Yesterday's England

Yesterday's England

It was that time of year again, a so called christian time of year
Easter. Michael didn't have much time for Christianity, or for that
matter Easter. This year we had decided to spend it at home, just the
two of us.

It was Easter Sunday. I glanced out of the window as the last rays of
the sunshine disappeared behind the tree's, and suddenly it was raining
heavily. Michael sat by the open log fire. He drew the curtains,
closing out the cold and the damp.

"Remember last year Michael" I asked as I sat down opposite him.
"How could I forget Jean love" he replied smiling. "He had called me
Jean Love almost from the first day we had met over sixty years
ago.

1945

"Let's ask at the cottage Jean love" Michael said.
"We had been lost for over an hour in the lush lanes of West Wales.
"Michael pulled the car over and parked just a few feet from the front
gate of the small cottage. The thatched roof seemed to be reaching down
as if wishing to touch the ground it was neatly trimmed, and
and equall, so to were the lawns.

Yellow and red roses clung to the walls and trellace over the doorway,
and a variety of mixed flowers glowed and blended with a fine spring
day and a clear blue sky.
White picket fences completed the picture.
I knocked on the door.
It was answered by a most jovial character whome I placed in his mid
forties.
"Good afternoon" I said, "I'm sorry to trouble you but my husband and I
are lost... I wonder if you could help us".
"Certainly" he replied in that attractive lilt that theWelsh tongue
posseses. "Come in" he said smiling and beckoned to Michael, who was
still sitting in the car, to come and join us.

It had been two hours since I had knocked on the cottage door, outside
the sun had disappeared and there was only the dark. Michael and I
enjoyed a light supper with this kindly man and his charming
wife.
"You'll stay the night", she called from the kitchen raising her voice
slightly above the chinking of the dishes.

We graciousely accepted, as during supper the weather had turned for
the worse, heavy thunder had been getting closer by the minute and the
rain was unbelievably heavy. Even the cottage shivered as the winds
reached gale force proportions.
Our hosts had a charm of almost innocence bliss, and the thing that I
noticed most, was the constant attentions they gave each other and the
unfailing love that seemed to exude from both of them.

"Lived here long", I asked.
The replythat came surprised us both.
"Moved in just a month ago", his wife replied.
I knew instantly what Michael was thinking, I remembered our house, it
had taken us a year to get everything straight when we moved in, but
here at the cottage everything was so pristine, almost perfect.

The evening took care of itself, and in the morning following
breakfast, we bade our farewells.
The lane where the car was parked was full of tangled leaves after the
storm, but the garden retained a tidyness all of its own.
Even the fox gloves near the hedge seemed to be nodding their heads,
bidding us good morning, and simultaneously farwell.

"Remember" our hosts shouted as Michael started the car, "Right at the
church then straight on for about five miles into town.
"Left they explained was a short cut, but the bridge was dangerous when
the river was in full flood".
I wound down the window and waved at them both, smiling in an effort to
thank them both for their hospitality.
They had refused any offer of payment. "Don't be daft" he said "It's
been a pleasure".
"Right at the church" I called out to Michael as he engaged the gears
and drove off.
"Pretty name for a cottage", Michael said.
Neither of us had noticed it the day before, but as we left their
drive, Apple Cottage was clearly printed across the gate.
"What lovely people", I remarked.
silence.

The rain had stopped and the skies were scattered with clouds, with a
promise of a grey and wet day ahead. The immediate countryside around
us seemed to be unspoilt, so undamaged by the nights previous storm,
like some kind of miracle, I mentioned it to Michael at the time.
"Yes", he said, "It reminds me of Yesterday's England".
We turned right at the church as we had been instructed and all too
quickly the countryside was left behind us, and the surrounding area
gave way to the suburbs of the town.
It felt like we had left a whole different world behind us.

We found the Hotel and checked in.
Pembrokshire has a rugged and beautiful coastline, and even boasts of
having the largest little City in the World, St David's.

The holiday period passed quite peacefully and we were among the last
few tourists to leave the Hotel, which was to closefor two weeks prior
to the summer season.
We settled our account and at the same time asked the receptionist if
she by chance knew the name of our friendly hosts who just two short
weeks ago had been so ver kind to us when we were lost.
We had bought them a small gift and wanted to personalise the
message.

The receptionist looked up, "Just one minute please Madam"m she said
politely.
Two minutes later the young lady returned from the inner office holding
the local directory.

"Apple Cottage", I said smiling, about five miles back from
here".
The young lady looked at Michael and I.
"That road is closed", she said.
"Closed", I repeated, "Since when".?
"Has been for the past sixty years, ever since the bridge, the cottage
and the young couple were swept away by the storm, Easter Time it
was.....?

The End.