‘I’ll make the time. If Kirsten can juggle everything so successfully,’ her eyes crinkled at her friend, ‘I can. Besides, I’ve been enjoying sanding gates and working on our cottage. It’s satisfying.’
Clover, seeing Albie getting choked up, went back to the original topic. ‘What are the other cottages called?’
Glad for the reprieve, he looked up. ‘Gilly and Ariel’s cottage is Peace, Kirsten’s is Devotion, Kit’s is Joy,’ at that, the exhausted dad snorted, ‘and Vanessa’s is Acceptance.’
‘Seriously uncool,’ Vanessa commented, ‘I’ll be changing it to something more glamorous.’
‘And Harley’s?’ Clover asked.
Tearing his eyes away from Kirsten, who he’d been unconsciously gazing at, Harley replied, ‘I don’t own one. Just get cheap rent on the flat, with the job.’
‘I see,’ she mused, ‘and are there any properties available to buy? I’ve heard stories about the previous residents’ life expectancy. Maybe I can boost my own.’
Tori’s mouth quirked. ‘You already look like you could reach a very graceful two hundred. Give the rest of us a chance.’
Clover let out as girlish giggle. ‘Oh, I do like you.’ Glancing around, she asked, ‘Do we know why the care home residents lived so long?’
‘Could be the Roseto effect,’ Theo offered, ‘strong community bonds.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard of that. A fascinating subject.’
Albie indicated the lavish ballroom. ‘Many orphans and unwed mothers were housed here in the first few decades of the 1900s. Rose’s grandparents and parents were very generous, and the best type of people. I do wonder sometimes…’
Clover leaned forward expectantly. ‘Wonder what?’
‘It will sound fanciful.’ Would the manor mind him talking about such things?
‘There’s nothing wrong with fanciful. In fact, there’s often a type of magic to be found in the unexplained.’
Albie grinned, never having met anyone so attuned to him. Not even Rose. The thought caused him to swallow as he shared his theory. ‘I’ve wondered if perhaps kindness resides in the walls of the manor, seeping into everyone who lives here.’
Clover tapped her chin. ‘Hmmm, or perhaps the kindness of the people seeped into the walls first, imbuing them for future generations?’
Kit chipped in, ‘But what came first, the chicken or the egg?’
As they all laughed, Tori turned to Albie. ‘I prefer your version. For a start, I think some of the kindness has seeped into Harley. He’s in a much better mood these days.’
‘Yes, he smiled twice in one day last week. It was a tiny miracle.’
Harley rolled his eyes. ‘I’m sittingright here. And don’t go overboard.’ Yet his expression was light, belying his serious words.
Tori’s voice grew enthused, ‘Hey, has anyone noticed how the manor?—’
Ethan swept into the room, uncharacteristically flustered, with damp hair and wearing shorts and T-shirt. ‘Sorry, I’m late.’ Approaching their circle of chairs, he grasped the back of Tori’s, and she shrunk away. Moving around, he settled beside her, his attention fixed on Albie. ‘I’m sorry to say this, given how much progress you’ve made, but I have bad news.’
Every one of Albie’s years bore down on him as he took in Ethan’s stricken expression. ‘What is it?’
‘On Friday, a colleague in Planning told me the railway company that owns the disused train station and greenbelt land behind the village are selling it to a developer. I’m sorry.’ Ethan gulped. ‘I wanted to tell you in person.’
‘W-what?’ Albie creaked to his feet, a sinking feeling hollowing his stomach as collective outrage rippled around the group, voices raised and questioning, dismay and anger colouring people’s faces.
‘It gets worse,’ Ethan called above the din. ‘They’re planning to raze it to the ground and build something.’
‘Build what?’ Albie gasped.
Everyone fell silent as they waited for Ethan to answer. ‘I don’t know, but I can’t see how it won’t affect Little Beaubrook, given the proximity to the cottages.’
‘They can’t do this, surely?’ Albie wheezed, chest clenching tight. ‘The manor’s Listed.’
