Moon Dreams

They loved living in the bungalow. Ruth made a beautiful garden, and they bought a large white rabbit which they took on walks on a lead to the woods and even to the beach, where it paddled in the sea. It was a lovely place to live, and the children felt settled at the school. Never get settled should have been the motto of this family. John had a day off. ‘Let’s go for a ride while the children are at school,’ he suggested. ‘Lovely,’ they both agreed. They set off in the car. It was a lovely day, and they drove around the coast. ‘Rockwell’ they both read on a post there were three long rows of grey stone cottages reaching into the distance and stopping before a large grassy area that led to the clifftop. ‘Amazing,’ they said and headed down the road. ‘Oh no,’ they said. At the far side of the grassy area stood a large white painted house, only maybe 15 feet away from the flower covered granite cliff. ‘FOR SALE’ it said. ‘Please don’t be,’ they say looking at each other ‘we can’t buy it. We mustn’t buy it.’ But they went to the agents anyway. It was raining when they got up. Ruth looked out of the window and thought, what do John and I do when it’s raining? She couldn’t think because she just didn’t remember rainy days spent with him. It was always sunny on their walks, never wet never dreary. John is so interesting that any weather would go unnoticed, oh she thought, he makes my world sunny. ‘Look at that rain,’ she said, ‘are we still going?’ ‘You bet,’ says John ‘we don’t want anyone getting there before us. Get your coat.’ So, with Amelia and Matthew at school and John with a day off, they went to the agent’s office. They stood in front of his desk looking at him. He could feel their excitement and saw how close they were. ‘So, can we view the house?’ they asked. He looked at them and nodded, ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but I would strongly advise you not to buy it.’ They looked at him aghast. An agent trying to put them off. ‘Why?’ they asked. ‘Well,’ he answered, looking at the lashing rain through the window, ‘today would be a good day to view, so I will give you the keys, but remember when you get there to look at that garden and ask yourself when did the last plant struggle to get through that stoney earth. Look at that old shed that is supposed to be a garage how much longer will that stand. Then ask yourselves, why has it only got one door? And why is it in a courtyard with a seven-foot granite wall around?’ ‘There has been a garden,’ Ruth says ignoring the warnings, ‘there was a terrace, and I saw a wallflower.’ ‘You won’t get out of that house on a windy day,’ the agent says ignoring her ‘the wind gets so strong up there you can’t open the door. You will be stuck on that cliff with that house creaking all around you.’ They looked at him and ignoring his warnings decided to go to Rockwell and look for themselves. Even Ruth was surprised at how desolate Rockwell looked in the lashing rain with the low granite bungalows neatly lined up towards the sea. ‘Oh dear,’ she said, and then looked to the end of the road. There it stood on the cliff edge in the pouring rain, its white paint glistening. ‘Best go and look,’ says John rattling the keys ‘and see what lies inside.’ It was as the agent had forecast – very run down and also very badly laid out. It was just one long straight row of rooms inside and Ruth noticed that the bathroom was at the end, almost in the courtyard. A long way to trek in the night she thought. They walked through; a long kitchen, a small dark dining room and then they opened the last door. Wow, the sight was amazing; they were silent just looking. A large window opposite the door showed only sea. Huge crashing waves spewed around beneath them, the dark clouds whisked around and through the pouring rain they could faintly make out the shore of the Black Isle. ‘Gosh, imagine this on a good day,’ whispers Ruth. ‘I’m trying to,’ John answers. They continue the tour opening the door to the stairs and going up to the top. At the top, a tiny room with a window which must be a lookout John thought. Three small bedrooms, plenty for us they decided. They walked through the house to the front door trying to decide what to do – although they were both certain of the answer. When they got outside the rain suddenly stopped, the sky split open in a long white gash and the sun streamed down through it turning the shore of the Black Isle into a river of gold. ‘Settled,’ they say, looking at each other, ‘it’s ours.’