‘How is she getting on at the old farmhouse?’ he asked.
Never in a million years did he think that the derelict farmhouse on the mountain above, could be brought back to life. He’d assumed it was too far gone, but from what Dulcie was saying, Maisie and her fella were making a go of it.
‘It’s going to take time,’ Dulcie said, ‘because they’re concentrating on getting the business side of things up and running first.’
‘Have they decided what they’re going to do with it?’
‘Kennels, I believe. But don’t take my word for it – Maisie changes her mind like the wind.’
Walter thought he might go take a look. It was a long time since he had ventured onto the hillside above the farm, and he wondered if they’d managed to improve the track that led onto the mountain. A few weeks back, he had watched with interestas a lorry had hauled an ancient static caravan up Muddypuddle Lane, wincing as it had inched its way up the narrow road.
He hoped the caravan was well insulated because the top of the mountain could be a windswept place, and he didn’t envy Maisie and her fella living in it come winter. Still, youngsters didn’t feel the cold like old folk did, and Walter couldn’t deny that he was old. His aching joints were eager to remind him every morning. But again, that could be due to sitting on his behind for most of the day. Use it or lose it, wasn’t that how the saying went?
The way Walter was going, he would seize up before long, so maybe a nice walk to the top of the mountain would do him good, and he could pop in and see Maisie and her caravan at the same time.
Beth parked her little red car in one of Picklewick’s side streets, and tried to pretend that she wasn’t being furtive. Telling herself that she had every right to be in the village (she did) and that she wasn’t obliged to tell her children that she was here (she wasn’t), Beth nevertheless scurried along the high street.
When she came to the building she was aiming for, she glanced up and down the road before darting inside.
She was scanning the properties in the ‘To Rent’ section (there were only a handful) and looking for the one she wanted, when she sensed someone approaching.
‘Those are our rental properties,’ a young chap said. By ‘young’ Beth meant that he was in his late twenties.
‘I realise that,’ she replied.
‘Is it a rental property you’re after?’
Why would she be looking at rental properties if she wasn’t thinking about renting one? She didn’t mean to send him a withering look, but his slight recoil made her aware that she must have.
‘Is it for yourself?’ he battled on.
‘Why wouldn’t it be?’
‘It’s just a standard question, madam.’
She pressed her lips together before replying. ‘Yes, it’s for me.’
‘How many beds are you after?’
Beth lost patience. ‘Let’s cut to the chase. You’ve got a two up, two down terraced on your website. I would like to take a look at it, please.’
‘Hazelnut Road? It has just become available.’
‘Can I take a look?’ Beth repeated.
‘Let me check the diary.’
‘I want to see it today. Right now, preferably.’
‘I’m not sure that will be possible. We operate an appointment system for viewings and—’
‘I’ve driven all the way from Birmingham this morning, for the sole purpose of taking a look at it.’
‘I’m sorry; if you had phoned, we would—’
‘I did. I was told I could see it today.’
‘Ah, right.’ The young man was studying his computer screen. ‘Who did you speak to?’
