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Heather Farm
     
    I

    “ Our new home, darling!” Thomas wrapped his strong arms around
me and kissed me.
    I just stood there, staring at our house, too touched to
speak.
    “ Wait a second, Joanna.” He lifted me up and carried me over
the threshold.
    “ But we're not exactly newly-wed, silly,” I laughed, kicking
and squirming because he took the opportunity to tickle
me.
    “ I know, but this is our first real home.” He put me down in
the dark and damp living room. “And just wait, in a year or two
it'll be a splendid place.”
    I ran
aimlessly around, checking every nook and corner, seeing everything
with fresh eyes, because now it was ours. We helped each other open
the old windows with their thick layers of paint.
    “ It seems they've painted all the doors and windows green,” I
observed.
    “ Of course. The colour of hope, spring, new life. We're going
to stick to that colour, aren't we?”
    “ And keep chickens and a temperamental turkey, and fetch water
from the pump outside. You are trying to make a real countrywoman
out of me, aren't you?” I skipped around like the Energizer Bunny,
opening all of the doors and closets, not sure yet which skeletons
would jump out at me.
    “ Well, I'd have guessed you wanted water and electricity put
in first, but if you insist on going native with a chicken coop and
all, sweetheart...”
    “ I'll tell you what to do first. You can begin by scrubbing
all the dirt and grime off each and every surface, and when you've
done that, come back and I'll have some new ideas for you. And it
won't even cost you extra."
    We
laughed and we cried a little bit because it was so overwhelming.
When dusk came and transformed the world into long, daunting
shadows, we lit plenty of candles. Like teenagers, we squatted in
the living room in our sleeping bags, sharing a cheap bottle of
Spanish plonk. We had lots to do, but it didn't matter because we
were young and strong and very much in love.
    And our
gorgeous, new home was right next to the nineteenth-century
lighthouse which must have cast yellow rays of light through the
living room windows in the past. I was sure the old building also
yearned to be bought by a family who would give it a new lease of
life.
     

    II

    Squeak,
squeak.
    The
piercing, squealing sounds tore me out of my heavy sleep. I tried
to get out of the sleeping bag, but I must have zipped it all the
way up to my chin during the cool morning hours so I wriggled about
like a helpless chrysalis.
    “ Dear me, I can see I've spent the night with a mummy.” Thomas
pretended to help me out of my cocoon, but of course he took it as
an opportunity to kiss me and tickle me, and then kiss and tickle
me some more.
    “ Will you stop your despicable behaviour and release me before
I pee in my pants! And I suppose you haven't even installed a tiny
shower while I've been asleep?”
    “ Don't tell me I walked all the way to the baker's to buy a
fresh loaf for a wriggly worm.”
    “ So it wasn't you trying to strangle someone out there a few
minutes ago?”
    “ The water pump, you mean? I confess I did manhandle her a
bit, and she squealed terribly, but the old gal wouldn't deliver
the goods.”
    “ So there's no water for my morning coffee?” I drew the
sleeping bag up over my face.
    “ I have found some clean plastic cans, and I'll go and fetch
some water from the lighthouse. I think there's an outside tap.
There's a pint of milk in the bag, though.”
    As if
milk could replace that first shot of caffeine. Well, he was a
darling, really. It was just that all my limbs were growling at me,
telling me they wanted to be left in peace after all that scrubbing
yesterday.
    I could
see already that drinking water would have to be our first
priority. We had brought a thermos and some soft drinks with us
yesterday, and for our cleaning project we had used sea water.
Plenty of that commodity right across the dunes.
    Enjoying
the luxury of waking up in a remote spot, far from