3rd Prize - Short Story Competition 2012

"The Summerhouse" by Jill Hayns

It sat beside the stream in the wild, overgrown part of the garden, hidden under the vast fall of weeping willow. Swaying branches filtered the sun, casting shadows as reflections rippled. Overgrown bushes crowded the porch and ivy grew in unruly abandon across the roof.

Through the door, left slightly {ar, was a scene of equal neglect. There stood a wooden table, draped with a faded, embroidered cloth spread corner to corner, with an empty vase on top and, to keep it company, a pile of dusty books. Two wicker chairs, one on either side of the window, nursed worn floral cushions, and above, frail curtains hung in tatters. A muddle of brown leather boots, walking sticks and sun hats lay forgotten by the door, and trailing creepers nosed their way through the floorboards.

"There's some sort of building in here - under all these bushes."

ln an instant, the silent mystery of yester year faded into the shadows. Excited voices and snapping branches filled the space

"What did you say, Charles?"

"There's a shed or something - amongst all this greenery. Look, Liz, it's an old hut."

Two figures emerged, one behind the other. The young man ran his fingers through his mop of hair. "l think it's an old summerhouse."

The girl, of similar age but with hair as fair and straight as his was dark and curly, stared at the wooden building in front of her. "Yes, you're right. Look, there's a door and a window. Dare we go in?"

Charles climbed onto the step. "Woo . . . oops, careful, it's a bit rickety." He pushed open the door. Faltering on its hinges, it groaned like an aged person with arthritic joints. "Wow, just look at this. lt's a little gem."

Liz climbed up behind him, hesitating at the door,

"l'm not sure about all these cobwebs."

The young man laughed. "Don't be a wimp. Look at this lovely old table and the basket chairs. And these wonderful old tools - this fork and garden shears with their wooden handles, and this metal bucket with a ball of string inside.

"Yes, but everything is so filthy."

"We can soon do something about that. Come on, Liz. What about it? Let's clean the place up. It can be our secret hide-away. We could come here and no-one would ever know."

Liz edged forward. "Well, yes, I suppose it does have promise! She grinned, and laughed as Charles lifted her off her feet. "Put me down, will you." He plonked her on the table. "Hey, Charles what's that picture?"

"What picture?"

"That one . . . behind you on the wall."

He turned to look and rubbed away the dust. "It's an old photo I think, one of those old sepia ones." Liz jumped down. Together they stared at the print. A man and woman stared back.

"How old do you think?"

"Em, about seventy or eighty I should imagine."

No,Charles,l mean when do you think they were alive? Look at their clothes."

"Not sure really - late 1800’s or perhaps early 1900’s. Anyway, enough of old photos. We'd better be getting back or we'll be missed. We can come again tomorrow and have a go

at these cobwebs."

The young couple made their way towards the house which Charles's parents had rented for the Summer. Charles and Liz had arrived that afternoon, a week after leaving university - come to stay for a couple of weeks, after finals and the hectic round of parties.

"What do you think of the place?" Charles's mother asked over the evening meal.

"Great! The gardens are quite extensive aren't they?" Charles replied, "Overgrown in places."

"There's a stream running down at the bottom," Liz added. Charles threw her a wary glance. "But as Charles says, it's very overgrown."

Charles's father joined in. "I suppose, since the place is rented out, there's a limit to how much it can be maintained. At least the lawns near the house are well kept. There's a wrought iron bench near the rose beds where we've been having our morning coffee, haven't we my love?" He turned to his wife and smiled. "l think that's as far as we'll venture."

He took another sip of wine. "We're thinking of driving to the coast tomorrow. Do you two want to come, or do you want to do your own thing?"

Charles looked at Liz. "Thanks, Dad, but if you don't mind, I think we'll just hang around here and get to know the place."

Next day, Charles's parents drove off soon after breakfast, saying they would be back late as they were going to stop off at a country pub for their evening meal.

"Great," said Charles after they had left. "That means we can spend the whole day down at the summerhouse. He began opening the kitchen cupboard doors. "Liz, have you any idea where the brushes might be hiding?"

Liz wandered into the hall. "They're all under the stairs. You sort out what you think we'll need and I'll throw together some lunch."

Half an hour later the couple, armed with a mop and a red plastic bucket, a long handled broom, a dust-pan and brush, and a rucksack full of goodies, were once again pushing their way through the undergrowth. It was one of those magical, mid-summer days, with a brilliant blue sky and the sun bouncing off shimmering leaves. A flock of long-tailed tits filled the air with high pitched song, and over the shiny pink and yellow pebbles, the stream gurgled merrily as fire flies danced to its tune.

"What a perfect day!" Charles dumped everything down on the summerhouse floor. "Are you ready then, girl? Let's get cleaning!"

"Hang on a minute, Charles. Am I going mad or what? Look at that photo. How old did you say you thought the man and woman were?"

"Seventy or eighty wasn't it? What of it? Come on, Liz, we've got work to do!"

"No - no wait a bit Charles. Look at the photo."

"What is it? What's all this fuss about the photo?"

"Well, look at it. Can't you see? Look at their faces."

"What do you mean? What about their faces?"

Liz looked again at the photo - old and young mingled with each other. Liz rubbed her eyes. Nothing - it's nothing. I must have been imagining things."

"Here catch this." Charles, laughing, threw her a brush. "Now get cleaning, woman. I'll go down to the stream and get some water to mop the floor. Are you okay getting rid of these cobwebs?"

Liz began brushing the ceiling. She glanced again at the photo. No, she hadn't been mistaken. She moved closer to have a better look. The old couple were now young again - her and Charles's age. What on earth was happening?

She heard the creak of the wooden step as Charles returned. Water slopped down his trousers into his trainers and splashed over the floor as he dumped down the over-filled bucket.

“It's looking better already," he said. “I'll make a start on start on the floor."

They continued their separate tasks, both preoccupied with their own thoughts. After a while Liz paused for breath and looked once more at the photo. She stared. The couple had aged again l

Charles followed her gaze. "You're intrigued with that photo, aren't you?"

Liz looked away. She was sure she wasn't seeing things but she wasn't going to make a fool of herself again. They mopped the floor, brushed the walls, dusted down the chairs, and finally cleaned the window. Liz went outside, into the well-kept part of the garden, and brought back some red roses which she arranged in the vase on the table. The interior was transformed.

The two young people flopped down into the waiting chairs.

"Time for something to eat methinks!" Charles pounced on a ham and cheese sandwich. Liz, not particularly hungry, picked up one of the old books lying on the table. She blew away the dust revealing a dark red cover with gold lettering - Shakespeare's Love Sonnets'. She opened the book and read the inscription:

“For my beloved Elizabeth

With fondest love on this our day of betrothal

Yours for ever

Charles

The seventh day of August 1902

Within this our summerhouse may our love remain and blossom”

She closed the book and put it gently down. Charles finished his lunch and stared at the girl lost in thought, sitting on the other side of the table.

"Liz, I've been thinking. Now we've finished at uni I can't bear the thought of not being with you and not seeing you every day. What about it? Shall we find a flat together?"

Liz looked across, first at Charles and then up at the photo. She smiled. The couple, in their old fashioned clothes, were young again, and they too looked down at her, and they too were smiling.

The End