With My Little Eye

by Gerald Hammond

  Seymour was able to offer inducements, such as immediate attention to a mechanical problem, a jump up the queue for the newest model or a very fair trade-in value. In this manner he found Harris Benton, a young architect in the employ of the Regional Council, who was persuaded to transfer Douglas’s sketches into working drawings and to blast them through the processes for official approval. In similar manner, small contractors were persuaded to prepare keen tenders in a very short time and then to live up to the rash promises that had been extracted.

  Seymour also found a Mrs Jamieson, a grass widow whose husband was on contract in the Middle East. The Jamiesons’ house had become subject to a not ungenerous Compulsory Purchase Order so that the disproportionately large garden could be added to several others for the benefit of one of the local universities, to form a site for a much needed hall of residence. She visited Seymour’s garage in search of a car spacious enough to carry her growing family around and left in a two-year-old hybrid people carrier that the previous owner, a mechanical engineer blessed with considerable ingenuity, before he succumbed to a fatal heart attack, had converted to run on natural gas between its bouts of running on electricity. She also found that she had promised to come and look at Underwood House.

  Mrs Jamieson was a down-to-earth woman, handsome rather than beautiful, with a rich head of auburn hair and a conspicuous beauty spot beside her mouth. Her figure was definitely de luxe. She dressed to be comfortable, regardless of style or fashion, and yet never looked dowdy. She claimed that she could still get into her wedding dress though nobody had dared to challenge her on the point. She was brisk in manner and well able to take a decision which she was absolutely certain her husband would endorse.

  When she made the promised visit to meet Seymour at the house a few days later, he was surprised to note how philosophically she accepted the CPO. ‘It’s been a good family home to us,’ she said, ‘but the house will soon be too small and the garden was always too big. Frankly, it’s got beyond me and do you know how much a private gardener can get away with charging per hour these days? If they’ve decided to pay us enough to set up somewhere else with a communal garden, why should I object to a hundred students a year getting a comfortable hall of residence on those sites? My only worry is finding the right place soon enough and not having to make do with a temporary second best which would probably turn out to be a permanency.’

  She looked around her at Underwood House. ‘You know, I think we’ve found it,’ she exclaimed with a satisfied smile.

  It chanced that Harris Benton and Douglas were also on site at the time of her visit. The opportunity for an impromptu committee discussion was too good to miss. It soon became clear that the families represented would fit almost perfectly into the accommodation available.

  The main entrance doors to Underwood House gave onto a generous hallway and a wide semicircular staircase which circled round a fat central column which contained the flue from the central heating boiler. Behind and below the stair was a large, old fashioned kitchen with several small sculleries, larders and preparation rooms. It happened that kitchens were the one area in which each participant was determined to gang their ain gait. The original kitchen, though arranged for a single household, had been sensibly fitted out and was backed by an attractive garden room. Douglas was only too well aware of the explosive mixture created by more than one woman to a kitchen, but the ladies of the proposed occupancy were remarkably like-minded. There was a general anxiety to get the initial stage of the work completed so that they could gain occupation and set about creating their individual kitchens.

  The contentious area of central heating was agreed with surprising ease. The house had recently been piped for new radiators. The old boiler was uneconomic but a new and frugal balanced flue boiler was installed, the running cost to be shared in proportion to a formula devised by Douglas to which nobody objected – largely because nobody else understood it. Everyone breathed again.

  On that basis the allocations were agreed. Mrs Jamieson was well suited with the larger ground-floor apartment, which would allow her family a room apiece and give them quick and easy access to the garden. The thunder of little feet would thus not be transmitted to downstairs neighbours.

  Mrs Jamieson had difficulty finding child minders for her diverse and growing family (she was becoming noticeably pregnant again) so the next discussion was held at her old house a week later. Douglas had had time to estimate the values of any properties to be sold and of any grants applicable; and a contractor who owed Harris Benton a favour had put some figures on the costs of the work – exclusive of decoration and kitchens, which would be left to each occupier.

  Douglas had seen enthusiasm for comparable projects evaporate when discussion of money came to the fore but, perhaps because in each case comparison between the cost of the new and the value of the old had proved very satisfactory, momentum was increasing. He was gratified to be appointed to conduct the sales of the now superfluous properties.

  Colour charts and swatches of wallpaper and carpet had already made their appearance and a designer and installer of kitchen fitments was offering to bring samples and brochures. It was high time to remind the purchasers that they did not have any of the necessary consents.

  ‘But we’ll get them,’ Mrs Jamieson said. The arrival of her third son had not in the least reduced her enthusiasm. ‘Why wouldn’t we? We’re not planning anything that anyone could possibly object to, we’re rescuing a piece of heritage that might otherwise fall derelict. There’s something else even more important. What about the fourth unit? Bottom right as you look at it, across the hall from me. I know it’s the least valuable of the lot if you don’t count the granny flat, but we won’t want it standing empty.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Douglas said. ‘But we’re hardly started and three-quarters of our quality accommodation’s spoken for already. I was waiting to see who turned up.’

  ‘Well, I think he’s turned up already. He’s a professor of Urban Studies but I think that urban life has been getting him down. He wants to rusticate for a while.’

  ‘Any children?’ Douglas asked. He tried not to sound suspicious but Mrs Jamieson was forcing him to remember that couples can multiply. He did not want to live in a mixed sex St Trinian’s.

  ‘He’s not married and not likely to be.’ Mrs Jamieson said casually. She raised her firm bosom against any criticism that might follow. ‘He has a partner. A male partner. He’s what they call gay. But not a transvestite or anything like that,’ she added hastily. ‘In fact, you’d never know except that they’re quite open about it. Inseparable but not openly affectionate, just the way that gay couples should be – and the other kind too.’

  Douglas wondered how, in that case, Mrs Jamieson came to know that a discreet same-sex couple was an item. Her exposition seemed to include several contradictions in terms but he decided not to pursue the matter. There was a tense little silence while each balanced the pros against the cons and decided that the pros had it.

  ‘We’ll have to meet again next week. See if he can come then,’ Douglas said. ‘Better still, both of them. And I’ve been thinking that however well we may get on with each other now there may be occasions in the future …’

  Seymour had been a silent listener up until now, nodding his agreement as each point was made, but he spoke up almost for the first time. ‘I’ve been thinking along the same lines. We wouldn’t want some co-owner to grab for the best offer he could get and sell to. We could find ourselves with a rock group in our midst.’

  ‘Or worse,’ said Douglas. He hoped not to be asked what would be worse. ‘We need something along the lines of an American condominium contract whereby general approval is required of a proposed purchaser. I’ll dig something out and frame a version that will stand up under Scots law.’

  They met again the following week. This time Professor Cullins was present, a small but bustling man in his forties, and he had brought his partner, one Hubert Campi
on. They were present together, not defiantly but in a gesture of openness. Neither man was noticeably macho nor effeminate, although Campion did have a neat little beard. The professor, unusually for one of his sort, was inclined to pepper his sentences with minor swear words, principally ‘bloody’, in lieu of adjectives. Apart from this, their manner did not invite criticism or approval and neither was offered; but during conversation it was clear that they were looking forward to setting up home where their orientation seemed likely to be accepted or ignored.

  Douglas’s draft of the condominium agreement was subjected to a little nit-picking but was universally approved. A solicitor was chosen to prepare deeds. Douglas compiled a final list of the required work for Harris Benton to apply for permits and to seek quotations.

  ‘One last topic,’ Douglas said. ‘But it’s an important one. The original semi-basement kitchen ancillaries – sculleries, pantries and so forth, along with the servants’ room – can make a small two-person flat or a generous single-person one. I had it in mind to find a gardener, possibly retired, who would be satisfied with a cheap or free tenancy in exchange for keeping the gardens. I enjoy sitting in a well-kept garden, but I definitely do not enjoy using muscles that I never use for anything else to keep a garden that everyone else will enjoy just as much as I do. Unless one of you …?’

  There was a sudden interest in the ceiling or in what lay outside the window.

  ‘I thought not. Well, it will be more effective and cheaper to have a permanent gardener and split the cost four ways than to hire individual gardeners by the day. There’s not much alteration work to be done in the house, because the flatlet that I’m suggesting would include the present cloakroom, which only needs a shower cubicle added. I’ve said all this before and it seemed to be generally agreed in principle, except that nobody has yet put forward the name of a suitable candidate. The gardens are in danger of getting out of control, so either we must organize some working parties or we’ll have to levy a standing charge to cover the cost of employing a landscaping firm.’

  Silence can convey a multitude of emotions. This one made it clear that neither time nor funds were going to be in ample enough supply for either option to be favoured.

  The professor spoke up first. He had a mellifluous voice and seemed to enjoy using it. ‘Will you leave it in my hands for one more week? The university’s deputy head gardener is reaching the bloody retirement age and he might be glad to take it on.’

  ‘Please God,’ said Mrs Jamieson. ‘But, Professor, why did you have to say “bloody”? You are, presumably, an educated man.’

  The professor showed surprise. ‘The sentence,’ he said, ‘would not have scanned so well. Rhythm is important in the spoken word.’

  From then on Douglas examined the professor’s utterances and, sure enough, most of them scanned better for the insertion of a modicum of vulgarity. He toyed with the idea of rounding off the rhythm of his own words in the same vein but decided that he had quite enough difficulty filtering out his Englishness.

  FOUR

  Preparations for work often take longer than the work itself but for once, while the prospective occupiers, the favoured contractor and the various suppliers and subcontractors were champing at their respective bits, the processes of approvals and tendering hurried along their predestined paths.

  Even the processes of selling the now superfluous houses went with such speed that the Jamiesons in particular found themselves in danger of being homeless. The Scottish custom of inviting offers for a property and then waiting until enough purchasers have expressed interest may (or may not) ultimately extract the best price for the seller, but a buyer may miss a whole succession of houses by a tiny margin and have to pay a solicitor and a surveyor in respect of each of them. Douglas priced the properties high but on a fixed price basis and they sold quickly.

  This turned out to have a valuable spin-off. With the threat of eviction on one hand and the offer of her removal expenses as an inducement on the other, Mrs Jamieson moved her whole family and all its trappings into the rooms where her apartment was to be created, with the intention of camping there. Happily the area included one of the spacious existing bathrooms. The original kitchen, to be shared initially, was still in working order.

  By chance the house was visited that same night by a party of thieves presumed to be after lead pipes and roofing. The Jamiesons’ wolfhound, however, had already developed a sense of territory and exploded into action. The thieves made off in great haste but omitted the use of their van’s lights, probably for fear of revealing a registration number. The result was a glancing blow to a tree, leaving paint traces. Between the damage to the van and the incompetence of the men, the police had little difficulty tracking them down. Thereafter, Underwood House was off the map of lawbreakers.

  The final occupier, proposed by the professor, was Stan Eastwick, a gnarled but jovial-looking old man who had been second-in-command of the university’s gardens and greenhouses for more years than anyone cared to remember. He was very active despite developing a pot belly that necessitated much work on his part with needle and thread before off-the-peg clothes would accommodate themselves to his proportions. He had remained single although rumour had it that he had been a bit of a dog in his day. He had stalwartly refused to occupy accommodation provided by the university but had purchased a modest but now quite valuable flat. He decided to sell his flat and buy the granny flat that was being assembled from the pantries and sculleries of the house; and he was given a favourable price on the written understanding that the gardens would be his responsibility. He was already well provided with gardening tools and machinery. Rumours as vague but as insistent as those about his past life suggested that he had acquired his equipment by retaining and reconditioning machines that were believed to be clapped out and had been replaced at his employer’s expense, but he was prepared to swear that every last trowel or trug was legitimately his own. The other householders turned a blind eye.

  His retirement date was still several months off, which allowed time for the necessary alterations to the building but, apparently on the principle of ‘one year seed, seven years weed’, he began work on the gardens in his leisure time. He was also a valuable general handyman, capable of polished workmanship in joinery or electrics. When a defect was uncovered in the original structure or some essential small work had not been thought of at the time of the original quotations, Stan could usually turn his hand to it or he had a friend who could. It was Douglas’s experience that whatever was added to an existing contract usually brought with it a disproportionate share of the oncosts and, unless the contractor was unusually amenable, it was often safer to keep such work separate.

  The fabric of the building being in good repair, the building works required were mostly the opening or closing up of doorways and windows, some moving of partitions and the creation of one new bathroom. Harris Benton, after some research, had come up with a floor finish that could be counted on to muffle to a large extent the passage of noise down through the floors and that work turned out to be the most expensive but also the most worthwhile part of the contract. That particular task suffered delay because occupiers were already making a start to the decoration and the moving in of furniture, but constant liaison made sure that the appropriate owners, or others on their behalves, were on the spot to transfer furniture and packing cases out of the way. The subcontractor and his men proved adaptable; and almost amicable compromises were soon reached over cost and delay. Douglas, like Mrs Jamieson, soon decided to move in and let the men work round him, so he was always available to lend a hand or to suggest a compromise. The day appointed for the new owners to take occupation passed with hardly a stir because much of it had already occurred. Only six months had passed since Douglas had found the place, but spring had brought new hope and impetus.

  FIVE

  Almost on schedule the paint and paper dried, the dust settled and by general agreement one Sunday afternoon was declared
to have something akin to a proper Sabbath calm. Douglas had been pacifying any argumentative tradesman with a promise that when all was finished there would be a celebration; this was usually countered by the observation that such promises were frequently given but never honoured. It was not to be expected that everyone would be free to assemble at the same time, but most of the future occupants and some of their friends, along with the more popular of the builders’ tradesmen, managed to put in at least a token appearance. Douglas had pressured the proprietor of a wine shop to signify his appreciation of a satisfactory price negotiated for the purchase of his premises by the contribution of a few bottles of a tolerable Rhine wine, while most of those who came brought rather more than they expected to consume for fear of being thought mean by their new neighbours. The result was a table with a formidable stack of bottles.

  Some parties may be planned months ahead and still fall flat; others may occur almost spontaneously and burst into life of their own accord; and this was one of the latter sort. At the end of a period of hard work and financial anxiety, of the kind in which any surprise is almost certainly unwelcome, the relief of finishing with even a little time and money in hand left the residents ill prepared to make use of either. The builders’ tradesmen, by invitation, had brought their wives or lady friends to see a job in which they took some pride, but Douglas suspected that part of the motivation was to let wives see that quite respectable and responsible people might move into accommodation that still lacked that final decoration.

  The chosen venue was the (temporarily) communal kitchen, which had been enlarged to include the garden room and was for the moment doubling up as a dining room, which had been added to the house by the last owner. It was now furnished comfortably but discordantly with all the cast-offs of the various occupants. The previous owners of the house had entertained lavishly so the room was large. Douglas’s tentative suggestion of a get-together around mid afternoon, in order to get to know each other and to decide a few minor management points, resulted in Hilda Jamieson and Betty McLeish, who had lingered after lunch to share the washing up and have a good gossip, fetching their own contributions to the festivities and starting the party. In the mysterious way by which news of free drink spreads, the other members of the enlarged household, their volunteer helpers and favoured members of the building team came trickling in. Conversation became general and loud. There was laughter.