‘Good,’ said Emma, then couldn’t resist singing David Grey’s, ‘Sail Away’.
Bunty was no fool. She knew full well, judging by Perry’s demeanour on the phone, that he hadn’t been alone. He sounded a tad awkward, which could only mean he was uncomfortable with his daughter listening in. Whilst understanding the situation, she didn’t want to cause any embarrassment for Perry. Perhaps it would be better if she met her? Curious to see Emma, having heard so much about her, she wanted to put a face to the name.
Bunty’s thoughts turned to a more serious matter, something that had been on the backburner of her mind for some time – selling her house. It was no good procrastinating; she really did have to start the ball rolling.
Initially, Bunty was going to contact the same estate agents that oversaw the sale of the cottages. However, after giving it more consideration, she realised such an impressive property would need more than just a run-of-the mill agent. The marketing for the exclusive art deco house would require specialists. She went online to research estate agents with the calibre for selling premium properties. Eventually she settled for Grand & Country, an agency offering to make a ‘valuable partner’ whether buying or selling. It promised supreme efficiency in selling exquisite homes, delivering the three guiding principles to maximising a sale – presentation, exposure and service. Reading on, Bunty was assured her property would be ‘portrayed in its absolute best light,’ making her laugh out loud – good luck with the old boiler then, she thought with mirth. One thing did stand out, though, which offered some reassurance: when it came to buyers, they guaranteed any offers were valid and that ‘potential purchasers were fully motivated and qualified’. In other words, they wouldn’t entertain any possible cranks who just fancied a nosey round. Bunty knew there would be a lot of interest and didn’t want to waste her time on people who had no intention, or the financial means, to buy. On a more sinister note, there were very valuable paintings and antiques in the house and she didn’t want to showcase them to any old Tom, Dick or Harry. No, this did indeed require expert handling.
She scrolled through the website, impressed with the properties they had sold in the past, from penthouse flats in Westminster to country homes in Wiltshire. There was even an art deco house in Devon, set in a quiet, elevated position, a few minutes’ walk from the sandy beaches and rockpools on the coastline. Good, thought Bunty, at least they had experience of marketing something similar to hers. She clocked the selling price too, which pleased her even more.
She recalled Robin’s suggestion and was convinced her home would make a fantastic boutique hotel, especially with its character and unique features. The place was crying out for the love and attention it so deserved. Bunty rather liked the idea of it being a hotel. Was that because she’d be able to stop over if she wanted?
Confident Grand & Country were the right agents for her, Bunty completed the valuation appointment form, giving her details and a preferred date and time for them to visit. She gave herself a week, time to adjust, to get her head round the fact she was actually selling what had forever been her home. Pressing the Send button made it all too real.
Jack and Robin were giving the cottage a final inspection. Jack was downstairs, casting an eye over the newly fitted kitchen, the dining area with wood burner, the living room and its feature fireplace, the hallway and stairs. It was all looking good in his opinion, done to a very high spec.
Robin was upstairs, impressed with what he saw too. The bedrooms were all painted in neutral colours, which contrasted nicely with the darker wooden floorboards. He was particularly pleased with the renovated attic and its skylight. Altogether it made for a splendid family home and he couldn’t help but think it was too big for Bunty living alone. Then he laughed to himself; compared to where she was now, it would seem like a shoebox. Still, if she was happy to buy back the cottage, so be it. At least it would give them the cash flow to start a new project.
When Robin had told Jasmine of Bunty’s intention to buy the cottage, she was thrilled.
‘It makes perfect sense to me,’ she’d said. ‘I’ve always been a bit concerned about Bunty being by herself, out there cut off by the tide.’
They’d been lunching in her garden studio, both having worked all morning. Jasmine liked knowing Robin was only next door, but knew it was all about to change, now that he and Jack had completed the restoration.
‘You’ve grown rather fond of Bunty, haven’t you?’ smiled Robin.
‘Yes, I have. She’s a lovely lady. Despite the age gap between us, I find her full of life and such good company.’
‘She’s certainly a character,’ he chuckled.
‘Absolutely and so interesting,’ agreed Jasmine. ‘I’m so glad she and Perry are reunited.’ A thought occurred to her, and she grinned.
‘What?’ Robin asked, noticing her lips twitch.
‘Do you think she’ll end up living with Perry?’
‘Next door? I dunno.’ Robin shrugged with a smirk. ‘Who’d have thought, eh, you living next door to Bunty and her fancy fella?’
At this they both burst into giggles. It was a relief to Jasmine that Bunty was buying the cottage next door. She no longer felt unsettled by having a new neighbour. Her mind cast back to the first day she’d arrived at Samphire Bay, when she hadn’t wanted anyone living near her, just the glittering sea. How things had since changed.
Robin saw the expression on her face and wondered what she was thinking. Then he decided to ask her something they had touched upon before.
‘Jasmine, are you ready to meet my parents?’
They were dying to meet her, that was for sure. Absolutely delighted by the change in their son, they were more than keen to be introduced to the girl responsible for Robin’s happiness. Jasmine looked up at him.
‘Of course, when?’ she replied, well aware of how desperate her parents were to see Robin. Knowing the interrogation he would endure from her mother, she was putting it off though.
‘At the weekend?’ suggested Robin.
He could see it now, Sunday lunch, the full works, all cooked by an eager mum. Maybe this would be a bit too soon? When saying as much to Jasmine, she surprised him.
‘Hell no, I’d love a Sunday dinner!’ She’d leapt at the chance. That was one of the things she really missed not being at her parents’ house. Her mum’s roasts were legendary.
‘OK, I’ll let them know then.’ He paused. ‘But be prepared, they’ll be more than pleased to meet you,’ he’d warned.
That had been two days ago now, and as they got closer to Sunday, he couldn’t deny the nervous butterflies fluttering inside his stomach.
Jack came up the stairs to join Robin.
