DESTINY COTTAGE

DESTINY COTTAGE

Once again the house seemed to beckon as she drove past. There it sat,
nestling in a fold in the hills, barely visible from the main
road.
Robyn didn't know why she felt so attracted to this particular cottage.
She only knew that she was rarely able to drive past without a longing
glance.

Now it was for sale. Once, about four months ago, Robyn's curiosity had
led her to drive slowly up the lane to the cottage. Deserted and almost
derelict, the cottage tugged at her heartstrings. In spite of its
condition, Robyn had peered longingly through the window. She could
picture how it might have been when filled with life and
laughter.

Almost against her will, she had made enquiries about the owner. The
landlord of the 'Green Hills' public house a couple of miles away had
been only too eager to fill her in.

Old Mrs Farthingale, the last owner, had died 'a good year since'
leaving the cottage to her last surviving relative, a nephew who
rejoiced in the name of 'Giles Fortescue-Smythe!' Not only did this
rather grand-sounding nephew not want to sell the cottage, neither did
he want to live in it. "Fact is" said the landlord, "he lives in South
Africa". Hear he's done very well for himself, so what he wants to hold
on to that little place for beats me!"

Robyn went on her way, feeling inextricably sad. Now in her late
thirties, she had a good life. Opting for a career rather than
marriage, she had a fulfilling job and many friends. Now, however, the
thought of putting down roots and moving out of her rather cramped flat
was suddenly very appealing.

Giving a mental shrug, Robyn called at the nearest estate agents to see
what else was on offer, and started doing the rounds of likely
properties. Nothing appealed to her like the deserted cottage and she
was at a loss to understand her fascination with it.

After two months of frustrating searching, Robyn once more decided to
pay a visit to her dream cottage. This time as she approached she was
surprised to see that the front door was ajar, and a large, friendly
dog came bounding out to meet her. The dog was followed slowly by a
rather round woman wrapped in the type of cleaning overall Robyn could
remember her grandmother wearing long ago.

The woman interrupted Robyn's apology at her intrusion with the offer
of a cup of tea, as she was "just putting the kettle on and would be
glad of a bit of company".

Over tea Robyn heard that Mrs Briggs was employed on a caretaker basis,
and came to give the house a 'going over' once a fortnight.
Everything was "exactly as the old lady left it - would the young lady
be interested in seeing over the cottage?"

Would she just! Robyn was delighted with the invitation, and even more
delighted with the cottage. Not, she supposed later, that anyone else
would have considered it special, but the atmosphere was one of such
peace that Robyn felt instantly at home.

It was in one of the two back bedrooms that Robyn had her biggest
surprise. On the wall facing the bed was a photograph. Obviously taken
a long, long time ago judging by the sepia tones and the
fashions.

It was of a family group - husband, wife and two children, a boy and a
girl. Nothing unusual in that, except that the young woman in the
photograph could have been Robyn.

The likeness was uncanny - even Mrs Briggs noticed it. Robyn gazed at
it for a long time, and at the face of the man in the photograph.

A face she had never seen before, and yet one which seemed so familiar.
A shiver ran up her spine as she looked at the firm jaw and the dark
brown eyes, and it was with a sense of shock that she came back to
reality and followed Mrs Briggs downstairs.

Shaking her head, she suddenly realized what Mrs Briggs had been
saying, but had to ask her to repeat it, as she had been 'miles
away'.
"I was only saying" said Mrs Briggs, "that Master Giles has said he is
considering selling the place after all. He's not sure that he could
settle back in England after living so long abroad". Robyn drove away
with her head in a whirl, and with Mrs Briggs' promise to ring her if
she had any definite news.

Three weeks later the longed-for phone call came. The owner was to
visit England on a business trip and hoped to settle the matter of the
cottage. If Robyn was still interested could she be at the cottage on
Saturday week?
Could she! Wild horses wouldn't have kept her away.

The Saturday dawned bright and clear, and Robyn felt an acute sense of
excitement as she drove the now familiar road to the cottage. Surely
the thought of being 'a woman of property' was not sufficient to cause
the excitement she was feeling? Also she knew she was apprehensive
about her meeting with Mr Giles Fortescue-Smythe! Perhaps he would have
changed his mind about selling after all.

What would he be like, she wondered. Probably a very hard-headed
business man - about 60 now, she reasoned. Mrs Briggs had mentioned
that he had been abroad for a long time. She could only hope his
business sense would get the better of whatever sentimental reasons had
made him hold on to the cottage for so long.

No friendly dog this time, no comfortable Mrs Briggs. Only a pair of
dark brown eyes in a very tanned face - a very familiar face - the face
in the photograph! A photograph taken over a century ago! Robyn drew in
her breath sharply and swayed with shock.

A firm arm supported her in to the cottage, and capable hands made her
a cup of strong tea. His hands held the cup until she had her first few
sips, and all the time his eyes devoured her face as though it was the
face he had been searching for all his life - as indeed it had.

Neither had yet spoken. It was as though all had already been said - or
as if they knew that they had the rest of their lives to say it all.
And yet when they did start talking it was as though they would never
stop.

Together they toured the garden and house, and Robyn was delighted to
discover that he had exactly the same plans for improvements she had.
They talked of the ingle-nook fireplace they would like to re-open, of
the birdbath they knew, before looking, would be at the bottom of the
garden under the apple tree.

One surprise followed another, and yet they were not surprises, as
together they talked as only people who have known each other all their
lives - or in another existence - can talk.

Robyn had quickly had to revise her original estimation of Giles' age -
going to South Africa as a boy, he was now in his early 40's.
Coming home with the original intention of selling the cottage, he had
fallen in love with it just as inexplicably as Robyn had - it had cast
it's spell upon them both - a spell which neither wanted to
break.

Finally they stood before the photograph in the back bedroom - gazing
at it in wonder before turning into each other's arms. It was just two
hours since they had met, and yet to be standing here like this holding
each other seemed the most natural thing in the world.

As brown eyes gazed into blue, and their lips met in a first, wonderful
kiss, they knew that until now they had each been waiting just for this
- just as they had waited down through the centuries.

The eternal love they shared had again worked its spell - once more it
had drawn them home, home to each other's arms as heart called to heart
over the aeons of time.