Dream Cottage

by Harriet J Kent

  “Utter nonsense. It is just a coincidence, nothing more. The locals love to gossip and will say anything to keep their shallow minds full of idle chitchat. Take no notice of them; and particularly, don’t take any notice of Mr Marcus Mowbrie; he is the ringleader of the gossipers. Have you had the misfortune to meet him?”

  “He’s the local farmer, is that right?” asked Max.

  “Yes, strange fellow; married a woman half his age; has twins,” he began to whisper, “you know, out of a test tube variety.” He resumed a normal volume. “And she needs constant therapy, of the retail kind; always spending money, bleeding him dry. I don’t know how he manages to keep his bank balance afloat!”

  “We understand he was interested in buying Greenacres? His land butts on to the side of the cottage, doesn’t it?” Max quizzed.

  “Yes, he was interested but I am most certainly not interested!” Rev Oli became very defensive and rattled. “To be honest, Maxim, I would not wish to sell Greenacres to Mr Mowbrie, purely upon principle, even if he were the last man on earth! I fear he would only be looking to make a quick profit to satisfy the demands of Mrs Mowbrie. Oh by the way, you didn’t hear that from me!” he quickly added and tapped his nose. “Mum’s the word!”

  Max nodded.

  “Right, well, thank you Reverend, for showing us around. Here is my business card. I will be in touch in the next few days with an offer. Thank you once again for your time, at such short notice.” Max shook Rev Oli’s hand and handed him his card.

  “Thank you Reverend; you have been most kind,” returned Greta. Her face was flushed in delight. “Thank you for showing us around Greenacres.”

  “I will speak to you again soon; God be with you!” The Rev raised his hand, made the sign of the cross and blessed the couple where they stood.

  Greta smiled and, out of habit, responded.

  “And also with you!”

  Chapter Six

  Greta and Sophie rose up from their seats and shuffled their way to the exit of the packed West End theatre. They trod through empty packets of sweets and kicked spent water bottles. They had enjoyed a highly entertaining spiritual evening with celebrity medium, Nonie Spangler.

  “Well? What did you think of her?” Sophie asked.

  “Good, I suppose; but I can see how she may have been fed information; that’s why I purposely didn’t fill in one of those cards. It was pointless anyway, as no one really close to me has died. I just wanted to see how good she was.” Greta buttoned up her coat and grabbed her handbag.

  “Don’t you think it was odd how she picked you out of everyone in the audience?” Sophie asked.

  “Not really, it didn’t mean anything, did it? I certainly don’t know who she was talking about. I think I may have been one of her blips! We will probably be reading about it in the newspapers tomorrow. She did try hard though, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, she seemed adamant though that you were the one she needed to speak to. You know, all that staring business,” Sophie continued.

  “She had obviously got the wrong person; it must happen to her all the time!” Greta said dismissively. “I thought she did well, particularly with that old lady sat behind us; poor thing, she had so many dead people wanting to speak with her, they must have had to have queued up!” Greta laughed.

  “Yes, she got her money’s worth.”

  They linked arms and strode off towards the tube station.

  “How are the plans going with the cottage?” Sophie asked as they found a seat on the train.

  “Very well. Max has spoken to his accountant. He has come up with some figures. Now it is just a matter of Max speaking to the vicar to put an offer forward.”

  “Do you think he’ll accept it?” Sophie reached for a mint from her handbag. She offered one to Greta.

  “Hope so; he has taken into account all the work that will be needed to renovate it,” Greta replied stuffing the mint into her mouth.

  “No more talk about the mysterious happenings?” Sophie probed.

  “No, the vicar quashed any gossip when we met him last Sunday. It seemed very strange, though. He really doesn’t seem to like the local farmer, Marcus Mowbrie, at all. He didn’t say why. I suppose we’ll only find out anything more when Greenacres belongs to us.”

  “Do you think there could be some truth in what happened?” Sophie’s eyes widened with intrigue.

  “Possibly; but it is hard to believe anything untoward might have happened there. The cottage feels so friendly and welcoming; it has a really good feel to it. However, it doesn’t hurt to be cautious, does it? Mystery or no mystery, it won’t stop me having it. I have Max on side, which is the crucial element.” Greta smiled and crunched on her mint.

  “Well, if you need to carry out any paranormal investigations, Nonie is your man, or should I say, woman,” Sophie offered.

  “I bet she charges the earth, don’t you? Especially having to go overseas!”

  “Its only five miles across the Solent isn’t it, to the Island?” Sophie asked.

  “Yes, but you would be surprised how many holidaymakers think they need a passport! How crazy is that?” Greta thought back to her numerous ferry crossings and overheard conversations amongst tourists.

  “It’s part of the magic of the Island,” Sophie returned. “Oh, by the way, did you tell Max where you were going tonight?”

  Greta smirked. “Of course I did. You know me, I can’t tell a lie!”

  “And he didn’t tease you about it?” Sophie put her head on one side.

  “No, for once, he didn’t bother. It made a lovely change. He is preoccupied with the house and the negotiations with the accountant. Figures, you know, boring stuff!”

  They arrived back at Greta and Max’s London home; the lights were blazing from nearly every room. Greta shook her head in exasperation.

  “Max is so anti-energy saving; he really moans when a light bulb blows and I replace it with one of those energy saving ones; he says they aren’t as bright as the old 100 watt bulbs. He keeps a secret stash of them and instantly takes out the energy ones and puts in a 100 watt one; he’ll run out of them one day. Who knows what he will do then!”

  “I am going to love you and leave you; I have work in the morning. I need to get my head down. It has been a lovely evening, Greta. I really enjoyed it, thanks for asking me to come along. See you soon.” Sophie gave Greta’s arm a friendly squeeze. They kissed their goodbyes. Greta closed the front door and unbuttoned her coat. Max was sitting in his study poring over paperwork.

  “Business or pleasure?” Greta walked into the study and kissed Max’s cheek.

  “Your bloody cottage, so a bit of both!” Max returned and looked up at her.

  “And?” Greta waited. She perched on the edge of the armchair.

  “Seems like we have enough funds to make an offer. Reggie Peabold, the accountant, has come back with the figures and fortunately they all tie up; the repayments on the mortgage; you know the sort of thing.”

  “Yeees! That’s wonderful news!” Greta punched the air with her fist. “So, what’s the next step?”

  “I will put forward an offer to the vicar. Reggie has calculated we should offer £400,000, subject to a structural survey report. No doubt that will include reports on damp and woodworm being required too.”

  “And when are we going to make the offer?” Greta sat on the edge of an armchair.

  “Tomorrow, when I get to work. I’ll go through the figures with the vicar and see what he says. So it’ll be up to him, once we have made our offer, whether he is prepared to accept it.”

  “What if he says no?” Greta’s mind filled with doubt.

  “If he does, then we can go to a maximum of £425,000. That’s it. Not a penny more. My calculations indicate Greenacres is going to need at least £60-£70,000 spent on it.”

  “As much as that!” Greta was shocked. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

  “Well, I am being liberal with the figures, better t
o overestimate than underestimate, so we don’t run out of cash. Don’t forget we have only viewed it the once and that was in partial light. It may look even worse once the windows have had the boards removed. We will have to see what the surveyor’s report concludes. It will be do or die if the survey report reveals that Greenacres is falling down.”

  “I’m going to think oodles of positive thoughts!” Greta replied. “Do you want a coffee?”

  Max shook his head.

  “No, I need something stronger; like a scotch on plenty of rocks.”

  “Coming up.” Greta got up off the armchair and walked through to the kitchen.

  “How was your evening with the spiritual encounter?” Max called after her and leaned back on his chair.

  “She was actually quite good,” Greta called from the kitchen. “A bit odd, like most of those sort of people, but she did well.” Greta reached for a crystal glass whisky tumbler and noisily slid three ice cubes into it.

  “Did you think she’s a fake?” Max turned around to face Greta.

  “If she is, then she’s a brilliant actress. But there were some things and incidents she mentioned that she just wouldn’t have known about.”

  “Like what?” Max queried.

  “She mentioned someone in the audience was standing on the threshold of the good life; a new home in the country.”

  Max laughed.

  “That probably related to half the people in the audience! She must be a dream reader!”

  Greta paused.

  “That have the letters G, R and E in their first name and that the property has the same first three letters in its name?”

  Max nodded his head in approval.

  “Well, that would be impressive!”

  “Then be prepared to be impressed.” Greta walked back into the room and placed the tumbler in Max’s hand. “Cheers!”

  The following morning, Greta’s mobile phone was ringing. It was Max.

  “Hi love!”

  “Hi, I’ve just spoken to the vicar,” Max replied.

  “What did he say?” Greta held her breath.

  “Well, he gave me a bit of a sermon on house purchasing but he has accepted our offer!” Max announced.

  “Oh fantastic news! Brilliant! He accepted £400,000?” Greta was shivering with excitement.

  “No, he accepted £380,000!” Max proudly declared.

  “£380… how come?” Greta was astounded.

  “Because, my sweet, that is why I do the job I do; I negotiate deals, as well you know. Let’s just say it was down to a little bargaining and friendly persuasion but lucky for us, the vicar is on board! He is very keen to plough some of the proceeds of the house sale into the church restoration funds.”

  “You are so clever! I love you so much! Thank you! Thank you!” Greta’s eyes filled with tears of joy.

  “Therefore, it means we now have enough money to spend on the renovation work,” Max concluded. “We, Mrs Berkley, are now on our way to owning a cottage in the country!”

  Greta hugged her sides in delight and wiped away a stream of tears from her eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  Max spent the following weeks ensuring all the property negotiations between him and the Rev Oli ran smoothly. The structural survey report, which had been conducted a couple of weeks earlier, indicated Greenacres had suffered historic structural movement but concluded there were no ongoing problems with subsidence. It was recommended that a damp and woodworm survey also be carried out but it was sufficient enough to satisfy Reggie Peabold with the finances and the mortgage company, so he gave Max the green light to instruct his solicitor. Rev Oli was keen to proceed as quickly as possible, which made Max think the sale wouldn’t take long to progress through to exchange of contracts. Thankfully there was no onward chain involved. Much to Max’s relief, they would have enough funds to retain their house in London, whilst purchasing Greenacres. This gave him plenty of leeway if his employment arrangements should change in the future.

  Greta had begun to plan her preferences for the new kitchen and bathroom that would adorn Greenacres. She spent hours poring over countless glossy home improvement magazines and tirelessly trawled the Internet. She had even taken out a subscription to Country Living with its ideas and tips on the perfect home and life in the country She and Max had arranged for another visit to the cottage the following weekend. Reverend Oli would meet them there with the keys. Max asked if he could bring along his architect to take photos and measurements. This was met with great enthusiasm.

  A phone call to Jeanne was made by Greta to arrange another overnight stay on the Island.

  “This is so exciting, darling; the father and I are so happy for you both!” The ferry trip seemed to take even longer than before as Greta was desperate to be at Greenacres again. She felt very impatient as she watched another ferry full of holidaymakers idly talking in excited, raised voices about the seaside and their plans for their week away.

  “I don’t care about their holidays; I just want to get back home again,” she thought. She glanced over to Max who was staring at her, shaking his head.

  “Won’t be long now, Greta. Stay calm; if you can.” He stroked the top of her head like a dog.

  “I like the fact that you always know what I’m thinking.” She took hold of his hand and squeezed it. She played with his wedding ring. “I am so glad we are married,” she whispered.

  “Don’t! You’ll start crying again in a minute. I can’t be doing with that in front of all these people,” Max drew Greta closer to him. “But you can give me a kiss, if you want to!”

  Greta reciprocated; she planted a long and meaningful kiss on Max’s lips and they hugged each other hard.

  After what seemed like a very long, drawn out hour had passed, Greta and Max reached the Island and were heading to Greenacres. Greta kept looking at the speedometer of the car; urging Max in her mind to drive quicker. She decided against telling him to put his foot down. She didn’t want to annoy him. Anything to do with his driving skills was a pet hate to Max. Reverend Oli was stood waiting for them outside Greenacres; he was staring into space.

  “Look, Rev Oli’s staring up at the sky again; what do you think he’s doing?” Greta was puzzled.

  “Probably looking for divine inspiration!” Max drolly remarked. “Or perhaps there are some loose roof slates he hoped we haven’t noticed! I don’t know, love, you will have to make the point of asking him!”

  They joined the Reverend and he held out his hand to greet them.

  “So glad to see you once more, Maxim and Gretel. You must be getting very excited!”

  Max took hold of the Reverend’s hand and squeezed it jocularly.

  “Yes, particularly Greta; she can’t wait to get started the renovations, can you dearest?” Max emphasised the ‘a’.

  Greta smiled inwardly and indicated with a sweep of her hand, for the Reverend to walk forward.

  “After you, Reverend Oli. Lead on!”

  Reverend Oli unlocked the back door and ushered Max and Greta inside.

  “I expect you would like time on your own to have a good look around. I will be waiting outside if you need me.”

  “Thank you very much, Reverend. We won’t be long. If we are gone for ages, just come in and drag us out!” Greta walked into the kitchen. “We are expecting the architect to turn up soon; so if you see someone looking lost, that’s who it will be!” she added.

  The Reverend smiled and waved. He looked over towards the concrete yard and saw a car drawing up and a familiar figure getting out of it. His smile evaporated instantly. He looked very uneasy. The man walked over to him.

  “Thought I might find you here, vicar,” Marcus Mowbrie brusquely remarked. “I hear that you’re selling the place. After all these years of me asking, tell me it isn’t true?” he quizzed, adjusting his waistband.

  “It’s none of your business, Mr Mowbrie,” Rev Oli looked ashen-faced and uncomfortable. He stepped away from Mowbrie’s invas
ive glare.

  “Damn right it is my business, vicar!” Marcus retorted. “All these years I have offered to buy Greenacres and you’ve continually said no, you would be keeping hold of it. Then, all of a sudden, some young couple appear from out of the blue and you’re selling it to them. You know that wasn’t part of the plan. Surely you wouldn’t be stupid enough to go back on our… arrangement?”

  Reverend Oli stared directly at Marcus.

  “With the greatest respect, I don’t know what you’re implying. The cottage will be very suitable for the young people. They have a lot of plans for Greenacres and they are greatly looking forward to living here. And as far as I am concerned, there is and has never been an… arrangement!”

  “I own the fields around here, as well you know, and I could make Greenacres a great place to live too!” He stared intently back at the Reverend.

  “The difference is, Mr Mowbrie, again most respectfully, is that the couple will be living here, not using it as a get rich quick venture, which, forgive me if I am wrong, is your sole intention?”

  “Now, that would be none of your business, vicar. Once sold, it would be up to me what I did with it. Keep it or sell it!”

  “I therefore rest my case,” Reverend Oli smiled nervously but remained outwardly calm. He stepped away from Mowbrie and walked towards the back door.

  “I will top their offer, vicar. Name your price!” Mowbrie called after him.

  Reverend Oli didn’t reply but disappeared into the cottage. He leant against the kitchen wall, drew out a paper tissue and wiped his sweat-beaded brow.

  “A gentleman never goes back on his word, vicar! Remember that!” Mowbrie strode furiously towards his car, slammed the door and spun the wheels across the concrete yard, out of sight. Rev Oil closed his eyes and sighed. His heart was pounding against his chest. He opened his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “But I didn’t ever give you my word… or anything else,” he whispered.

  Max and Greta heard the commotion. They found Rev Oli by the back door.

  “Is everything okay, Reverend?” Greta was concerned. “We heard voices and then a car screeching off.”