Game

Chapter 7

 At last, they arrived at the cottage. Snow blanketed the surrounding fields, dusted the distant trees, and the roof of the cottage.
Andrew stepped out of the car, gravel crunched under his boots. He breathed in the air. The freshness of it more noticeable now that he stood in the open. Flurries of snow swirled gently as the wind picked up. He breathed in the scents of wet pasture and wild flowers. It was as though the air here had remained pure for centuries. He noted a lack of smoke from the chimney which made him wonder if the cottage had central heating. He hoped not. It would be a great pity if there were no open fire. As he looked around the vast open space he felt himself relaxing. This was the place to be, he thought. Yawning, he grabbed his bags and followed the others indoors.
The cottage looked a great deal better than the online photographs. It had been cleaned and polished recently the smell of proper beeswax, old wood and fresh cut flowers permeated the cottage. Stout beams of dark polished oak hung overhead. The window frames with little panels of glass matched the beams with a rich dark brown and the ceiling looked as though it had been recently painted judging by the unblemished white paint. Two brown leather sofas faced each other across a low wide coffee table. Aged stone walls gave the feeling of an older time when craftsmanship counted. No doubt the stone was repurposed from other long decayed or abandoned buildings. Such was the tradition. To Andrew's right the kitchen retained its original features but had been well conserved. The flagstones were port red. A table, enough to seat eight, stood between the kitchen and the front room. Flowers sat in three small circular vases evenly spaced on its surface.
Andrew thought the place would be a lot narrower. But then he'd never stayed in a cottage before. They always seemed to be small box type things adorning chocolate boxes or in small corners of villages or in far off  places much like this one.
The fireplace was not nearly as grand as the one at the manor but it didn't need to be. This was designed for the practicality of function not aesthetics. The fire was unlit but there was a plentiful supply of kindling and coal. He dropped his bags on one of the sofas. He worked on getting the fire started while everyone busied themselves organising the unpacking. There were some newspapers in a rack beside the coal scuttle. As he scrunched up paper he really did feel relaxed for the first time in a long, long while.