A Wicked Twist (A Tom Hiddleston Fanfic)

The Isle of Wight

Howdy!

So apologies for this chapter as there's not much Tom in it but I needed it to set up for events to come :-) 

Happy reading x

NB - some swear words appear in this chapter. Apologies. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wednesday 10th February

It's raining. I can hear the splatter of drops against my bedroom window even before I open my eyes. I mean I'm not that surprised at this revelation as it is February in Britain but still the thought of driving in the rain down the duel carriageway to Portsmouth is not appealing. Despite the dampener of rain I manage to drag myself out of bed and make myself some breakfast, porridge with what's left of my blueberries. Whilst eating my porridge I decide to check the traffic reports for the A3 and I'm pleasantly surprised that there are no delays showing. I also check the M3, just in case I need to alter my route slightly later on, and that is looking pretty clear too. At least there are some positives to the day. Checking my watch I do some mental math in my head, I'm booked on the ferry at ten past twelve this afternoon so I will need to set off fairly soon to make sure I get there. With breakfast done and the pots washed I shower and change before putting all my stuff I need for the weekend in the car. I pop down to the Sainsbury's below my flat to get some basic groceries to tide me over whilst I'm there, it is self-catering after all, and end up buying probably more than I'll need. When I'm done putting the shopping in the car it looks like I'm going on holiday for a month not a week but I'm impressed with my Tetris car packing skills. After a final triple check that I have my dress and the details of the cottages we're staying in, I head out into the rain and, equally as irritating, London traffic.

After a very uneventful journey, that mostly entailed me singing my head off to tunes on my iPod, I arrive in Portsmouth at about ten to eleven. This gives me plenty of time to make the ferry and with that knowledge I feel myself beginning to relax, now that I know I'm not going to miss it. Following the signs to the ferry I park up at the docks and wait for the check in window for my crossing to open. Whilst waiting I watch the ferries boarding and unloading cars and other vehicles, the holiday makers either heading off or returning from foreign fields and the dock workers hurrying about their work. There's something quite therapeutic about watching people go about their work when you don't have to. Luckily the rain has eased off now so when it's finally my time to board the ferry I spend the forty five minute crossing out on deck, watching the Isle of Wight get closer and closer.

Two hours after leaving Portsmouth I've finally arrived at the cottages and boy are they breath-taking. They're located on a big working farm and there are eight cottages in total built around a central courtyard. I'll be honest; it took me a couple of attempts to find the place as the entrance to the farm is slightly back from the main road. The entrance is framed by two large stone gate posts, which have a metal gate on each, and a wall running along the road with woodland behind it. This entrance looked more like the entry to a stately home than a farm, but after driving up and down the road twice this was the only possible entry so I'd turned in. As I drive up the long drive that leads from the country lane towards the now visible farm buildings the road branches off to the right and heads down to the courtyard. A handy signpost points you in the right direction at this junction so I'm now confident I'm in the right place. Pulling up into the courtyard an older lady comes out of one of the cottages to greet me looking every bit the farmer's wife. She has green hunter wellies, tweed skirt, wax jacket and has a head scarf on. She introduces herself to me as Doris Winfield and asks me about how my journey was. Doris seems to be a pleasant, friendly lady who is very enthusiastic about showing me around the place. The cottages are totally in keeping with the local houses I passed on the way here, very quaint and made from stone. Doris shows me each of the eight cottages individually, inside and out, and spends an inordinate amount of time showing me what will be Ben and Sophie's cottage. Despite her enthusiasm all I really want is to be shown to my cottage, well mine for one night till Ben's relatives show up then it'll be 'ours', so I can crash after my journey. However my parents raised me to be polite and respectful so I take interest in what Doris is saying and wait patiently for her to finish her tour. I cannot deny that the Winfield's do not know how to look after their guests. The insides of each of the cottages are stunning, all modern and finished to a high standard but with a hint of old country. Eventually she shows me to the cottage I'll be staying in; it's last on the tour and the one closest to the gate into the courtyard. Doris explains that once everyone has arrived tomorrow the big gate to the courtyard can be closed and that also she will close the large gates at the end of the drive. This will close off the whole farm to try and keep out 'unwanted guests' as she called them. She's not mentioned the specific reasons why these gates are going to be closed, I assume she's trying to be professional, but I tell her that it's really good of her. She seems happy with my praise and finally leaves me to it.