Unsure by Ashe Barker Read Free Book Online

mobile number on it. “That’s Tom’s number. He asked if you’d mind texting him when you’ve a minute, just to let him know you’ve arrived safe and everything’s okay.” I nod. It’s the least I can do I suppose when he’s been so considerate.
    Good evening, Mr Shore. Arrived OK. Cottage lovely. Thanks for groceries. And logs. Ashley M.
    Grace told me. You’re welcome. Tom
    Did she tell you I’m a woman? Ashley
    She did. Tom
    And that I have a cat? Ashley
    That too. Tom
    And?
    And???
    And is it a problem?
    I repeat, you’re welcome. Both of you.
    I manage to stop myself sending a smiley face. Result!
    I spend the rest of my first evening relaxing. I take a long hot shower, warm up a tin of soup and dip some of Mrs Richardson’s fresh-baked bread in it. Then I pig out on more of her scones I find in my bread bin. I gather from Mrs Richardson—the fount of all local wisdom and knowledge—that the nearest food shops are in Haworth, about five miles away. I’ll drive down there tomorrow, get properly stocked up on junk food. I also want to check out the tourist shops, especially anything remotely like an art gallery where I might be able to get my prints on display.
    I clamber into bed, exhausted, at about nine thirty. Despite everything, I muse, life’s good. It hasn’t always been, but just now, it’s really pretty peachy.
    * * * *
    The next three days are occupied exploring my new neighborhood and setting up my housekeeping, such as it is. I’m no domestic goddess, but I can warm up a ready meal or two. And Mrs Richardson seems inclined to help feed me too. The day after I arrived she phoned to ask if I wanted to have tea with her and Rosie. I accepted. We had home-made ham and mushroom pizza and ice cream to finish. Rosie’s favorite I gather. Mine too probably.
    The famous vending machine is about a fifteen-minute walk from Smithy’s Forge and does indeed stock fresh milk, eggs, spuds, bacon and bread. I even had to queue to use it because I arrived just after a bunch of about fifteen Japanese hikers, all wanting to top up their supplies and lug them along the Brontë Way. And those bags of spuds don’t look especially light to me. Still, who am I to comment?
    Quite often I meet up with Rosie and Barney as I’m strolling up the moorland hills behind my cottage looking for some decent viewpoints to photograph. I’m eager to start building my portfolio. Turns out Rosie knows these moors like the back of her hand, a proper little Emily Brontë in the making, and she has appointed herself as my guide. She shows me the tourist hotspots of Brontë Falls and Top Withens as well as some of her own favorite places. My collection of landscapes is looking quite promising.
    My choice to relocate here in West Yorkshire was not random or casual. This location is perfect for what I have in mind. My plan is to build up a range of pictures, especially panoramics, celebrating and showcasing the natural beauty of this area. The best of these I’ll have professionally printed, some onto canvas, others as posters. And I’ll negotiate with local tourist trade retailers to stock my stuff, sell it in situ, to visitors and locals. But mainly visitors, I expect. I’ve already spotted a couple of likely outlets in Haworth, so now I need some decent samples of my artwork to show them. My proposition will be that I will supply the stuff to them for free—they’ll display it, sell it and take a cut of the proceeds. There’s little or no risk to my partners, no outlay required from them, so I’m optimistic I’ll get some takers.
    Once I’ve established myself here, I can look at other areas in the vicinity. The Yorkshire Dales are only an hour or so away, the North York Moors a little farther. The Lake District is two hours away, so is the Peak District. I intend to develop my materials in each of those places, identify local outlets to partner with, and replicate my model in other tourist areas, the national parks and