Mr Biker, Merry Christmas!

Chapter 4 :

JESSICA BERKELEY.

The old cottage inn remained on its spot just the way I remembered. Nothing changed. The timber framed building looks just as it did when I was a kid except now it's covered with dust and dirt.

I haven't been here since my father's demise. Last year, I left for London right after hosting his funeral so that I could continue with office work. But staring at it, it felt like I was gone for ages.

It felt like I abandoned the family's only significant asset. For a split second, it pricked my chest knowing I'd almost forgotten the home I once had.

The cherry tree still blooms with flowers and fruits and I remember climbing all up to the top just to pluck out an edible cherry and Dad would scold me for being so stubborn.

It holds a lot of memories of my childhood. I grew up living life as a small town girl and my father was always in every picture of my life.

The day I rode a bicycle for the first time, he was there to hold me from falling. My father literally taught me everything.

Tears form in the corner of my eyes recalling those moments with Dad. And now, I feel the emptiness, knowing it's just going to be myself in the cottage with no one else but just the memories of those whom I love so dearly.

Pushing the old wooden gate open, it gives a squeaky sound. I move into the cottage, pulling the old rusty door open, Cobwebs hover over my face, while I'm left fighting to get it off.

Inside was covered with extravagant, yet old and dusty Christmas decorations and furniture. A deep sigh escapes my lips as I'm left with no choice but to clean and tidy up the entire place.

If I want to live here, I have to take the cottage back to its original form. I look around the living room, my eyes randomly searching all over for at least some cleaning tools.

A FEW HOURS LATER

"Ouch! That hurts" I wince from the slight pain I feel in my waist. It has gone stiff from all the scrubbing and cleaning.

I have been cleaning for hours, barely realizing how long it has been. But the cottage has gotten its glow back on. I can finally breathe without inhaling a speck of dust.

Reaching out to my cellphone which has been ringing non-stop, I realize Mary had been the one calling. I place her on a video call, her face pops up on the screen almost immediately.

"You scared the hell out of me, girl" She half - screamed.

"I told you I'd be fine, didn't I? Why are you worried?"

"It's Paris girl.. Aside from that jerk, you know no one. I thought by now you'd be home by now"

I smiled. "I'm home, Mary. I'm in the Cotswolds region, so there's nothing to worry about, okay?"

"Cotswolds?.."

Turning the call to back-cam, showing her around the cottage, she squealed excitedly like it's her first time getting a phone tour around a cottage.

"Girl... You sure know how to get a hang over your heartbreak" She teased.

"I don't want to think about that"

"Right. With this, I'm rest assured you are fine"

My smile falters, my shoulders drop and I let out an audible sigh. Mary noticed immediately as she is someone who is good at reading moods.

"Hey.. what is it?"

"Cotswolds wasn't part of my plan. Spending Christmas alone wasn't part of my plan too" I say quietly.

"You are not alone. Think about your breakup with Regan as something that happened for a reason"

"I guess..." Another sigh escapes my lips. A quick look around, I realize that I wouldn't have thought about the cottage if that didn't happen.

"I have to go, Jessica" Mary informs.

"Alright.."

I am so glad I have Mary to share my pain with. We met a few years ago when she came with her parents who were tourists to our small town village. She was someone who looked like she was forced to go on the trip.

Our relationship at first wasn't so pleasant. We were enemies, bickering at each other at every slightest opportunity and then I thought we were unfortunate because our paths always crossed.

However, we became friends until her parents finished their assignment and returned back to London, still we kept in touch.

Standing on my feet with hands on my waist, I thought about the next thing to do. I'd just finished cleaning but the cottage still needs some repairs. The light switches are all faulty, the doors and windows keep making squeaky noises and I need to clear out the weeds in front.

But, the grumbling sound from my tummy made me realize how hungry I am. Quickly, l leave to go stock up food from the grocery store nearby.

The blizzard will be happening soon according to the weather reports. And once it happens, there is no possibility of it being over anytime soon.

I inhale the breath of fresh air, smiling lightly and looking around the environment which never changed.

The neighbors wave and extend their delight having me around. The old farmer whose inn is just right opposite ours, invites me over for dinner. He used to be so close to father. At evenings, they would sit under the cherry tree having drinks and chatting about work and family.

I guess home holds a lot of memories. Right now, I have stopped thinking about Regan and grieving over the break-up. He doesn't deserve any of my tears and I don't need to keep being sad over a relationship that never would have lasted anyways.

My major concern right now is redecorating the cottage inn just like every other Christmas. I just want to bring out its glow and that's what I'm focusing on, not some stupid break-up.

___________

It is evening already and the cottage was a total blackout. The Powers were out and the heating pipe needs to be fixed. As a matter of fact, there is still quite a lot that needs to be fixed.

I force my way down, fumbling in the dark to check the electrical panel and maybe there's just something I can do to fix it.

The dust laden in the air keeps making me cough and sneeze.

But suddenly, I am startled by the sudden violent crash up at the front door . I gasp loudly, my heart jolts as the crash echoed through the hallway.

Footsteps.. Heavy footsteps.

With trembling hands and fear of a burglar breaking into the cottage, I pull out my cellphone and contact the police even though the signal seems weak.

"There's someone trying to break in. Please help... It's the old Cottage inn with a cherry tree right in front of it. Help, please" I say quietly over the phone, turning it off immediately just so I wouldn't attract the attention of the burglar.

I listen closely. Every step the intruder makes seems calculative and I remain quiet, hoping the police show up sooner.

I feel he's slowly getting closer to where I am and because of how scared I felt, I make a sudden shift but unfortunately or better still, I ran out of luck because my feet came in contact with a metal box, making a lot of noise.

Hands over my lips, I remain still.. Eyes growing wide because the intruder stopped moving. Before I could tell what was actually going on, a tall, dark figure storms in... His flashlight sweeps across the dust laden Christmas decorations.

He swoops me over, slamming my back slightly against the wall with his hands going over my lips.