House on the Hill

     Positioned vaguely along a sleepy ridge on a grassy hillside, in a whimsical sort of manner, nestled a rambling three story house, thought to be early Georgian, with its quaint windows and sloping thatched roof.
     When Isabel glanced across the valley towards the end of spring, she noticed wisps of smoke drifting aimlessly from one of its chimneys. A ghost of a cloud hovered gently overhead, wrapping itself around swaying treetops high on the top of a hill, sunrays managing to finger through branches, casting golden light down across the valley. 
     The house seemed forlorn somehow, lacking the character, warmth and homeliness it exuded many years ago. Isabel's memory of it was one of sadness, a heart that ached, as she gazed at its stone walls painted white, the soft blue-grey of the front door once made of solid oak. Its windows suited its charm and grace, giving it a presence no other houses nearby possessed - or at least Isabel thought so anyway. Many happy memories remained in that house, for it was over thirty years ago that it all began.
      There was a small village not one mile away, having a pub, Norman church and what represented a village shop. Many cottages, houses and a few farms tumbled down the narrow lanes, scattering themselves across nearby hills. Cattle and a few sheep grazed the rich rain-soaked pastures.
     Several days later Isabel sighed and wandered on, her thoughts and memories dwelling on the many years spent with William, his kind face and gentle manner filling her days and nights with love and laughter. 
     The countryside surrounding the house on the hill, was vivid green for much of the year, as rain fell in abundance in this part of Devon, feeding the fertile soil. Hills were high in places, trees and hedgerows alive with birdsong, with wild flowers adorning the country lanes in spring and summer until eventually the rolling hills dipped lower reaching the sea not far away. Many trees, with the odd woodland, dotted the hills and valleys. Some of oak and cedar old and knarred, branches far reaching dipping to the ground below.
      During spring and summer, into early autumn, leaves were full and abundant clinging to trees and thick amongst the hedgerows. Wildlife lived and roamed on the edge of fields and deep within woodlands, a fox barking in the depths of night, while owls swooped low to their prey. Rabbits, foxes and badgers made their homes in banks and under hedges, were nocturnal, elusive in Devon's lush countryside. 
     The long, often bleak winters were more silent, when hardly a bird was heard twittering, as the cold snowy season set in with a vengeance. Falls could be deep, an occasional blizzard blowing down from the north east, or elsewhere, forming huge drifts that settled precariously along laneways and hedgerows. Rooftops sparkled in the early afternoon sunshine after heavy overnight falls. Everywhere fell silent when snow fluttered down softly, drifting in all directions, building up quickly against the Georgian window panes of the home Isabel had shared with William. The winters sometimes brought an iciness that carpeted everything in its path, froze water in small streams, which to Isabel, looked magical. She gloried in the winters, specially when the garden and fields turned virginal white. The beauty of it was breathtaking, for she enjoyed later sitting by a crackling log fire, William reading a book nearby with a glass of whiskey  and later they would sometimes share in long discussions over a glass of wine. They were comfortable, happy in each other's company, their two boys having grown up and moved away, far from home.

     Isabel brought her thoughts back to the present as she came upon the old Norman church, lying on the edge of the village. She wandered through its large oak door, remembering the day when she and William were married, on a late September morning. The sun remaining warm on their faces, while leaves had begun to change colour on the churchyard trees, the interior smelling sweetly of roses. She thought of the white ones she had carried in her bouquet and wore in her hair. Isabel smiled inwardly, thinking of the joy and blissful happiness they had both felt on their wedding day and for the many years afterwards.
     During the summer, white roses had graced the doorway of their house on the hill, its old oak door being framed by an abundance of showy blooms. They had witnessed the laughter and games played on the lawns circling the house. The children had played with balls, climbed trees and shot with bows and arrows at an imaginary enemy galloping into the garden, wearing full armour, and carrying a lance.
     Upon entering the church, Isabel felt the quiet stillness, although somewhere an organ was playing Bach she recognized had been part of their wedding ceremony. A warm feeling overcame her as she stopped to listen, smiling, remembering the beautiful happy day she had wed her dear William. How contented they had been. Their sons growing up in the countryside, boarding at a fine school where they soon settled, achieving academic levels to which both she and William had been proud. Later they had drifted off to university some distance away, returning home during holidays. Finally they had left their childhood behind in the house with oak doors, finding their way in the world. She and William had soon settled into early retirement in their absence.
     The organ had ceased and the walls echoed to the many children that had been baptized in the village church, the weddings, funerals, and friendly faces at harvest festival time, all remembered now.  
     It had been a somber but heartfelt funeral for William when he died, not too long ago. She gave a sniff as memories flooded in. Then Isabel found it necessary to move from their home, as old memories had been unbearably difficult to bear. It had become too large, so she decided to move to a smaller, more manageable place not too far away across the valley. She had always loved the seaside, with many walks undertaken by the whole family. When their boys left, it was just her and William strolling across the sand, close to the incoming tide late on summer evenings, the sun melting into the sea like a pool of molten fire. 
     Isabel walked up the aisle of the old church, as morning sunlight filtered gently through stained glass windows. She slipped quietly out through the old studded church door, with  sunshine warming her face, wondering whether to pass by her old home. She was beginning to feel hungry, thinking what she would cook for lunch.
     As a slight mist dusted the hilltops being late summer now, Isabel walked along narrow country lanes, pausing once or twice to hear the loud twittering of birds as they flitted from tree to tree, busily catching what insects were still available. Soon, a white painted house came into view, having blue-grey doors and windows nestling into its thatched roof. She immediately thought back to when she had to sell it and move to a smaller house, being alone and without her beloved William. Her feelings were still raw, heart beginning to pound as she eventually came upon the charming and somewhat rambling house. It was full of memories reminding her of how William changed her whole life. He had made it complete, happy, contented. Facing life without him was often intolerable, daunting. He had died suddenly after a short illness, leaving her bereft and lonely.
     Isabel slowed her pace as she came across the low wooden front gate she remembered so well, her eyes darting about the garden, trying not to look too conspicuous. 
     In the garden was a lady similar to her own age, bent to the chores of tidying a border. She stopped, looking up as Isabel hesitated. 'Hello', she said, an enquiring smile on her face. The lady appeared quite tall, had a pleasant face with kindly brown eyes and grey streaks running through her dark hair that partially curled about her attractive face. She removed her gardening gloves standing up, making a slight grimace straightening her back.
     Isabel smiled at her. 'Hello!' she replied. 'You must be the owner who bought this property from me some while ago.
     'Why yes,' said the lady, slightly puzzled. 'Yes, we did.'
     Isabel couldn't help casting her gaze over the garden. 'I never met you at the time, but hope you've been happy living here. It was our home for many years and our children were brought up in this house when they were very young.'
     'Oh indeed I have been,' the lady answered. 'Very much so, and I love the garden, but it can be a bit of a handful at times when you are on your own.' She walked the few steps to where Isabel stood behind the gate, extending her hand.  'My name is Susan and its nice to meet you after all this time. Do come in if you have time,' she beckoned. 'Would you like to wander through the garden with me?'
     'Thank you.' Isabel shook hands with the lady over the gate feeling pleased. 'Well, if you're sure I won't  be holding you up from your gardening. My name is Isabel by the way.'
     'Not at all, I fancy a break,' replied Susan appearing somewhat relieved. 'I've been hard at it all morning and becoming rather tired. It must feel strange seeing your garden again, but I suppose it's mine now,' she said, looking a little nonchalant.
     Isabel stood beside Susan, a feeling of loss, memories flooding back as they began to stroll side by side. She thought for a moment, then answered, trying to feel positive, leaving the past behind and going forward, no matter what it took. She drew a long breath. 'Yes, its your house and garden now, and although I'll always have happy memories living here, it's necessary to quietly close a door as others may open.'
     Susan smiled looking over at Isabel as they sauntered past some roses being rather late in blooming. 'That's a lovely way to think about it I suppose. My life has had one or two doors closing recently.'
    'Oh!' said Isabel. 'Nothing too serious I hope?' She didn't want to sound too familiar or pry, as they had only just met.
     'Well, you could call it that. I lost my husband a few months ago and finding things rather difficult on my own.'
     'I am sorry,' replied Isabel. I've been without my dear William for some time now. Not a days goes by when I don't think of him and miss him terribly. That's why I sold this house. It became necessary to live in something smaller, more manageable. Our children grew up and moved away, so it was unnecessary keeping it going by myself. And with ageing becoming more of a problem in time, I made the obvious decision to sell. But there will always be memories attached to this house and the garden.'
      'I guess there will be. I'm in the same boat now, although we never had children, but thought friends would come down from London for weekends, the house was perfect for that.'

     An hour had passed and both ladies were feeling more than hungry. Susan suddenly turned to Isabel, 'I know we don't know each other very well, but would you like to stay for a spot of lunch? It will only be a bowl of homemade chicken and vegetable soup and some seed bread to go with it. I've always loved making bread and as it happens, made some only this morning.'  
     'That sounds wonderful to me,' said Isabel smiling at the thought. 'Thank you very much. If it isn't too much trouble, I'd be pleased to.'
     'That's settled then. I can return to the gardening any old time.' Susan washed her hands under a garden tap and shook them. 'I'd best wash them properly in the kitchen. Do come in. Hope you weren't in a hurry to get home.'
     'Not at all! I wandered into the village church for a short time and will walk the extra mile or two later. One needs to keep active if possible, or the whole body would cease up, given half a chance.' Susan smiled, ushering  Isabel through the kitchen door, inviting her to take a seat beside a large farmhouse table.
     'It must seem really strange for you to walk through that doorway again?' Susan applied soap to her hands and ran them under the tap, before reaching for a towel. 'I guess the place looks much the same as when you were here. We never got round to a lot of re-decorating when we moved in. Thankfully you left the house in good order and we only needed to repaint a few rooms to freshen them up.'
     Isabel glanced quickly around the room. 'William was always good at that. He loved to be up ladders and tinkering with things. This house was very special to us both. It was the garden that was my specialty. It took a lot of care, but well worth it.' She looked over to a small vase of wild flowers. She had always loved spring and the garden bursting forth with new life after the long dark days of winter.
     They sat and chatted over soup and fresh bread. Susan finished hers, buttering another slice of bread. 'I guess that's why there wasn't a lot to do in the house when we moved in. 'Such a lovely place,' she sighed. 'But I'm not at all sure what to do now that Oliver has departed. I miss him so much.'
     Isabel was silent for a while, thinking of William and the happy marriage they had shared. The house had become a home and she felt a little uncomfortable now it was no longer theirs. She smiled gently at Susan. 'We seem to be in the same boat now. It is said that time heals, but to me, it's a long time to wait.'
     'Life is never the same after losing someone dear to you,' Susan mused, fingering the last morsel of bread on her plate. She looked up at that moment catching Isabel's eye. 'I say, would you like to have lunch with me another time soon, I've enjoyed our chat?'
     'That's kind of you to ask,' smiled Isabel. 'I'd like that. I'd better be on my way soon and thank you for the delicious lunch.'
     'Do you live very far away? I could drive you to save a long walk.'
     'No thanks Susan. I enjoy walking. It's not that far really.'
     Susan thought suddenly. 'Perhaps we should swap telephone numbers so we can be in touch again soon.'
     'An excellent idea!' replied Isabel pausing at the front door.

     Two weeks had passed when Isabel decided to phone Susan. When they had talked on first meeting, they soon  found they shared similar interests and a love of medieval history in particular.  
     Over the next few months the two ladies, having formed a firm relationship, spent many hours together discussing some of the books they had read, one in particular was a medieval mystery.

     On a morning when sunshine spilled over the countryside after many rain-filled days and nights, the summer sun felt warm and enticing, spreading across hilltops, filling the valleys. Flowers were still in abundance in the winding lanes. Sweet-smelling honeysuckle wound around dog roses, through full leaf copper beech. Blue periwinkles scrambled below hedgerows, when Isabel arrived at Susan's house, soon in deep conversation about a medieval mystery that had occurred in Cambridge.
     Later they were walking in the garden when Isabel noticed something small and wooden poking out close to the house in one of the borders skirting the house. She almost pounced on it, but restrained herself. 'What on earth can that be?' she exclaimed, becoming animated. 'I've done lots of gardening here, but never have I noticed that!' she added, closely scrutinizing a piece of what looked like old timber.
     'Nor have I!' replied Susan puzzled. 'Let's take a closer look at it. I'm intrigued.' They both bent down with curious expressions on their faces, feeling strange pangs of excitement.
     'Think we had better unearth it,' added Isabel. 'What do you think Susan?'
     'Oh, of course! Indeed we must,' replied Susan, grasping the end of the small piece of old timber and giving it a slight tug. She was surprised it moved at all, but brushed away the soil around it until it became obvious to both ladies. It appeared to be a lid of some sort.
     'This is more interesting by the moment!' Isabel said, encouraging Susan to keep digging. 'I wonder if it...oh my goodness!' she exclaimed as Susan lifted an old rotting lid that revealed what looked to be a huge dark hole beneath.
     'It must lead under the house, as it certainly appears to be big enough. See the direction it goes?' Susan was pointing towards the wall of the house as Isabel stood close to her. They squinted to see in the darkness below their feet, then crouched down trying to adjust their eyes to what lay in the darkness. 'I'll go and fetch a torch. This must be investigated further,' Susan added standing up, straightening her back. 'Won't be a moment Isabel.'
     Very soon, she returned with a large torch, used during power blackouts. 'Now we'll get to the bottom of this!' she nodded, eyebrows lifting, her face twisting in an odd sort of grin.
     Together they shone the torch into the darkness. 'There seems to be a ladder in there,' said Isabel, squinting. 'Do you fancy trying it out Susan? Not sure if I'm game enough.'
     'Well one of us should!' replied Susan. 'If it has to be me, so be it.' She gamely reached out a leg and felt if the ladder appeared safe, as it could have been completely rotten, or eaten away with woodworm. Carefully she trod on one rung then the next while Isabel tried to light her descent. 'Alright so far,' she grimaced, noticing several cobwebs lining the darkened depths.
     'Take care now.' Isabel's face was screwed up, concerned, as Susan was slowly disappearing. Then suddenly she stopped, came back up and took the torch from Isabel.
     'I will need that, as its much too dark down there.' She made her way carefully back down the stairs, dodging more cobwebs. Soon she reached the bottom and shone the torch along the floor. 'Oh my goodness. Oh my...!'
     'What is it?' Isabel was on her knees looking down into the black abyss, beginning to worry. 'Are you alright Susan?'
     'I think so..!' Then silence. 'But...oh dear, I've found something I don't like the look of!' Susan's voice was husky, words more faint.
     'Susan! What's wrong?' demanded Isabel, becoming more than a little worried by now. Silence again. Then slowly, Susan's head appeared from out of the darkness, a strange look on her face, which had paled significantly.
     'For goodness sake Susan, tell me what is wrong. I can't stand the suspense any longer. You have gone quite pale and look as though you've seen a ghost.'
     'Think I might have,' replied Susan, 'well sort of. There are bones down there and I know they are human, as there is a skull attached,' she added dubiously. Her incongruous expression shocked Isabel.
     'That's serious Susan. We must phone the police immediately.'
     'I quite agree,' mumbled Susan, still in a daze with what she had just witnessed.
     'Come on then. I'll make you a nice hot cup of tea. Looks like you could do with it.' Isabel decided she must take the bull by the horns and make Susan the tea this time, even if it wasn't her kitchen. She led her friend towards the back door and into the sun-filled kitchen, which looked a good deal cheerier to Susan, than down that old, creaking ladder. She was still in a bit of a daze as Isabel put the kettle on and walked over to the phone.  

     Within about half an hour, two policemen knocked at the front door. Isabel went to open it.
     'Are you the lady who lives here?' asked a tall, burly policeman.
     'No, but I rang you a short time ago and my friend who discovered the bones, is in the kitchen. I'm just visiting, but she lives here. I owned the house many years ago and never had I found anything like this! It's been a bit of a shock to us both.'
     'Well, we can handle it from now on.' The policemen assumed a businesslike pose walking behind Isabel into the kitchen, where Susan was still drinking hot sweet tea.
     After brief introductions, the policemen naturally wanted to ask some questions and see where the bones had been discovered. Both ladies ushered them out into the garden, to where they had pulled up the trap door covering what lay below. The policemen slowly and carefully descended the old ladder, as it soon became apparent there was enough room for the two of them down there. Susan and Isabel heard some mutterings coming from the depths of the darkened hole, then the policemen reappeared, one at a time. 'We'll have to get forensics out here as soon as possible. We'd be grateful if you were to say nothing of this to anyone. That's important. Do you understand?'
     'Yes, of course!' both ladies answered together.
     'And another thing, you are not to go near here again until it's been closely examined by forensics. We don't want any further contamination than what's already been done. It appears from what we have seen, they are the bones of someone quite young. In fact, we think a murder may have been committed here a very long time ago, but we have to be sure.'
     'A murder? You cannot be serious!' Susan's face was contorted with shock and worry. Isabel's eyes were wide open, her jaw had dropped as she looked over at Susan,  frowning up at the policemen.

     Isabel spent a good deal of time with Susan after that, trying to console her friend. They had both lived there unbeknown that a murder may have been committed. From the day of the discovery, the house no longer held its usual charm, when a feverish melee broke out around it. Several forensic people examined the surroundings of the large hole, but concentrated mainly on what lay beyond the wooden trap door, hidden for many years.
     As Susan and Isabel sipped coffee one morning, gazing out onto a mist-shrouded hillside, there was a knock at the door. On the doorstep stood an illustrious looking man with greying hair, dapper and
well dressed, carrying a file of some sort. 'You'd better come in,' Susan said after the man identified himself as a detective, all the way from Scotland Yard in London. The man had a certain erudite expression about him and both ladies couldn't help feeling impressed with his presence and manner, although Susan had been forewarned of his visit. It had been necessary for him to check many details with the local constabulary, but it was also prudent to put Susan in the picture as to what they had discovered.
     The gentleman sat down, his file still perched on his knee and looked up at two expectant faces. 'Well...' he began. 'It transpires that a hundred years ago there was a murder of a young child only six years old. It was a sad case when his mother, having died of a sudden illness, his brute of a father had lost control and struck his little stepson. The child died instantly. The father must have tried to hide the child's body in the old cellar, then gone off and died himself before it was ever discovered.  The relationship he shared with his second wife was unknown to any of the locals. The poor little boy had been reported missing, but no one had followed up as to his whereabouts. All very poor policing I'm afraid. I'm sorry this had to happen and in this lovely part of the countryside. It's quite astonishing it was never discovered before now.'
     Susan intervened at this moment. 'It's all very sad, but perhaps it was never discovered because it took a lot of erosion of the garden to uncover a small section of the trapdoor. We've had masses of rain over the winter and spring. Slowly the garden soil has been washed away, enough to expose a small piece of wood my friend and I noticed one day while walking nearby. Quite by accident too.'
     'Well, it's all wrapped up now and the forensic people have been very thorough. It's taken a lot of investigation to find out the truth.' The man from Scotland Yard shifted in his seat.
     'Oh, I'm sorry,' Susan said while still in deep thought. 'Would you care for a coffee? I'm forgetting my manners, thinking about what you have told us.'
     'Thank you, yes,' nodded the man, placing his file on the coffee table with relief.
     'I'll be right back.' Susan rose immediately and went to do his bidding. In fact she thought they might all like a fresh cup of coffee and noticed some chocolate cake she thought would be a nice gesture. After all, the man had traveled a long way to relate what needed to come out in the end.
     Susan carried a large tray to the coffee table and after the man had left, looked over to her friend Isabel. 'Whew! Didn't quite expect that, did you Issy?'
     'It was a strong possibility I suppose, but very sad all the same. Do you think you can live with it?' Isabel asked dubiously.
     'I don't think I could now.' Susan gazed across to the window, where outside soft rays of sun had descended amongst the hills. The trees in the small woodland at the top of the hill were once again shrouded in a gentle mist. Birds were quiet as the sun ceased its last burst upon the countryside, its glow fading amongst the valley, warmth blotted out, the house suddenly appearing gloomy and forlorn.
     'What will you do then?' Isabel  asked feeling a chill. Autumn was not far away, the nights drawing in, days were shortening. She sat motionless watching Susan, who seemed far away, lost in another world.
     'I'm not know Issy. Think I'll sell the house. I can't go on living here anymore, not after knowing about that poor child - never having a decent burial - lying there all alone. Yes, I've made up my mind. I'm going to sell. The house has felt cold, empty lately and the garden will become too much of a chore as I get older.'
      'Susan, I've been thinking. We know each other very well now and I'd love to offer my home as your home too. It's perfectly large enough so we can have our own space, and we can share the garden, even though it's smaller than this one, but plenty big enough to accommodate us both. What do you say?'
     'Oh Issy, I'm speechless! What a lovely thought! Thank you. You're such a dear. I may take you up on your kind offer. Give me a while to think about it.'
     She walked over to the window, looked out beyond the trees on the hill, thinking for several moments. She turned, a gentle smile upon her face. 'Alright. I've thought about it and don't need any more time. The answer is yes. If you're sure. It's an excellent idea! I would never have thought of it.'
     'Good! ' said Isabel smiling, walking over to give her friend a kiss to seal their tryst.  'Well that's settled then. You can sell this enormous place as and when you like and we'll see out the last of our days together.'
     Both ladies laughed at that and drank another cup of coffee.
    


    
    
    
    
    

Summer Sunday

It's quietly summer outside
When Sunday lies still and hot
An occasional bird comes visiting
Through the bending fig tree stops
Soon everyone's gone to the beach.

A singing with flapping wings
Within a heat haze searing
Blackbird seeks rest and moisture
None to be found he's fearing
But everyone's gone to the beach.

A rogue of a fly keeps buzzing
Throughout the long day passing
Soft breeze through waving grass
Oh end this summer soon asking
When everyone's gone to the beach.

Suffer ye not the dryness
Come autumn with misty breathing
When summer gives up its hold
The seasons soon to be freezing
Not everyone's gone to the beach.

Sunday seethes sapping the ground
Till moonbeams light my way
Casting silvery softness near
Upon life's pillow end of day
Everyone's home from the beach.