The cottage no longer held its welcoming glow as Nora stepped out of the vehicle, but it was still utterly beautiful. It was late afternoon, almost golden hour and had there not been a meowing cat interrupting the silence, from Ali's arms, she may have even considered taking advantage of the scenery for a few selfies for her rarely updated Instagram page.

Amber light sparkled through the leaves and branches, warming her naturally tan skin and she sighed, preparing for the impending doom should Harriet Jones not allow them to enter.

Without glancing at her companion, she knocked on the door once, moving off the step as she listened for the old lady's waddle. Her London accented curses could be heard through the brick walls and for a moment, Nora smiled, realising that perhaps in another life, she and Mrs Jones would have been great friends.

The door swung open, and the pair immediately tensed, their spines squeezing with the effort as the elder woman's blue eyes had made her assessment. Ali had placed Mr Mittens in the ground, still in his carrier cage and so he was momentarily out of the woman's sight.

"You again," she snarled, "I've just about had it with you people knocking on my door. I moved to bloody Scotland to get some peace, what crazy lunatics would follow a lass eight hours, eh? And all for a bloody cat! I told you-"

"We came to see you..." Ali interrupted, gaining Nora's piquancy. "I understand how you feel about Billy-"

"Bertha," she corrected and Ali paused, momentarily side tracked with utter horror at the name she had chosen, before continuing:

"B-Bertha?..." He corrected, his tone infused with confusion, "but since we have come all of this way, perhaps we could just...talk? One cat owner to the other?"

Nora was doing her utmost best not to giggle, her lips tilted with hilarity but when the woman eyed her up, she immediately swallowed her amusement and straightened up.

"I'm not offering you dinner," Harriet huffed in defeat, as she eyed the pair. "But I am hungry..." She began, causing Nora's stomach to rumble at the thought. Aside from the impromptu hot chocolate, snacks and of course the heavenly breakfast she had practically inhaled this morning, she hadn't actually eaten anything savoury. And perhaps, Ali hadn't either.

"I have a thought," Nora beamed, ignoring Ali's surprise as she stepped over the threshold as Harriet took a step back. "I'm starving, and I am very sure Ali is too...so how about i cook for us," She proposed as the short woman narrowed her lips.

"You can cook?" Harriet asked and Nora nodded, her smile wide.

"I'm a trained chef," The comment was not a lie and Nora knew Ali was currently staring at her, likely with a lowered jaw in surprise.

She ignored his burning gander however, and allowed Harriet to show her where she kept her ingredients, which really was the bare minimum but enough for her to put together a simple pot roast.

"Why don't you rest, Harriet? Ali you can join her in the lounge," Nora suggested as she pulled out a knife from the wooden holder. "I've got this,"

The elder woman was yet to release her sour expression and her nose continued to pinch in discontent but to her surprise, she nodded in agreement. "Alright," she conceded, "I've got bunions, so I could do with the rest...and you," she pointed a finger at Ali who was still carrying the cat in his hands, "why don't we talk about our cats,"

Ali had no choice but to agree and Nora offered an encouraging smile and waved, before tying the apron around her waist before she got to work.

Training to be a chef was all Nora had dreamed of when she was younger. The wish had been sparked by a birthday present, perhaps from a grandparent or family friend- she wasn't quite sure on the details but the play kitchen became her haven. Every morning before school, she would whip up her own mini breakfast and by age nine, the food became real. She was a natural.

Food also became Nora's escape when her parents divorced, and she'd never made so many different types of cakes as she had, back then.
Still, a dream was just a dream and whilst Nora enjoyed cooking, and had even trained and opened her own kitchen, fantasies we're never meant to last.
Now cooking was something she for savoured for herself and with the job market being so saturated, she had jumped from job to job, simply just waiting for the right opportunity.

The chicken was prepared and in the oven, in just under twenty minutes, giving her ample time to prepare the vegetables. She's chosen to caramelise the onions, and boiled the green beans and broccoli, so that they were cooked, but still crunchy.

Ali's voiced carried through the open doorway, and over the sound of bubbling water, giving her hints of how the conversation was going. Remembering that he wouldn't be able to eat the meat, not knowing it's source, she washed her hands and prepared a dough of flour, butter and salt.
She added it to the oven, to bake long enough before adding grated cheese and some of the caramelised onions into the mix, to create a quiche.

Once everything was baking and boiling, Nora finally took a moment to clean up and check her mobile. The message headlining her screen was, to her surprise, from her father, following another message by Mr Bilal reminding her that the rent was due in just thirty hours time.

The latter correspondence gained a gulp, and she sighed, helping herself to a glance water as she heard the meowing of cats becoming acquainted with one another. She didn't have the money for the rent and knowing that she'd lost her job as a result of her mistake, had her stomach turning at the thought. She'd work it out however and Ali was the sole benefactor for this trip. She just needed to find a job as soon as it was possible; being homeless wasn't exactly an option.

Bringing Ali all the way to Scotland, was now her means to apologise. She just didn't have the courage to echo the words that were within her soul.
Still, it didn't take her long to decide to mute Mr Bilal's number. It was a temporary fix, but Nora would sort her rent out when she went home, she didn't need that additional negativity looming over her head.

The timer buzzed, and she basted the chicken before lowering the heat on the boiling vegetable. The heavenly scent of rosemary and caramel brought the small kitchen to life and she inhaled with delight, finding true joy in preparing a dish, that perhaps would have swaying power over the elderly woman in the room next door. And if she didn't, then Nora still had no qualms in swapping the cats. She could hardly tell the difference and she doubted Mrs Jones could either. She'd named Billy, Bertha after all and she snorted, an attempt to stifle her bellowing laugh as conversation continued peacefully next door.

After washing her hands once more, Nora moved to the dinner table that would need to be set. It was a standard oak table, with four chairs and plenty of space for them all and yet lacked the appearance she would associate with homely. A glance at the paint-chipped, blue garden door acknowledged that the key was in the lock, and so she found some scissors, and a tray before strolling into the mud in hopes to find some greenery to liven up the space.

It was apparent that either Mrs Jones, or the previous owners maintained their garden, and the small planters that lined outskirts of the round sized plot, offered her plenty of choice.
The rose bush caught her attention first and she collected some longer stems, followed by the wild wheat grass and some other green plants she recognised by couldn't remember the name of.

She took the small collection inside, and rinsed away the mud, from both her hands and the greenery before searching the cupboard for a plate of sorts. A large sage dish accented with red flowers- ugly and old fashioned, yet also wholly appropriate, caught her attention and Nora decorated the circumference of the platter, before adding the freshly baked quiche to the centre.

The chicken needed another five minutes, and so she used the time to add plates, cutlery and cups, along with a pitcher of water and some coca-cola she'd found in the fridge.

It was only until Nora turned, did she realise that her shoes had picked up the mud, and left print makes all over the tile. Her squeal was muted by her terror, and she quickly grabbed the kitchen roll, dousing the tissue in water before she began to scrub.

"You went picking in my garden didn't you?" Harriet called, and Nora froze. "Leave it lass, you can do it later..." Surprisingly, Harriet sounded calm and with a final wipe, Nora used the table to hoist her up to see both the elder woman and Ali standing on the opposite side of the room, by the doorway.

"I'm sorry," Nora genuinely expressed, "I just wanted to add a little..."

"It's fine," The elder woman interrupted with a shrug, picking up a bottle of wine to place on the table, before taking the seat at the head of the table. Ali took the seat directly opposite, after washing his hands, leaving Nora to be seated awkwardly in the middle. And she thought dinners with her divorced parents, when it was just the three of them was hard enough.
"My cannabis leaves however, you shouldn't have touched that," Harriet added using her finger to prod the arrangement Nora had made.
The small smirk told Nora that Harriet was simply just pulling their legs, and Nora was street wise enough to know the difference between greens and a plant that was used for recreational or occasional medication purposes. Her elder, slightly confused companion however had no hesitation in expressing his alarm.

"C-cannabis?" He questioned, as Nora retuned to the table with the roast chicken in her hands. She didn't need to glance in Ali's direction to know his face would be sheet of white.

"I just thought it would be something fun to do after," Nora half shrugged, "Ali, I hope you like the quiche," She added spooning a portion in to his plate.
His expression of alarm, was enough to gain a high pitched chuckle from Harriet, melting the thick invisible ice as Nora joined in. Though the sound pulsing from the elder woman's mouth would be better to be described as terrifying, Nora could only continue to be amused, silently praying that this was a step in the right direction.

It took a few moments later, before a meek laugh escaped Ali's own lips, his realisation causing colour to return to his cheeks as the trio began to dine.

"I'm just messing with you, love," Harriet chuckled, "these are betal leaves, edible without the intoxicating effect," she explained, rolling up a damp leaf and popping it into her mouth.

It was clear Ali didn't know what more he could say, and so before more could be said on the topic, Nora collected the vegetables, and encouraged everyone to begin by helping herself to an extra large portion. She was the one who had cooked after all.

Over the dinner course, it had appeared that Ali and Harriet had developed quite the friendship. They spoke amicably, and she smiled gratefully when they both highlighted their appreciation for the food. Still, the mention of their feline friends were yet to be made and Nora wasn't sure if she even wanted to broker the topic.

"So how long have you been cooking?" Harriet asked, before taking a sip of from her wine.

"Erm...I guess I've always liked food," Nora shrugged, "I found following recipes so boring, that once my mum had taught me how to make her paella and guzpaccho, I decided to experiment and create my own. Training just gave me the certificate to say I knew what I was doing," She expressed truthfully gaining a chortle from the woman sat to her right.

Her attitude had completely changed in the last six hours, and she could only assume that this was Ali's doing. Or the wine bottle that Harriet had added to the table, and continuously sipped at. Nora hadn't taken a sip, despite how much she was tempted but she would be driving tonight. Ali had also remained sober, and as awful a thought it was, she couldn't help but feel they were at an advantage? How difficult would it be to swap the cats. Mrs Jones was currently giggling to herself, her cheeks warming from the real intoxicant, how would she notice? Would she be able to tell?

The wicked glint in her eye must have caught Ali's attention and he coughed , forcing her to glance his way. "Don't even think about it," He warned, his own eyes glinting with amusement as she mock pouted, and took a sip from her drink.

"I think that's me done for tonight," Harriet yawned, stretching her arms to look at the pair. It was a hint for the pair to leave, and Ali nodded first, moving to his feet.

"Nora, why don't you help Mrs Jones to her room, and I can clear this all up-" He offered, and she bobbed her head, also sliding out of her chair.

Harriet glanced at the pair, her eyes flitting between them as she used the table to mirror their movements, and gripped her cane. "Come on then lass," she yawned once more and Nora awkwardly followed her up the rickety stairs, and into the first bedroom that was decorated with white and sage green.

Somehow, over the course of the dinner, and making herself at home in the kitchen, Nora had once more fallen in love with the cottage. It had the sort of recluse vibe that she thrived in, and with the views of the trees, sitting in the garden with a fresh bake she had made- it was the future she had imagined. One of peace and a place where family would visit; where Leo's laughter would bounce against the walls and her expected niece or nephew would wish to spend hours in the sun. It was a place where Nora could be her own self, and she wholly loved it.