“You know about bulbs, then?”
“I should say soo. Gits me bulbs for th’ display ev’ry year from Dickinson-Bond. Best around.”
“My father would be delighted to hear you say so.”
“He in to bulb growen’, then?”
“Yes, you could say that.”
A little later, RK left the harbour master’s office, curiosity satisfied, and sauntered casually back to where the Harley-Davidson had been parked all day. Eyebrows shot up to find so many people gathered round the machine but RK was even more surprised to see Ryan Saunders, the lad who had been so scathing earlier in the day, ostensibly on guard. He also displayed incredible knowledge on the subject of motorbikes and was quite unfazed by the questions that were being fired at him from the crowd about the engine. The bike was obviously in good hands with its self appointed protector.
Meanwhile, Titus Wills sat at his desk mulling over the conversation he had just had with the stranger. His size hadn’t perturbed him but his questions gave the harbour master pause for thought. Therefore, after only a short while Titus picked up the phone to call Constable Prettyman.
“Dan? Wills here. Inquisitive stranger bin in. Spoke to Tom earlier about him. Needs an eye keepen’ on him.”
Although surprised by this request P.C. Prettyman noted the harbour master’s concerns and scheduled restricted surveillance of the stranger subject to Sergeant Tom Catchpole’s approval.
Totally unaware of the conversation taking place, between the harbour master and the constable and the close scrutiny they planned to give any future movements, RK thanked Ryan for his guardianship of the Harley-Davidson and prepared to ride off on the motorbike. It was almost time to book into the B&B.
“Any problems with the bike just give a shout.”
“Thanks. See you around,” RK called out, as the machine roared away from the admiring crowd. Following Adam Catton’s explicit instructions to Jenner’s Mill B&B, RK found the route led away from the harbour, along Main Street and through the village till it passed the stately entrance gates to Newton Manor House, the ancestral home of Lord Edmund de Vessey. It then took a right turn into a twisting narrow lane that was bordered by a hedge on one side and what was obviously the riverbank on the right. After two and a half miles the lane rose, turned abruptly to the right, and then crossed the river. A left-hand bend brought an imposing view across the river valley and suddenly, there ahead, was a magnificent windmill, complete with full sails.
R.K. was quite at home with country life but this was something else! There were striking mills in Lincolnshire but nothing quite like the one in view. The window slits suggested four, possibly five stories and, at some time in the past, a number of the jumbled crop of outbuildings had been tastefully incorporated to create a unified building. But at present, the approach to the Mill implied disorder and confusion. Opening a dilapidated four bar gate RK wheeled the Harley-Davidson carefully along a hole-pocked dirt track avoiding the mounds of builder’s rubble.
To the right there appeared to be a market garden of sorts but there was no order to the placement of the plants. They were growing in a mindless higgledy piggledy fashion. On the left animals ran amok, chickens with pigs, geese mingled amongst the goats, cats and dogs ran side by side. Coming from a rural community in the heart of Lincolnshire, RK was used to the straight lines and vast orderly, open spaces of the fens, bordered in a regimented fashion by hundreds of dykes and droves.
Dad would have a heart attack if he saw this disorder on his farm, RK thought grimly. Mr Dickinson-Bond was a first class flower bulb and plant grower, distributor and exporter and as precise in his dealings with land as with people.
Before RK took another step, seemingly hoards of children running wild suddenly appeared, whooping and yelling, coming close to knocking over RK and the motorbike with their exuberance.
“Hi! Welcome to the Mill.”
With a broad smile that encompassed them all RK said “Hello.”
One of their number reached out a hand towards RK. “I’m Tessa Jenner, and these are my brood,” she pointed with her free hand towards the cluster of boys and girls. She was dressed in unusual flowing apparel and looked little more than a child herself, although a gold band on her ring finger indicated otherwise, and her blue-grey twinkling eyes suggested humour and friendliness.
The group all surrounded RK and acted as escort up to the door of the Mill, the boys eyeing the Harley-Davidson with awe, one surreptitiously reaching out to touch the bike.
“We have other guests and are very full but we’ve managed to fix up a room for you.”
“It’s mi…”
“Sshh…sh.”
“Thankyou, it’s very kind of you.”
One of the girls sidled up to RK and said, “My name’s Lily, what’s yours?”
“Well, my Dad calls me RK.”
The children screeched with laughter.
“That’s a funny name.”
“My Mum named me Robyn Keit…”
“Aah, so that’s where it comes from, your initials, RK?”
“As a matter of fact, Dad’s pronunciation sounds like Our Kay so some people call me Kay but most just say RK.”
“You’re very big,” said Pansy tentatively, the smallest of the children, who had been gaping continuously since she had skipped alongside her siblings to greet RK’s arrival.
“Oh, that’s all the Lincolnshire sausages and cabbage my Mum made me eat when I was only your size. I just grew and grew,” RK grinned mischievously at the little girl.
Keir crept nearer and peered very closely.
“Are you a boy or a girl?”
“Keir!” admonished Rosie, his eldest sister, as RK’s rich laughter filled the air.
“What do you think?”
The little boy shook his head, “I’m not sure, but you’ve got a deep voice so…uhm…” RK winked to relieve his uncertainty and flashed him a wicked, conspiratorial grin.
As the tour to the room continued it became obvious that RK had been allocated one of the Jenner children’s rooms in the main Mill complex rather than a room in the guest wing, the chattering children intimating that over there the roof was leaking. RK’s heart sank when there appeared to be more builders’ rubble and evidence of incomplete building work. In a snake-like procession they stepped carefully around the debris and implements, Keir and Lily hinting at problems between the contractor and their parents.
What have I let myself in for? RK recalled the conversation at lunch time in the Ship Inn and realised the diners were well informed. It seemed that village communities universally displayed an inherent nosiness in other people’s affairs, whether in rural Lincolnshire or coastal Suffolk.
“The bathroom is the second door on the left. As you’re in the main house I’m afraid it’s shared facilities,” apologised Tessa as the stragglers caught up with her.
“No problem,” RK assured her hostess.
“Supper’s at half-past six. We all eat together in the dining room. I hope you realise this is a vegetarian establishment. When you’ve unpacked your things Gil will escort you down to the sitting room where you’ll find tea and scones.”
Vegetarian! RK’s heart plummeted even lower.
Tessa flounced out before RK could voice a reply. The children trooped out en mass after her. Rosie, the eldest girl, who had caught RK’s expression of dismay, came back. “Mum’s a brilliant cook, you’ll be surprised. For supper today leek and mushroom crumble is on the menu accompanied by crisp, home grown, fresh salad, or newly-dug roasted root vegetables, delicious, you’ll see,” she flashed a broad smile at RK. That remains to be seen. Dad’s salad crops are still a few weeks away from being ready to eat and our winter grown root vegetables long finished.
A short while later, down in the sitting room, RK found some of Tessa’s children busily making Easter hats. Gil had, with solemn dignity, accompanied RK down the spiral staircase then joined Lily who was designing an Easter garden
in a shoe box. RK who had a particularly endearing way with children gravitated towards Keir and Pansy with a smile. They beamed in return and offered RK some of the promised tea and scones. Then, quite unselfconsciously, they discussed the most effective way of presenting the flowers and items they had collected together, with their visitor. The late afternoon sped by in an enjoyable and creative manner and before they knew it, it was time for supper.
RK was quite apprehensive about Tessa’s veggie dishes when offered them at suppertime. So it was a pleasant relief when after only one mouthful RK found the leek and mushroom crumble very tasty and gave Rosie a nod and conspiratorial grin.
“Do you know Mum’s veggie dinners are very popular in the Village Stores? In fact they are just as successful as the ready meals range that Jilly Briggs and her team prepare,” said the teenager proudly. With a full mouth RK could only nod.
“I help Jilly in the holidays and when I’ve completed my studies I hope to work in the Stores kitchen full time.”
Rosie Jenner was full of aspirations for the future, and obviously saw herself as Jilly’s right-hand man.
“You like cooking?”
“Oh, yes! I know, too, that Emma has further expansion in mind, possibly a tea shop, which is an amenity the village lacks, and I very much want to be a part of that.” Her face glowed with enthusiasm.
“You seem to have inherited your mother’s culinary skills,” RK commented with a smile.
“And she is willing to learn under Jilly’s tutelage, and take her NVQ, too,” proudly interjected her father, Stuart, who had been listening quietly to the conversation.
“You’re obviously a very busy person with goals worth aiming for.”
CHAPTER THREE
Following the unexplained car accident that had taken the lives of their parents the previous Christmas, Emma Kemp and her sister, Alex, had become business partners and now ran the Village Stores and Post Office together. With the assistance of a number of the villagers the girls had pulled through those dark days of bewilderment and pain earlier in the year and gathered around them a good, reliable working team. While Emma divided her time between College studies and the Stores Alex concentrated on Post Office matters and looking after her home and family. They displayed a determination to succeed that would have delighted their father. His mind set was inherent in all their dealings in the running of the Village Stores. At times it was as if Mick was sitting on their shoulders nudging them to be always looking to the future and not be content to sit upon their laurels because things seemed to be going well.
Like him, they soon learned that the economic climate necessitated a steely approach to business matters as well as an open mind to utilising wisely the resources at their disposal.
To this end Emma and Alex spent many hours discussing the feasibility of turning Emma’s flat into a coffee shop. The flat was a large Victorian space over the Stores, once the home of their great grandparents who first opened the village shop in this location, and offered to Emma by her parents on her eighteenth birthday. She enjoyed exercising her artistic flair without parental constraints and revelled in the independence it gave her but to some extent it was an extravagant luxury.
With this in mind Emma mentioned the possibility of using the flat to expand the business to Jilly Briggs, the cook at the Stores, and Rosalie, the long standing assistant in the shop, as well as other members of staff, including young Rosie Jenner, to gauge their thoughts. Their response was one of overwhelming enthusiasm and support but she was still undecided in her own mind if it was the right way to proceed.
Alex was unreservedly convinced it was a development that was needed so with the help of her husband, Graeme, drew up a business plan but even when she presented Emma with a list of advantages to both business and community her sister was still unsure if it really was an objective they should pursue.
“Why not ask Ben’s advice,” suggested Graeme. “He would give you an honest, unbiased opinion about the practicality of taking such a course of action.”
“Good idea,” agreed Alex, “with his expertise he’d assess and advise us what’s possible and within our means. Don’t you think so, Emma?”
“Mmm,” Emma murmured uncertainly.
With this purpose in mind, their cousin, Ben, a qualified architect, was invited to be party to a discussion which met to look at all aspects of the proposal and thrash out all of their concerns. He listened carefully and made copious notes then commented, “Now that I know what your vision is for the flat, as well as your anxieties about embarking on such a project, I’d like to look more closely at the space available, if that’s OK, Emma?”
She nodded and Ben continued, “I’ll draw up some plans and along with my suggestions present them to you in a couple of weeks for your comments.”
“Thanks, Ben,” Alex flicked through her diary. “So, that will be the Tuesday of Holy week; 7.30 suit everyone?” Nods of assent filtered through to her so she pencilled in an evening appointment.
“Are you sure this is what Mum and Dad would have done?” Emma’s throat clogged up.
“Oh Em,” Alex looked across at her sister tears welling up in her eyes.
Graeme swiftly rescued them both by saying, “I’m quite sure your parents would see expansion, such as you are proposing, as a vital cog at the heart of village life.”
The days following the meeting with Ben had kept Emma busy but doubts continued to assail her.
Torn between making the best use of the vast area that the flat offered and retaining her own personal space she decided to visit Uncle Roy Durrant, her mother’s eldest brother, and chat over her reservations with him. As she sat on the pouffe by the side of his chair in front of the blazing log fire voicing her concerns he wisely listened and nodded his head.
“It may be selfish of me but I do like closing the door behind me after a busy day to relax in the peace and solitude of the flat. Through all the windows I have glorious scenes overlooking the village, across the heath land, over the harbour and out to sea. They change with the seasons so that I am woken on a summer morning with the rising sun from the east and in an evening I enjoy the splendour of its setting rays from the windows in the lounge. In the winter it’s snug and cosy and being up the stairs I feel safe from the chilly winds and choppy sea.
“On the other hand I can see Alex’s point of view. A coffee shop would be a great asset to the village for locals and visitors alike. We are fortunate to have a central position in the village so an obvious focal meeting point. We already have a kitchen in situ but where would we find additional personnel to staff it, and the coffee shop? Apart from Rosie, the other students who are doing their work experience with us will not be finishing their courses for another eighteen months to two years. Alex hopes we can be up and running long before that. It is a bit of a dilemma!” With elbows on her knees Emma sank her chin onto upturned palms, closed her eyes as if that would eradicate the perplexities furrowing her brow.
Roy did not attempt to speak. Knowing Emma as well as he did he knew there would be more to follow.
“Is it right to use money from the shop account to pay for the renovations? Would Mum and Dad approve? Should we borrow from the bank to make up the deficit? Do you think we’ll take sufficient cash to pay extra staff – if we can find any, that is! Will my brother, Drew, feel he should be consulted about any proposals we have regarding the Stores? How will the elderly and those with buggies gain access? What about health and safety issues?”
“My, my, my, what a catalogue of questions you have!”
“But surely ones that need to be addressed.”
“Have you prayed about the matter?”
Emma almost fell off her seat with incredulity. “Prayed about a coffee shop?”
“Yes! Why not? What did the Vicar say last Sunday morning about King David?”
Emma shuffled to regain her balance on the pouffe and looked up enquiringly at Roy.
“You remind me, Uncle R
oy.”
“Before he attempted anything he ‘enquired of the Lord’.”
“About everything?”
“Mmm, everything.”
“Not just the bad things or difficult situations, then?”
“No, I believe this passage of the Bible teaches us that God is interested in all aspects of our life and wants His children to talk all things over with Him.”
“To pray before making decisions, you mean?”
“Yes, not simply to ask His blessing on decisions we’ve already made.”
In the ensuing days Emma gave much thought to Roy’s words and followed his advice to pray about the coffee shop venture.
For a while college studies and shop issues became Emma’s focus and on the day detailed to meet up again with Ben she was detained at her teaching placement by an end of term staff meeting, but Alex and Graeme kept the appointment with Ben. They carefully considered his proposals and were excited by the plans for the conversion of the major part of Emma’s flat into a coffee shop which he set before them.
But, it wasn’t until Easter Sunday when Emma was invited to share lunch with Ben, Rachel and their family that she had opportunity to pore over the plans Ben had drawn up for the alterations to her flat.
“As requested I’ve designed the coffee shop to the right of the existing stairs with a lift at the far end of the Stores as the main access to the upper floor. On the left of the stairs I’ve planned a simple living space for you in the remaining area available.”
He stepped back to let Emma absorb the diagrams more closely and waited for her comments.
“I do like your ideas, Ben but…”
“Oh Emma,” Ben chuckled, “you and your uncertainties!”
“…I must make sure it really is the right direction to be taking.”
Ben got up, gathered together all the sheets of paper then grabbed Emma’s arm, “Come on, we’ll go and see what Alex and Graeme have to say about this.” He marched her through the door and along the street and almost before she had time to catch her breath Emma found herself in the Castleton’s sitting room.
Out of My Depth Page 3