Heidi and the Wolf

13.

Hey everyone! Chapter 13 already, I'm flying through the book, and we've not even got to the juicy bits yet! Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please vote, comment and show your support!

P.S: I've noticed that I tend to switch from present to past tense. It's annoying and yes, I'm working on it and I'll be editing it when finished.

-H xx

The beautiful June sun turned into a curse when it came to heavy lifting. Sweating unattractively, I lifted one side of a withered, brown, leather couch to shift it a few inches to the right. Mum, somehow now a perfectionist, was just not keen on its placement, no matter where it went. She stood back against the door frame, as I slowly placed down my end, to get a good look. I swept back the few strands of hair that had escaped the confines of my ponytail and decided to stick against my forehead, wincing at the damp, sticky feel of my skin. 

"I just don't know where to put it?" Mum mused, gripping her chin with her left hand and pursing her lips in thought. 

"The tip?" I muttered beneath my breath. 

"I heard that," She sighed. "It will do I think, I wish it was a fabric couch, not leather." 

It had taken us two weeks to fully move ourselves into Jane's beautiful, yet archaic B&B. An antiquated cottage, it burst at its old, oak, seams with personality and vibrancy. But the key word was old. The furniture had been withered from years of love and the wallpaper was cracked and yellowed. It took us the best part of those two weeks turning it into somewhere homely, yet modern. The cottage proudly owned five bedrooms, two shared bathrooms, a kitchen and open-plan living space and dining area. It was more space than I had ever dreamed of, and judging by the lack of visitors, we would be the sole inhabitants to embrace it. 

I slumped down into the couch, crossing one leg over the other and flicking my hair out of the way. Resting my arm on the couch, I observed how mum flitted around the room, straightening the ceramic ornaments on the mantelpiece and smoothing out the corners of the frayed, grey rug with her foot. 

"Mum, I honestly think you've done enough," I commented, taking a swig from a water bottle I left on the oak, side table. It was now warm, due to the sunlight streaming through the bay window on my left. I made a face, but swallowed it down anyway, making a mental reminder to grab another bottle from the fridge.

"Do you think? I know it's unlikely that we'll ever get visitors, but if we do, I want it to be welcoming and homely." 

I sighed, "I've got an interview at Blossom's in an hour. Take a break, while I get ready." I said, as I stood to my feet. Suddenly, a wave of anxiety poured through my veins as my brain stumbled across a thought that hadn't crossed it before.  "Do you reckon they will take cash in hand?" I gasped. 

Mum grinned, "No need, I nipped into the little bank yesterday afternoon. Using our fake identification, I set up a joint bank account for a Louise and Sophie Moore. Your wages can go into that."

"They didn't ask any questions?" I asked, sitting up on the edge of the couch. 

"I think they were more than pleased to have new customers. This place is barely on the map."

The safety of the seclusion, holding hands in harmony with its beauty, was what made Penshaw Lake so irresistible. I let out a breath I wasn't aware I had been holding and held a hand to my chest. I smiled weakly and turned out of the living room to head upstairs. Gripping the mahogany banister, I danced up the stairs on my toes, my brain running circles around all the questions I could be asked, and my possible answers for them. 

My interview outfit was hanging neatly on the door of the wooden wardrobe; shielding the silver mirror from view. I lifted the black, pencil skirt and loose, beige shirt from it and lay them on my bed.