Chapter Text
Cressida
It took Cressida many years to learn that the traditional influencer life wasn’t for her. Whilst she loved content creation and modelling, living in the city took a toll after a while. The cost of rent was so high that she always worked her ass off without breaks, and people expected her to be in designer brands and to arrive at parties in limos. Then there was the fact that many of her friends only enjoyed her presence if it brought them further exposure.
She realised that it wasn’t all it was hyped up to be when she got sick, needing surgery, and found no one at her bedside. Her parents had been ‘busy’ with meetings, her friends had been ‘swamped’ with ad campaigns, and she didn’t even receive a single get-well text. Shockingly, the only support she received came from followers – strangers no less – who saw the hospital gown in her story update.
She didn’t have a life: not truly. What Cressida had was fragments of a false sense of comfort that didn’t really amount to anything. So, after she got out of the hospital, she tested it further. When she refused to pay for everyone’s drinks and to get them into clubs, her friends dropped away like they were never there to begin with- and she supposed perhaps they weren’t. Then, when she disagreed with her parents on something small, testing the compliance she had stuck with since she was a child because it was less stressful that way, she found that they quickly became angered and tore her apart.
As such, Cressida packed up her things and found a house she bought outright in a quaint village near where she grew up. Somewhere where she wouldn’t be expected to be the version of herself that she’d been ever since she blew up at fifteen.
It turned out that the property was far cheaper outside of the city. In it, she could barely afford the rent to match the lifestyle she felt she needed to showcase to her friends and followers, but here, she’d managed to buy a house. Not rent one, buy one. Even if her income took a hit from being this far from the city, it was nothing compared to what she had been losing there in rent every month.
The house was far from perfect, but that was why she wanted it. Her next video series she would focus on fixing it up. It would also hopefully detract from people asking why she suddenly decided to move to the middle of nowhere.
It was spacious and had a large front and back garden, which were fairly empty apart from the bushy trees in the corner of each. In truth, it looked abandoned, and Cressida wondered if anyone had ever bothered to do it up. But then she stepped inside and knew that it was loved. There was a series of marks on the doorframe, with the names Angus, Kirin, and Charlotte repeated every now and again next to a small notch marking their growth over time. Part of Cressida wanted to leave that, even though she knew it was ridiculous to. But when she was younger, she longed for parents who would care enough to do such a thing, and so Cressida saw that and felt a sense of comfort.
The house was loved, lived in, and likely belonged to someone who passed away, given what Cressida knew from her realtor. But it needed fixing up, and the wallpaper peeling off the walls would be her first point of call.
For now, she set to unpacking once the truck arrived and filling the home with what she had, which, granted, wasn’t much other than her wardrobe. The garden would need work, but she would wait for warmer weather to tackle the majority of it. Perhaps she would hire a gardener to help her out and give her some advice. It wasn’t like she had gardened before, but she liked the idea of getting her hands dirty, and she had yet to kill the houseplants she bought months ago.
Once her house was filled, she set to unboxing, but she heard the slight murmur of a voice through the wall. Her house was semi-detached, but Cressida hoped she might find a friendship with some of her neighbours around here. By the sounds of it, they had a small child because Cressida heard what sounded like a tantrum.
She cooked for herself as soon as the sun set, a new hobby she found peace in. Vegetables and herbs sat sprawled across the counter as she experimented with a miso and leek pasta recipe she had stumbled upon. Growing up, Cressida wasn’t allowed to cook as it was too messy, so now she took comfort in leaving as much out until she had finished eating.
As the salty taste met her tongue, she moved to her phone and saved the recipe into her meal favourites to make again at a later date. Honestly, she hadn’t expected it to work, and yet it was a warm and comforting pasta, creamy and delicious. It just made her sad that she had no one but herself to cook for, which seemed a waste. At least it would mean leftovers for the next two days.
Come morning, Cressida heard the same murmur of the child’s voice, but this time from the hallway upstairs. She couldn’t hear much but took relief that the parents didn’t seem to yell back at them in a screaming match.
She left the house at eight, bundled up in a puffy, cropped coat as she blew on her hands. When they met the icy leather of the steering wheel, Cressida swore and immediately regretted not having found what box her gloves were packed in yet.
A trip to the DIY store eventually cheered her up. For now, she grabbed everything she needed to strip the wallpaper and paint away, but made a note to warn her neighbour about the noise and ask what times were better for the louder parts. The last thing she wanted was to become an instant nuisance.
Into her cart went a whole host of tools, products to strip everything, and then a whole host of other things like dust sheets and a mask.
It ended up taking her two trolleys worth to sort everything, which was unsurprising given that before today, she didn’t even own a screwdriver. However, she had spent months watching videos and making lists so that she knew how to use everything and was aptly prepared.
By the time she got back, she started unloading, heaving the stuff into her house until every last thing was sitting in her living room, ready to be put to use. Cressida pulled on her dungarees and tied her hair up, and then began sanding, starting first with small things that needed to be done by hand like the filigree around the fireplace.
She was two hours in, her cheeks and hair covered in paint flecks, when someone knocked on the door. Exhausted, Cressida stood, trying to wipe her hair out of her face so she looked the slightest bit presentable.
“Hi, how can I-” Cressida stopped speaking then, baffled. The woman who stood before her was familiar, because Cressida had spent many evenings around her house when they were younger. Eloise’s sister, Daphne, had been her best friend until she turned sixteen and got more into influencing. Then Daphne had said she wasn’t sure who Cressida had become, but she didn’t like it, and Cressida had been pissed off, even though now she could understand that Daphne was likely right in saying such.
And there was a small chance that Eloise had been her first kiss... But that was a story for another time.
Either way, those gentle eyes were just the same as before. Her hair was lighter now, gone was the fringe, and it now sported some lighter highlights. But it was most definitely Eloise Bridgerton.
“Hi, we live next door. I’m Eloise, and this is my… daughter, Regan. I brought over some flowers… that’s good for neighbours moving in, right?”
Eloise was busy fixing her daughter's hair as she spoke, so she hadn’t seen who was standing in front of her, nor the fact that Cressida was shocked because her next-door neighbour was someone she had known many years ago. Nonetheless, Cressida hoped that this might give her a starting point for friendship. “I think flowers are lovely, El.”
Before Eloise could finish removing what seemed to be spaghetti from her daughter’s hair, she looked up, having caught the nickname that few used throughout her life. Whilst Cressida expected some warmth, Eloise uttered, “Jesus Christ. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Fuck,” the little girl echoed.
“No, no, no, no, shit, do not repeat that word, Regan.”
“Shit.”
“Or that one!”
Oh god, Eloise really was a parent. How had Cressida missed that? Even though she grew apart from Daphne, they still followed one another on some socials. She knew Colin and Daphne both had children years ago, but she never knew that Eloise had. That seemed like a rather strange detail to leave out. Then again, Daphne hadn’t updated her socials in a year or so, but this girl looked at least three.
“I didn’t realise you had a child,” Cressida stated.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t realise you moved to the village, yet here you are. Funny how things happen, right?”
Cressida arched a brow. “Are you okay? I’m sorry if I said something to-”
“Food,” Regan mumbled.
“Sweetie, I’ll make you food in a bit.” Eloise held out the flowers. “Sorry, no, you didn’t. Just of course you, of all bloody people, move in next door to me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cressida took the flowers and kept her tone somewhat neutral, even if she was hurt.
“Only that the past year has been a right cluster… f word, and so of course the world is adding to that by making you my neighbour.” Before Cressida could say anything in response, Regan began to cry. “I’m gonna get this one home. Um, enjoy the flowers? And congrats, I guess, on the whole moving in thing.”
Even though Eloise left, Cressida remained standing at her door for several minutes as her brain processed what on earth had just happened. “Okay, so maybe I’m not going to make friends with the neighbours,” she uttered to herself as she swung the door shut.