Idlesea

By Keith Gaisford

Seeking to get away from it all and find a place to create a portfolio of his landscape art, Kevin Ford finds an Island Cottage for rent.
As he travels to Idlesea and on to the Island and settles in to the cottage, unusual things happen.
Everyday things just seem to happen. People appear when they are needed and disappear when they are finished. Not to be overwhelmed with these happenings Kevin decides to accept them as the norm.
On finding some very old dust and cobweb-covered books in his room he reads the history of The Monarchy of Idlesea and how the people who live on the island came to be where they are.
As the week passes he meets the “Girl of the Crag” and with someone so refreshingly beautiful and mysterious romance becomes part of the story.
The adventure covers what appears to be week of mystery, mystique, magic and romance but with an unexpected ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ReadOnTime BV
• Release date: Nov 17, 2013
• ISBN: 9781742844091

Book preview

Chapter One

It was a late end to my workday and I had to run to catch my bus.

Made it!

As the bus moved away I swayed unsteadily along the aisle and slid into an empty seat. I was sitting on something that had been left on the seat. It was a magazine discarded by a passenger when they left the bus. Picking it up, I thumbed through and glanced at some of the items in it.

My stop.

Hopping off the bus I took the magazine with me. A short walk and I arrived home at what I call my apartment, which sounds much better than the three-room flat it really is.

Dinner was a quick meal from the freezer and microwaved to perfection in a few minutes. The label said ‘a Healthy Alternative’. It was Chicken, Pasta and Vegetables. It tasted reasonable and it was even better with a glass of white wine. The plate was a throw away tray, so that did the dishes.

The ‘apartment’ has three rooms; the kitchen and living room in the one room that they call open living. There is a double bedroom with a bathroom and a spare room where I keep my art gear and other stuff. I moved to the lounge area and settled comfortably in a single chair and with another glass of wine. Picking up the magazine, someone had discarded on the bus, I began to thumb through it, glancing at some of the glossy ads and reading short articles.

I was drawn to one picture, that of a quaint thatch-roofed cottage set in a rolling countryside.

The setting attracted the artist in me. As I took in the scene I realised it was an advertisement.

The ad read A holiday to get away from it all. My thoughts went to my work. The artwork and layouts I did for the company were not inspiring me any more. I need a change or a holiday.

Now, I thought this could be the answer. Some time away, from the hustle and bustle.

Something different. I shrugged the thought away, turned the page and browsed some more.

Several pages later I put the magazine down. I needed another glass of wine.

When I picked up the magazine again. It opened at the advertisement. How relaxing the scene appeared. This could be an opportunity to have a break and get to do some landscape painting on the spot, something I have been promising myself for some time. I have some time-off owing to me and being on contract I can flex around how I please as long as I get the work done.

I noted the agent’s name and a phone contact. Although the evening was getting on and I felt sure the place would be closed at this hour I dialed the number. The phone connected and a quaint-sounding male voice answered. The voice, with an accent I could not determine, said,

You’ll be wanting to rent the cottage.

An eerie sensation came over me as the voice on the other end of the line continued,

It will be $70 for the week, seven days. You will need to be here by Sunday week

Where was here? I thought. The voice continued.

Now your name is Kevin O’Ford and you are an artist.

I got that eerie feeling again. How did he know my name? Except, he had thrown in an O in front of my surname. I decided to accept it and not correct him.

Yes, that’s right, was all I could say, as the agent continued,

You will have to follow these instructions to get to your destination. Go to Middlesea Railway Station. From there you will find the steam train to Idlesea Junction. There a ferry will be waiting to take you to Boatansea. All this has been arranged. When you arrive, go to the local land agent, pay the fee and he will give you directions to find the Artansea Cottage.

Do you have all that?

I think I said, Yes. And I know that I nodded.

Good, the agent went on,

My name is Harold O’Harry and you will not be able to contact me on this number after I hang up. Goodbye.

There was a ‘click’ and he was gone. That was a strange conversation. How did he know my name and how did he know I wanted to hire the cottage when I hadn’t even spoken?

I sat down and read the notes I had scribbled down. The place names were unfamiliar. I re-read the advertisement and looked up Middlesea railway station. It was a small out of the way place towards the ocean. Try as I might I could find no mention of Idlesea Junction or any island called Boatansea. This was all rather weird. Perhaps I should ring the agent and cancel my booking.

When I called the number, the phone rang once then clicked off. There was no response.

I was tempted to search the net but so far it hadn’t cost me anything. And I did want to do something different.

The venture was going to be an art tour, where I could have a quiet week of painting different scenes and there was something about the whole trip that seemed to be inviting in a strange way.

Sunday week. That gave me a week to pack, arrange work, find some funds and work out a timetable to get there on time. The destination was a bit vague and the weather unknown so it would be a case of travel light but cover all contingencies.

Boatansea, here I come.

Chapter Two

Packing was easy. Clothing would have to cater for warm or cold weather, plus a travel blanket and wet weather gear. To travel light would be ideal as it would be all walking and climbing going by the picture in the magazine. Good hiking boots would be essential.

All this packed well into a duffle bag with shoulder strap, making for ease of carrying.

And, of course, my painting gear. A foldaway easel, acrylic paints, water pots, a wet palette, brushes, pencils sketchpad and lightweight painting panels.

Assuming there would be no place to purchase art gear I prepared a number of boards fixed with canvas. A small notebook for a journal to note where, when and what I did while away.

Oh yes, my mobile phone, and a small digital camera with spare