by Jenny Kane
Opening the little wooden gate and walking up the short path to the front door felt as though it was taking forever, and yet was still far too short a walk as they stood on the tatty rush doormat, which had possibly once had the word Welcome written across it.
Abi glanced up at Max. Standing side by side with him, she felt both tiny and safe at the same time. As she raised her hand to knock she hesitated. She could hear Luke shouting at her. ‘What are you doing, woman? Have you taken leave of your senses? If the owner didn’t want this house it would be for sale. You just get yourself home right now.’
Feeling Abi tense beside him, Max said nothing, but reached down and scooped her little hand in his, engulfing it in his palm, amazed at how cold it was compared to his. She was obviously far more nervous than she was letting on. Max held her hand a little tighter and with a nod of encouragement, smiled as Abi raised her free hand, and knocked twice against the flaking red painted surface of the door.
A minute passed, and there was no sign of life. Abi was just turning to leave, when Max thought he heard something.
‘I think there’s someone in there.’
‘They’d have answered by now, surely? It’s probably just a cat or something.’
A couple of seconds later Abi saw that Max had been right, for now she could also hear a shuffling coming from the other side of the wooden door.
It still felt like an age between knowing they weren’t imagining the sound and hearing the scrape of a key turning in the lock. Abi squeezed Max’s palm harder, her imagination filling with visions of a cantankerous old man, furious at having his privacy disturbed, who was about to let fly at them. Her insides tensed as, ever so slowly, the door was edged open.
‘Oh hello, how can I help you?’
Relief grabbed at Abi from the inside and rushed through her whole body. They were confronted with an old man, frail and holding a hooked walking stick, but with the biggest smile Abi had ever seen.
Disarmed by his friendliness, Abi suddenly forgot the start of the conversation she’d rehearsed and said instead, ‘To be honest I’m not sure you can. You’ll probably think me very silly, but … Oh, what a gorgeous dog!’
Mr Abbey’s smile became a chuckle, as he opened the door a little wider so he could lean against the door frame, and the biggest golden retriever Abi had ever seen stood loyally by her master, looking quizzically up at the visitors. ‘This is Sadie. She was supposed to be called Sandy, but when my granddaughter was really little and she was a pup, she made Sandy sound like Sadie, and the name stuck. Anyway,’ Mr Abbey ruffled his dog’s coat as he looked at Abi, ‘I very much doubt a pretty girl like you could be silly, but why not risk it, and tell me why you’ve brightened a very dull day by knocking on my door.’
Bolstered by the old man’s playful flattery and the continuing comfort of Max’s hand, which was sending signals of potential happiness to Abi’s brain that she didn’t have time to confront now, but would definitely return to later, she told Mr Abbey about her family holidays. About how his house’s name sort of matched her first name and how she’d always dreamt of seeing the inside of his home. She also added quickly, lest he think her too impertinent, ‘But I realise that this is rather cheeky of me, and that you don’t know me from Adam, Mr Abbey, so perhaps I should leave.’ She began to ramble, as he turned to Max, ‘What were we thinking? Mr Abbey might think we’re con artists or something. I’m so sorry, sir. We’ll leave you in peace.’
Abi had let go of Max’s hand and was retreating down the path before she heard Mr Abbey call out, ‘So is it Abbey with an “ey” or Abbie with an “ie”?’
Her face blotched with embarrassment, Abi muttered, ‘With an ‘i’, like it’s short for Abigail, although it isn’t Abigail. I’m just Abi.’
‘Well then, Just Abi, I think I’m old enough to make decisions about who I invite into my home, don’t you? And after a lifetime working with people, I think I’m a fairly good judge of character – although of course, if I’m wrong, well, you’re never too old to learn another lesson, are you? So, why don’t you and your young man come inside and tell me all about those family holidays? And do call me Stan, all this “Mr” business makes me feel as old as I really am!’
With a friendly encouraging shove from Max, Abi smiled apologetically, ‘Thank you, Stan, you’re very kind.’
‘You’ve done your homework if you know my name, or did you just guess from the house?’
Max answered, as Abi’s nerves seemed to have stolen her tongue. ‘To be honest, Stan, I looked you up on the electoral roll. I wondered if the house was empty, and it seemed the best way to find out.’
Supporting himself on his stick, moving slowly but with determination through the dimly lit hallway, where the wallpaper had obviously been good quality once but was now faded and beginning to peel at the edges, Mr Abbey said, ‘Well, I’m not at all surprised you thought it was empty. The state of it from the front, and in the rooms I don’t use anymore, is frightful. As you can imagine,’ he waggled his stick to illustrate his point, ‘as I’m not as sprightly as I used to be, decorating can be a touch of a trial.’
By comparison, the old man’s living area, which had open patio doors leading onto into a conservatory and exactly the sort of long Victorian terraced garden Abi had imagined, was tatty but clean and obviously much-loved.
‘It’s beautiful. Thank you,’ Abi turned to Stan, a little disturbed by just how much emotion was tightening in her chest, ‘it is every bit as lovely as I imagined as a child. You are so kind for letting me see.’
‘Well, you can repay me by making us all a nice cup of tea, and then letting me hold you hostage for an hour or so. Sadie and I don’t get many visitors.’ He pointed to the floor by his feet, and the dog obediently settled herself down, but kept her head alert, paying close attention to this interesting yet unexpected change to their obviously quiet daily routine.
Stan waved a hand back towards the narrow corridor they’d just come down, ‘Kitchen is second door on the left, would you mind, Abi? It’ll give you a good chance to see if my kitchen matches up to your childhood imagination as well. Don’t hold the dust against me though, will you?’
Wishing that her emotions hadn’t started spending so much time on her sleeve, Abi didn’t dare speak in case she started to cry, but wandered towards the heart of the house as Stan and Max went to sit in the garden.
As she crossed the threshold into the kitchen, Abi could picture herself standing at the sink, washing up as she admired the view afforded by the window which looked out of the side of the house, across the countryside which she knew would lead on to the coast. Squeezing her eyes closed, Abi forced herself to stop her daydreams in their tracks. This was Stan’s house, he clearly adored it; and she didn’t blame him one bit. It may have been run-down, but it was so packed with character it could virtually talk to you on its own.
Breathing in the slight aroma of dust and damp, Abi admired the cream-painted cupboards, the Belfast sink with its built-in wooden draining board, and the small semi-circular oak table wedged into the corner. Lifting up the kettle, Abi tried hard not to enjoy turning the old-fashioned style tap to fill it with water.
Knowing that whatever happened, she must absolutely not fall in love with the house even more than she already had. Stan belonged here. Abi began to hunt for a jar of tea bags or a teapot and some cups. But all her determination, which had been on shaky ground to start with, dissolved into tatters the second she realised that what she’d assumed was a full-length cupboard at the far end of the kitchen turned out to be a walk in larder.
Standing just inside the door, Abi inhaled the scent of long-forgotten spices, coffee grounds, and bread. Little hooks lined one side of the tiny room, holding cups and mugs and jugs, while the shelves directly in front of her were bedecked with every size of plate, bowl, basin, and pot anyone could ever need. Adding to this ramshackle collection was a plethora of baking tins, roasting pans, casseroles, steamers, colanders,
sieves, and an ancient pair of weighing scales.
On the last wall, also divided into shelves, sat Stan’s culinary supplies. Some looked new and entirely edible, but others appeared as though they could date from Stan’s infancy, and Abi didn’t even want to think about what might be inside the old flour sack that was propped against the far corner wall.
The whistle of the kettle boiling brought Abi back to herself. Gathering together three cups and saucers onto a tray, she found all her other supplies, and made up a pot of tea before risking opening an ancient-looking fridge to find some milk, relieved to find that, in there at least, nothing too far past its sell by date was lurking.
Max and Stan were chatting around a patio set in the garden as Abi carefully carried her wares through to join them. Sadie, however, had shifted her allegiance, and now had her head happily resting on Max’s large lap, and was relishing being fussed under his big hands. Abi smiled at the sight, although she was surprised at herself for feeling a tiny jolt of jealousy toward the dog. She couldn’t help thinking it would be rather nice to be on the receiving end of a caress from those large palms.
‘Ah, here’s your good lady.’ Stan smiled his generous grin up at Abi, as Max shrugged apologetically in her direction. Abi guessed Stan must have assumed they were married, and Max hadn’t had the heart to correct him. Not such a daft conclusion, Abi told herself as she laid out the cups and saucers.
‘Do you take milk and sugar, Stan?’
‘Yes please, now do sit down and take the weight off your feet.’ As Abi did just that he asked, his brilliant beam dying a little, ‘Tell me, what did you think of my kitchen?’
‘It’s charming! I must admit, I have rather fallen in love with your larder. My gran had one like it in her kitchen, and I used to adore being sent to find things in it when she had one of her massive baking sessions.’
‘Mary, my late wife, loved it, it was her little haven. You haven’t lived if you haven’t tasted her ginger cake.’
Stan was quiet for a while, before carelessly adding a frightening number of sugar lumps to his tea cup. On seeing his companies exchanged glances he laughed, ‘No need to worry about my teeth, chaps! Not had any real ones in years.’ Stan chuckled again and then more seriously added, as he gestured to the garden, ‘You can see the problem here all around you. I know I can’t live here alone much longer. I have old Mrs Teppit who comes in twice a week to make sure I’m not dead, and to do some washing and cooking and stuff, but it’s basic maintenance this place needs, and frankly I‘m not up to it anymore.’
Max, his cup almost to his mouth, put it back in his saucer. ‘I could sort the place for you, least I can do after you’ve let Abi have a peep at your private home.’
‘You are very kind, me’andsome, but we’re talking more than a new coat of paint. You’ve …’ Stan splashed a little of his tea into the saucer as he put down his own cup, ‘… caught me at a time when I’m in mid-indecision. Do I sell up and move into a home, or do I pay for a carer to live here with me?’
Abi gazed across the flower beds badly in need of weeding, and the patio which, now she looked at it properly, had tufts of grass growing between nearly every stone. ‘But you clearly love it here, would you really want to leave?’
‘That’s the problem in one, my dear. I do love it. Not only that, but I feel I ought to keep up the family home. The question is, who for? There is no actual family left in this country any more. My daughter and her children emigrated to Australia. So it’s just me and Sadie now, and sometimes being here seems to rub that in a bit, if you see what I mean.’
Resisting the urge to give Stan a big hug, and talk him into finding a live-in carer so he could stay in the place he loved, even though it would put paid to her own dreams of living there, Abi was interrupted by her phone ringing.
‘I’m so sorry, I should have switched it off. Will you excuse me?’
Trying to dismiss the voice that told her that it was good that there was a phone signal from Abbey’s House, as there was no way she’d ever ask such a nice man to leave his home so she could buy it, Abi wondered down the garden to answer the call.
‘Oh, hello, Simon.’ A shiver trickled down Abi’s spine. ‘How are you?’
Chapter Seventeen
Abi quietly tiptoed back to the patio. The men looked so content sat together, like a grandfather and grandson chewing the fat. How does Max fit in to people’s lives so quickly? His ability to be at ease with people so fast was a quality that Abi could only admire, and envy.
She returned to the table in time to see Max pass Mr Abbey a business card, ‘Honestly, Stan, I mean it, if you want help doing this place up, or just getting on top of the maintenance that needs doing just to keep living here, then give me a call,’ Max turned his attention to the big, watery canine eyes looking up at him, ‘and if this gorgeous creature fancies a longer walk than a trot in the garden, just say the word, I’d be happy to take her for a stroll along the coast anytime.’
Max looked up at Abi, about to ask her if she fancied taking Sadie out for a walk so she could have a change of scene, but one look at her told him that something had happened, although he wasn’t sure from her expression if that something was good or bad. ‘You have news?’
‘Someone is interested in buying my house. I need to go back to Surrey right now, apparently.’
‘Surrey?’ Stan’s already wrinkled brow creased. ‘You live all that way away?’
‘Yes and no,’ Abi sat back down, ‘I’m in the process of relocating down here.’
‘I don’t blame you, my girl, it must be awful for you to be so far away from such a generous man.’ Stan nodded approvingly at Max.
Thinking it easier to let Stan assume she was living with Max, rather than think she was after stealing his home, Abi changed the subject. ‘Did I hear you say about going for a stroll along the coast? Do you have a favourite place around here, Stan? I haven’t had a traditional Cornish cream tea since I arrived. Anywhere you can recommend?’
Abi knew she should be pleased that Simon had tracked down a potential buyer for her house so fast, but even though she had been planning to go back to Surrey the following day, meeting Stan had changed everything.
Now she had a proper reason to return to her marital home, Abi didn’t want to leave after all. Whether he was interested in selling up or not, she wanted to be around to make sure Stan was OK. If Max hadn’t come across Stan before, that had to mean he’d been living as a virtual recluse; and for a person so obviously highly social when he was given the chance, that couldn’t be good.
Before they’d knocked on the door, although she had hoped the residents of Abbey’s House would be friendly, she hadn’t expected to like them, and even to find herself instantly caring for them – but that is exactly what had happened.
Having thanked Stan again, and cleaned up the tea things for him, Abi and Max promised to come and visit him soon, and take him to The Queens Hotel in Penzance for a cream tea the following Saturday, an offer that was met with both glee and an invitation for Abi to explore the rest of the house next time she came by.
As they stood by their vehicles on Miners Row, Max picked Abi’s hand back up. ‘Come on then, lass, tell me, what exactly did your brother-in-law have to say?’
Wishing she knew if Max was holding her hand because he wanted to, or because he was a nice man and it was a comforting thing to do, Abi said, ‘Apparently he’s found a cash buyer for Luke’s place, but to clinch the deal I have to go up myself. Simon did originally say he’d sort all the house sale stuff for me, but now he wants me up there.’
‘What do the buyers want to meet you for? I mean, can’t the agent do it all? It’s not like anyone ever buys a house because they like or don’t like the property’s previous owner.’
Abi didn’t mention the rest of her conversation with Simon to Max. She was confident that he would not have approved of Simon’s continued persuasion techniques to get Abi to change her mind about sellin
g the house, which very much had an edge of ‘don’t let Luke down’ about them, and had ended up feeling not unlike emotional blackmail.
‘What did you tell him you’d do?’ Max reluctantly unlocked his van door, wishing for the first time in his life that he didn’t have to go to work, and could stay and talk to Abi instead.
‘To be honest, I bent the truth a little. I told him I couldn’t come back yet as I’m in negotiations for a place of my own.’
‘But?’
Abi sighed, ‘But I did promise to return if the buyers are definite about the sale, so I can meet them and sign the paperwork.’
Beth was sat in the middle of her shop floor with all the pictures from her last class of pupils spread around her legs when Abi found her.
‘Hey, how did it go with Mr Abbey? Was he there?’
‘Oh, Beth, he is just adorable. I think I loved Stan, that’s Mr Abbey of course, as much as his house.’
‘Really? So you won’t be asking him to leave his home then?’
‘No way.’ Abi shook her head, ‘I couldn’t. He belongs there, and although I did love it, I would never forgive myself if I evicted an old man from his family home.’
‘So you didn’t tell him you were interested in buying it then? I take it you would have liked to, now you’ve seen inside – if the situation had been different.’
‘It would have been just right for me, but no, I didn’t tell him. We just told Stan about it being the place my family joked should belong to me all those years ago, and that I had always been curious about seeing inside. Anything else would have been cruel in the circumstances.’
Beth’s eyes narrowed, but twinkled with mischief at the same time. ‘We?’
‘Max came with me, didn’t he tell you?’
‘No, he didn’t mention it.’
‘He was a star. I’d never have had the nerve to knock on the door otherwise. Although …’ Abi paused, her face colouring slightly.
‘Although what? Come on, don’t leave me in suspense!’