Cheryl smirked to herself, sensing a slight tension in the air. A part of her was pleased that Ms Deville had been put on the spot and was tasting her own medicine.
‘Let’s see the kitchen,’ she said to break the awkward moment.
They were greeted by an Eighties style kitchen, with a tiled floor, tiled patterned walls, even a tiled cooker hood. The units were made from a honey coloured mock wood with metal strips running on the doors to open and shut. Jasmine had to suppress a giggle. A short silence followed, each waiting for the other to break it. In the end, it was Bunty.
‘It’s dreadful, I know,’ she sighed, making Jasmine turn to her and openly laugh. Bunty gave a despairing sort of look. ‘But the state of the place is reflected in the asking price—’
‘Well,’ the estate agent jumped in, a touch anxiously. Bunty put her hand up to silence her.
‘But I am open to conversation. I will be flexible,’ she continued.
Jasmine’s head tilted to one side. What a strange creature this Ms Deville was, not quite deciding if she liked her or not. However, she admired her honesty. Not all sellers would openly admit to their property as being dreadful. Something told her to put in a cheeky offer. Was it Tom’s voice? Was this the sign she’d been waiting for? To be honest, Jasmine had practically made her mind up on the journey there. Driving through such idyllic scenery had won her over and then seeing how amazing the location actually was once parked up had clinched it. The cottages weren’t exactly crumbling down. Structurally, they seemed in good shape. It was the internal space that needed all the work, as she’d fully anticipated.
‘Are both cottages still on the market?’ asked Jasmine, mindful of what she’d been told about another buyer.
‘Yes,’ Bunty replied. ‘Take your pick, darling.’
Jasmine couldn’t help but laugh again. She could hear Tom’s voice in her head once more.Make a cheeky offer, Jas!it whispered, even though the viewing hadn’t even finished.
‘I’d like to see both cottages before having a conversation,’ reasoned Jasmine, refusing to be rushed. She was forcing herself to stay calm and rational, despite the rising exhilaration inside her. Could that really have been Tom’s guidance? Or just her own wishful thinking?
Bunty loved it when a plan came together. A sale was in the bag, sheknewit! The trouble with Bunty was that she lacked a person in her life to keep her in check. Had she a partner, they would have told her to back off and let people live their own lives. They would have instructed her to mind her own business and exercise discretion. But Bunty didn’t have that sensible, wise counsel. And Bunty didn’t do discrete.
The rest of the viewing carried on in the same vein. The bathroom was in a similar sad, Eighties condition as the kitchen and each of the three bedrooms smelt of damp, had flaking paintwork and peeling wallpaper. The whole place needed gutting and starting again. The absolute winning factor, though, was the view from the master bedroom. The full vista of the bay, stretching out onto the horizon was magnificent. It took Jasmine’s breath away. Looking out of the bedroom window down onto the back lawn, she was also delighted with the size and position of it. South facing meant plenty of sunshine and she would soon have the grass cut and maybe install a paved terrace or decking for outdoor furniture. She pictured herself spending hours out there. Perhaps installing a studio to work in? That rising exhilaration was bubbling over. She turned to look at Bunty, who seemed to be studying her. A strange sensation came over Jasmine. Had they met before? It was as though the woman knew her in some way. Bunty gave her a warm smile, wrinkling the corners of her eyes. Jasmine suddenly felt in a safe place.
‘I don’t need to see the other cottage, Ms Deville,’ she told her. ‘Let’s talk money, shall we?’
Chapter 6
Robin was busy driving when a call from Jack came through the car’s Bluetooth.
‘Bunty’s sold one of the cottages,’ he stated flatly, making Robin sit up sharply.
‘What?’ he spat out.
‘There’s a Sold sign put up outside it,’ Jack replied dully.
‘Which one?’
‘The right-hand one.’
Typical, thought Robin, the cottage with the best view of the bay. Given a choice, he’d have chosen the very same. Actually, given the choice, he’d have bought them both.
‘Right,’ he sighed, ‘well, there’s nothing we can do about it.’
There was a slight pause before Jack spoke. ‘Do you think we should both go and talk to her?’
‘Not much point now, mate. She’s sold it and that’s that.’ But who to, he couldn’t help but wonder. Jack was obviously thinking along the same lines.
‘It’d be interesting to know who’s bought it, though,’ he said.
‘Hmm, it would,’ Robin agreed, eyes narrowing. Maybe he’d pay Bunty another visit after all. Would it be cheeky to ask how much she’d sold it for? Of course it would, he reasoned – and no doubt rankle Bunty into the bargain. The last thing he wanted was a disgruntled Bunty to deal with. Not if he fancied his chances of still buying the remaining cottage.
After the call to Jack, he changed direction and drove up the coastal path, as if needing confirmation from his very own eyes. Within a few minutes, he had it. Robin sighed again at seeing the Sold sign standing purposely in the front garden. He ran his hand through his dark curls in irritation. For the hundredth time, he asked why. Why had Bunty done this?
With an air of impatience, he turned the car round and headed for the peninsula road to Bunty’s house. A glance at his watch told him it was ten thirty a.m. – at least it was low tide and he wouldn’t be rushed off this time.
Bunty saw Robin’s Range Rover park up outside on the drive and smirked, having fully expected him to put in an appearance sooner rather than later. She knew the Sold sign would spark a reaction.
