‘To do with a woman?’
‘Partly.’ Nick sighed and slumped into an armchair. ‘It’s a very complex story and I really don’t think I’m up to telling it tonight.’
‘Okay,’ she replied coldly.
‘Look, Tam, the one and only thing you must know is that none of it affects the way I feel about you.’
‘Right. And I just have to take your word for that, do I?’
‘Yes,’ he nodded sadly, ‘unfortunately you do. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it, trusting one another? And the good thing about last night is that, even though I may have let you down, I do know now that, however ridiculous, given the short time we’ve been together, I love you.’
She looked up at him, wanting to feel euphoria that he’d just told her he loved her. But the expression in his eyes was one of such intrinsic sadness, that she couldn’t.
‘Tam?’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you believe what I’ve just told you? That I love you?’
‘I . . . no, not tonight. Anyone can say those words.’
‘Yes, they can. But will you at least give me the chance to prove to you that I do? Please?’
Tammy yawned. ‘We’re both exhausted, Nick. Let’s go to bed and get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning.’ She stood up, switched off the desk lamp and held out her hand to him to follow her.
‘Can I hold you?’ Nick asked as he climbed into bed next to her.
She nodded and snuggled into his arms, feeling frightened at just how good she felt there.
He stroked her hair gently. ‘I’m so sorry, Tam, I am so sorry. I never want to hurt you, I love you, I really do.’
And I love you too.
‘Hush now, enough,’ whispered Tammy.
Chapter 13
Posy looked up as the bell on the gallery door jangled.
‘Hello, Freddie.’ She smiled as he entered the showroom. ‘How are you?’
‘Very well, very well indeed.’ He walked over to the desk at which Posy was sitting. ‘I was wondering whether you fancied going to the flicks tomorrow night? They’re showing that French film that’s had rather good reviews.’
‘That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse. You’re on.’
‘Good-oh,’ he said. ‘Shall we meet at six outside the cinema?’
‘That would be perfect.’
‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodbye, Posy.’
‘Goodbye, Freddie.’
He tipped his hat, then walked to the door and left the shop.
Posy sighed. Although she tried not to think about it, she was struggling with their so-called ‘friendship’. They’d had a few pleasant dinners and lunches together since his appearance in her garden. There had certainly not been a shortage of conversation – Freddie had regaled her with fascinating stories from his days as a criminal barrister and she had filled him in on the details of her life since they’d last seen each other.
Yet it felt very much as though it was what was unsaid that mattered; why he had left her first time around and, fifty years on, could only offer her his company, rather than his heart.
It didn’t help anything that, as Sam used to say, she ‘fancied the pants’ off him. And despite telling herself endlessly that she just had to accept and enjoy what he could give her, it wasn’t working. Seeing him was like some kind of beautiful torture and, Posy realised, she was always going to be doomed to disappointment. When they parted, there had never been any attempt by Freddie to make physical contact other than a neat peck on the cheek.
She left the gallery at lunchtime, and made her way home. Marie was arriving at two o’clock to value the house. Posy tidied the kitchen and lit the fire in the morning room, knowing there was little more she could do to make the house look welcoming.
Just before one, the telephone rang and she picked up the receiver.
‘Hello?’
‘Is that Posy Montague?’
‘Yes, speaking.’
‘It’s Sebastian Girault here. I believe Amy, your daughter-in-law, has spoken to you about me.’
‘She did mention you might call, yes.’
‘Would you be at all interested in having a lodger? It would only be for a couple of months or so. I’d be out of your hair by Christmas.’
‘Well, you’re welcome to come and see the house, Mr Girault, but I’m afraid I don’t think it will be suitable. It really is very basic.’
‘I know that. Amy has described it to me and it sounds perfect. Would you mind if I did come to take a look?’
‘Not at all. As a matter of fact, I’m home this afternoon. If you wanted to pop in at four, that would be perfect. The house is easy to find; there’s a tree-lined lane off the Halesworth Road on the way into Southwold, and “Admiral House” is written on the postbox.’
‘Don’t worry, I have a satnav. Thanks, Mrs Montague. I’ll see you at four, then.’
Posy put the phone down, knowing that once Sebastian saw the house, he’d think better of it, but having his company for half an hour or so after the house had been valued might lift the pall of gloom that Marie’s visit would undoubtedly leave.
At two o’clock on the dot, Posy heard a knock on the front door.
‘Hello, Marie. Do come in, and please call me Posy.’
‘Thank you.’ Marie stepped inside, armed with a clipboard. She looked up at the chandelier. ‘Wow. This is absolutely stunning. What a fantastic entrance hall.’
‘Thank you. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee before you start?’ offered Posy. ‘I imagine it’ll take you quite a while.’
‘No, thank you. I have my children to pick up at three so I’d best get going here.’
‘I thought I might show you round the gardens and the ground and first floors, then leave you to look at the attic floor yourself. My legs aren’t what they once were, and the stairs are really quite steep.’
‘That would be fine, Posy.’
The two women started off outside, then came back in and walked from room to room, Marie exclaiming over the many original features and scribbling on her clipboard.
After showing her round the six bedrooms on the first floor, Posy came downstairs to boil the kettle and warm some scones she’d made before work. At least Marie was not a sharp-suited wheeler-dealer, because she really didn’t think she could have borne such a character poking round her precious home.
Marie eventually arrived in the kitchen and they drank tea and ate the fresh scones at the refectory table.
‘These are yummy, Posy. I wish I could bake like this.’
‘Years of practice, that’s all, my dear.’
‘But not as yummy as this house, and as for the garden, well, wow! I can’t believe you made that all by yourself.’
‘It was a labour of love, and therefore a pleasure, Marie.’
‘And maybe that’s what makes it special. Right, I suppose we should get down to business.’ Marie looked at her. ‘Posy, the house too is absolutely spectacular. The original features are just stunning. The fireplaces, cornicing, the shutters on the windows . . . the list is endless. The room sizes are amazing and the grounds are something else.’
‘But . . .’ Posy pre-empted it before it came.
‘Well.’ Marie rubbed her nose. ‘It goes without saying that the person who buys this house will have to make a huge long-term commitment in terms of both time and money. I’m sure you realise how much work the house needs to restore it. And therein lies the problem.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Posy.
‘My honest feeling is that you’d be very lucky to find someone to take it on. The country-house market has cooled off recently, plus even though Southwold is a very popular spot for second homes, this is far too large to be one of those. It’s quite unlikely that someone would want to commute to London from here, given the journey, and I can’t see the retirement lot being interested because of the size and the amount of work.’
‘Marie, my dear, just spit it out. What
are you trying to say?’
‘I suppose I’m trying to say that, unless we can find a pop singer or a movie star with enough money to purchase their country estate and then spend the time and money required to renovate it, the field for buyers is extremely narrow.’
‘I can understand that, yes.’
‘Posy, I’m sure you’re going to hate the idea, but I really feel your best shot would be to sell it to a developer who would probably turn it into some tasteful apartments. Although very few people want a house as big as this these days, they do want the setting and the grandeur.’
‘I had considered that is what you might suggest. It would break my heart, of course, and my ancestors will turn in their graves, but . . .’ Posy shrugged, ‘I have to be realistic.’
‘Yes. The problem is, there’s no doubt a developer would want to purchase it as cheaply as they could. There would be so much work for them to do and they’d have to think about the end profit. The only advantage is that we wouldn’t have to put you through the ignominy of the house going on the open market. Our office knows a few developers who may well be interested. We can put them in touch with you, they can have a look and the deal can be handled quickly and discreetly.’
‘So how much do you think such a developer would pay for it?’
Marie shrugged. ‘It’s very difficult to say, but I would put the figure around a million.’
Posy had to chuckle. ‘Goodness, and there’s poor departed Mrs Winstone’s three-bedroom cottage on the High Street selling for over half that.’
‘I know, it does seem ridiculous in comparison,’ agreed Marie, ‘but that cottage is right in the centre of Southwold and perfect for a second home. Posy, I really wouldn’t be at all hurt if you wished to get another estate agent into value it. In fact, I think you should.’
‘No, no, dear, I’m sure you’re absolutely right. And, let’s be honest, a million pounds is an awful lot of money. An amount I’ll never spend in my lifetime, but lovely for my sons to inherit.’
‘Yes, it is. Now, I must be off to collect the kids. Thank you very much for the tea and scones.’ Marie stood up. ‘I’m going to put all I’ve said in a letter to you. When you’ve had a chance to consider it and chatted to your sons, give me a call.’
‘I will.’ Posy walked with Marie to the door and shook her hand. ‘Thank you for making the experience reasonably painless. I’ll be in touch when I’ve made a decision. Goodbye, dear.’
Posy watched Marie drive off and went back to the kitchen for another cup of tea and some thinking.
Shortly after that, Sebastian Girault arrived on the doorstep.
‘Good to meet you, Mrs Montague.’ He shook her hand firmly.
‘Do call me Posy.’ She looked up into his piercing green eyes and wished she was thirty years younger. ‘Please, come in.’ She closed the door behind him and led him to the kitchen, where she put the kettle on again. ‘Do sit down, Mr Girault.’
‘Thank you. And it’s Sebastian, please. What an absolutely amazing house this is.’
‘So, Amy says you want somewhere to write in peace?’
‘Yes, and space. That’s very important.’
‘Well, I may not have a reliable heating system, or many modern conveniences, but I do have space,’ chuckled Posy. ‘I’ll show you the bedrooms that might be suitable, then you can tell me they’re freezing and dusty and we can come downstairs, forget the idea and have a nice cup of tea.’
At the end of the corridor on the first floor was one of Posy’s favourite bedrooms. Placed on the corner of the house, it had full-length windows that overlooked the gardens on two sides.
‘Beautiful,’ Sebastian breathed, as Posy led him into the next-door bathroom – a relic from the nineteen-thirties. The huge cast-iron bath sat in the middle of the room, the floor covered in original black, and very worn, linoleum.
‘There. What do you think? I really won’t be offended if you say no.’
Sebastian walked back into the bedroom. ‘Do you think the fireplace is usable?’
‘Probably. It would need its chimney swept.’
‘I would pay for that, of course, and . . .’ Sebastian walked over to the window, ‘I could set my desk just here, so I can enjoy the view whilst I stare into space.’ He turned to her. ‘Posy, this is perfect. If you’re happy to have me, I’d love to come and stay. I’d pay you well, of course. How about two hundred a week?’
‘Two hundred pounds? That’s far too much.’ Posy didn’t earn nearly that in a week at the gallery.
‘It’s still less than I’d pay if I rented a cottage in town. And how about you throw in the odd meal too?’ suggested Sebastian. ‘I’ve heard you’re a fantastic cook.’
‘Not fantastic, just consistent,’ corrected Posy. ‘Of course I’ll cook for you. I have to for myself, anyway. But are you sure you’re going to be comfortable in here? I can provide you with a couple of heaters, although they tend to be quite expensive to run.’
‘I promise I will cover all costs of my stay. And by nature of my profession, I doubt I shall disturb you, although I do tend to keep strange hours when I’m writing.’
‘That’s no problem, as I sleep at the other end of the house. There is one thing I should mention, mind you. I had an estate agent round this afternoon, as I’m thinking of selling the house. I’m sure nothing will happen before Christmas, but I’m not sure how long you’re wanting to stay.’
‘My deadline is February, but as I mentioned, I hope to have written the first draft by the middle of December. I can work on the rewrites at my flat in London, so I should be out of your hair for Christmas. So, do we have a deal?’ Sebastian tentatively stretched out his hand.
Posy put her hand to his. ‘Yes, Mr Girault, I think we do.’
Sebastian and Posy returned downstairs, forgot the tea and instead had a glass of wine to celebrate the arrangement. He noticed the framed photo of Posy’s father in his RAF uniform, which sat on the occasional table in the morning room.
‘My new book is going to be set in the Second World War. Do you happen to know if your father ever flew Spitfires?’
‘Oh yes, he did. He was involved in some of the biggest battles, including the Battle of Britain. Sadly, he died shortly before the war ended, on one of the last sorties.’
‘I’m so sorry, Posy.’
‘Thank you. I adored him, as any daughter does her father.’
‘Of course. Would it upset you if I interrogated you at some point about what you remember of the war here in Southwold?’
‘Not at all, although I was very young at the time.’
‘That would be fantastic. Now, just so you know I’m serious, I want to pay you the first week’s rent up front.’ Sebastian opened his wallet and took out some cash. ‘When can I move in?’
‘As soon as you like, although I must warn you that the family is coming en masse for Sunday lunch, so it won’t be as quiet as usual.’
‘No problem. I promise I’ll make myself scarce.’
‘Nonsense. You’re most welcome to join us,’ she said as she walked towards the front door and opened it. ‘My goodness, I shall have to give you a key,’ Posy chuckled.
‘That would be useful, yes. Now, goodbye, and thank you for everything.’ He kissed her warmly on both cheeks.
‘Not at all. It’s going to be a delight having you here. Goodbye, Sebastian. Let me know when you want to move in.’
Chapter 14
The following morning, Posy had just finished dressing when she heard the sound of a car coming up the drive. She was surprised to see Sam’s ancient red Fiat pull to a halt in front of the house. She walked downstairs to find Sam standing in the hall, staring up at the chandelier.
‘Hello, dear. What a nice surprise.’
‘Hi, Mum.’ Sam came over and kissed her. ‘How are you?’
‘Oh, you know, chugging along, as always. Long time no see. To what do I owe this visit?’ she asked him.
‘Sorry, Mum, I k
now I’ve not been to see you for a while,’ said Sam, ‘but I’ve been really busy with this new company of mine. Anyway, I was just passing and I thought, I must pop in and say hello. Any chance of a coffee?’
‘Yes, a quick one.’ Posy checked her watch. ‘I have some bits to do in town.’
Sam followed her into the kitchen, and paced around it whilst she put the kettle on to boil. ‘This really is a spectacular room,’ he said, parking himself at the kitchen table. ‘You could fit four modern kitchens into it, no problem.’
‘Yes, you probably could,’ agreed Posy.
‘The windows really aren’t in bad nick, considering they’re so old,’ he added.
‘No.’ Posy made her son a coffee and set it down next to him on the table. ‘How are Amy and the children? I haven’t seen them for a while.’
‘They’re fine, just fine,’ said Sam, who now had his eyes on the floor. ‘These are original York stone flags, aren’t they?’
‘Yes. Did Amy tell you I’ve invited you all to lunch on Sunday? You know Nick is back in England, don’t you?’
‘Yes. Lunch will be fine. Mum?’
‘Yes, Sam?’ Posy had been waiting for the question. Sam only visited her when there was something he wanted.
‘A little bird told me you had the house valued yesterday, with a view to selling it.’
‘My goodness, news travels fast. Yes, I did. Are you upset by the thought?’
‘Well, obviously it’s my old home and I wish we could keep it in the family and all that . . .’ Sam paused, obviously working out how to phrase his next remark. ‘And it just so happens that I might have found a way in which we could, sort of, do just that.’
‘Really? Have you secretly won the lottery, Sam, and come to tell me that all your financial problems are over?’
‘In a way, yes.’
‘Pray, do continue,’ suggested Posy, steeling herself.
‘Well, you know I’ve recently gone into partnership and am a director of a property development company?’
‘Amy has mentioned something about it to me, yes,’ answered Posy slowly, the penny beginning to drop.
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