We’d found the perfect place to celebrate our marriage. But then disaster struck. By Shona Cattan, 44
We huffed and puffed but finally we’d made it. After a long walk up a hill, my husband Richard and I stopped in front of a plot of land.
‘Home sweet home,’ I said.
And we laughed.
We were in the middle of nowhere and, apart from the ruins of an old stone cottage, there wasn’t much there.
But, to us, it was full of excitement and opportunity.
We’d just tied the knot in Newcastle, Tyne & Wear, before moving out to Spain to live our dream.
Our plan was to build a house on the land, as well as an area to hold a huge wedding celebration in the sunshine for our friends and family.
Richard worked as a tree surgeon, but we also planned to grow olives and fruit on our land.
We got to work, planting our olive grove and building a wooden house and set about restoring the stone cottage, living in a caravan while we did it.
We didn’t know much Spanish when we arrived, but we learned as we went along.
'What are the chances of another disaster?'
Two years went by and finally we were nearly ready to host our big party.
But one night, with just two months to go, Richard got a call as we were getting ready for bed.
As he listened, his expression dropped, so I knew it was about his grandma, who’d been poorly recently.
‘She passed away,’ he said.
I hugged him and we cried together.
Three weeks later, I drove him to the airport to fly back to the UK for the funeral.
I wanted to pay my respects too, but I had to stay in Spain for our dog Jampo.
During the drive, Richard was anxious.
‘Will you be OK on your own?’ he asked.
The last time he’d flown back, I’d ended up in hospital. I’d accidentally disturbed a wasps’ nest and my fingers swelled so badly I had to get my rings cut off.
‘Of course,’ I replied. ‘What are the chances of another disaster?’
On the way home, though, I stopped at the supermarket in the nearest village and left my purse on the counter.
I realised in time, and ran back to get it.
And I thought: Bullet dodged!
However, as I headed home along the isolated country roads, I spotted a huge plume of thick smoke rising up into the sky.
‘I hope that’s not our home on fire,’ I said to Jampo.
I meant it as a joke but, as I kept driving, I started to feel nervous.
The closer I got to home, the bigger the smoke plume looked.
‘Please no,’ I muttered as I put my foot down.
But as I pulled up, I gasped.
Our wooden house was engulfed in flames that reached 10 metres into the air. The smoke plume was double that height and the flames were already spreading to the surrounding trees and hillside.
I leapt from the car and grabbed our passports and documents from the caravan.
Then I called the fire service.
My Spanish wasn’t great and I desperately tried to explain the directions to the operator.
All I could do was look on, and keep Jampo safe, as our dream home went up in smoke.
Then, I saw fire engines in the distance.
I ran, waving my arms to flag them down.
There were 14 vehicles, fire engines and police cars, and firefighters sprang into action.
But it was too late to save much.
Once the main fire was out, the volunteer fire service spent nine hours cutting down trees and making sure there was no risk of the fire spreading further.
I sobbed until I felt like I had no tears left.
Our wedding venue and the home we’d worked so hard to build for two years was destroyed. There was nothing left.
Our kitchen, living room, furniture, utensils… nothing survived.
Friends arrived to comfort me.
‘At least you and Jampo weren’t inside,’ one said.
‘It’s only stuff,’ soothed another.
I knew they meant well, but I still felt heartbroken.
When I knew Richard was at his parents’ house, I called him.
We were both in tears as I told him that our home was in ashes.
‘I’m getting on the next flight back,’ he said.
I told him that Jampo and I were fine, but he was adamant.
His mum even filled a suitcase with dishes, pots, pans and utensils for us.
When he arrived, we fell into each other’s arms in tears.
Luckily, the caravan wasn’t damaged so we could sleep there but we didn’t know where to begin to put things right.
An investigation was carried out. While it couldn’t find an exact cause for the fire, it was believed that our solar equipment was faulty, and the control panel was damaged by rain as it was placed on the wall near an open window.
On top of everything, there were only weeks to go before our big celebration.
‘People have spent all that money, we can’t just cancel,’ I said.
‘Then we’ll rebuild it,’ Richard said, ‘and quickly.’
Redoing two years’ work in two months was a huge ask, but we were determined, and our friends in Spain rallied round, helping us to rebuild and donating furniture.
We installed better solar equipment, away from any windows, and back at home a friend even started a fundraiser to help us rebuild.
I was so grateful for everyone’s love and support, and by the time our big day arrived, we’d rebuilt most of the wooden house and put up a beautiful tent around the rest.
On the day, our guests arrived and we held a ceremony. Then Richard and I planted apricot trees. They were symbolic as they needed each other in order to pollinate.
It was a perfect day, and I was so grateful to everyone who helped us.
Now we’re looking to the future and feeling thankful for all the love we were shown.
We may have faced the flames but not even a fire could stop us celebrating.