Page 3 of All Wrapped Up
Because I was obsessed with autumn, I had chosen an earthy, seasonal palette of muted matt orange, brown and mustard hues, with lighter touches of sage green and cream to decorate each of the rooms. Now it was finally finished, I could tell it was going to give the cottage a cosy, den-like feel throughout the whole of the year and I loved the thought of that.
‘That sounds perfect,’ said Lizzie as I poured and handed her a glass of cordial and the ice cubes chinked sociably together. ‘Thank you. This is just what I need.’
‘Me too.’ I smiled. ‘Would you like to see what I’ve done with the room that used to be the bathroom?’
‘Oh, yes, please.’
I ended up giving Lizzie a tour of the whole of the ground floor and she gratifyingly loved it all. She admired the cushions I had found to adorn the Windsor chair in the kitchen, loved the set of vintage leaf-patterned mixing bowls on the wooden counter and the row of red geraniums in reclaimed terracotta pots in the utility cum boot room.
‘You know, I’m certain I recognise those cushions in the kitchen from somewhere,’ she said as we ended up back in the sitting room, drinking more of the cordial. ‘Did you buy them ready-made or did you source the fabric and make them up yourself?’
Her question made my shoulders tense up and my heart start to skitter again. I knew I had featured the cushions on my Insta grid on more than one occasion and I would be devastated if by an incredible coincidence she had somehow seen that and the penny dropped because the account was entirely and purposefully anonymous.
‘And that view from the utility room window seems familiar, too, now I think about it…’ she further mused.
‘I picked the cushions up online,’ I said falteringly in the hope that I could throw her off the scent if she had indeed picked it up. ‘Given that you’re an accomplished sewer yourself, perhaps you’ve seen the same website.’
As I’d shown her around, she had told me that while Jemma ran the café and baked the most delicious cakes and other sweet treats, she taught sewing and ran all sorts of craft workshops both in the café and the gallery next door.
‘Perhaps…’
‘I thought the autumnal colours would work well with the rest of the décor,’ I further said, but Lizzie didn’t appear to have heard.
She clicked her fingers in what turned out to be a dreaded eureka moment. ‘Of course!’ she gasped. ‘That’s it! Autumn! It’s your entire aesthetic, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose you could say that,’ I nervously agreed.
‘In fact,’ she grinned, as she put down her glass and pulled out her phone, ‘you could say autumn is your everything!’
She quickly showed me the screen on her phone which I was appalled to see featured my carefully curated and, until then, anonymous Insta grid. I felt my cheeks flush and my throat go dry.
I hadn’t for one second, when I invited Lizzie over the cottage threshold, thought that I might be asking an AutumnEverything follower to join me. I had thought I was doing something positive for my mental health. Something to stop me feeling lonely!
‘I knew I recognised that bookcase,’ Lizzie carried on excitedly, completely unaware of my discomfiture as she looked at the shelves again. ‘But it was the cushions that really gave the game away. I can’t believe it.’
I was struggling to believe it, too.
‘I love your account, Clemmie,’ she gushed. ‘I mean, Ireallylove it. Your whole aesthetic is so beautiful and just focusing on one season is… inspired. You’re a total genius and the cottage is stunning. Jemma and my assistant, Joanne, won’t believe it when I tell them you’re the person behind it and that Rowan Cottage is the setting! They’re bothhugefans.’
‘Oh no,’ I stammered, feeling panicked. ‘You can’t tell them. I don’t want anyone to—’
Unfortunately, and frustratingly, she wasn’t listening and didn’t give me the chance to beg her to keep my secret.
‘And this makes my stopping by today and finding you at home even more fortuitously timed,’ she interrupted, as she continued to look around. ‘Serendipitous, you could say. Yes, this is definitely fate.’
It felt more like bad luck to me. Very bad luck.
‘But about my Insta account—’ I tried again.
‘That’s the best bit!’ she cut in. ‘The proverbial cherry on the cake, in fact, because it makes you the perfect person!’
‘The perfect person for what?’ I frowned.
She looked so excited I thought she was going to burst.
‘For taking it on, of course!’ she further gushed, making no sense at all.
‘Taking what on?’ I asked.
