A Bothy For Tea - Story Two

Chapter 1 – Morning Tea, A Newspaper, And A Bothy

A batch of burnt toast, the kettle whistled in protest, and the TV remote had been eaten by the couch for the fifth time.

Rose Marley shuffled her arthritic hips across the blue vinyl, removing the kettle from the heat ending its tantrum. She made herself a cup of tea, discarded the cremated toast, and took her newspaper with her into the living room. She placed her tea, and newspaper upon the table turning off the TV. The set is over ten years old but Rose preferred her books anyway so the television along with the VHS would be outside by tonight. She put on a pair of spectacles, and licked her thumb separating each page of the paper. Most of the articles were either people complaining or about politics which made her disinterested but an advertisement caught her eye. The ad was for a local bothy that had become dilapidated, the seller preferred someone from the village but was open to bids from buyers in the surrounding areas. She tilted her glasses, she squinted her eyes at the picture, it would take a lot of work but the Bothy had potential. Rose took a sip from her tea, and made the choice to wait before rushing into anything.

Rose is retired, she didn't have much to do during the day aside from the miscellaneous tasks like cleaning, buying food, and paying for utilities. She never wanted to become one of those people who needed to be taken care of especially since her husband had recently passed away from Dementia. This Bothy was an opportunity to do something else, and Rose knew she had to when she saw Mrs Green hobbling into the care home across the street, and saw herself doing the same thing. She removed her gardening gloves before rushing into the house to call the seller. The next morning Rose had awoken early getting washed, and changed. She closed each window making sure that were sealed but ended up locking the backdoor twice because she wasn't sure if it was really locked. Her hip twinged so she leaned against the worktop for a minute spluttering swears under her breath until the pain subsided. She left a note on her coffee table just in case Mrs Goldstein came by to borrow some sugar like she did from time to time. Rose said a prayer by her late husband's picture, and kissed his urn before walking out the door.

The drive there was pleasant, she lived in a small village, but its compact. The town she was going to is spread out amongst hills, and the wilderness. Her four-by-four is sturdy so she knew that it could take the pothole covered roads but she wondered if her hips could take the bumpy terrain. Rose had been offered surgery for her hips but had declined. She detested hospitals, and preferred treating her own ailments when she had the means to do so. Rose passed a few farms, some brown and blonde horses, as well as many herds of cow. Eventually, she saw an open iron gate with a grassy field ahead where a crowd was gathered. She parked her car into the side of the road then took a moment to quell her nerves before exiting the car. She double-checked the handles, and approached the crowd who were in a half circle formation.

It was difficult to see over the crowd because Rose had gotten shorter in her golden years, and most of people here were closer to six feet than she would ever be, even in the height of her youth. With that in mind, she stuck out her pointy elbows, and marched through the people. After, being knocked back a couple of times, she made it to the front of the crowd, and started bidding against a stout farmer wearing tartan clothes head to toe, who was giving her the evil eye. She flashed her nicest smile, trying to keep her dentures at bay as she continued bidding. The bidders were eliminated one by one. Rose was up against the most affluent farmer in the area. His air of arrogance made Roses skin crawl. "All that money but no sense." she thought to herself as she watched him jump up, and down as he countered each bid she made. They were at a tie but this man was not about to back down so she took a leap of faith. "I raise my bid to sixty-thousand pounds!" she shouted out, as gasps rang out from the spectators. The bidder turned his attention to the other gentleman who started sweating buckets but was ironically staying quiet. She grinned as the man shot her a dirty look before shaking his head, and backing down. The bidder exclaimed "One Bothy going for sixty-thousand pounds going once, going twice, and sold to the lovely Rose Marley" he slammed down his gavel. She danced a little but gulped when glaring eyes surrounded her.