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I remember that day so well. We were like kids, taking turns riding round and round, giggling, laughing like schoolgirls, the men staring at us, shaking their heads as if we were crazy!
Sitting up in bed I smiled at the memory and gulped with sadness. I was missing my life in Algarve so much that I ached for it.
But the dream was becoming a nightmare, as it always ended with a snake slithering towards me from the workshops and under the wheel of my bicycle and I would wake feeling terrified and upset. That dream has always stayed in my memory and I guess it was caused through my being worried and unhappy.

The voice over the Tannoy called out our name; it was a telephone call. Hub hurried over to the Campsite office, me fast on his heels, worried, wondering. No one knew our number here except family. What was wrong?
Hub picked up the phone. In a few seconds he smiled,
“Ola Carlos”
Relief! Of course, Id forgotten, Maria and Carlos had the number. Another few seconds and Hub was speaking in English, so Maria had obviously taken over from Carlos.
Hub frowned and said reassuring words to her, saying he would send a cheque. I spoke to Maria for a couple of minutes. She asking when we would be back and that she missed me. I could only say sadly, when we had saved enough money.

Back at the caravan Hub explained the call. Carlos had turned up early for work as usual but had found the lock broken on the workshop doors. Going inside he soon found, on looking around, that there were things missing: a couple of large hand tools (expensive ones) and a few other bits and pieces. Old Miguel hadn’t heard anything and the dogs hadn’t barked, so whoever had burgled the place had been very quiet indeed.
Hub had reassured Carlos that he would put a cheque in the post to cover the cost of replacing the tools, as they were essential to the carpentry work. I recall how we both sat in silence, each deep in our own thoughts. I felt so unhappy. We shouldn’t be here sitting in a caravan in the Essex countryside, we should be there, at the workshops at Algoz, with Hub sorting out the problems and myself doing the garden work that I so loved. It was crazy.

I felt cold too. The couple of years in Algarve had acclimatised us to warmer temperatures and although it was June it was nowhere near as warm as a Portugal summer. The caravan was no substitute for the beautiful villa we had left behind. I was missing sitting out in the sunshine on the patio, drinking fresh orange juice for breakfast: I was even missing the goatherd with his poor demented wife and Pedro the pool cleaning man who liked a drink or 2; I was grumpy and miserable and could see no way out. Our life then, seemed pretty hopeless and without colour.
But it was the same for Hub and Jamie and we knew that soon we would have to be looking for a ‘proper’ roof over our heads and for Jamie to be enrolled in school and just as important, we needed to find some work. But with unemployment figures still high it was going to be hard.
But there was something else. I felt totally out of place. I found that I had changed. When I met people on the camp site, my immediate reaction was to shake hands and kiss on both cheeks but when I went to do this, people backed away. I’d got so used to the friendliness of people in Algarve, especially the Portuguese, that I mistakenly thought it would be the same in England, but it wasn’t and I felt a stranger in my own country.

One sunny day as Hub sat outside the van, he called out,
“Here Elle, look at this”
I went out and leaned over his shoulder. He had circled an advert in ‘The Lady’ magazine,
‘WANTED : Chauffeur and Housekeeper /Cook. Rent-free cottage and good weekly wage. Manor house in rural Essex’
I said “So?”
Hub went on to say how it would suit us. We’d have roof over our heads and a decent wage coming in.
“You are kidding?” I felt panic now, as I could tell he was serious.
I argued that Id never done that sort of work before. I had no idea of being a housekeeper in a big establishment and I was no ‘Egon Ronay’ in the cookery world either!
“What choice do we have?” his voice was sad.
He was right. There was no choice. We needed a decent home, mostly for our son’s sake and we needed money coming in.
A brief phone call and an interview was fixed for the following week. I wasn’t happy. I knew that we had no choice but my mind and heart was a thousand and more miles away. That week wasn’t an easy one. There were arguments and tears on my part. Then one night Hub said to me,
“We’re going back you know. I promise you that. It may take a while but we will go back to Algarve”

The Manor house was huge and I was a bundle of nerves as we were shown into the large sitting room by the maid. The tall elderly man was sprawled in his armchair by the fire; yes, a fire! It was June but there was a good blaze. The ‘fire’ was to become significant in our lives there and just a part of this country squire’s eccentricities!
He asked us several questions seeming satisfied with Hub’s driving experience then suddenly looked at me saying,
“Cook can you?”
It was so rapid I almost jumped in my chair. I mumbled something and he went on to say that there wasn’t much cooking needed, just a bit of ‘eggs and bacon ‘now and then. If only this had been true! I was to find out that ‘Sir’ had the appetite of a bear and that I would be spending most of the day in the kitchen when he was at home.
He showed us around the grounds which were enormous. When he found out that I gardened he told me what needed doing in the vast neglected flower beds and I knew then, that with this man, we would be earning every penny paid to us.
“Shoot can you?”
He swung his stick, a long shepherd’s crook, through the air as if taking aim at some invisible bird, just missing Hub’s head,
“Err no” Hub was lost for words.
“What? Never handled a shotgun?”
“No. I didn’t need one in the Fire Service”
‘Sir’ laughed at this, saying if he got time he would show him how to use a gun and that there was plenty of game about the place.
 

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