Artist In Residence

It was her only option... yet it seemed the cottage had found Emmie and called irresistibly to her

- PENNY PARKES

Wanted: Artist in residence for countryside cottage (some renovations required) Emmie looked up in confusion from the crumpled property particulars in her hand.

"Close to all vital amenities"," she read aloud to the equally bemused Uber driver as the lanes became narrower and the last vestiges of civilisation were lost beyond miles of lush green hedgerows.

"There's always a catch," the driver said, nodding at the print-out and laughing when he saw the bold type across the single - admittedly beautiful-photograph.

"You get what you pay for. At that price, you'll be lucky to have running water." He reached around behind him and handed her a bottle of Evian.

"Speaking of which, don't forget to give me a cracking review, will you?"

Emmie nodded, her own misgivings crowding in as the hedgerows narrowed. Beggars could hardly be choosers, but she reminded herself of how relieved and grateful she'd been to come across this unusual and serendipitous opportunity.

For the peppercorn rent the owners were charging on this tiny cottage, she could barely pay for a room-share in Zone 3, and since she was hardly fighting off job prospects, it had been time to think outside the box. Outside her comfort zone too, it seemed.

When they say renovations, I hope they're not expecting me to mend the roof," Emmie mused aloud. "I can just about manage a bit of paint and Polyfilla."

Yet the longer she stared at the photo, at the tangled arch of roses over the front door of the tiny stone cottage, at the riot of flowers and weeds on either side of the narrow garden path and the flaking white gate hanging loosely on one hinge, she found that she didn't care.

It was as though the neglected cottage was simply caught in time, achingly familiar and awaiting her arrival, now equally lost and alone as Emmie found herself.