The Haunting of Pear Tree Cottage

January, the first day back at work after the Christmas break. I’d barely slept the night before because of my panic at knowing I would see Rick the next day. I worried what I should do, if I should carry on with my charade of indifference or do a u-turn and confess my great regard for him. In my sleepless tossing and turning state I’d decided I would do neither, but would just be the best personal assistant he’d ever had in his life, and for now I would be sticking with that.

Of course, there’d been no word from him over the holidays and, although I hadn’t expected contact of any kind, my revved up heart had done a disappointing nose dive every time my phone had shown a blank screen with no hopeful message icon flashing in the corner. Huh, maybe he really was a player, and at this moment was wining and dining some other poor girl and trying to sweep her off her feet as he’d almost done with me.

The beautiful oval mirror in the sitting room showed a tired pale face as I gazed into its hazy depths to do my makeup, but a slick of eye shadow and lipstick transformed it, and by the time I’d dressed in a bright red skirt suit I felt cheerful and up for anything Rick might throw at me. A fleck of mascara had once again gotten left behind on the mirror’s shiny surface. Trapping it with my finger, I flicked it into the bin and told Morgan Bloom in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t afraid of her either, and that maybe next time she appeared, if she felt better of course, we could have a little chat about Moses. So there!

Stepping out onto the garden path, I saw that the pear tree was flourishing at an alarming rate. It hadn’t grown a lot taller yet, but its trunk was thickening and tiny green buds had begun to appear on its many skinny branches. I thought the tree had spooked Mum a bit, because I noticed she gave it a wide berth as she sashayed down the garden path trundling her little pink suitcase behind her when she left the day before yesterday to go back to Leeming.

“It’s pretty odd that tree just appearing like that, Chrissie,” she said, giving me the eye.

“You just didn’t notice it, Mum,” I told her. “And as I said before, it’s a very fast growing strain.”

Pat was her usual vibrant self as I went into reception. She looked smart wearing a midi length black skirt with a soft pink jumper cinched in tight at the waist with a thin belt, giving her a perfect hour glass figure. The smell of frying bacon and soft warm croissants filtered through from the baker’s next door, making my stomach rumble alarmingly. “Ooh, had no breakfast, Chrissie?” she asked, proffering a paper bag full of jam doughnuts.

“No thank you, Pat.” I patted my tummy. “I need to watch this!”

“Never mind watching it, you need to fill it,” she said. And on seeing my face, mouth gaping open, she said, “Oh go on, Chrissie, have one for later.” She wrapped a doughnut, all damp and sugary, in a napkin and pushed it into my hand, making it quite clear that no was not the answer she was looking for.

Humming, “January, sick and tired you’ve been hanging on me,” as I climbed the stairs, clutching the paper bag, I headed towards the office but, because Rick’s door was open, as it usually wasn’t at this time, I backtracked slightly and peered in. I was so unprepared for what I saw that I simply stood in the doorway, staring, wondering if anything would suddenly change even as I looked. Barely moving, barely breathing, I just stood there, my smart black shoes rooted into the carpet.

He looked up and met my eyes. “Hello, Chrissie.”

“Mr. Wigglesworth!” I said, my heart beating so hard I thought it would come up into my throat and choke me. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, Chrissie. Yes, it seems I’ve a lot of explaining to do.”

I stood mute, disappointment etched on my face, waiting for him to say something else, but he didn’t.

“Well?” I asked him, “Why are you here? Where’s Rick?” Tears sprang into my eyes, and my voice quavered with a panic that I couldn’t really understand at the moment.

He came around from behind his desk and, gripping both my shoulders with his hands, said kindly, “Chrissie, go into the office and take off your coat and leave your bag there, and then come back in here. I’ll make you a coffee.” He nodded towards the percolator that so recently had been used by Rick right here in this office. “And then I’ll tell you everything.” And when I didn’t respond, he asked, “Will you do that for me, Chrissie?”

Mutely I nodded and walked slowly to the office. Milly was already there, and as soon as she saw me jumped up and enveloped me in a crushing hug. She didn’t need to speak, the expression on her face said it all.

“What’s happened?” I asked her. “Do you know anything?”

“No.” Sadly she shook her head. “I know nothing, Chrissie. I’m just as surprised as you are to see Mr. Wigglesworth here this morning.”

I dumped my bag on my desk and hung up my coat, “He said he’s going to tell me everything,” I told her, “So I’d better go in to see him.”

“Okay,” she replied, and as I turned to go through the door said, “I thought things were good between you and Rick, Chrissie, I thought any time now they’re going to be a couple. Layla thought so too.”

Frowning, I said, “But why would you think that? He’s my boss. I—”

Milly shrugged. “Things like that happen sometimes, and you two seem to get on really well, and we know that he kissed you goodnight after the Christmas party because Pete told us. There, I’ve told you now!”

“That wasn’t supposed to be public knowledge,” I said angrily.

“You’re both single, so why should there be a problem?” she retorted adamantly.

“I know we kissed,” I told her. “But it’s over now. I pushed him away before he could take me for a ride. I don’t want to end up the hurt one again.”

“Well, if it helps at all,” she said, “We all think Rick is sincere and genuinely cares for you. That’s what we can see. Obviously you see him in a different way.”

“Just because somebody who is under the influence of alcohol kisses you at a Christmas party, it doesn’t mean they care,” I said stoutly, before turning on my heel and leaving the room. Heart thumping, I knocked on Rick’s office door—well, Mr. Wigglesworth’s again now—and when he said “come in” I turned the old wooden doorknob and stepped inside.

***

Mum had just rung, full of news from Leeming. She chattered on and on for ages. “Here, you’ll never guess what, Chrissie.” I didn’t think she expected an answer, but just rattled on with her tale. “Anna has left Stuart. What do you think of that then?”

“I think,” I told her, “That Anna has more sense than I credited her with.”

“You’re right there. Madge is really downhearted. I think she was hoping Stuart would settle down this time.”

Madge was Stuart’s mum, and such a nice woman. She’d been on her own since Stuart’s dad died five years before. Sometimes I thought I got on better with her than I did with Stuart. I could understand her being keen for Anna and Stuart to settle down. She’d wished the same for us but, as I learned the hard way, living together was okay for Stuart, but at the hint of further commitment, such as engagement or marriage, he picked up his feet and ran for the hills. Or the Dog and Gun Inn in his case.

“I think you had a lucky escape there, Chrissie. You’re far better off with that gorgeous boss man of yours.”

“There’s nothing going on with my boss,” I said icily.

“Ah yeah, but there could be, couldn’t there?”

“Oh leave it, Mum, please!” Everything Mr. Wigglesworth had told me came crashing into my mind, and all I wanted to do was hang up on Mum and sit right there in my own sitting room in front of my own blazing fire and think about every word he’d said.

“I’ve got to go, Mum,” I said. “I’ll ring you later.”

Hanging up, I stared into the fire watching the flames flickering red and gold, thinking about everything that had happened lately—Rick, Morgan and Seth Bloom, Moses, the pear tree—all going around and around in my head, and also everything else that Mr. Wigglesworth had told me and all that happened afterwards and in between. Oh my, what a story I had to tell.

Settling back onto the settee and closing my eyes, I recalled him pouring coffee for me and handing me a mug just how I liked it, thick and black. Now how did he know that? At work only Rick knew how I took my coffee.

“Where is he, Mr. Wigglesworth?” I asked.

He sat down comfortably in his chair and took a sip of coffee. He took a deep breath. “He’s gone back to Arizona, Chrissie. One of his daughters—you did know he had daughters?”

I nodded and said, “Sort of.” And then I thought, Oh well, at least I know now why he hadn’t been in touch over the Christmas holidays.

“Well, she was rushed to hospital with appendicitis. He had to go back, he had no choice.”

“Oh no!” I replied, “I hope she’ll be all right! So that’s the reason he went back? Not to get away from me?”

“No, of course not. I know he’s extremely fond of you.”

“You said you’d tell me everything.” I sipped from my mug and then put it on the desk in front of me. “That can’t be all.”

“Okay, then—I’m Rick’s father-in-law.”

I looked at him in surprise, almost choking on the coffee, and blurted out, “His father-in-law?”

He nodded. “Rick married my daughter, Lisa, ten years ago, and they have twin daughters aged nine, Vanessa and Emma. It’s Emma that’s in hospital.”

“How did they meet?” I asked him, wondering why Mr. Wigglesworth was here and his daughter in Arizona.

“We were on holiday in Arizona—in Tucson. I was hoping at first that it would be just a holiday romance. My wife, Marcia, and I didn’t like the fact that Lisa would be in a long-distance relationship. She was only eighteen when they met, and we wanted her to experience more of life before settling down. But I grew to like Rick so much, and when they married, we were over the moon. And even when they said they preferred to live in America, we thought it just a small sacrifice for their happiness. After all there’s holidays and so many ways and means for keeping in contact these days, what with emails, Facetime, Zoom, text messages.” He counted them off on his fingers one by one. “And then, of course, the girls came along, and that was the icing on the cake.”

I nodded avidly, waiting for him to carry on. He stood up and walked backwards and forwards, his hands in his pockets. He gazed from the window and then came to sit on the edge of the desk fussily pulling his trousers up at the knees.

“Well, my daughter decided she wasn’t happy with Rick, and left him for another man. Marcia and I were devastated.”

“She obviously took the children with her?”

“Yes. Rick was left to grieve alone at home while Lisa took the girls to live with her new boyfriend. It was a very trying time as you can imagine, Chrissie.”

There was a pattering on the window pane and little droplets ran down the glass like so many tears. The wind seemed to have picked up, and the trees along the High Street began to bend and dip as if they were dancing.

“Did you know who she ran away with? Did Rick know him?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” replied Mr. Wigglesworth, pausing as if for effect. “The man in question is Chase, Rick’s brother. So as you can imagine, Chrissie, that really did make the situation even worse than ever.”

“Oh, Mr. Wigglesworth,” I said, putting my hands to my face. “That’s awful.”

He smiled ruefully. “Yes, it hasn’t been easy, I’ve got to say. It’s very difficult for my heart to remain with my daughter when I see how badly she’s hurt Rick. And Marcia feels exactly the same as I do.”

“But he only had good things to say about his brother,” I remarked. “He’s cat sitting for him, isn’t he?”

“No.” Mr. Wigglesworth shook his head. “They haven’t spoken since it happened. Marcia and I have been looking after his cats. We’ve been over there in Arizona, you see, living in Rick’s place while he came here. It’s beautiful out there at the moment, Chrissie, but very hot. Unbearable to sit in, in fact.”

I barely heard what he was saying as with a pang, I recalled what Rick had said about his brother. I could almost hear his voice speaking to me, so close, his breath hissing in my ear. “He’s got a wife and two kids, two dogs, and two cats of his own, but he still offered to take my boys in. He’s a great guy.” Even then he wanted to believe everything was right between him and his brother.

Tears welled up, and with a sympathetic glance, Mr. Wigglesworth offered me a tissue from the box he kept on his desk. I dabbed at my eyes, hoping my mascara hadn’t run, and that I didn’t bear any resemblance whatsoever to that seventies rock star, Alice Cooper. “Thank you, Mr. Wigglesworth.” There was a short silence before I blurted out, “But why did he come here? What was the purpose?”

“Well, Chrissie, this is where, unfortunately, I’ve involved you.”

“Involved me? How could you possibly do that?”

He didn’t reply and, peering beyond him at the window, I saw that suddenly it was dark outside and blackness stood hard at the window, a pale moon riding high. Somebody laughed, a beautiful tinkle of a laugh, and said, “Who on earth is Mr. Wigglesworth? There’s nobody here by that name. Now put out your hand, girl, let me see your palm.” Glancing up from the old scarred wooden table at which I now sat, I looked straight into the haughty green gaze of Morgan Bloom.