A Shadow of Suspicion Over the Countryside
Charlotte sat in her cosy cottage in the outskirts of York, flipping through an old notebook in search of her neighbour Emily’s number. Finally spotting the digits, she dialled. “Emily, love, hello!” she began warmly. “It’s Charlotte, your neighbour from the cottage. I was wondering, how do you grow your radishes? Yours are always so crisp, and mine just won’t turn out right.”
“Oh, it’s nothing special,” Emily replied, a hint of tiredness in her voice. “Just soak the seeds for a day or two before planting. I’ll be down in a few days to start. I’m still in town.”
“In town?” Charlotte gasped, her voice trembling with surprise. “Then who on earth did your William bring to the cottage?”
Emily froze, her breath turning heavy. Without another word, she hung up, ordered a cab, and sped off towards the countryside. Stepping inside the cottage, she stood motionless at the sight before her.
Emily was furious. Her face burned, her eyes flashing like lightning. Had her husband William—who she believed was at work—seen her now, he wouldn’t have recognised the gentle woman who had straightened his collar and kissed his cheek that morning. But William noticed none of this. He was in high spirits, looking forward to Friday evening: her famous steak and kidney pie, fresh tomatoes from the greenhouse, and a chilled bottle of ale—after all, tomorrow was Saturday, and he could sleep in. He had no idea what storm was brewing over him.
It had all started with that call from Charlotte, the neighbour at the cottage. A retired woman, Charlotte lived in a spacious flat with her daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren. But as soon as spring arrived, she moved to the countryside, staying until late autumn. Her family only visited on weekends for barbecues, leaving her alone most days, glued to the telly. So any hint of gossip in the village set her curiosity alight.
That morning, around ten, Charlotte stepped onto her porch, surveying the quiet lane, when she noticed the gate of the neighbouring cottage swing open. A car rolled in—she didn’t recognise the model, but she was certain it was William’s. Yet instead of parking by the gate, it drove further and disappeared behind thick raspberry bushes. “Clever,” she thought, narrowing her eyes. “Hiding, are we? What a sly fox.”
A call from a friend distracted her, so she missed the moment two figures—a man and a woman—stepped out of the car. Returning to her porch, she resumed her watch. Half an hour later, her patience was rewarded: a young woman in a bright green tracksuit emerged, stretching her arms wide. “You were right, it’s gorgeous here! The air’s so fresh!” Definitely not Emily—this stranger was in her twenties, slender with long dark hair. “Goodness, William!” Charlotte muttered. “Fifty years old and he’s landed himself a beauty!” The woman laughed at something unseen and slipped back inside.
Without wasting time, Charlotte snatched her notebook and dialled Emily. “Emily, dear, hello!” she chirped, feigning innocence. “It’s Charlotte from the cottage. I was just wondering—how do you plant your radishes? Yours always turn out lovely.”
“Oh, nothing fancy,” Emily replied. “Just soak the seeds before sowing. I’ll be down next week to start. Still in town for now.”
“In town?” Charlotte paused for effect. “Then who did William bring to the cottage?”
“He’s there?” Emily’s voice wavered.
“About an hour ago. And he hid the car behind the raspberries—I can only see the roof from here.”
“Right. Talk later, Charlotte,” Emily said flatly, hanging up.
She stood rigid, pulse pounding in her temples. Dialling William, she asked, “Will, where are you?”
“At work, why?” he answered lightly.
“Just wondering when you’ll be home. Not late?”
“Even earlier—it’s Friday!” he said cheerfully.
Emily gripped the phone until her knuckles whitened. “We’ll see about that Friday,” she thought, calling a cab.
The drive took less than an hour—too early in the season for traffic. Paying the driver, she marched towards the cottage. There it was: William’s car, glinting white behind the raspberry bushes. Her heart hammered. Quietly climbing the porch steps, she eased open the door and stepped inside.
The kitchen table was laid with cheese and crackers, pickles, fresh tomatoes, and an open box of chocolates. Nearby sat a half-empty bottle of prosecco and two glasses. “So this is how William works up an appetite before supper,” she thought bitterly. “Well, I’ll give him something to chew on.”
She stormed into the bedroom—and froze. Under the duvet, two figures stirred. A muffled yelp sounded as she yanked at the covers, but they held tight. “Emily, what the—?”
William’s nephew, Oliver, sat bolt upright beside a young woman Emily had never seen. “Aunt Em, what are you doing here?” he blurted, face reddening.
“Took a cab,” she said coldly. “This is my cottage, in case you’d forgotten. And you are here because…?”
“I borrowed Uncle Will’s keys for the weekend,” Oliver admitted sheepishly. “He said you wouldn’t be back till June.”
“Wasn’t planning to,” Emily said flatly. “But vigilant neighbours reported intruders. Fine, enjoy yourselves. Only now I’ve sent the cab away, so heaven knows how I’m getting home.”
Oliver jumped up. “I’ll drive you! Sophie can finish dinner, and I’ll be quick.” The girl—Sophie, apparently—nodded eagerly. Emily waited on the porch, still processing the suspicion that had nearly shattered her trust in William.
When he returned from work, the table was set, and Emily smiled as he praised the meal. Casually, she said, “You’ll never guess—Charlotte rang today. Claimed you’d brought some girl to the cottage.”
William tensed slightly but kept his tone even. “And you said…?”
“I told her she was mad,” Emily smiled. “That I’ve got a loyal, decent husband who’d never cheat.”
“Quite right,” William nodded. “Charlotte’s lost the plot. I lent Oliver the keys—his car’s white too, so she must’ve mixed them up.” Privately, he thought, “That woman needs a hobby.”
They settled in front of the telly, a new drama playing. Watching the heroine weep over betrayal, Emily thought, “How lucky I am with William. I nearly ruined everything with my own doubts.” Peace and gratitude filled her—the storm had passed, leaving their home untouched.
