, it could be all herbal remedies and hacksaws in these parts. Sprain an ankle and they’ll cut your leg off, kind of thing.’
‘I’d better not sprain an ankle, then!’ Charlotte replied, a little shorter in tone than she’d intended. Being cautious was one thing, but she wasn’t a child, and she was beginning to get irritated by Gemma’s assumption that she wouldn’t be able to cope out here.
The hedges on either side of the track grew thicker as Gemma drove further, and the height of them on either side of the car felt claustrophobic. It was a relief then when Charlotte spotted their destination and she breathed out. There, in front of them, was a squat thatched cottage, with a pleasingly neat lawn and waist-high wrought-iron gates attached to pillars in front of a newly tarmacked driveway. ‘There.’ She turned triumphantly to Gemma. ‘Not a gothic turret or axe murderer in sight. I told you it was going to be all right.’
Gemma snorted. ‘You’re not through the door yet!’
They pulled into the drive and Gemma cut the engine. ‘Now, are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you? I’m quite happy to see you over the threshold.’
Charlotte grinned at her friend. ‘It’s fine. I’ll text you when I’m tied up in the cellar!’
