Inheritance

Chapter Twenty. New Digs.

Chapter Twenty. 

New Digs 

John, exhausted after a sleepless night and a journey prolonged by a missed connection, stooped to pick up the sheet of paper, furled in the neck of an empty milk bottle.  

                                 Key under mat. I'll be home about five. Nice to have you back. 

                                                                            Gillian 

                        P.S. Your room is the one with the single bed. Make yourself comfortable. 

Curious, John turned the key, pushed open the door and stepped into a passage that would have been gloomy if not for the rays of the afternoon sun streaming through another glass-panelled door at the far end. John dropped his luggage by the door, and slowly squeaked his way along the oilcloth covered floor towards the light, noticing the outlines of picture frames on the off-white walls. A familiar odor pervaded the air.  

He followed his nose partway along the passage to a pair of facing doors. The one on the right led into a spotless, roomy, well- equipped kitchen with a large window overlooking the front yard. What a contrast to the grungy kitchen Gillian had shared with the med students. The other door conveniently opened into a bathroom. Mother Nature determined his choice. As he sat, John marvelled - an indoor toilet, a huge bathtub supported on four bronze paws, and a dressing table already labelled 'hers'. The sink and wall mirror would suffice for him. 

Relieved, John washed his hands and then continued his olfactory hunt, finally locating a stew simmering on the stove. John tasted it. Scrumptious! All it needed was a glass of good wine. Gillian had already set a small round table for two in the centre of the kitchen. Some flowers would be nice. John glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Three o'clock. He still had two hours. Should he nap or use the time to jazz things up a bit? He decided to keep busy in an attempt to keep his mind off recent events.  

John left the house by the front door and followed the crazily paved path to the back of the house, where the owners had erected a solarium. Ideally located, it faced an idyllic view of open fields and the distant peaks of Derbyshire. The garden itself was in terrible shape; the large rectangular lawn resembled a hayfield. John found a slightly rusted push mower in the garden shed, and tried to cut the grass to a more respectable height. Scissors would have been more effective. Weed infested flowerbeds bordered the lawn, and although it was September the dahlias were still in bloom. John cut some scarlets and whites, and designed a centrepiece for the table. He checked his watch. Still time to buy a bottle of wine. 

As John browsed in the nearby off-licence searching for his favourite Nuits St. George, he couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversation between the proprietor and a customer who was buying some gin. John surmised from her ruddy complexion that this might be a regular occurrence. 

"I hear that they've rented the Hodgson's place at last, Jim. Terrible thing though, the new tenant is some young girl. I'm sure there'll be trouble, wild parties, and such like." 

"I don't think you need to worry on that score, Ethel. Her father was in here the other day making enquiries. He seemed to be a nice chap, a vicar too." 

This was news to John. So that's why she was so hesitant about the invitation. 

"And the girl's a teacher to boot. Not exactly the type you would expect to be organizing suburban orgies is she, Ethel?" 

"You know I didn't mean that, Jim. But how's she going to manage living there all alone?" 

John Couldn't resist. He just had to interrupt and fuel the local gossip.

"She's not alone. I'm moving in with her."  

A stunned silence followed. John could see the wheels turning. Ethel was lost for words her mouth opening and closing, like that of a landed salmon. Eventually she gasped, "Are you her brother or something?" 

"Oh no. I'm not remotely related. I'm just someone she picked up."  

John winked at the proprietor. Ethel turned purple. She looked about to have an apoplectic fit. 

"Careful, Ethel," said Jim. "I think the young fella' is pulling your leg. Aren't you, son?" 

"Sure I am," said John. 

Ethel relaxed a little, and then playfully swung her handbag, hitting John on the backside.  

"You cheeky devil. It doesn't do to go teasing old ladies like that." 

John just smiled. "How much for the wine?" 

"That will be three pound fifteen, son." 

"Here you are," said John, handing over a fiver. He took his change and made his way to the door. He stopped and turned. Ethel was watching his every move. Maybe another parting shot. 

"One more thing, could you tell me where I could find a chemist? I'm in desperate need of some... you know." 

"Down the road at number 125. I'm sure you'll find what you need there," chuckled Jim.  

John thanked him, grinned inwardly at the shocked look on Ethel's face, and left the store. He laughed all the way back to the bungalow. 

On his return  John resumed his reconnaissance and soon located the two bedrooms. Both were adjacent to the bathroom. One was obviously Gillian's. The frilly eiderdown on the double bed, and the dressing table laden with makeup, screamed femininity. His was Spartan by comparison, furnished with a single bed, a bedside table and reading lamp, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. Where were the sheets, the blankets? He'd forgotten them.  

Gillian, in her letters, had said he was to be solely responsible for the study but it was obvious that she had already done some preliminary work. Wallpaper scrapings and flakes of paint covered the wooden floor. A paint- splattered sheet covered the only piece of furniture. John removed the sheet and uncovered a large ink-stained desk. Three pine boards, a pile of red bricks, two new brushes, and a tin of paint were neatly stacked under the window that opened on to the solarium. There was plenty here to keep him busy until the start of classes but now was the time to show his cooking expertise.