He takes a deep breath. ‘Seaspray Cottage is nothing to do with Bay Holdings. I’m the one who’s been buying the flats. I bought the first by accident when I had some – er – unexpected capital.’ As he looks up at the clouds scudding across the sky he swallows and for a second a shadow crosses his face. When he carries on his voice breaks slightly. ‘Diesel and I came to stay for a week, the flat was for sale. He loved the beach, so we snapped it up for weekends.’
There’s a date sticking in my head. ‘Was that round 2009?’ His face is the giveaway. Somehow the flash of anguish in his eyes sends such a twang through my chest I want to pull him against me and rub the pain away. Which is ridiculous when I should be giving him the hardest time I can.
‘Yes, nine years ago. Diesel was still a puppy.’ He blows. ‘The rest came our way one by one after that. I should have told you, I would have told you, but I’ve always tried to keep it quiet. As an outsider, there’s always the danger some local will muscle in and hold me to ransom.’ He pulls down the corners of his mouth. ‘It’s the developer in me getting the better of my human side. We moved in here full-time after we bought the top floor flat.’ Note the way he’s making Diesel sound like he’s a fully paid up partner in all this, as if it makes Charlie less to blame.
Not that I’ve met many, but I wasn’t aware speculatorshadbetter sides.
He shrugs. ‘It’s true Bay Holdings develop to maximise returns every time, but they always do it superbly. In a place like Sandbanks they’d easily fit a couple of dozen flats on a garden this size.’ He notices my face. ‘No need to wrinkle your nose either, they’d be beautifully designed to respond to the site. And probably low energy with a minimal carbon footprint too.’ He’s certainly not stinting on the jargon.
‘So where have all the daisies gone? The lawn used to be full of them.’ I’ve got a vision of the grass spattered with white that’s not blossom petals. Laura doing this trick and turning the daisies upside down so the stalk came out of the yellow centre of the flowers.
He’s staring at me like I’m gone out. ‘The gardeners are contracted to use weed and feed. It could be that.’
No surprise there, then. ‘Weed killer’s not very green. Don’t you allow random daisies in Developer-ville?’
He shrugs. ‘We go for clean edges. If we want weeds, we do a full blown wild flower meadow. But they can easily look a mess.’
I roll my eyes, because we’re so far apart here. ‘And heaven forbid we should have messy daisies. Although I might be raising this with the Residents’ Committee.’ It’s an empty threat though if it’s five of him against one of me. But it might be fun to consider the potential of annoyance tactics.
He takes an exasperated breath and begins again. ‘Obviously, as an individual I’m more flexible than the company.’ And no doubt able to work his butt off to sound more plausible too. ‘Now we’re talking about it, I just want to make it clear. If you were ever thinking of selling, you’d be the one calling the shots. You could impose any conditions you wanted.’ His sigh suggests he’s not ecstatic about that.
‘Such as?’ He hasn’t been straight forward this far, so I’m struggling to believe him now.
‘You could stipulate sale conditions, like the house being retained or the garden not being built on. The choice would be yours.’ He’s put a lot of thought into making this easy for me. ‘Obviously, restrictions would impact on the price, but I’d always expect to pay over the odds for the last flat in a building. I’d give you a damned good price and more.’
‘Right.’ It seems like a bit of a U turn. I’m not sure I can trust such a change in his attitude.
He gives Diesel’s ear a tickle as if to emphasise how nice he is. ‘And to apologise for my bad judgement over this, I’ve bought you something useful.’
I was surprised before, but my voice shoots upwards at this. ‘You’re bribing me?’
‘Open it.’ He taps the box with a wry smile. ‘It’s definitely without strings. When you see what it is, you might not mind.’
‘I’m not sure about this.’ But I’m tearing off the brown paper anyway. ‘Oh my. A food mixer?’ I’m appalled and relieved in equal amounts.
His smile is so unexpected it belts me so hard in the stomach it almost winds me. From the width of it he’s very pleased with himself. ‘A Smeg one, in raspberry pink. With all the attachments, most cooks would die for one. I’d have lent you mine, but black wouldn’t fit in with your kitchen at all.’
I’m not sure anyone ever bought a non-cooking nomad a less appropriate gift. Which somehow makes it easier to accept as I lift the top and peer into the box. ‘Thanks, that’s super thoughtful, it’s a fab colour.’ And probably eye-wateringly expensive too. I try to think of something intelligent to add about the extras, but I can’t even begin to imagine what they’d be used for. I’m guessing I’ll to have to leave this with Plum when I go back to Paris. But on the plus side, if my crowdfunding fails and I do end up having to sell the flat to him, I can always knock the price of the mixer off it to keep my conscience clear.
His grin is sheepish. ‘Laura’s vintage Kenwood really isn’t up to the industrial quantities you’re using it for. And I have to admit self-interest here too. We’llbothget the benefit when you graduate to cakes and pastry.’
I have to ask. ‘So when are you planning on moving on tothem?’ It sounds a lot more complicated than the plain old brownies he suggested in the office, but I’ll have to know about pastry before I can make lemon meringue pie. And I do love a cupcake.
‘If you have a free afternoon we can start this week?’ He looks up at the tree. ‘This is a pear we’re sitting under now. The crop isn’t usually huge because of the wind off the bay. That’s why the fruit trees are planted along the south facing wall, for the shelter. But it would be nice to use any pears from the garden to make a creme patisserie tart when the time comes.’
Aside from pastry complexities, for someone who lives in the moment, fruit sounds a very long way away from blossom. ‘When will they be ripe?’
His brow furrows as he thinks. ‘Late summer.’
I need to make my excuses here. ‘Sorry, I’m not great at committing in the long term.’
He shakes his head as he laughs, which is something else that knocks me sideways. ‘August will be here in no time, it’s only a few months away.’
And now he’s really misunderstood. ‘I’m not talking about summer, I’m talking about being tied down later this week.’
‘You’re so funny, Clemmie.’ This time when he laughs his eyes go so dark my mouth waters. ‘I never met anyone quite like you before.’
I’m laughing back at him. ‘Think of me as a breeze wafting through. As for tying me down to anything as concrete as a sale, good luck with that one.’ Unless I’m truly desperate, I’d always let things slide rather than make a decision.
