Scenes From Rural Life

Life is not easy when you live in a small and remote English village. Most people would think of it as idyllic but believe me it's no bed of roses. Here I was, a twenty something girl, cut off from the rest of the world, trapped in a cotton-wool blanket of peace and quiet. It sometimes made me want to scream. The fact that it wasn't my choice made it even worse.

I'll try and paint a picture for you. Where I live is almost too small to call a village but it's how we all refer to it. There are about thirty houses huddled together in a slight depression in a range of hills. I don't think anything much has changed around here for a hundred years or more. There certainly isn't a new house anywhere in the village although a few have had extensions added during my lifetime. There is a feeling that we are neglected and are too small to bother much with. Our only link to the outside world, apart from cars which everyone depends on, is the bus service. If you can call four times a week a service. Two on Saturday and two during the week. Into town ten miles away and then back again two hours later. They are even talking about cutting that to Saturday only. They blame the car. Ahhh, if only I had one.

Somehow, I had missed out. All my schoolmates had managed to find the money for lessons and then to buy some old banger and were suddenly free. It just never happened with me. My dad tried to teach me but for some reason nothing stuck in my head. I failed my test twice before I gave up. I had an old battered and very worn-out motorbike that I used to ride around illegally but I couldn't take it too far. We hardly ever saw a police car, so it was fairly safe around the village but further afield I was in danger of being caught. Besides, it had the annoying habit of breaking down and I would have to push it home.

I don't want you to think that my life was all gloomy and terrible. I honestly did appreciate the countryside where I lived. It's just that there were times when I felt trapped. I had a little money but not much from the two jobs I had. I worked three days a week at the local shop, the centre of life as far as the villagers were concerned, and I earned some extra from mucking out at the local stables. This one also got me occasional free rides on the horses.

But enough of me moaning. Let me get down to the purpose of my story. When I was feeling a bit down, which was a bit too often really, I would go for a walk into the local woods. They were supposed to be private, but no one took much notice, and the owners didn't mind as we didn't do any harm. To get in meant climbing over a barbed wire fence. In the spring this meant you stepped straight into an area of bluebells and wild garlic. This was definitely my favourite time of year. I was down there one day in April this year feeling my dark mood lift as the smell of garlic assaulted my nostrils. We were in the middle of this new disease and everyone was wearing masks. It was such a relief to walk around with mine stuffed in my pocket enjoying the smells and breathing in the bright fresh air.

I had been wandering aimlessly for some time and then found a fallen tree that made a fine seat. There was a gap in the trees, and I could see the landscape beyond. I'd sat here many times in the past, and it was one of my favourite places. I was sitting peacefully allowing the spring sunshine to warm me when I heard footsteps approaching. Very rarely did I meet someone during my walks but when I did it was usually someone I knew from the village. There was the occasional crack of a broken twig and the sound of feet swishing through fallen leaves. I looked up as a small dog appeared pulling behind it a woman, struggling to control its enthusiasm. The dog had obviously caught my scent and was excited to explore. Although small he was strong and bounding with energy and he pulled free, ran in my direction, tail wagging furiously and leapt upon my lap. It took me by surprise and I instinctively put my arms around him. She looked shocked and ashamed at his unruly behaviour.

"Pedro, come here! Heel, boy," she called but he was too interested in his new friend, "I'm so sorry my dear, he's usually better behaved than that."

"It's ok," I said, "I love dogs and he's sweet." I stroked his head and smiled at her. To show her it really was ok I shuffled along the log and made space for her. It was then that I noticed she was depending quite heavily on a walking stick to help her. She sat down with a heavy sigh at the far end of the log. The dog, Pedro, seemed happy to stay on my lap and I continued to stroke him.

When I looked at her it struck me what else was different about her apart from her ornate walking stick. I could see her face! Over the past month everyone had quickly become used to wearing masks and all we ever saw of people out and about were their eyes. It seemed like forever since I'd sat face to face with someone and talked to them.

"Shouldn't we ...?" I started to ask, pulling my mask from my pocket.

"It's ok with me," she said, "as long as we stay this far apart, we should be fine, and we're in the open air.

I stuffed my mask back in my pocket. "It's nice not to for once. I won't tell if you don't."

"Agreed," she said with a conspiratorial smile. "I'm Cathy, by the way."

"Hi Cathy, I'm Bronwyn. Most people call me Bron."

"Then hello Bron. Are you from round here?"

"Just up the way, in the village."

"Me too but I've only just arrived, and I've not met many people yet. My partner is the new local vet. I've moved here with her."

The significance of that final word didn't register at the time. I was too busy watching her mouth move which had become such a rare sight especially with strangers. Mum and dad didn't really count as I mostly ignored them anyway.

"Whereabouts are you?"

"We took over from the old man that was there before. The house set back off the road on the edge of the village."

"Yes, I know it. I think everyone knew old Mr Bill as we used to call him. We were sorry to see him go."

"And where are you? You sound like a local girl."

I blushed at being referred to as a girl but was warmed by her smile. "I'm with my parents still," and I put on a theatrical grumpy face, "we live up the alley opposite the shop. Its known locally as 'kissing alley' and our cottage as 'kissing cottage'."

"I've heard of it but never ventured up there. I'm sure its lovely."

"It's ok but a bit cramped with the three of us. But there's no alternative."

I had started to look at her more closely but being careful not to appear rude and staring. She was roughly twice my age I guessed, about the same age as my mum. But life had been kinder too her. Don't get me wrong, I love my mum, but she was never a real beauty. Cathy exuded a glowing health that made me think of some sort of athlete, I don't know why. Maybe that explained the walking stick.

"Have you hurt your leg?" I asked, and then immediately regretted the question, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"It's ok, I wish more people would be upfront. I always try to be, but most people ignore it and pretend it's not there. Its congenital. I was born with a deformed pelvis. It's something I've learned to live with." She spread her arms wide as though welcoming the woods into an embrace, "as you can see it doesn't prevent me from enjoying moments like these."

She turned and picked up her stick and I got a good look at it. It seemed old and I wondered if the handle might be silver. It was a long way from those cheap-looking NHS ones you get when you break your leg.

"I must be going. I promised to have dinner ready."

"Me too."

"Shall we walk back together? Pedro seems to have become attached, maybe you could take his lead for me. He always tries to pull me over."

And so, we walked back through the woods, holding our breath as we crushed the wild garlic beneath our feet, over the barbed wire fence and across the field that bordered the lane. Even though there was almost no traffic ever along that lane she asked me to keep a tight grip on Pedro's lead. He was not happy, but I managed it. As we came back into the village she made to turn right along the larger road. Her house was a few yards further along that way. It seemed odd saying goodbye. She had been so easy to talk to and I had felt I had been treated as an equal. Most people, including my parents thought of me still as a silly girl and treated me as such.

I wandered back along Great Street, as it was grandly called. I fished my mask out of my pocket and put it on before anyone told me off. Luckily, it was quite late in the afternoon and no one was around, and I was glad to duck into kissing alley and get home.

For the next few days life went back to normal. I worked my days at the shop and did a smelly shift pitchforking hay and horse crap at the stables. Every so often I found my mind wandering back to that encounter in the woods. Slowly I came to realise that part of it was chatting face to face with someone and quite how rare that had become. It had been a month and a bit since lockdown started and she had been the first face I had seen.

No wonder, then, that I didn't recognise her on my way home from the stables. This unknown masked woman suddenly stopped in front of me and said, "Hello Bron, lovely to see you again." When all she got was a confused look, she held up her walking stick with one hand and, looking right and left with exaggerated caution, she briefly pulled down her mask. I was horrified that I hadn't recognised her.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Hi ... errr ... Cathy."

"How are you? Still walking in the woods?"

"When I get some time off, I do."

"I go there almost every day. I think Pedro has been missing you."

"I've been busy, but I have a free day tomorrow so I may go down there then."

"It would be lovely to meet up with you again. I am sure Pedro would be overjoyed. And without these stupid things," she said pointing at her mask, "it's good to be naughty every so often."

I felt like a co-conspirator in some plot to overthrow the evil government. Behind my mask I grinned, and I felt that she was doing the same. I watched the corner of her eyes crinkle.

"I usually go down there about one o'clock," she added, "but now I have to get to the shop before it closes or I'm in trouble."

"I might see you down there then," I said to her retreating back.

I had a strange butterfly feeling churning inside me as I made my way home. I couldn't explain them, and I told myself off for being so silly. I managed to pull myself together before I went into our back door.

At home, my room was tiny, mostly because a few years back dad had stolen half of it in order to put a bathroom in. Before that we still had the toilet halfway down the garden and the old-fashioned tin bath in the kitchen on a Sunday night. As I had grown older it became a logistical nightmare, so dad came up with the only solution. I was not happy at the time but that next morning I was very grateful. I have no idea why, but I took extra care with myself and I'm sure mum wondered what was taking me so long. I even cleaned my wellies although I knew they would be muddy almost as soon as my walk took me across open fields.

My plan was to walk down to the woods and sit on the log on the off chance she might turn up. I was surprised, when I turned the corner off Great Street into the lane that she was waiting for me. As I saw her Pedro started barking and jumping around. He seemed genuinely happy to see me. Cathy smiled in greeting. I pulled off my mask and grinned back. As I walked over, she held out the end of the lead to me. It now seemed that this was my job. As we walked down the lane, with Pedro tugging eagerly, I noticed that we were walking more slowly than the other day.

"Sorry, I'm being a bit of a slowcoach today. This damned hip is playing up. It does that sometimes."

I was a bit shocked at how open she was, talking about herself and her problems. It all seemed ok that I knew that she sometimes struggled and that sometimes she hurt. I felt annoyed with myself. What did I have to moan about?

"Will you be ok across the field and into the wood?" I asked her.

"I'll be fine, don't worry about me. Just try and stop me."

I left it at that, and we walked on. She seemed fine climbing over the gate into the field. We followed the path, worn into the grass by countless feet over the years, and managed to negotiate the fence. The wild garlic was giving off its best and she dramatically breathed it in.

"Oh, wow, that really clears your head," she said laughing.

We followed the usual path and quickly came to the log. She seemed especially grateful to sit down on one end and take the weight off her legs. I sat at the far end and looked out to the world beyond. I had let Pedro off his lead when we had climbed over the gate and he was now happily snuffling around in the undergrowth searching out scents of who knew what.

She turned to look at me and patted the trunk next to her. "Why not come and sit here and we can pretend the world is normal. I've been tested and you look healthy to me. As before, I won't tell if you won't tell."

This time she winked at me. She was just too easy to relax with. I didn't feel wary and shy with her. It was nice to move along the log and park myself by her side. Memories of normal time came flooding back. What we talked about I can't really remember. It was not really anything grand or consequential. We simply talked. When did sitting, almost touching someone, and just chatting become so strange?

We chatted for ages until the sun drifted behind the hill at our backs and the shadows became all engulfing. We made our way back through the woods with Pedro following quietly. I think he'd tired himself chasing imaginary prey. As we started to walk across the field, she took me by surprise by linking her arm through mine and walking with me. Neither of us said anything but it was a lovely feeling of intimacy. I was sad when we had to disentangle to climb the gate and the public nature of the lane, deserted though it was, kept us apart.

I felt sad when we came to the end of the lane and our ways parted. I passed Pedro's lead to her and we said our goodbyes. I felt a new intimacy in her parting smile but could not work out what it meant. With a heavy heart I put on my mask and went home.

The next day was Sunday, usually a surprisingly busy and noisy day in the village. The parish church is at one end of Great Street and the pub, The White Lion, was at the other. In the old days, when things were normal most of the village was in one or the other. When the church service ended half the congregation, mostly the men, walked down the street noisily chattering to the pub, while their wives went home to fix Sunday lunch. The men would return home hours later having 'sampled' the local ale and complain about the roast dinner having dried up, before falling asleep in an armchair. It had been that way since forever. My dad was just the same and my mum resigned herself to it.

Nowadays it was different. Nothing was, or could be, as it used to be. Both church and pub were closed. People no longer went out and the Sunday rituals had stopped. Maybe for the best as the men could at last appreciate their wives' cooking. For me it meant a day of boredom. Especially since showers had suddenly appeared. I was stuck in my bedroom squeezed between the bed and the wall wandering through the internet on my laptop. It was my only contact with the big world outside. But today nothing was holding my interest. I was fed up with stupid cat videos and makeup advice did not seem relevant. In frustration and cursing my lot, I leaned back and looked out of the only window. It looked out from the front of the house to the familiar garden which dad had already begun to prepare for the spring planting. It was grey and a light drizzle was falling. Suddenly I noticed something strange. A figure was standing by our gate looking at the cottage.

The light was so bad that it took a while to work out who it was. It was Cathy. But what on earth was she doing standing out in the rain? And why was she looking at the house? I don't know why but something made me pull back out of the way. The next time I looked she had gone. It was all very weird. I could just see her disappearing back down Kissing Lane. I saw a flash of white and knew that Pedro was with her.

I was feeling unsettled, so I went downstairs to make a pot of tea. Mum was in the kitchen, clearing up after lunch.

"Did 'ee see that strange woman just now?" she asked me, "just standing by the gate looking this way. No idea who she were."

"Yeah, mum, I saw her. She's the new vet's wife I think."

"Wife? 'ow can 'er be? New vet's a woman."

"It's what she told me the other day."

"Is she one of them there lesbans then?"

"The word is 'lesbian' mum, and I have no idea."

"Hey, it don't bother I," she said defensively, "each to their own. So 'ow comes thee knows so much?"

"I met her in the woods the other day and we got chatting," there seemed no point in denying it.

"As long as that's all it were."

"For goodness sake, mum we had a chat and that's all."

"Funny she turned up at our gate though. If I'd known, I'd have invited her in out of the rain."

"I've no idea, mum," I said with exasperation, "I'm going back upstairs."

I took my tea and went back to my room before she could question me further. I was totally confused. I remember she had said she was married to the new vet and now it turned out 'he' was a woman. I had jumped to conclusions. Looking back, it explained a lot of things.

The next week was dull in the extreme. I still did my three days at the shop and went to the stables, but the weather had turned. It rained most of the early part of the week but then, towards the end, it began to brighten up a bit. I started to look forward to my Saturday walk and wondered if I might meet Cathy again. I don't know why but I was secretly hoping I would.

I was overjoyed when it dawned clear and bright and although clouds slowly appeared during the morning, they held no threat of rain. I grabbed a quick lunch and then announced I was going for a walk. I called 'bye' to dad who was busy digging the garden and he hardly looked up. As I approached the turning, I felt strangely nervous, but my heart lifted as I saw Cathy walking towards me along the side of the main street.

She smiled and waved and then let go of Pedro who was straining at his lead. He came bounding over and I squatted on the corner and gave him a cuddle. I stood up and took hold of his lead as a car went past. Without needing to speak we both turned into the lane. As soon as we had gone past the first bend, she moved alongside me and linked arms again. I pulled off my mask and smiled at her.

"I wasn't sure if ..." I said shyly.

"I wasn't sure either. But I'm glad you did. It makes our walk so much nicer."

"How's your hip?" I asked, then hastily added, "is it ok to ask?"

"I think we know each other well enough by now so ... its fine, so much better than last time."

When we got to the gate, we had to let go of each other, but she put her arm through mine as soon as we set off along the path. The bluebells and wild garlic were now past their best but still put on a good enough show to bring smiles to our faces. When we started through the trees, instead of linking arms she took my hand. It was a bit of a surprise but felt strangely comforting and intimate. When we came to our log, we sat down side by side and our hands remained together. I managed to unclip Pedro's lead with my free hand and off he ran into the undergrowth on his usual hunt for goodness knows what.

We sat in silence for a while looking out through the gap in the trees. The sun occasionally disappearing behind a cloud only to reappear and lighten up the view moments later. But there was a burning question that I needed to ask. Several in fact but I was nervous. In the end I could not hold back.