‘Did she say that?’ he asked hopefully.
‘Didn’t have to. Clover and I were quite concerned about her at first, but she seemed more comfortable once you were looking out for her. She did tell us about the local newspaper reporter passing her a business card and inviting her to submit article ideas. Not sure if she will, but still, it’s progress.’
‘Yeah, they talked shop, which was nice to see. Anyway, I’ve got a meeting now. Try not to worry too much about the cottages. Speak soon.’
‘Yes,’ Albie responded, ‘I’m sure it will all be okay in the end.’ He hoped so, for all their sakes.
Ending the call, he placed his phone down and looked to the side, where the red petals were rising from the lawn, floating gently upwards to reattach to their rose bushes. For a moment, he held his breath, not sure he’d ever get used to such a sight, but perhaps you weren’t supposed to. After all, shouldn’t magic be wondrous? ‘Okay, then. Good, good.’ Smiling, he returned to his notebook.
However, by the end of the week, he was in a considerably worse mood. While the association meeting on Wednesday night had been productive, with everyone agreeing they needed to employ new contractors quickly, executing the plan was proving challenging.
Builder after builder turned them down, declining to even visit to provide quotes. Carpenters were booked up for the next six months, thatchers too busy repairing roofs damaged by a recent summer storm, and plumbers were apparently stretched thin with emergencies. Their growing suspicions were confirmed when Kirsten called a building company under an assumed name for a loft conversion for her aunt’s house in Romsey and was offered an appointment the following day. Ethan’s latest message had cemented things, anger palpable.
Efforts falling flat ref contractors
They’ve been warned off, and/or
promised work elsewhere.
F*ckers! E
While Albie blanched at the swear word, he’d come to the same conclusion. What were they going to do? He couldn’t let Rose down, and everyone was so emotionally attached to rebuilding Little Beaubrook now. It would be his fault if they lost money, or worse were disappointed. He’d roped them all into this.
Now, a jaunty knock was sounding on his flat door while he was mid-way through his first disagreement with Clover. He was too old to try and navigate a relationship. He’d forgotten how to do it. ‘I’m so sorry, l-let me just get that,’ he stuttered, tucking his shirt into his trousers and backing away, ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Albie,’ Clover’s tone was indignant as he pulled his bedroom door closed, ‘don’t you dare?—’
‘Give me five minutes and I’ll be back.’
‘Albie? Everything okay?’ Kirsten’s muffled voice echoed along the hallway.
‘Coming! Sorry.’ Opening the door, he stepped back.
She stayed in the corridor, looking shifty. ‘How are you?’
‘Yes, fine,’ he replied, distracted. ‘Can I help with something?’
‘You don’t seem fine, you’re not wearing colourful enough clothes for a start,’ she pointed to his beige trousers and navy jumper over periwinkle shirt, accessorised only by a purple neckerchief, ‘and we know this thing with the builders is wearing you down.’
‘I must admit, it’s not ideal. We’ll need to look further afield. Just not sure they’ll want to travel in from outside Hampshire.’
‘Hmm. Well, we know it’s a stressful situation for you,’ she said sympathetically, ‘and thought it’d help to have somethingelse to focus on. After all, this is a joint project, not solely your responsibility. Appreciate you have Clover now, but perhaps you could do with some more constant companionship.’
‘Are you going to stop talking in riddles?’
‘Yep.’ Bending over, she picked a box up from the floor and thrust it into his arms. ‘Here.’
‘What on earth…?’ Feeling the box slide sideways as he took it from her, he tightened his grip, a weight shifting inside and a smallyipemitting. Dumbfounded, he marched into his antique-filled lounge, the urgency about getting back to Clover forgotten. ‘What have you done?’
‘You’ll see,’ Kirsten bounced excitedly on her heels, ‘we’ll take turns helping with walks when your arthritis-’
‘Walks?’ Heart in mouth, he placed the box on the sofa and peeked inside. Sitting on a fluffy orange blanket was a brown miniature dachshund with huge dark liquid eyes, a long curious nose and velvety floppy ears. ‘Oh,’ he choked, ‘a sausage dog. For me? What a cute little thing. I-I don’t know what to say.’
Kirsten squealed. ‘Oh, I’m so relieved you’re pleased. I know it’s a big commitment, and we probably should have asked first, but wanted it to be a surprise.’
‘We?’ he asked, unable to take his eyes off the puppy, reaching in to stroke him tenderly on the head. The dog instantly butted his new owner’s hand with his nose, demanding more fuss.
Kirsten grinned at Albie’s rapt fascination. ‘Everyone chipped in. There’s also a bed, toys, blankets, food, bowls and other supplies at Tori’s. We may have gone a little overboard,’ she said sheepishly, ‘but he’s just so adorable. When I explained he was for you, Rosie got tearful, but I said she can visit whenever she likes. Sorry, not sorry. Oh, also we didn’t buy him from a breeder, we rescued him from an animal welfare charity.So many dogs need good homes. Truthfully, I almost bought one myself, but haven’t got the time right now… Albie?’
