‘If somewhere comes up here I’d definitely be interested.’
A thought struck her. Blythe slammed on her brakes. Sam almost banged his head on the dashboard. ‘Hold on, I’ve had an idea,’ said Blythe, as hope and excitement blossomed in her gut. She slammed the car in reverse and in a slightly wobbly line she sped backwards to Greg.
After swinging the car onto the driveway, she abandoned it and raced into the house. A couple of minutes later she came back to find Greg and Sam discussing football teams. ‘Wait until you see this one,’ said Blythe to Sam.
Sam said his goodbyes to Greg and wound up the passenger window.
‘We don’t need the car; we can walk from here,’ she said, opening the door and striding off with a spring in her step.
‘What are you up to?’ called Greg.
‘I’ll tell you later. Bye,’ she said with a wave, and Sam jogged to catch her up.
‘Which property is this one?’ asked Sam. ‘Because I left all the details in your passenger footwell.’
‘Ahh, this is very new to the market and we don’t have details for it yet.’
‘You’ve got me intrigued,’ said Sam.
‘Good,’ said Blythe.
They walked down the gentle hill, over the crossroads that gave the village its name and around the green. As they passed the village stores and bakery, Norman was locking up and he flagged her down. ‘Can you make use of a tiger and a crusty?’ he asked. She saw Sam smirk.
‘Always, Norman – any discount?’
He laughed good-naturedly. ‘Half price. I’ll add them to your bill,’ he said, handing her two wrapped parcels.
‘Thanks,’ she said, taking them and handing them straight to Sam. ‘Sniff those,’ she instructed. Sam did as she suggested as they continued to walk through the village. ‘Fresh bread. You can’t beat it. He still makes it daily. And his cream horns are to die for. This is a very special village.’
‘I’m beginning to sense that.’
‘You like Christmas right?’ she asked casually as they crossed the road.
Sam pulled his chin into his chest. ‘Can’t stand it. It’s over-commercialised hype. Months of cynical advertising aimed at winding kids up into a frenzy about some cheaply made tat their parents will spend the rest of the year paying for. It guilts people into over-spending only to be disappointed because their expectations were so high. Then they’re depressed and in debt. And don’t get me started on the whole massive Santa lie thing. Christmas really is the worst.’
Blythe laughed then noted his stony expression. ‘You’re joking, right?’
‘I’m deadly serious.’
She realised some faiths didn’t celebrate it. ‘Is it… um… a religious thing?’
‘Not at all. It’s a common-sense thing. Why would you build up one single day to such heights? You’re always going to be disappointed. It’s like a collective madness falls over this country in the last quarter of the year. I steer completely clear of it.’ He motioned his hands as if he were drawing a line.
Blythe hadn’t been expecting such a vehement and negative torrent. ‘Right. That’s a definite no to Christmas then.’
‘Sorry. It’s just one of my pet hates. Why do you ask?’
This was the moment for her to tell him. She swallowed hard. Or she could tell him later, see if he liked the house then explain it to him, she reasoned. Yes, that was a good idea. ‘I was just going to say that they decorate the green with lights at Christmas and it looks really pretty.’ Sam didn’t say anything but he was watching her closely like he suspected something was up. ‘But you like curry, right?’
‘I love a good curry.’
She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Then you’ll love our local pub.’ She pointed to the Highway Inn on the other side of the village green.
They passed the ornate village sign and the higgledy-piggledy cottages that encircled the heart of the village. Across the way a horse whinnied in its field as if on cue – it was picture-perfect.
‘Here we are,’ announced Blythe, and she stood back so Sam could take in the property. Blythe could have written the details then and there –accessed through a canopied porch and dark oak entrance door, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to purchase this magnificent three-bedroom thatched house with attached single garage set within the heart of Warwickshire Conservation Area. Built in the 1920s, the property occupies a double-width plot with gardens extending to approximately half an acre, with the house nestling beautifully within them. Throughout the property are leaded Crittall windows, exposed beams and all principal rooms enjoy views into the beautiful, established gardens with other rooms overlooking the famous Holly Cross village green.
Sam looked at the house and Blythe held her breath while she watched him. ‘It’s in excellent order throughout.’
