Cass Starts Over 7
Without Prejudice
She was still sitting at the table two hours later. Her tea had gone cold as she sat unseeing, unfeeling at the table. Shadows had started to lengthen outside and the day that had promised so much in warmth and sun had become chill and grey. Soon the outside lights would flicker on, making soft pools of yellow on the roads and footpaths.
Cass woke from her reverie at last, she shivered, never dud she want to open another official letter. They could only bring bad news, surely. He wanted to sell the house, he wanted the house gone, how could he ? Did he not think of the house as hers and the children's ? Could he be that cruel and thoughtless.?
She shivered with a cold that reached into her bones again. She flicked on the lights in the kitchen, snap, snap, snap. She was not leaving this house, she thought of it as her house, nothing to do with him. He hadn't worked on it with love the way she had. She remembered the first time she had seen it, her breath catching in her throat. It was just so beautiful she had thought at the time. Laughing he had carried her over the threshold, laughing, groaning at her weight, pregnant as she was with the twins.
Never would she forget the first sight of Roseleigh. The grey stone double story of old stones, that had stood strong against all weathers for long years. The barely non existent front garden tangled with old roses and ivy. The horse chestnut small then and not the massive tree it was now, resplendent in shiny green leaves and furry balls. The walled garden almost bare, only the tracery of ivy removed, drawing strange pictures on the. Stone.
It had reached out to her this once grand house, neglected it seemed in it's shabby poverty which would come to life again with a family with noise, with laughter, love, life. It had all seemed so very clear then.her vision for Roseleigh.
It would be her security, her families ode to the future and to new life. She had felt the twins move inside her as she had lumbered ungainly up the stairs with its worn carpet and scuffed runners, she would make this house a home, she promised her unborn twins. And as she reached the sun filled landing, decided, that a partition wall there, right there, would enclose a nursery.
The house had a warmth she had never felt in a house before. It wasn't the period fireplaces in every room. It wasn't in the high ceilings or the faded wall papers of cabbage roses and regency stripes. It wasn't in the flagged stones of the vast kitchen or in the cellar, warm and dusty. It was the house itself. It spoke to her of happy families, fun gatherings held there, Christmases past, Summers of languishing in the garden under the shade of parasols, cold winters, cosied by the lit coal fires.
It was "hers", it was her expected children's, it was going to be her flagship, her mission in life and live. A paid homage to it's past, it's future. It had sat, stolid through two World Wars, bombings that had levelled other houses around her. It had waited out the death of the old lady who owned it, patiently waiting for a new owner, a new life, a renewed love. She knew that she would make a former owner very proud. It was "hers"
She was still sitting at the table two hours later. Her tea had gone cold as she sat unseeing, unfeeling at the table. Shadows had started to lengthen outside and the day that had promised so much in warmth and sun had become chill and grey. Soon the outside lights would flicker on, making soft pools of yellow on the roads and footpaths.
Cass woke from her reverie at last, she shivered, never dud she want to open another official letter. They could only bring bad news, surely. He wanted to sell the house, he wanted the house gone, how could he ? Did he not think of the house as hers and the children's ? Could he be that cruel and thoughtless.?
She shivered with a cold that reached into her bones again. She flicked on the lights in the kitchen, snap, snap, snap. She was not leaving this house, she thought of it as her house, nothing to do with him. He hadn't worked on it with love the way she had. She remembered the first time she had seen it, her breath catching in her throat. It was just so beautiful she had thought at the time. Laughing he had carried her over the threshold, laughing, groaning at her weight, pregnant as she was with the twins.
Never would she forget the first sight of Roseleigh. The grey stone double story of old stones, that had stood strong against all weathers for long years. The barely non existent front garden tangled with old roses and ivy. The horse chestnut small then and not the massive tree it was now, resplendent in shiny green leaves and furry balls. The walled garden almost bare, only the tracery of ivy removed, drawing strange pictures on the. Stone.
It had reached out to her this once grand house, neglected it seemed in it's shabby poverty which would come to life again with a family with noise, with laughter, love, life. It had all seemed so very clear then.her vision for Roseleigh.
It would be her security, her families ode to the future and to new life. She had felt the twins move inside her as she had lumbered ungainly up the stairs with its worn carpet and scuffed runners, she would make this house a home, she promised her unborn twins. And as she reached the sun filled landing, decided, that a partition wall there, right there, would enclose a nursery.
The house had a warmth she had never felt in a house before. It wasn't the period fireplaces in every room. It wasn't in the high ceilings or the faded wall papers of cabbage roses and regency stripes. It wasn't in the flagged stones of the vast kitchen or in the cellar, warm and dusty. It was the house itself. It spoke to her of happy families, fun gatherings held there, Christmases past, Summers of languishing in the garden under the shade of parasols, cold winters, cosied by the lit coal fires.
It was "hers", it was her expected children's, it was going to be her flagship, her mission in life and live. A paid homage to it's past, it's future. It had sat, stolid through two World Wars, bombings that had levelled other houses around her. It had waited out the death of the old lady who owned it, patiently waiting for a new owner, a new life, a renewed love. She knew that she would make a former owner very proud. It was "hers"
