Pleased, Bramble led him proudly into the drawing room with views of the overgrown garden, orchards and fields beyond. Maria, who had followed them, stood aloof and expectant, as if waiting to be dismissed, and seemed almost put out when Bramble requested a pot of coffee and three cups; ‘Katie’s joining us shortly,’ she explained.
It was a week to the day since they’d arrived in Cornwall and Bramble was still uncomfortable with Maria and thought she’d never get used to issuing orders; she was always half-expecting the housekeeper to turn around and tell her where to go. Despite Maria’s surly manner, however, Bramble couldn’t quite pluck up the courage to fire her, and besides, Lord Penrose had paid her salary up until the end of January, so for the time being at least it seemed she would have to remain a fixture.
It wasn’t long before Katie arrived, looking slightly the worse for wear. Buoyed by a highly satisfactory meeting with Danny after the gig, when he’d offered her an evening’s work this coming Monday as a trial run for the job of barmaid, she’d insisted on returning to The Hole in the Wall last night. Fortunately, her bruised arm was healing nicely. Unfortunately, however, on this occasion the handsome manager had hardly had time to speak, and consequently she’d drunk rather too much wine and woken with a throbbing head. Bramble, on the other hand, who’d been the designated driver, was as fresh as a daisy.
With Katie beside her on the dusty velvet sofa, she started to explain to Piers that they badly needed to raise funds for renovations.
‘There are holes in the roof which let the rain in,’ she explained, pointing to a bucket that Maria had placed strategically in the corner of the room after discovering a new leak this very morning. There had been a thunderstorm in the middle of the night that had woken Bramble, though Katie had managed to snore through it. On the plus side, it had washed away yesterday’s mugginess and the garden was looking beautifully lush and green, but water had leaked not only through the roof but also into the girls’ bedroom via the ill-fitting window frames, which they’d had to plug with towels.
‘And all the windows need replacing,’ Bramble continued, ‘and the whole place needs painting, plus a new kitchen, bathrooms and carpets.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I could go on.’
Piers ran a hand through the fringe of his hair and nodded.
‘I can see there’s a lot to be done.’ He reached into the brown leather briefcase at his feet and pulled out a clipboard and pen. ‘But don’t be discouraged. The land will be worth quite a lot, especially with planning permission. I’ll need to do an initial site appraisal before we move on to a valuation. First, let me ask some questions.’
The interview – for that’s what it felt like – seemed to go on for an awfully long time. Bramble didn’t mind in the least, but she could sense Katie twitching with impatience and heard her sigh with relief when Maria finally appeared with a tray of coffee. She’d even remembered biscuits, an unusually generous touch, and Katie reached greedily for the plate and would have grabbed one for herself but she remembered her manners and passed them around first.
The visitor wanted to know not just about the size of the manor, the number of rooms and the layout of the grounds, but also quite a bit about Bramble herself and what she had done before coming to Cornwall.
‘I had such a boring job,’ she explained, crossing her bare legs and coiling the ends of her long blonde hair around a finger. ‘I wasn’t really going anywhere. That’s partly why I decided to move here rather than sell the place. My dad and my stepmum, Cassie, were dead set against my keeping it. They said I should cash in and buy somewhere in London. To be honest, I thought I would until I saw it for myself.’
‘Such potential,’ Piers agreed, gazing up at the high ceiling with its intricate cornicing and out through the floor-length French windows. ‘So unusual. It’s not often something like this comes on the market. The Americans would go mad for it – so much history. And the Russians and Chinese maybe, too. A golf course...’
His eyes seemed to glaze over and his voice trailed off as he pondered the possibilities, before squiggling something on his piece of paper.
‘But she’s not selling,’ Katie said grumpily. She’d almost polished off the biscuits and was keen to move the conversation on. ‘So we don’t need to think about that.’
Piers looked up from his clipboard. ‘Of course not. I was merely speculating. It’s my job; I can’t help it.’ He raised an eyebrow, propped the clipboard down the side of the armchair and rested a foot on his knee. His brown brogues were very shiny and he was wearing bright-red socks with yellow dots that seemed to Bramble to hint at hidden depths, an interesting, racy streak.
‘I don’t want to turn it into some fancy place with designer this and designer that,’ she said quickly. ‘I mean, I like nice things, but I think I should keep the character of the manor, don’t you? It’d be fantastic more or less as it is, but without the leaks and dodgy bathrooms. Unfortunately, the repairs will cost loads and I don’t have any money – it’s all gone on inheritance tax.’
Piers nodded reflectively. ‘You plan to live here on your own, do you? That is, you and, um, your friend?’ He glanced at Katie, whose name he had clearly forgotten already, before shifting his gaze back to Bramble. ‘And the housekeeper, of course.’
Katie seemed quite miffed. ‘We do,’ she snapped. ‘But we’re not here to discuss our living arrangements.’
If he were put out he didn’t show it, instead smiling again respectfully before fixing back on Bramble. He was so charming and earnest that she felt quite embarrassed by her friend’s abruptness.
‘My boyfriend... well, it’s a bit complicated,’ she explained, wondering how to describe the situation. ‘He didn’t fancy giving up his job or leaving Chessington, you see.’
This time the land agent raised both eyebrows. ‘Really? I should have thought there’d be no contest.’ He sounded quite amused. ‘I mean, who wouldn’t want to live in a Cornish manor with you? How exciting – and romantic!’
Bramble felt curiously validated, because here at last was a man who thought the same way as her. Matt and her dad didn’t seem to believe in excitement; in fact, they played it so safe that the words ‘routine’ and ‘schedule’ might have been invented for them. It occurred to her then, though it never quite had before, that in refusing to come it wasn’t just Cornwall that Matt had rejected, it was her and that side of her personality that he’d seemed almost frightened of: her spirit of adventure.
At that moment her phone buzzed in her pocket and she was dismayed to see his name appear before her eyes, like a silent rebuke. She pressed the off button quickly. Perhaps she should finish with him, she thought guiltily. But they’d been together so long that even their names seemed indelibly linked: Matt ’n’ Bramble, Bramble ’n’ Matt, bread and butter, yin and yang... it was hard to imagine anything different. She’d have to mull it over, but not today, she decided, mentally consigning the issue to her ever-expanding ‘to do’ list.
Maria arrived to remove the coffee tray, and during the break in conversation Bramble examined the newcomer surreptitiously. He was of medium height and lean, with a bump on the bridge of his nose and lips that were a shade too thin. However, his arresting blue eyes, relaxed, easy manner and delightful smile were more than enough to distract her from any real or imagined physical fault, and the overall package, she concluded, was extremely pleasing.
‘Shall we have a stroll round the estate?’ he asked, rising at last. His beautifully tailored chinos fell into perfect creases. ‘I don’t suppose we can see everything today, but I’d like to get a sense of the lie of the land. I can come back and view it properly another day.’ He cleared his throat and lowered his eyes deferentially. ‘That is, if you wish me to act for you, of course.’
Bramble, who’d already made up her mind that she wasn’t going to let him get away without a struggle, nodded vigorously.
‘I think we’ll make a really good team. I have to have somebody I feel comfortabl
e with, who’ll explain the process clearly as we go along. I’m not exactly used to this sort of thing; in fact, I haven’t a clue. I need a lot of hand-holding...’ Crimson spots blossomed on her cheeks when she realised what she’d said, but Piers put her at ease.
‘It can seem daunting if you’ve never done anything like it before, but rest assured, we’ll make everything as smooth and painless as possible.’
Relieved, Bramble rose and gestured towards the French doors. ‘Let’s go out this way. I’ll show you the front afterwards.’
Katie yawned loudly and stretched her arms above her head. ‘I don’t think I’ll come. I didn’t sleep very well last night. You don’t mind, do you, Bram?’
‘A morning siesta?’ Piers interjected. ‘Good idea! I’m sure we’ll cope alone.’
Katie smiled coolly before turning on her heel, and as soon as she’d disappeared Piers followed Bramble to the set of doors. The key was in the lock and turned quite easily, but the doors themselves were stuck tight so that she had to move back while he gave a firm push with his shoulder.
‘That should do it,’ he said, stepping aside while Bramble gave the final shove, which sent her tumbling ungracefully on to the crumbling terrace, where she landed with a thump on her hands and knees.
‘Ouch!’ she squealed as dozens of tiny, sharp stones dug into her flesh. The pain was quite intense but the shock was worse.
She might have paused like that for a moment, waiting for the dizziness to pass, but Piers grabbed her elbow and helped her up to standing.
‘Are you hurt? I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect it to fly open like that.’
He was most solicitous, squatting at her feet and examining her poor knees, which were sore and bleeding and had only just healed after the débâcle on the cliff. It could have been far worse, however. She could have fallen on glass or broken a bone.
‘That must have really hurt,’ he said, and he took her hands, one by one, and wiped them gently with his fingertips to remove the gravel. ‘It was totally my fault. Let’s go inside and get you properly cleaned up.’
But Bramble wouldn’t hear of it. She was enjoying his company too much to let a few grazes spoil the occasion.
‘I’m fine, honestly. It’s only scratches.’
He took some convincing, but eventually brushed the gravel off his own trouser legs and agreed to continue their tour. Before setting off, they paused for a moment with their backs to the manor to admire the rolling landscape and he whistled through his teeth appreciatively.
‘Wow! Stunning! It looks like a painting it’s so perfect.’
Bramble couldn’t help thinking that if Matt had been here, he’d hardly have noticed the scenery. He wasn’t particularly observant, which was handy when it came to disguising new purchases but irritating in other ways. In fact, it seemed to her now that he possessed little or no aesthetic sense whatsoever. He even asked her which colour shirt to buy, what lamp to get for the flat or rug to choose, insisting that she was better at that sort of thing than him.
‘It’s even lovelier on the other side,’ she enthused, ignoring her smarting knees. ‘I can see the ocean from my bedroom window.’
‘Clifftop views,’ Piers murmured. ‘Stunning seaside vista.’
‘You sound like an estate agent. I suppose you are one!’ she giggled, but he didn’t seem to hear.
They strolled through the overgrown gardens, past the broken mermaid fountain and into the orchard while he asked more questions and jotted things down on his clipboard. It was another glorious day, warm and sunny, and bees buzzed lazily around the long-legged lavender bushes while birds chirruped in the gnarled branches of old trees. The sky was so blue, with not a cloud in sight, that it was hard to imagine there had ever been a thunderstorm, though the grass, still damp in places, told a different story and Bramble’s feet, in flip-flops, were quite wet.
She pushed open the wooden gate that led from the orchard into the fields and waited a moment while Piers took off his tweed blazer and rolled up the sleeves of his checked shirt. He must have been far too hot in all that material and she almost suggested that he remove the tie as well, but she feared the idea being misconstrued.
He didn’t appear to be in any hurry, so they made their way across the high grass to the wooded area that she’d explored with Katie, because she wanted him to admire the cliff where they’d had their unfortunate escapade and the ocean, which stretched as far as the eye could see. For some reason she wanted him to fall in love with the place, as she was beginning to.
‘Have you always lived round here?’ she asked when there was a lull in the conversation. The grass was high, thistles scratched her calves and her grazed knees were beginning to stiffen, but she didn’t complain.
‘I grew up in Dorset,’ he explained, flicking a fly off his face. ‘My parents own a dairy farm. I did a land agency course in Shropshire after school, then moved down here for my first job and I’ve been here ever since. I adore it; it’s very much my home now.’
Encouraged by his openness, she decided to probe further.
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Ooh, fifteen years or so.’
She did a quick mental calculation. If he left college at twenty or twenty-one, that would make him thirty-five or -six. The older man.
‘Is your, um, wife from Cornwall?’
It just popped out and she found herself reddening again, but he didn’t seem offended.
‘I’m not married.’
‘Oh.’
By now they were almost through the shady wood and Bramble was relieved when the trees parted and she could once more see sky and clear blue ocean.
Piers whistled for the second time that day.
‘Glorious! And so close to the house. Just a stone’s throw really.’
He stopped to look back at the wood behind. ‘You could chop it down and make a road. Is there access to the sea? A track down the cliff? You could have your own private beach.’
Bramble was surprised because she hadn’t thought of it before.
‘I’m not sure I’d want to get rid of the trees. I bet some of them have been here since the manor was built.’
‘A private beach would add value,’ he mused, ignoring her comment. ‘Especially if you had a boat hut and jetty. You’d have to fence off the area properly, though. It’s not at all clear at the moment where the estate begins and ends. You don’t want any old Tom, Dick or Harry using your facilities.’
To be honest, the thought of strangers wandering on to her land hadn’t much worried Bramble, though it was true that she had taken exception to that man Fergus, but only because he’d been rude. Polgarry was so remote that few would make the journey unless they had specific business. She was about to point this out when Piers tapped her on the arm.
‘Is that part of the estate? It looks inhabited.’
He was indicating the stone cottage on the edge of the cliff where Fergus lived with his son.
‘There’s a tenant,’ she replied. ‘With a little boy. I don’t know about the mother.’
‘What does he pay in rent?’
Bramble had no idea.
‘Not nearly enough, I bet.’ Piers tutted. ‘I’ll find out for you. The sooner I get my hands on the paperwork, the better.’
With so many pressing problems, one grumpy character living in a cottage that she didn’t use seemed reasonably low on her list of priorities, especially now that she’d got over her annoyance. However, every penny counted, and if Fergus could be made to pay a bit more, it would be all to the good. She did feel a little sorry for the boy, though.
They decided to head in the other direction, and the further they walked, the more animated Piers seemed to become.
‘I reckon one plot of, say, two acres with planning permission for a four-bed farmhouse would be worth about five hundred and fifty thousand pounds, more with a sea view. Obviously, this is just a ballpark figure. With this amount of land you could parcel up two or
three plots, plough the cash into renovations and still have money to spare, plus ample grounds for other uses. Of course, the manor itself will be worth a great deal more after the upgrade, too.’
He stopped and rubbed his chin. ‘You could be sitting on a goldmine here, you know.’
Bramble’s eyes widened. ‘Really? I’m amazed!’
The prospect of potential legal wrangles, major building works and multiple changes alarmed her somewhat when in truth she’d like more than anything just to be able to make Polgarry a bit cosier for her and Katie while they found their feet. This wasn’t an option, however. Somehow or other the manor must start bringing in revenue, and Piers, it seemed, had all the answers. Bramble was grateful, she really was. With him at her side, she was sure that the task would be far less daunting.
The deep boom of a ship’s horn far off in the bay dragged her from her thoughts and she suggested walking to the next ridge, where she hadn’t yet been. The cliff climbed steeply for several hundred yards, and as the midday sun beat down on her back and neck she wished that she’d brought some water. She could hear Piers’s breath coming in short, sharp bursts and his arms and legs were pumping hard.
Once they reached the peak, they stood for a few moments, enjoying the fabulous view of ocean and rugged landscape. The rough track continued down the other side before rising again steeply towards a craggy promontory a little distance away that was shaped like a giant fist hewn out of rock and sandstone. As she squinted in the sunlight, Bramble spied something right on the very end of the peninsula: the figure of a man, sitting very still, his legs hanging over the edge. He looked lost in thought and rather melancholy, with his hands lying motionless in his lap, his chin raised, scrutinising the horizon as if searching for something.
Piers spotted him, too; it would be hard not to. ‘Who’s that?’
‘I think it’s the bloke I told you about, the one who rents the cottage.’
‘What’s he doing there?’
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