THE RIVER
THE RIVER
PhilippaForrester
Arrow Books
20 Vauxhall Bridge Road
London SW1V 2SA
Arrow Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com
Copyright © Philippa Forrester 2004, 2009
Drawings by Delia Delderfield
Philippa Forrester asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in Great Britain by Orion in 2004
First publsihed by Preface in 2009
First published by Arrow Books in 2010
www.penguin.co.uk
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781848092471
Penguin Random House is committed to a sustainable future for our business, our readers and our planet. This book is made from Forest Stewardship Council® certified paper.
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc
To the light of my life Charlie, to my darling boys Fred,Gus and Arthur and to grumpy,lovely old Bill, who we miss every day
ChapterOne T
ChapterTwo T
ChapterThree T
ChapterFour B
ChapterFive R
ChapterSix F
ChapterSeven H
ChapterEight B
ChapterNine C
ChapterTen L
ChapterEleven T
ChapterTwelve W
ChapterThirteen W
ChapterFourteen T
ChapterFifteen S
ChapterSixteen A
ChapterSeventeen P
ChapterEighteen T
ChapterNineteen G
ATherearemanypeopletowhomIowethanks, firstlytoall thefriendsandneighbourswhoappearinthepagesofthis bookandlightupourlives.Anyresemblancetotheirreal selvesisentirelyintheirownimagination.Particularthanks toRichardandStephanieforgivingustheconstantrunof theirhomeandmakingusfeeljustlikefamily.
SecondlytoJulianAlexanderwithoutwhomIwouldstill beploddingalongwritingadiaryofourlivesformyown amusement.Hispoliticandpatientnaturehasbeentheperfect foilformyownlesstemperateone;hisadviceinvaluableatall times.
AndthenIsupposeIwillhavetothankTrevorDolbyeven thoughhehasbeenacompletepainforthewholetime.It washisfaultIhadtowritethisbookinthe firstplaceand thenhekeptpokinghisnoseinandtryingtotellmehowto doit.Asifthatweren’tenough,Inow findhehasturned himselfintoafriendsowehavetoputupwithhimphoning andvisitingaswell.
IoweAlanSamsonmanythanksfortakingoverandrunning withthebookhewasgiven.
ManythanksalsotoDeliaforthecharmingillustrations andherpatiencewhenwaitingforsourcematerial.
ToLaura,ournorthernlight,forbeingherelongenough formetogetsomeworkdoneandforputtingupwithour lives.You’llneverknowhowmuchyoumeantous.Andto HilaryandKateforkeepingthewolvesfromthedoorlong enoughformetogetsomeworkdone.
TheRiver
Toallthepeoplewhohelpedusthroughthemakingofthe programme:MikeGuntonforhavingthebraveryandcreative geniustocommissionit!KeithScholeyforhavingfaithinus, Jamieforputtingupwithweekafterweekofendlessmickeytakingandcaringaboutitasmuchaswedid,Nigel,Anna, Jeremy,NeillandMartyn.Ihopeyoulikewhatyou findin thepagesahead.
Tobothourfamilies,Mum,DadandDeedawandJohn, whohavethewisdomtokeeptheirmouthsshutwhenwe announceanotherridiculousplanbuthavethelovetosupport usthroughitall.
Oh...andtheotters. / x \
ChapterOne
Imperceptibly,inchbyinch,lifechanges
Ourlifehastakenastrangeturn.Ourdinner-table talkisfullofkingfishertalesandpunctuatedby birdspotting,breakfastisoccupiedplacingbetson whetherasquirrelcanleaptheriverwithoutgettinghis tailwet.Homelifeandworklifehavebecomeinseparable. Ournightsareinterruptedbythecomingsandgoingsof otters,ourdaysdominatedbythemoodoftheriver,our frameofmindsetbythepresenceorabsenceofwildlife. Wearefilmingtheriverthatflowspastourhouseandthe animalsthatlivewithusontheriverbank.Itfeelsas thoughwearenolongerpartofthenormalhumanrunof things,asthoughsuddenlywehavebeentransportedinto
TheRiver
aworldremovedfromanythingIhaveknownbefore,and somedaysI findIamstillspinningfromtheshockofit. OnthosedaysIpinchmyselfandtrytorecallhowthis abruptandsurprisingchangeofdirectionhappened.How Igotintosuchadelightfulmess.LookingbackIcanseea fewsignpostswhichshouldhaveservedtowarnme,hadI beenpayingattention.
ItbeganwhenIfoundmyselfengagedtoawildlifecameraman.Tall,darkandhandsome,withapenchantforwhisky oncolddaysandaskillfordeliveringfantasticbreakfasts,I couldn’tresisthim.CharlieHamiltonJameswalkedintomy lifeonedaytodoaspotofotter filminginSkyeandthen stayed,withhisBordercollieBill.
Ihadmethimoncebefore,theloveofmylife,overa carcass.Wedidn’treallyhititoff .IfIhadreadmoreMillsand BoonstoriesIwouldhaverealisedthatthisishowthebest relationshipsstart – exceptingthecarcass,thatofcourseisnot normal.Ihadbeensentascheduleinstructingmetomeeta crewatLongleatSafariParkto filmwolves.Itwasabeautiful day;blueskyandbirdsongmademesmileandalongdrive mademethirsty.Charliewasn’tveryimpressedwiththeminor celebrityrollingupinhersportscar,aninanegrinonher face,especiallywhenshewentontostealhisRibena.Sowe didn’tspeakmuchthatday.HethoughtIwasarrogantand selfishandIthoughthewasashow-off andabore.Charlie andInoddedourgoodbyeswhentheworkwasdoneatthe endofthedayandIdroveawayassumingthatwouldbethe lastI’dseeofthisrudeman.
Wenextmetwhen,afewmonthslater,Iwaswaitingat Heathrowforacrewwhowerelate.Weweremeanttobe catchingaplanetogoand filmottersontheKyleofLochalsh whichisonthewestcoastofScotlandnexttoSkye.Itwasto bemy firstvisittothearea.Ihadoftenheardfriendsrave abouthowbeautifulitwasandsoIwasveryexcited.Butthe clockwasticking,wewerewellintocheck-intime,andstill
Thetideturns therewasnosignofthecrew.Idecidedtophone.Ilookedat thecallsheetto findanumberandrecognisedCharlie’sname under ‘ cameraman ’ .
Heturneduptenminuteslater,ahugegrinsplittinghis face.HehadeitherforgottentheRibenaincidentorforgiven me,andmyowngrumpyfeelingsbegantoevaporateasI watchedhimgetoutofthecar.Ihadforgottenhowgoodlookinghewas,andwhilewecheckedinthemanybagsI keptsneakingglances.Heissixfootthree,withdarkhair,a classicsquarejaw,lotsofstubbleandalaconicsmile.Butwhat reallydazzledmewerehiseyes,brightblueanddancingwith lifeandhumour.Ifounditverydifficulttostoplookinginto them.
Wejustmadeittotheplaneontime.Onceonboard,after coffeeandavagueattemptatabaconbaguette,wedidthe onlythinglefttodoandstudiedtheperfumecatalogue.Soon wewerecryingwithlaughterattheridiculousdescriptions ofthevariousscentsonoffer;therewerescentswhichwould telltheworldyouwereinchargeofyourlife,smellswhich wouldawakenthebeastinyou,aromaswhichwouldwhisk youfromyourbathroomawaytothemysticalorientalsfora littleEasternmagic,whiffswhichwouldturnyourverypulse pointsintoparadiseforyour amour.Wecongratulatedthe personwhosejobitistostringwordstogetherinsuchan alluringwayfortheirgrandeffortbutonatriptoSkyewe wouldhavebeenmoreinterestedinmidgerepellent.
Aftertheusualshenaniganstryingtohireacarwhichhad roomforusandthekitwewereoff outofthecityandinto thewonderfulScottishHighlands.Ididn’tmindaminuteof thelongdrivetoSkye;thescenerywassoexpansiveandevery bitasbeautifulasIhadbeenledtobelieve.Weclimbedpast snow-toppedpeaksandathousanddifferentshadesofgreen; wewentthroughvalleyswheretheicymountainwater tumbleddownfromgreatheightsbesideusandrolledby lochuponloch.Thelightandtheweatherwereconstantly changingaswebouncedalonginthecarandthesurfaceof
thelochswentfromgreytogreentochoppytosmooth.We hadthestereoonloud.Wewereonanadventure.
Ourmission?To filmtheottersinKyleharbour,whohave learnedthattherearealwayspickingstobehadwhenthe fishingboatsreturnfromatrip.Althoughnormallyottersare extremelyshyandreluctanttocomenearhumans,theseotters areconstantlyontheboats,hooveringuptheleftovers.
Sadly,wehadtoabandonthe firstnight’s filmingbecause ofstormyseasandalackof fishingboats.Desperatetocatch sightofanotter,wetriedtogooutintheweather,butcould barelystandinthewindandrainandweresoakedtotheskin inseconds.Butthesecondnightwasmagical, fine,clearbut deathlycold.Bundledinseverallayersofthermalsandsome especiallywarmsockscalledMountainToastieswhich, knowinghowcolditgetsinaScottishharbourinNovember atnight,Charliehadthoughtfullyboughtforallofus,Ilooked liketheMichelinMan.NotanimageI’dnormallyhave chosenforseduction.
Wearrivedattheboatsalittlebeforedarksothatwecould settleinandbereadyfortheotters.Thestreetlightsalong theharbourwallhadjustcomeonandtheharbouritselfwas quiet,apartfromthedistantwashofwavesbreakingandthe boatsmovingwiththeseaandbumpingagainstthewall.It wasalittlewindybutnothinglikethenightbefore.Asquietly andasquicklyaspossible,weriskedlifeandlimbonthesteep andslipperyharbourstepscarryingboxesofheavyequipment ontoourboat.Weriggeduplightsandmonitors,thedirector hummedandhahedovertheshotandchangeditafewtimes beforehewashappy,thenwemumbledaboutthescriptand thekindofthingitwouldbebesttosaywhenthegreat momentarrivedandtheottersturnedup.Iwantedsomething abitmoremeaningfulthan ‘Wow!’ butthenweallagreed that ‘Wow!’ wasprobablyappropriate.Atthatpointwerealised wewerestarving,andallthatcoldseaairdemandedonlyone thing: fishandchips!
Richardthedirectorofferedtogoandweremainedwith
Thetideturns
thesoundmanSimon,whoseemedmoreinterestedinthe hospitalityinthehotelthanthe filmweweretryingtomake. HewasEnglishbutnowlivedinScotlandbecausehewas suspiciousthatEnglandwasbecomingfullofthe ‘ wrong types’.HavingmovedtoScotlandtogetawayfromitallit seemedhecould findlittletobehappyaboutthereeither. ‘Sowhattimewilltheseotterscomethen?’ ‘Don’tknow,’ Charliereplied. ‘Whenthey’reready.’ ‘Well,willitbebeforeeleven?’ ‘Ifitsuitsthem.Why?’ ‘Thepubshutsthen.’
CharlieandIexchangedlooks.Weknewtherewasa possibilitythatwe’dbewaitingallnightandwehadtobe preparedtodojustthatifwewantedagoodchanceofgetting theshots.Wealsoknewtherewasastronglikelihoodthat theywouldn’tshowupatall.Ottersaren’tveryfamiliarwith pubclosingtimes.
The fishandchipsarrived.Richardreluctantlyvolunteered tokeepalookoutfromthedocksideandretiredtherewith hiswarm,soggynewspaperparcel.Thereisnothinglike fish andchipsbythesea – thesmellofvinegar,saltonnumb fingersandthecrispybatter.
IlookeduptoseehowRichardwasgettingon.Hewas sittingbeneathoneofthestreetlightsandinitspooloflight Icouldseethatithadstartedtorainagain.Hemadeavery sadpicture,huddledunderhisbrollyinanoversizedcoat gazingabjectlyacrossthewater,hopingagainsthopethat theotterswouldappear.Suddenly,hisfacelitupandhe hissedatus.
Ina flashCharliehadcastasidehissupper,setthecamera rollingandcrawledintothecornerofthedeck.Iwasslightly slowerandalittlemorereluctant,butrememberingourgreat causewrappedupmychipsanddivedontothedeckbehind someoily,smelly,net-hoistingequipment.Simonhadinstalled himselfinthedoorwaytothecabinonasmallcampingseat, andcontinuedtoeat,oblivioustothedirtylooks.Heremained
TheRiver hunchedoverhispacketofchipsuntilCharliewhisperedat himtowrapthemupandquickly.Weweren’tsurewhether otterswouldlikethesmellof fishandchips,andcouldn’trisk puttingthemoff .
Wewaited.Iwasalmostafraidtobreatheincasethenoise scaredthem away.The windwhistledaroundthetopsofthe boatsandinthelightIcouldseetherainhadbecomequite heavy.IstudiedRicharduponthequaytoseeifhecouldsee anything,buthisfacegavenothing away.
Minutespassedandnothinghappened.IdecidedIshould breatheandbegantolookaroundme.OnceagainIcongratulatedmyselfonmyglamorouschoiceofcareer.HereI was,lyingonthedeckofaboat,coveredinblackoilfromthe machinery,everythingimbuedwiththestenchof fish.Iwas crampedasfarintothecornerofthedeckasIcouldget, behindaheavywinch.Ihadhardlyeatenanyofmychipsand wasprayingthatnoonecouldhearmystomachrumbling beneaththelayersofthermals, fleecesandjacketsandMountainToastiesthathadturnedmeintoasmallhippo.Myhair wasplasteredtomyface,mymake-uphadlongsincedissolved andsnotranfrommynosetomymouthinanattractive rivuletthatIcouldnolongerfeelbecausemyfacewasso cold.ButIfeltalive.
Insuchasituationyou’dthinkthehourswould flyby,but theydidn’t.
‘Howmuchlonger?’ Simonwasbeginningtogetrestless onhisthree-leggedcampingseat.Helookedlikesomekind ofmisplacedgnome,shortwithapointyhatandsomeheadphones,thesoundmixerinhislapandthelongboommike angledfromhisbodylikea fishingpole.
‘Howlongisapieceofstring?’ camethereply.
‘Isthishowyoualwaysmakethesekindofprogrammes?’ Simonhadn’t filmedanynaturalhistoryprogrammesbefore. ‘Yes.’
‘What,youjustsitandwaitontheoff-chancethatan animalwillturnup?’
‘Yes.’ ‘That’sdaftthatis.’
‘Yes.’
Thewindblewtheraininhorizontalsheets.Myfeetgrew numb,mylegsandbumalreadywere;Iwasgoingtohaveto move.SlowlyIuncurledmyselfandpeeredovertheedgeof theboat.Inspiteofthewind,thewaterwasverycalm,barely aripple,thelightsofthetownreflectedbackfromthesurface.
‘Havingathoughtfulmoment?’ Charliewasobviously boredtoo.
Itookthebreathtoreply,butasIdid,realisedthatthere wereripples,twoofthem,perhapstwohundredyards away, makingtheirwaytowardsthethreeboatsonthedock.But whatifIwasmistaken?Itwouldbesoembarrassing!
‘Ithink...otters!’ Iwhispered,anddivedformyoily corner.
Againwewaited.Richardhadspottedthemtoo,butthe expressiononhisface,wildandsearching,indicatedthathe hadlostsightofthem.IstartedimaginingwhatIwouldsay whentheyshowedup.Howclosewouldtheyget?WouldI beabletoexpresshowunusualthisbehaviourwas,howthe ottershereatKyleweretheonlyonesintheworldknownto haveadaptedinthisway?WouldIhavethetime?WouldI havethepresenceofmind?Wouldmylipsbeabletoform wordsdespitethefactthattheywerenumb?
Myracingmindwasinterruptedbyastrangerumbling noise,whichdisappearedalmostimmediately.Didotterspurr? Wasthisagapinmyresearch?Thereitwasagain.Whatdid itmean?
ItoremygazefromthedecktolookatCharlie,whohad oneeyegluedtothecamera.Helookedbackatmewithhis freeeye,buthisfacewasstrangelycontortedintoagrimace, andIcouldn’tdecidewhetherhewasfuriousorhysterical. Onceagainthestrangerumbling.Ifrowned.Charlieindicated thecabindoorwithhishead.
Ourresidentgnomehadfallenasleep.Hisheadlolled
TheRiver
forwardontohischest,andtheincredibleamountofpadding hewaswearinghadwedgedhimintothedoorwaylikeacork soheremaineduprightonhisseat.Fromhischestemanated thedeeprumblingofasnoringsoundman.
Itriedsohardnottolaugh,butitwasexactlythatfeeling yougetwhenyou’reinchurchandthemomentissoinappropriatethatyoujustcan’thelpit.Thetearsbegantorolldown mycheeksandmystomachachedfromtryingtocontrolthe giggles.Charliesoongaveuptryingtoholditintoo,and beforeweknewitwewerehystericalandeverygruntand snorefromSimonmadeitworse.
Wedidn’tseetheottersagain.Itseemstheyweren’tthat impressedwiththesnoringandvisitedanotherboatthatnight. Simonmissedoutonthebarbutgotagreatnight’ssleep. CharlieandIspenttherestofthetriplaughing.Andthat’s whenmylifebegantochange.
ChapterTwo
InwhichMoleandRattyfind ariversideresidence
Everythingchangedveryrapidlyandyetitfeltasthough ithadbeenlikethisallmylife.Wemeteachother’s familiesandfriends,spentverylittletimeapart,and beforeIknewitCharlieandBillhadmovedintomyLondon homewithmeandmycatsBertandGeorge.Thistookabit ofgettingusedtoforeveryoneelsebuttousseemedperfectly natural.Wehadfallenintoeachother’slivesandthatwashow itstayed,justasthoughthiswasnothingnew.Itdidn’tfeel unusualinanyway;attheendofourScottishtripwesimply didn’tpart.
Thereisnobetterplacetousecliche ´ thanwhentalking aboutlove,andCharlieandIwereliketwopeasfromthe samepod.Wehadthesamepassions:Iwaspassionateabout
TheRiver
Charlieandsowashe.Webothlovedthenaturalworld andgotworkedupaboutconservationissues,foodand family.Welovedtogoforlongwalks,ourfavouritedogs wereBordercollies,openfiresandwhiskywereimportant, aswerelong,lazydinnerswithfriends.Therewasonlyone areainwhichwediffered,andthatwasourtasteinmusic. Iammoreofapopqueenandifyoucandoaerobicsto itIlikeitwhereasCharlieisaFrankZappaandBobDylan man,butatthisstageinourrelationshipweweresoin lovethatweevenlistenedtoeachother’smusicwithnot amurmurofcomplaint.
Thentherewastelevision.Neitherofuscouldremember notwantingtoworkintelevision.Ihadhadtheoddfantasy aboutbecomingavetandCharlieofbecominganauthor, butreallywewerebothdriventomakegoodTV.Mykind oftelevisionhadtakenmetoLondonandgivenmeagreat lifestyle.Iwouldmixandminglewithrichandfamouspeople, gototheoddpremie ` reandwasabletoafforddesignerclothes. Charlie’skindofTVhadbasedhiminBristol,givenhima greatknowledgeofsurvivalinroughconditions,earnedhim verylittlemoneyandgenerallymeantthatallhisclotheshad holesinthemorhadgonemouldyintherainforest.Bothof ushadtravelledtheworldformanyyearsandwerereluctant toadmitthatwehadahankeringtosettle.
Giventhewaythatnatureworks,itwasalsoperfectly naturalthatIgotpregnantveryquickly,andthisdidtakesome gettingusedto.Onlymonthsbeforewehadbeensingleand now,suddenly,wewereverymuchacoupleandabouttobe afamily.Ithinkbothfamilieshandledthe‘surprise’verywell, givenhownewtherelationshipwas,butittookthemalla whiletoadjust.
Yetforus,despitetheshocktherewerenodoubts.Lifehad suddenlybecomericherineveryway.Wewereveryhappy together.Infact,inthetraditionoftrueromanceitsimply feltasthoughithadalwaysbeenthatway.Eventually,however, despitetheglowofloveIhadtofacefacts:tryingtokeepa
BordercollieandawildlifecameramaninLondonisjustnot fair.Youseetheyneedlotsoffreshairandwildopenspaces. Theyarereallynogoodpennedupinthehousealldayand getmiserablepoundingpavementsandbreathinginallthose fumes.Theyneedrabbitstochaseandbirdstowatchand asabareminimumrequireatleastonegoodwalkaday. AsforBordercollies?Welltheyneedlotsoffreshairand rabbitstoo.
CharlieandBilldidagreatjobofpretendingthattheywere happyandfulfilledbutitwasobviousthatLondonlifedid nothingto filltheirsouls.Soweresolvedto findanotherplace tolive.WeknewthatweneededtobeintheWestCountry, mainlybecausetheBBCNaturalHistoryUnitisbasedin Bristol.
Wewereinnorushanddecidedthatitwasimportantto findtheperfectplace.Wespenthappyhourstalkingaboutit andimaginingexactlywhatthatplacewouldbelike.Onone bankholidayMondaywevisitedanoldmillthatwasforsale inWiltshire.Itwasanidyllicsetting,deepinthecountryside, andwewereearly.
AswesatwaitinginthecarIasked, ‘Howwillweknowif it’stheoneforus?’
‘Ifakingfisher fliespast,thenit’sours,’ Charliesaid.We lookedoutofeverywindowbutwedidn’tseeakingfisher andthehousewaswaytoobig.
Butthatbecamethedefiningfactorinourhousesearch. Forgetaboutconservatories,Agas,en-suitebathrooms – there wasonlyonethingthatmatteredtoCharlie:kingfishers flying pastthewindows.
Charliewasninewhenhesawhis firstkingfisher,onaschool outinginBristol,andimmediatelyfellinlove.One flashof blueandhewashooked.HewasalsoamemberoftheYoung OrnithologistsClubandusedtospotthemonYOCoutings. Butitwasn’tuntilhewastwelvethattheinfatuationdeveloped intosomethingdeeperand,armedwithhis firstcamera,a
TheRiver
NikkormatEL(whatelse?),hebegantophotographthem. Hedidn’tactuallygetadecentpictureuntilhewas fifteen andtoquotehim, ‘Eventhatwascrap.’ Hewaseighteen beforehetookaphotothathewaspleasedwith.
Eventually,helearnedhowtocajolethemontotheright perch,whattheylikedtoeat,howandwheretocatch theirfavourite fish,wheretheynested,wheretheterritorial boundarieswereandwhattheiryounglookedlikeina nest.Heisoneofthefewpeopletowitnesskingfishers fightingandtryingtodrowneachother.Hesawthem matingandescapingfromsparrowhawks, fishingandgroomingthemselves.Hebecamefamiliarwiththeirbodylanguage – alltheirdifferentposturesandwhatthesemeant. Hewatchedtheyounglearningto flyand fish,succeeding andfailing.Hesaweveryaspectofthekingfisher’slifeand thiswasjustthestartofalifelongstudy.Hebecameaman obsessed.
CharliedidallthisontheTipple,asmall,unassumingWest Countryriver.Hisschoolhadarrangedanoutingtoan adventurecentreontheriver,sothatthechildrencoulddraw thethingsaroundthem,playintheadventureplaygroundand enjoynaturewalks.Charlie,however,wasinterestedonlyin thefactthathehadspottedakingfisher.Theriververyquickly becamethefocusforallhissparetime,andanyonewhocould offerhimaliftfromBristolcitycentretothishavenwaseasy prey.Ifhecouldn’tgetalifthewalked,milesandmiles. Weekends,daysoff anddayswhenhewasmeanttobeat schoolwerespentinwellies,hidinginbushes,takingphotos ofblueandorangebirds.
CharlieandIdecidedtoallowourselveseighteenmonthsto findournirvanabutintheendIfounditintwo.Itwasan accident,andhappenedwhileCharliewasaway filminggiant ottersinPerufor WildlifeonOne.Justlikeallthebestthings inlife,itcamealongwhenIwasn’tevenlooking. Itwaslatespring,Iwasworkinglikeamaniacandwas
Takingtheplunge
aboutfourmonthspregnant.OnenightIreturnedhomelate to findanicecreamenvelopelyingonthematinthehallway. Theaddresswashandwritteninpenandink.
Iamnotoriousforpickinguppost,puttingitinabigpile andleavingitthere.Idon’tevenopenit.Iamusuallyso exhaustedwhenIgethomeintheeveningsthatIjustwant toenjoybeingthere.Itfrustrateseveryonesomuchthatone friend,calledHilary,hastakentowritingonherenvelopesin bigredletters ‘Urgent!’ or ‘Opennow!’ sothatIdon’tmiss somethingimportant.Anywaythisdidn’tlooklikebusiness posttome;itseemedfarmoreexciting,soIopeneditstraight away.Thickcreampaperandalovelytypeface.
Theaddressatthetopwas ‘TheManor’– veryposhbut slightlyconfusing.Ididn’tcomeclosetoknowinganyone wholivedinamanor.Ireadon.ItseemedthatCharliehad alreadybegunsomeresearch.
DearPhilippaandCharlie
AlongtheRiverTipplethereareperhaps – housesin totalthatwouldfitCharlie’sthoughtsofbeingneartheTipple tocontinuehislifelongstudies.
Ofthoseperhaps aresufficientlyinthecountryandfall withinyourpricebracket.In yearsoflivinghereI’venotknown onecomeupforsale–notthatwescrutinisethelocalpaperfor thoserequirementsthatcarefully.Butloandbehold,hereisone thatwouldsuitCharlie’sthoughts.
TheagentPritchardshavehaditaweek.Theyhavehanded out +brochuresalready.Thespecssoundinteresting.The boilersystemdoesnotsoundgreat.Theroomsarealllargebut youmaydefinitelyneedmorethan bedroomsrightaway.Please seethatitisattachedtoanotherhouseofsimilarsize.Thehouse isthenextonesouthofusdowntheriver,about mile.
Onewayoranother,ifyouareseriousaboutthisstep,itmay bethebestshotyougetontheTippleforawhile.
Callusifyou’dlikealittlehelporwouldlikeoneofusto visitwithyou.
Apologiesforthrowingyouwhatmaybeadilemma! Yours, RichardHorton
Hehadincludedanestateagent’sbrochurewithapictureon thefront.
Therewasahouse,awhitehousebyariverwithabridge. Iopenedthebrochurecautiously.Itfeltheavy,notwithpaper orbecausesomethingwasinsideit,butwithportent.Glancing atmybelly,Iwasn’tsureifIwantedanymoreofthat,soI tookmytime.Phrasesjumpedoff thepage: ‘charmingmill cottage’, ‘ruralsetting’, ‘Californian-stylekitchen’ (whaton earthwasthat?).Insidethereweremorepictures,theriver andawaterfall!Myheartbeatquickened.Itriedtoignoreit.
Somethingdeepinmyimaginationbegantostir,memories ofchildhooddreams.Ihadalwayslovedthewaterandhad fantasisedaboutlivingonariverwithabridgetomyfront door.Ipulledmyselfupquickly.Icouldn’tgettoocarried away.Thiswasreallife;therewouldbeaprice.Whatwasthe price?Actually,sodtheprice;itwouldn’tdoanyharmto look.ItookadeepbreathandphonedMrHorton.
Hewascharming.Hehadaverykindvoiceandwasfull ofapologiesthathemighthaveoversteppedthemarkbut anxiousthatthismightbeaperfectopportunityforus.He hadknownCharliesincehehad firstmovedtothemanor, whereCharliehadprettymuchcomewiththegardenfurnitureasthepersonwhoturnedupto filmandtakephotos ontheriver.
Itjustsohappened(anotherfortunatecoincidence)thatI wasworkinginWalesthenextdayandmytrainfromLondon wentviaBristol.Wearrangedthatiftheestateagentcould makeanappointmentIwouldhopoff thetrainontheway backandmeetRichard,whowouldcomewithmetoseethe house.Ifounditdifficulttosleepthatnight.
ThenextdayImadesurewe finishedworkearly.IfonlyI alwayshadthatmuchcontrol.Theestateagentwasinagree-