As the car drew closer, she could see Ms Deville through the windscreen, living up to her reputation, wearing a lime green bandana accompanied by large sunglasses.
‘Hello, Ms Deville!’ she called, walking to meet her once the car was parked. ‘I’m Cheryl Barrow, we spoke on the phone,’ she said, offering her hand to be shaken.
‘Good day,’ Bunty breezed, barely touching hands. Her attention was on the cottages, giving them a fixed stare.
‘They’re lovely, aren’t they?’ the agent gushed, wanting to set a good impression. Bunty lifted her dark glasses from her eyes and looked directly at her.
‘No,’ she replied bluntly with a cool, dismissive look. ‘But they could be. Let’s not shilly-shally,’ Bunty continued, ‘the cottages need a lot of attention and I don’t want you to pretend otherwise. You’ll put potential buyers off.’
‘Yes, I see,’ Cheryl replied through gritted teeth.
‘Nobody likes a bullshitter, darling,’ Bunty finished with a tight smile.
Well, that certainly told her, Cheryl thought, suddenly wishing she hadn’t offered to do the viewing after all. A few of the agents in the office had been keen to step in in her place. They obviously thought it would have been entertaining, amusing even, but now she was feeling a sense of dread.
‘Ah, that must be Mrs Boyd,’ she said with relief, noticing a silver car advancing towards them.
Bunty’s head turned sharply. She watched intently, waiting for the figure at the wheel to get out. Taking in the blonde bobbed hair, brown suede jacket, faded jeans and Chelsea boots, Bunty’s instincts told her Mrs Boyd had style. Judging by the way she walked, head up, shoulders back, she also had an air of confidence too. Good start.
‘Hello, Mrs Boyd. Did you manage to find us all right?’ enquired the agent, rushing over to meet her.
That’s right, thought Bunty with a roll of her eyes,imply that the place is hard to get to. The cottages might be on a secluded coastal path, but that was part of their allure in her eyes. She resented that the estate agent may have hinted otherwise.
‘Fine, thanks,’ smiled Jasmine.
As the two walked towards Bunty, she got a better look at her. Bunty gave a sharp intake of breath. My, what a beauty she was! Immediately she saw Mrs Boyd through a young man’s eyes. Robin’s, in particular. An innate sense told her they would make a perfect match. Then, Bunty steadied herself. She didn’t definitely know if this was the same Mrs Boyd she was assuming it was.
‘I’m Ms Deville, the owner,’ she announced holding her hand out. ‘Call me Bunty.’
‘Hi, I’m Jasmine,’ came the reply as she shook hands.
Bunty gave one of her most enchanting smiles and held Jasmine’s hand a fraction too long.
Hmm, not quite the reception I got, thought Cheryl, before giving a slight cough.
‘Right, shall we make a start?’ she asked politely.
The agent turned the key in the lock and the door gave a loud creek as it opened, making her wince. They entered the hallway, brightly lit by the rays beaming in through the windows, but also illuminating all the dust in the air. Jasmine seemed undeterred, fully expecting to see dirt and dust in a building that had been left derelict for years.
They were in the right-side cottage, nearest to the sea, but Jasmine had asked to view them both. Her eyes darted about, taking in the bare wooden stairs, a spindled banister (with some spindles missing), the damp blotched wallpaper peeling from the walls, two rotten window frames either side of a decaying wooden door. The floorboards appeared solid underfoot though, Jasmine noticed, as her boots walked along them.
‘As you can see, the cottages are in need of a lot of attention,’ remarked the agent, quoting Bunty’s words.
‘Yeah,’ nodded Jasmine. ‘That’s why I’m here,’ she replied in a quiet voice, not particularly directed at anyone, more to herself.
Bunty narrowed her eyes in interest. This Jasmine Boyed intrigued her and she was desperate to find out more about her. In typical Bunty fashion, she plunged in regardless.
‘Are you looking to live here alone, or—’
‘Just me,’ interrupted Jasmine, disliking the question. It felt intrusive. Itwasintrusive – and what was she here for anyway? She’d organised the viewing with the estate agents, not the owner.
‘I see.’ Bunty tried to hide just how pleased she was with the answer, as it further confirmed her suspicions.
Then, almost in retaliation, Jasmine asked, her chin raised slightly, ‘How come the cottages have been left empty for so long?’ She felt a degree of satisfaction at seeing the woman’s expression, clearly taken aback at the direct question.
‘Err… well the last tenants left one or two years ago and I hadn’t quite decided what to do with them. Rent out again, or simply sell them,’ answered Bunty.
‘Hmm.’ Jasmine thought it rather a lame answer and didn’t believe it to be the whole truth. The cottages looked like they had been derelict far longer than ‘one or two years’ and why take so long to decide their fate?
