Tilly wasn't sure what to think, but she could almost hear her dad's voice willing her on. Margery’s words hinted at a distressed sale, which was the nuts and bolts of her dad’s businesses. 'I see.'
Margery made a funny half-chuckle, half-cough sound. 'I'll be honest with you, love. Whatever happens with Bill, I won’t be back on Darling to run the place. I love it there, but I'm too old for it now, and my life's here in London with him for the foreseeable. The best-case scenario is that I’ll be a carer from now on. I need it gone. I'd rather it went to someone who'll love it than someone who'll knock it down. I can tell you I've had enough developers on the other end of the phone. My Bill would have none of it then, and it's not changing anything now. I have to say, I've just left it and hoped for the best.'
Tilly looked at rain on the window, which had started without her noticing and heard herself saying things she hadn’t thought through. 'I'd be interested.'
Margery laughed. 'What? Would you, love?'
'Yes. I've been looking for an opportunity for a long time, and well, I need a new start. It could, umm, kill two birds with one stone.'
'Okay, look, make me an offer, and I'll consider it properly. I'm not in any state to haggle, but I'm not in any state to be silly about it either. Send it to me in an email, and I'll come back to you in the morning. Do you do email? I prefer it to the Facebook stuff. How does that sound?'
'Umm, yes, okay, will do.'
'Lovely. Good. Right. I'd better get back. Bill'll wake up wondering where I've gone. Thank you. Speak in a bit.'
The line clicked off, and Tilly sat very still for a moment with the phone still in her hand. Outside, the rain had picked up, sheeting across the apron, the baggage trolley still moving through cats and dogs of rain. Tilly picked up her wine, glugged it and then opened a new page in her notebook and wrote, at the top, the asking figure from the Facebook post. Underneath, she wrote a question mark and thought about her dad. Roy Bloomwood at the kitchen table on a Sunday afternoon, paper open on the Businesses for Sale pages, half-drunk cup of tea, biro behind his ear, muttering about what the seller would never get.
Make an offer that'll make them laugh, Tils. The worst they can do is laugh back.
Tilly wrote a number underneath the asking price, looked at it and doodled little flowers all around it. Then she wrote one a bit lower, crossed that out, wrote one lower still, the sort of number that would have made her dad snort into his tea. Opening the email app on her phone, she foundMargery's address from the message and typed. Hopefully, Tilly Bloomwood had begun a new journey. One that would whisk her off to an old boat shed by the sea.
5
Tilly came off the plane at Changi with no clue of local time or any time anywhere. With her neck at an angle that didn't feel like it belonged to her and her hair sticking up on end, the flight had been long, cramped, bumpy and no more than a means to an end. Blighty was in her sights, and all she wanted to do was get home. If she’d been at the pointy end of the plane, it might have been a different story, but in her case, no such luck. She’d been stuck down the back near the toilets next to a man who’d snored for the pair of them. She’d slept for forty-five minutes against the window, and it was fair to say that Tilly was glad to see the back of leg one of her journey back home. The exit plan was in full swing, so there was that to make her feel better.
Walking down the jet bridge from the plane and then along a long corridor, she made her way to an enormous green-lit central atrium with orchids, tropical greenery and more bright white lights than she’d thought humanly possible. Tilly had been to Changi a handful of times, going to and from cruise ship contracts, and the pure vastness of the place always made it difficult to get her bearings. Following the signs, she had four hours until the Heathrow leg of her flight, found an empty spot looking out over the runways, got herself a soft drink and satdown. Watching the comings and goings with bleary eyes, she was very pleased to be halfway home. As she stared at planes parked up next to gates, baggage trains zipping here and there, and crew in high-vis vests doing their thing, Fiji already felt a long way away.
Tapping her phone, she turned off flight mode, waited for the Wi-Fi connection and logged onto the airport system. All at once, her phone started to ping. A text from Janine, the HR woman at the hotel, a message from her phone provider welcoming her to Singapore and in her inbox, an email from Margery. Tilly tapped and started to read.
Tilly, love, Bill has taken a turn for the worse, and I'm in the corridor outside ICU writing this on my phone, so apologies for the typos. He's stable now, but it's been a long few hours, and they're going to keep him in here.
I've thought about your offer, and I'm saying yes. I'm not going to mess about with it. I want it sorted. You sound right for the Shed, and I'd rather it went to you than sit empty for another summer.
I thought this option might suit you, if you like, because just say no to Budget Inns. Go straight to Darling so you’re there to prepare for the season. There's a key safe on the back wall by the side door. The code is BM160247. All the utilities are on. Go and start. Treat it like yours from the minute you turn the key. We can do all the paperwork as we go and instruct solicitors, etc.
I'll be in and out of signal here for the next few days. Let me know.
Margery
Tilly read the email, turned her head to the side, frowned and then reread it. Really? Margery didn’t know her from Adam, and she was prepared to let her rock up at the Boat Shed and get on with it. Not knowing what to think, Tilly raised her eyebrows, wondering if it was some kind of scam. There were so many scammers and con artists out there on the internet that she no longer had a clear mind as to what was real and what wasn’t. Margery had sounded real enough. The story of Bill felt as if it were true, but had Tilly actually been speaking to someone who had been trafficked to a call centre purposely designed to carry out scams?
Go and startandtreat it like yours from the minute you turn the key.
Picking up her drink, Tilly sipped and just sat watching a plane loading and getting ready for take-off in front of her. Her body might have been exhausted from the trip, but her brain was on fire as it zipped through the pros and cons of Margery’s proposal. What would her dad have said?
Follow your intuition, Tils. It’s always worked for me.
Nodding and blinking, Tilly thought about how there had been a feeling, a vibe, a sort of sixth sense since the moment she’d first come across the post. As if something had drawn her to it. Not just that, it felt as if the planets had moved and were pointing her where to go. Almost as if she’d been meant to overhear the Australian women and what had gone on in the bed.
Margery,
I'm so sorry about Bill. Thank you so much for accepting my offer. I will, as suggested, head straight to Darling Island. I'll be on the chain ferry by lunchtime-ish tomorrow. I'll text you when I'm in. Once I am back on UK time, I’ll get a solicitor in place, and we can proceed. Thank you so much.
Tilly
A reply came back almost at once, which surprised Tilly. The reply told Tilly everything she needed to know, and she couldn’t quite believe how easy it had been. There surely had to be a catch.
Thank you, love. Safe trip. Treat it like yours from the minute you turn the key.
