Date with Destiny

By Karen Doling

When newly-divorced Sara buys a run down cottage what she finds in the attic proves life-changing, in more ways than one. A new job, a sexy neighbour and a surfeit of sausage rolls add to the fun of Sara's new single life. Add in a moody best friend desperate to find Mr Right and numerous misunderstandings, means Sara learns that the road to new love never did run smooth.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Karen Doling
• Release date: Mar 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463187845

Book preview

Date with Destiny

(Or What Can Happen If Fate Gets A Helping Hand)

Karen Doling

Published by Karen Doling at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2019 by Karen Doling

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Author’s Afterword

About Karen Doling

Stage Works by Karen Doling

Contact the Author

Credits

Prologue

As Maura lay in the bed, her wispy white hair spread over the pillow like a halo, her breathing laboured, she beckoned to her husband Zeke, who was sitting beside her holding her hand. He leaned closer.

‘Zeke, when I go promise me you will destroy the book.’ She wheezed.

Zeke squeezed her wrinkled hand gently ‘You’re not going anywhere Maura, you heard what the doctor said She’s a hardy woman, she could have years left in her yet and Dr Shaw knows what he’s talking about.’

Maura shook her head ‘No, not this time. I am tired Zeke, I know when it’s time to give up. Just promise me that you will get rid of the book. We have no one to pass it on to and if it should fall into the wrong hands...,’ her voice trailed off. ‘You know who I mean.’

‘It’s alright, I promise, I will destroy it. But please Maura, don’t give up on me.’ His voice broke as he stifled a sob ‘I need you. If you’re not here to cook and clean for me the place will go to wrack and ruin.’

Maura gave a small laugh, using the last of her strength ‘You will be fine Zeke, you’ve done most of the cooking and cleaning for the last few months anyway. Just remember next time you make mashed potatoes to drain the water out of the saucepan before you start to mash them.’

Zeke tried to laugh through his tears. Despite his protestations he knew that Maura wouldn’t last the night. ‘I thought it was quite original, potato soup.’

‘It was,’ Maura replied with a weak smile. ‘Until my chop floated off the plate,’ Her breathing slowed. ‘I’ve had a good life Zeke, thank you for being such an understanding husband. I love you.’

Zeke closed his eyes, tears running down his wizened cheeks as he clutched the hand of his wife of sixty years. ‘I love you too Maura.’

He wiped away the tears. Maura gazed at him and smiled. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath then went still. Zeke’s tears flowed freely as he held her hand to his cheek. ‘Oh Maura what am I to do without you? You may not have been the most conventional wife but I loved you.’

He sat with her for a while, his mind running through the last 60 years, from the moment he first set eyes on her as she worked in the dairy in the village, to their wedding day at St Katherine’s Church. The years had flown by and although they hadn’t been blessed with children, their life together had been good. He ran his hand gently over her cheek and lifted her hand to his lips, giving her one last kiss. He lifted the sheet that was tucked neatly under her arms and covered her with it. Making his way down the rickety stairs he went into the scullery to make himself a cup of tea. Putting the kettle on the stove to boil, he automatically took out two cups from the dresser before sitting down at the table and sobbing.

The following week passed in a haze for Zeke, there were so many arrangements to make he didn’t have time to think about anything beyond the funeral. The announcement had gone in the local paper, arranged by the funeral directors, which had bought a flood of condolence cards in the post. He was amazed at how many people had known Maura. He had received cards from people he had never even heard of. The mantelpiece was full and cards now covered every available flat surface in the sitting room. The neighbours had been very kind, popping in to check he was alright, he had even had a quick visit from the young girl, Alice, who had recently moved in to the cottage next door. Neither he nor Maura had really spoken to her or her husband since they moved in, they were in their early twenties and Maura said they would have nothing in common, so beyond a nod if they passed in the village, they had hardly spoken. But the day before she had brought around a cake she had baked. It was a little dry but Zeke ate it with a cup of tea because it meant he didn’t have to cook.

The day of the funeral dawned bright and clear and Zeke got up and dressed in his best suit, his only suit. He didn’t think he would be wearing it again after today, unless they were to bury him in it. He gave a wry laugh to himself when he remembered the undertaker’s face two days before when he had come around to collect the clothes Maura was to be buried in. He had taken away the suitcase and then an hour later had returned, with the suitcase.

‘I am so sorry to bother you Mr Gentle,’ he said in deferential tones ‘but you appear to have given us the wrong clothes. These are...’ He paused, unsure of how to describe them.

‘A long black dress and an elaborately embroidered cape?’ Zeke helped him out.

‘Err... yes.’ replied the undertaker.

‘That is correct,’ replied Zeke ‘they were her best. She only wore them on high days and holidays and she insisted she was to be buried in them.’

The undertaker nodded. ‘Very well.’

‘Oh,’ said Zeke as the man made his way back up the path ‘and please don’t remove anything that are in the pockets of the cape, she is to be dressed in the clothes exactly as they are.’

The undertaker nodded again and left, still clutching the suitcase.

A knock at the door revealed the same undertaker, this time with the hearse parked in the lane.

Letting him in Zeke paused by the door. ‘Could you just give me one moment?’

The undertaker nodded and the pallbearers stood by the front door, the hallway becoming extremely crowded.

Zeke went into the parlour where Maura was laid out and ran his hand along the side of the coffin.

‘Goodbye Maura, try to behave yourself in heaven until I get there and I’m able to keep an eye on you.’

He kissed his fingertips and laid them gently on her lips then closed the lid of the coffin, wiping the tears from his eyes.

He went back out to the hallway ‘You can take her now. And please be gentle with her.’

He made his way into the garden and waited for them to bring the coffin out. In the lane a small crowd had gathered. Maura and Zeke had lived in the village all their lives and so, despite being known as ‘the strange couple who lived in Wisteria Cottage’ many people would attend the funeral to pay their respects. Zeke would walk to the church, it was less than two hundred yards from the cottage, but he had insisted that Maura take her last journey in style, hence the hearse. As he walked up the lane more people joined him and by the time they reached the church there was quite a throng. The hearse had followed them and as they unloaded the coffin the sky began to darken.

The service was short, Zeke had insisted on the minimum, knowing how Maura felt about the church, with one reading and one hymn before the interment. When the mourners gathered by the graveside Zeke realised there was a much larger group outside than had been in the church, however as Maura was lowered his thoughts returned to her and the life they had enjoyed. Despite not being blessed with children he and Maura had been happy. He realised that they were an unconventional couple but they suited each other perfectly. He knew that in the weeks to come he would continually forget she was gone and would no doubt talk to her and ask her opinion on various matters. He threw the requisite handful of dirt into the grave and stood back, looking around the cemetery. There was a large crowd around the grave, but off to one side was a group of women, all dressed in black. As this was traditional no one else seemed to have noticed, however Zeke recognised a coven when he saw one.

He caught the eye of the woman standing at the front of the group and nodded. She returned his nod and the group turned and left as quietly as they had arrived.

The wake was held in the village pub, which had a very lucrative sideline in catering for funerals, and after many condolences Zeke finally took his leave and returned to the cottage. Letting himself in he switched on the light in the kitchen and jumped when he realised there was a woman sitting at the table.

‘Rula! How on earth did you get in here? And what do you want?’

The woman tapped a long fingernail on the table ‘I am a witch Zeke, I can get in anywhere if I put my mind to it. However it helped that you had left the back door open. As for what I want, you must know.’

Zeke paused ‘The book?’

‘Correct.’

‘Maura had it destroyed before she died,’ Zeke lied. ‘She knew the end was coming and told me to get rid of it, so I did.’

‘It was not hers to destroy Zeke, it belonged to the coven.’

‘No Rula, it belonged to her. She was a direct descendant of the last known owner, Florence Gentle, as well you are aware, as none of the spells would have worked had she not have been.’

‘She was a Gentle by marriage’ argued Rula.

‘She was both. We were related many generations back. Florence Gentle, my five times great-grandmother was the sister of Maura’s five times great- grandmother. So it was sheer luck that it ended up in my hands prior to our marriage, and not hers. Either way the spells worked because she was a descendant.’

Rula glared at Zeke ‘I don’t believe you. That book was ours and we will not rest until it is returned to the coven.’

‘Well the ashes are at the bottom of the garden, if you are that good a witch you may be able to reconstruct it. But unless you can, and any of you are related to the original coven then you will be wasting your time.’

Zeke held the back door open ‘Now if you don’t mind I would like to be alone as I have just buried my wife. Goodbye.’

Rula stood up and went out the back door.

‘This is not over Zeke, you are only protected by the magic of your ancestors for a short while. I will be back.’ she hissed as she left.

‘Do your worst Rula, nothing else would hurt as much as losing Maura.’

He closed the door and, turning off the light went to bed.

Over the following weeks Zeke slowly began to get a routine into his life. Each day he got up, got dressed, went to work, came home, fed himself and went to bed. His work as a farm labourer left him too tired to think about much else and so his life finally gained some semblance of order. Occasionally when laying in bed he thought about his promise to Maura to destroy the Book of Shadows, and he vowed to sort it the next day. For the time being it was safely hidden in a big trunk in the loft, along with all the other detritus of his and Maura’s life that they had accumulated over the years, much of which had been given in payment to Maura for ‘services rendered’. None of the many people who had come to Maura would ever have admitted that they used the services of a witch, but the bulging attic was testament that they did. And Maura accepted payment in some very strange forms.

Despite thinking he would follow Maura to his grave within a short time - he was convinced he wouldn’t last a year without her - Zeke lived alone in the cottage for over thirty years before succumbing to pneumonia after breaking his hip in a fall. The cottage remained empty and slowly fell into a state of disrepair.

Chapter One

Many years later

Sara struggled with the rusty old lock, fiddling for a full thirty seconds before a well-manicured hand appeared over her shoulder and beckoned for the key. Nudging her out of the way, the owner of the hand, Sara’s best friend Lindsey, jammed the large, ornate key in the keyhole.

‘Here let me have a go, I’m dying of curiosity and you’re messing about.’

With an awful grinding noise the lock succumbed and Lindsey, with a satisfied smirk at Sara, pushed against the heavy wooden door. It barely moved. Lindsey looked at it in surprise.

‘That’s odd, why won’t it open?’ she gave it another nudge. Then another.

‘I don’t know,’ said Sara. ‘Let me have a go.’

Lindsey reluctantly moved out of the way. Putting all her weight behind it Sara managed to get the door open far enough to poke her head in and peer behind it.

‘Masses of junk mail and a pile of freebie papers.’ She declared.

Pushing a bit more she managed to make enough of a gap to squeeze through, praying that her only pair of decent jeans didn’t catch on the lock. Once in she kicked the papers aside and opened the door a bit further to allow Lindsey to follow her into the gloomy hallway.

‘Blimey, it whiffs a bit doesn’t it?’ Lindsey murmured, wrinkling her nose against the smell of damp that pervaded the air.

‘Hopefully it’s just because it’s been shut up for so long,’ Sara replied, staring at the pile of old papers behind the door ‘and damp newspapers don’t help. Give me a hand to get this lot out of the way and we can open the door a bit further and let some fresh air in.’ She bent down and started piling the papers and junk into some semblance of order.

‘I’ve got a load of rubbish bags in the car, if you nip out and get them we can clear this up.’

Lindsey jigged from foot to foot like an impatient three-year-old, no mean achievement as she was wearing four inch stilettos.

‘Oh forget that, now we’re in, we can do it later, let’s have a look around.’

Lindsey nudged Sara to chivvy her along.

‘I can’t believe you bought this place without seeing it, what are you, brave or mad?’

Never one to mince words with her best friend, Lindsey looked at Sara, who was still holding a pile of papers. Looking down at them in her hands Sara shrugged and dumped them back on the floor.

‘Desperate, as well you know. I just hope I don’t live to regret it.’

She turned to Lindsey, with worry clouding her green eyes.

‘To be honest I’m frightened to death, I must have been crazy – but it’s done, and I am now the proud owner of Wisteria Cottage, Church Lane, Fenton Hambling.’

Lindsey gave her another nudge.

‘Well, after you – but get a move on, I want to see what it’s like.’

Stepping over the pile of junk mail, Sara looked up the hallway. It was narrow and dark with woodchip wallpaper on the walls that had been painted a strange shade of green. The window over the front door had been boarded up which made it all the more gloomy. At the end of the hall were three doors, one on the left, one on the right and one straight ahead.

‘Which one shall we try first?’ Lindsey looked expectantly at Sara.

‘Eeny, meeny, miney, mo. Looks like that one.’

Pointing to the one on the right, Sara pushed open the door and nervously took a step into the room, half expecting something awful to jump out at her. Nothing did.

‘Ah, the living room.’ she said in a far more cheerful voice.

Walking in she looked around. It was a nicely proportioned room with low beamed ceilings and a wide mullioned window at the far end that overlooked the front garden. A fireplace with a beautiful tiled surround and hearth and a large chimney breast dominated one wall. Yellowing wallpaper was peeling from the ceiling and the smell of damp was even worse than in the hall. Luckily Sara was blessed with a vivid imagination and she smiled, perking up considerably.

‘This isn’t too bad at all, a bit smaller than I’m used to but it could be very cosy. I’ll just open a couple of windows as we go around to let some fresh air in.’

Walking over to the window she gave it a hefty shove. Finally managing to break through the layers of paint Sara got one side open. She turned, surprised that Lindsey hadn’t ventured an opinion, only to discover she wasn’t in the room.

‘Come and have a look,’ she called and waited for Lindsey to make an appearance. When she didn’t, Sara returned to the hallway to find Lindsey on all fours wrestling with her shoe.

Sara looked at her in surprise. ‘What on earth are you doing?’

With an almighty tug and a squeal Lindsey flew backwards onto her bottom with her shoe in her hand.

‘I think you have dry rot, or something, my heel got stuck in the floorboards.’ She replied, waving the offending shoe.

‘Well it serves you right for wearing stilettos – you’re supposed to be helping me move in and you come dressed as if you’re going clubbing. And to a very dodgy club at that.’

‘These are my work clothes if you don’t mind,’ she said indignantly ‘and anyway I can always go and get changed later, it’s not exactly far to my house is it?’

Lindsey wrinkled her nose. ‘You can’t seriously be planning on moving in here today? It stinks to high heaven and there’s so much damp you’ll have to wring your PJs out in the morning.’

‘I haven’t got a choice, I can’t stay with mum and dad for another night as the B&B is fully booked because of the festival that starts tomorrow. Nowhere else is available at short notice for the same reason, and anyway, no time like the present as my mother always used to say. Well still does actually. The sooner I’m in and clearing and cleaning the sooner it will be habitable.’

Lindsey stood up, shoe still in her hand ‘Where had you planned on staying if you hadn’t got this place then? If your parent’s B&B is fully booked?’

‘Gran had offered her spare room for the duration of the festival, but to be honest I would have ended up sharing it with her old Singer sewing machine, her knitting machine and about a hundred paperback Mills and Boon novels. It would have been a very last resort. This was perfect timing even if it isn’t a four star hotel.’

She looked around ‘Or even a one star. Now let’s look at the rest of the place, and mind where you put your feet – I don’t want to have to replace floorboards as well as everything else. Come in here and have a look at this – it’s not too bad at all.’

Sara led the way back into the living room, Lindsey followed.

‘Hmm, could be OK, nice fireplace – well it would be if it wasn’t for the hideous gas fire.’ She looked around the room and pulled a face

‘I don’t go much on the furnishings mind,’ her eyes rested on the two old armchairs on either side of the fireplace and an enormous wooden sideboard. The chairs were upright faux leather and had obviously been well used. She returned to Sara’s side ‘but I agree with you, this won’t be too bad, with a bit of work. Which door next?’ Going back out to the hallway with Lindsey right behind her, Sara hesitated.

‘I think we’ll go through that one.’ Indicating the door at the end of the hallway, she pushed it open and gingerly poked her head around, immediately brightening up.

‘Oh, this is the kitchen.’ She pushed the door wide and before she could put a foot over the threshold Lindsey had elbowed her way past and into the room.

‘Let’s have a look. Oh.’ Lindsey stopped.

They were in a wide, large room that housed a Belfast sink, an ancient cooker and a free standing cupboard unit. The ceiling was again beamed, but they had been painted over with what had possibly been white gloss paint at one time but due to age and heat was now a strange shade of beige. The walls were rough plaster and the floor was covered in very sticky brown lino. The large window over the sink was covered by a net curtain that was so dirty that the view of the back garden was completely obscured. The door that led to the back garden was boarded up. There were four doors leading out of the kitchen, the back door into the garden, the one they had just come through, one to the right and one in the left hand corner. Making her way across the room, trying and failing to find the least sticky route over the lino, Sara pulled at the net curtain and it disintegrated in her hand. She dropped it to the floor and peered through the grimy glass.

‘Oh the garden’s quite nice, there’s a big apple tree and a few roses, it actually looks better cared for than the house, mind you the grass could do with a cut, there could be a family of wildebeest in there and you’d never see them.’ Lindsey came and stood beside her peering out.

‘Hmm, you’ll have to pave that – you know what you’re like with gardening.’

‘I never had the opportunity before – Dan always said I was supposed to be far too busy looking after him to do the garden so he employed a gardener. I actually think it was because he was worried I might drive the ride-on mower into the swimming pool. I quite fancy giving it a go though - I might take to it like a duck to water.’ Lindsey looked around the rest of the room.

‘This is certainly a bit of a come down from your last place, Stokes Towers’said Lindsey.

Sara frowned and opened her mouth to say something.

Lindsey carried on ‘Sorry Fenchard House. Swimming pool, hot tub, Jacuzzi – to this,’ She waved her hand around the grimy kitchen. ‘I don’t know how you’ll cope.’

Sara looked at her in surprise.

‘Of course I’ll cope, Stokes Towers, as you so charmingly called it...’

‘Well it was a bit of a mansion.’

‘No it wasn’t! Well I suppose it was a bit, but it wasn’t me, Dan thought he needed a house that indicated how far he had come from his humble beginnings.’

Lindsey snorted ‘Humble beginnings? Was he having a laugh? His parents lived in the old Manse!’

‘I think he still needed something better than that, humble is all relative.’

Lindsey shrugged. ‘I still think you should pave the garden then you can have patio parties, in fact it is so big you could probably have a swimming pool here too, or at least a hot tub.’

She walked over to the free standing unit ‘Blimey my gran had one of these cupboards, she kept her food in the top and the plates and stuff in the bottom. If you pull this bit…,’ she tugged at the handle and the front of the unit came off in her hand, she looked at Sara sheepishly ‘oh, well, if you pulled this on my gran’s it came down and gave you a little work surface.’

Lindsey carefully placed the front of the unit on the floor, Sara was trying not to laugh.

‘How about you just don’t touch anything else otherwise I am liable to have a derelict cottage to move into. Let’s get on – it’ll start getting dark soon and I have no idea where the fuse board is to turn the electricity on.’

Sara made her way to the door on the right hand side of the kitchen. Opening it she walked in and found herself in the dining room.

‘Oh look Lindsey, this will be lovely in the summer.’

The room was bathed in early evening sunlight, thanks to a set of French windows leading to the garden. The boards that had covered the doors had been removed and left on the floor and light flooded in. The chimney breast had cupboards and shelving either side but as in the front room there was an old fashioned gas fire installed.

Lindsey poked her head around the door.

‘Oh yes, if you had decking directly outside those doors it would be lovely, this is actually quite a big room. In fact the cottage is much bigger than it looks isn’t it?’

Walking across to the French windows Sara threw them open. She could feel the warmth of the sun and hoped it would chase out some of the damp mustiness that pervaded the cottage. She went back to the kitchen and made her way to the door on the far side, closely followed by Lindsey who was gazing around, a look of awe on her face. Opening the door she found herself in another front room, again with a beamed ceiling and another mullioned window overlooking the front garden.

‘This is quite nice, but this one hasn’t got a chimney so I bet it is cold in the winter. Sara looked around, taking in the peeling wallpaper and the grimy paintwork.

‘This one doesn’t look as bad as the other rooms, I think it is all cosmetic. Not sure about the heating though - I think you are right about it being cold, I wonder how they managed years ago with no fireplace in here.’

Opening the windows she turned and stopped, confused. ‘Hang on a minute, where are the stairs?’

Lindsey looked around the room. ‘And where’s the other door?’

Sara looked at her, even more confused ‘What other door?’

‘The one that leads to the hall. Opposite the living room door was another one that should be there,’ Lindsey pointed to the opposite wall ‘look.’

The two of them walked back through the kitchen to the hallway and Lindsey pointed to the door. Sara opened it expecting to see a cupboard, instead she found a set of narrow stairs.

‘Oh’ said Lindsey ‘My gran’s house had a flight of stairs hidden by a door – made it look like a cupboard, I’d forgotten that.’

Sara peered through the gloom and up the stairs.

‘Blimey these are a bit steep and dark, I think we could do with a torch before we go up there.’

Lindsey pushed past her ‘Blow that for a game of soldiers, I’ll go first if you want. If I fall at least I will have a soft landing.’ She started up the stairs followed closely by Sara.

‘They are certainly dark, and how on earth are you supposed to get a bed up here?’

‘They used to take them in through the windows, they’d remove the sash window from the frame and pull the furniture up with a rope,’ replied Lindsey, still treading carefully in the darkness ‘and the darkness wouldn’t have mattered in those days because they would have brought the light with them – they used candles.’

Sara looked at her friend in astonishment. ‘How did you know all that?’

Lindsey grinned ‘My gran told me. She had a house just like this. Well without the damp obviously.’

‘Well I am not using a candle and they are not removing the windows to get my furniture in. Thank goodness for flat pack. Your gran was a mine of useless information wasn’t she?’

‘Still is, she lives in Cosy Nook Nursing Home in Brighton – she’s 97 and still going strong. Well as strong as you can be at 97. Anyway, we are at the top, ah, this is why they are so dark – there is a door at the top too. Which way do you want to go first?’

They were on a large landing that, unlike the rest of the house, was bright and airy thanks to a large window that had a broken latch and wouldn’t stay shut.

‘Oh this is a bit better,’ said Sara looking around ‘mind you having a door at the top of the stairs as well as the bottom seems a bit pointless if you ask me, in fact why have a door at the bottom at all? Was it unacceptable to be able to see the stairs? Was it a bit like the Victorians and their chair legs, must be hidden at all costs?’

Lindsey shrugged ‘I have no idea, but I will remember to ask my gran next time we go and see her. Now which way first?’

Sara opened the first