A Springtime Affair

by Katie Fforde

  Cressida put a fruit bowl on the table. ‘We never have puddings in the middle of the day. But do help yourselves.’

  Helena took an orange and pulled her side plate in front of her. ‘I love oranges,’ she said, ‘but would you really class them as pudding?’

  ‘There’s a lot of sugar in fruit,’ said Cressida, ‘which is why I limit it.’

  Gilly didn’t speak but Helena noticed her press her lips together and then take a breath to say something. ‘So, what’s your “exciting plan”, Cressida?’ she said, making the inverted commas audible.

  Cressida laughed. ‘Oh! I was going to wait until we were sharing a nice cup of tea, later. I’ve got some new organic herb tea that is a super detox.’

  ‘Let’s hear about it now,’ said Gilly, her words and expression jolly, her feelings obviously less so.

  ‘Better get your tablet,’ said Martin, who hadn’t said a lot up until now except to goad his sister.

  Cressida came back to the table and sat down next to Gilly, pulling her chair in close. She laughed again. ‘You may not know this, but I have a terrible Rightmove habit!’ she tinkled.

  ‘Really?’ said Gilly, obviously genuinely surprised.

  ‘Yes!’ said Cressida. ‘And I’ve found something really rather exciting. Let me find it for you.’

  Helena got up, determined she wasn’t going to miss out on any excitement going. Besides, the sooner the plan had been shared the sooner they could go home.

  ‘Look!’ said Cressida. ‘Isn’t it to die for?’

  Revealed on Cressida’s favourite website – one which Helena was quite fond of too – was indeed a lovely property.

  It was a mansion, with seven bedrooms, four reception rooms and multiple bathrooms. There was a tennis court and lovely grounds. There was even an outdoor swimming pool and accompanying pool house. Unsurprisingly, it was very expensive.

  ‘But you could never afford this, could you?’ asked Gilly, looking at her son, who had a very good job but surely not good enough to support the sort of mortgage they’d need to buy this enormous house.

  ‘And look!’ said Cressida, ignoring this question. ‘It has a granny annexe!’ She clicked along to the picture.

  Helena leaned in. She peered at the double bedroom (double doors on to the garden), kitchenette, and living room which was big enough for a three-piece suite if the furniture was arranged more or less sideways. There was a huge television on the wall. ‘Hmm,’ she said, ‘I wouldn’t care to put my granny in there. If I had one.’

  ‘You could let it,’ said Gilly. ‘Airbnb, or just bed and breakfast. Would you want to do that?’

  Cressida looked annoyed and disappointed. ‘Well, no, we wouldn’t want to do that. We’d want you to live in it, Gilly.’

  ‘Me? Why?’ Gilly sounded confused.

  ‘It would be so handy. You could see so much more of Ismene than you usually do,’ explained Cressida. ‘You’re always saying you don’t see enough of her.’

  ‘That is true, Grandma,’ said Ismene. She was a solemn, truthful child. Helena liked her but found her a little unnerving.

  ‘But you already live quite near,’ said Gilly, ‘I don’t see why you moving would make me see more of Issi – Ismene,’ she corrected herself quickly.

  ‘Cress wants to go back to work full time,’ said Martin.

  ‘Then you’d need this space for a nanny,’ said Gilly quickly. ‘But I still don’t see how you’d afford this house.’ She smiled at Cressida. ‘Unless you’ve been offered a really well-paid job, which of course you so deserve and could obviously do.’

  While Helena was privately vomiting at her mother’s obvious sucking-up to Cressida, she did wonder if there was a hidden message in her flattering words.

  ‘Ah!’ said Cressida. ‘Although I have got a job offer with a very good package, this is where we come to our exciting plan!’

  ‘Which is?’ said Gilly.

  Helena recognised a hint of steel in her mother’s gentle enquiry.

  Some of Cressida’s confidence left her. ‘Gilly, we think it’s time you thought about downsizing. Although you’re amazing for your age, you’re not getting any younger.’

  ‘Not even you are doing that, Cressida,’ said Helena.

  ‘My age?’ said Gilly, her tone a combination of bemused and affronted. ‘I’m still in my fifties! Surely I don’t have to be thinking about my age yet!’

  ‘The bed and breakfast is a lot of hard work,’ persisted Cressida. ‘You often say so.’

  ‘But Mum loves her B & B!’ said Helena. ‘Are you suggesting she gives it up? And even if you are, there’s no reason why she should move into a granny annexe.’ Helena was aware she was being disingenuous; she knew what was coming but she wanted Cressida and her brother to say it.

  ‘It’s about repurposing her property,’ said Cressida.

  ‘What?’ said Helena, no longer bothering to sound polite. ‘I do wish you’d speak in plain English sometimes!’

  ‘That is English,’ said Ismene. She was looking confused now.

  ‘It is English, darling,’ said Gilly, ‘but the meaning isn’t exactly clear.’

  ‘What exactly do you mean by “repurposing”?’ said Helena. ‘Do you mean convert it into executive second homes?’

  ‘No, of course not!’ snapped Martin. ‘Get off your hobby horse, Hels.’

  ‘We would never suggest doing anything to your lovely home!’ said Cressida. ‘But you are sitting on a lot of very valuable real estate and if you sold it, you could help Helena buy somewhere to do her weaving and we could buy our new house and you could live with us!’

  Helena suddenly felt sick. Surely Cressida wasn’t suggesting that her mother sold the family home, the house she had struggled so hard to keep after her divorce, so Martin and Cressida could go and live in a mansion? Keeping her rage under control made her sweat slightly. She helped herself to a glass of water. ‘I’m not sure Mum would like that,’ she said.

  ‘I was reading an article in the paper just the other day about how baby boomers are sitting on millions of pounds’ worth of property and their children are struggling to get on to the property ladder,’ said Cressida.

  ‘But you are on the property ladder,’ said Gilly.

  ‘And Mum helped you get there!’ said Helena.

  Cressida gave her a withering look. ‘Five thousand isn’t exactly a deposit, Helena. Not these days.’

  Helena saw the hurt flash across her mother’s face. Giving her children five thousand pounds at that particular time had been a real struggle. She’d had to give so much to her ex-husband to stop him forcing her to sell the family home there had been hardly anything left over. ‘It was worth a lot more then,’ Helena said. She’d only discovered afterwards how hard it had been for Gilly or she wouldn’t have accepted the money.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Cressida, looking a little uncomfortable. ‘We just wanted to share our plan with you, and offer you a home with us for your – older years.’

  Gilly took a breath. ‘Had I been in my eighties or nineties I’d probably have been grateful,’ she said.

  ‘But we need the money now, Mum,’ said Martin, ‘not when you’re dead.’

  ‘Martin!’ Cressida snapped. ‘There’s no need to talk like that.’

  Helena cleared her throat. She felt if she stayed any longer she was likely to say something that would cause a permanent family rift. ‘You’ve given Mum a lot to think about, but now I think perhaps I’d better get the poor old dear home.’ An exchanged glance told her that Gilly knew she was being sarcastic.

  Gilly got to her feet. ‘Yes, I need to think about what you’ve said.’

  Cressida stood up too, evidently happy to get her guests out of the house. ‘But don’t leave it too long. That to-die-for house won’t stay on the market forever!’

  It was only by clamping her jaws together and murmuring her goodbyes through clenched teeth that Helena got out of there without being rude to anyone.


  ‘Would you believe it!’ she said, as soon as she and Gilly were in the car and had driven a few yards away from the house. ‘God! I know that woman is a viper but the cheek of it! Just suggesting you should sell your house so they can buy that stately home is iniquitous!’

  ‘You don’t think I should go for it, then?’ said Gilly.

  Helena braked and pulled into the side of the road. ‘You are joking?’

  ‘Yes of course!’ said Gilly. ‘Now let’s get home and have something proper to eat.’

  But after Helena had finally gone home, Gilly was thoughtful. Like Helena she was outraged at the suggestion that in her mid-fifties she was in need of sheltered accommodation at her son’s house, while giving up her own life to become a nanny – presumably without being paid. But she was the owner of quite a valuable property and while Martin and Cressida didn’t need to live in a seven-bedroomed mansion, Helena could certainly do with some money to buy a studio. Helena had spent the five thousand she’d received at the same time as Martin on a loom and other equipment. It would be wrong to dismiss the idea without giving it some thought. What she needed was someone she could discuss it with, someone with her interests at heart. Of course she wouldn’t go and live with Cressida and Martin but maybe it was time to downsize?

  Chapter Five

  It was still light when Helena dropped her home and Gilly had noticed that the signs outside the house were a little mud-spattered so she decided to go out and wash them, as well as tidying up a bit in the garden. First impressions were so important. Helena might tease her about being obsessed with Four in a Bed with its critical bed and breakfast owners, staying in each other’s businesses and peeling back every layer of bedding and standing on chairs to find dirt on the chandelier, but attention to detail was very important. Besides, she wanted to think, and she thought better if physically occupied.

  But half an hour later the light was seriously beginning to fade and Gilly was about to go inside when she heard a car pull up in the road behind her.

  ‘Excuse me!’ said a voice.

  She turned round and saw a large, smart car and a man with silver hair and a nice smile leaning across so he could speak to her through the passenger window.

  ‘Can I help?’ she asked, glad she had make-up on from having been out for lunch and that her hair was reasonably OK for the same reason.

  ‘I wonder if you can,’ said the man, whose voice was as pleasant as the rest of him. ‘I’m looking for this address.’ He stopped the engine, got out of the car and came round so he could talk to Gilly properly. He was holding a bit of paper.

  Gilly took the offered paper and considered it for a moment. ‘Well, you’re not far but you’ve come up the wrong way from the crossroads at the bottom of the hill.’

  She gave him instructions about how to find his destination and he smiled again. ‘Thank you so much. The satnav wasn’t co-operating today. I’m only going to the house to do a valuation.’

  ‘Valuation?’ said Gilly, her attention caught.

  He nodded. ‘Yes. I’m doing a valuation for a friend.’ He didn’t seem in any particular hurry to get going. ‘Here’s my card.’

  Gilly took it and read it. There was his name, Leo Simmons, and a string of letters afterwards, none of which meant anything to Gilly. ‘So do you do valuations as your job?’

  ‘Not exclusively but it’s part of what I do.’ He paused. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘It’s just … Oh, nothing.’ She stopped and realised he was waiting. ‘I think I ought to get my house valued,’ said Gilly quickly, before she could change her mind.

  ‘It’s never a bad thing,’ said Leo quietly, ‘although I can see you’re not quite happy about it. Knowledge is power, after all.’

  ‘It is! I’ll make an appointment,’ said Gilly, holding his card tightly and getting mud on it.

  ‘I tell you what, unless you’re busy later, why don’t I do this house up the road and then come back and do yours?’

  ‘Excellent idea,’ said Gilly. Then I can’t back out, she added to herself. Knowledge was indeed power and having her own valuation done meant Cressida couldn’t start telling her how much valuable real estate she was sitting on.

  ‘Brilliant. I’ll be round in about an hour.’

  Which gave Gilly an hour to give the house another tidy in his honour.

  Gilly kept everywhere open to the public immaculate, which included the kitchen. But her own bedroom would have put any teenage girl’s to shame – in fact, she thought, it could belong to very untidy teenage twins. But as with so many occupations, running a B & B had an element of smoke and mirrors about it and making a room, even her own, look good in a very short time wasn’t much of a challenge to Gilly.

  The first thing she did was take the duvet off the bed. Then every item of clothing that wasn’t dirty (in which case it went in the capacious laundry basket) was laid on the bed. Floordrobe became bed-drobe. When she was satisfied there was nothing else lying about she laid the duvet carefully over the top. A few scatter cushions, artfully placed, and the room was instantly tidy.

  The en-suite bathroom took a little longer but she had time to refresh her make-up before she hid it all away in the cupboard behind the mirror. Leo wouldn’t need to open the cupboard to value the house and if he looked like doing so, she’d stop him.

  As she reapplied her foundation she wondered if it would look as if she fancied him if she appeared too made-up. But no, she decided, she always made sure she was looking her best when she knew guests were due – it was only professional. This was a professional visit and she should prepare for it. Although she couldn’t help reflecting that he was a very attractive man and while she had seen many attractive men since her divorce this was the first one that made her feel just a little bit fluttery.

  The thought made her happy.

  ‘Well, this is a lovely house,’ said Leo Simmons, having arrived back an hour later, as arranged. He was in the large hall, looking around. ‘But I imagine running a bed and breakfast is very hard work.’

  Gilly smiled warmly at him. Not everyone understood that there was work involved. Many people thought it was just showing people to their perfect rooms and frying up a few freshly laid eggs. They didn’t realise the effort making those rooms perfect required.

  ‘It is a labour of love but I do love it, so that’s OK. I’ll show you the B & B bit first and then the rest of it. I have six bedrooms, one of them wheelchair friendly. We’ll start there.’

  ‘This is a very good size,’ said Leo, writing down the measurements in his book as they went into the downstairs bedroom. ‘French doors on to the garden. Large en suite.’

  ‘It was the morning room in the old days, when I was a little girl living here with my parents,’ said Gilly. ‘But it makes a lovely bedroom.’

  ‘So this was your family home?’

  She nodded. ‘It was. It was a struggle to keep it when my husband left.’

  ‘What, bills and things?’

  ‘That, but mostly because he wanted half of it, which would have meant selling.’

  ‘So how—’ Leo stopped, obviously not wanting to pry.

  ‘There was quite a bit of land which I could sell. There was an orchard which was a bit heartbreaking to lose, but the other bit went as a building plot so I could pay off my husband and turn the house into a bed and breakfast.’ She smiled at the memory of those early days. ‘At first it was something I had to do to keep my family home but I soon found out I loved it. I love the people – they’re all so interesting. Not even the boring ones are completely boring; they all have something about them that’s fascinating.’

  They ended up in the kitchen, which was large – some would say cluttered – and Gilly’s favourite room. ‘And here we have the heart of the home,’ said Gilly. ‘And it really is.’

  Ulysses got up from where he was sleeping in front of the range and walked over to them. He sniffed at Leo’s trousers. ‘You’re a fat chap, aren’t you?’ sa
id Leo.

  ‘His name is Ulysses,’ said Gilly.

  But Leo was still measuring. ‘It’s a good size, certainly,’ he said, referring to the kitchen, not the cat. ‘Range cookers are always popular.’

  ‘Helena – that’s my daughter – said that one cost the same as a small cottage. I’m not sure what part of the country you’d have to be in to get a cottage for that price, but it was very expensive.’ Gilly paused. ‘But it’s in use all the time. I do evening meals as well as bed and breakfast.’

  ‘No island?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I prefer a kitchen table that you can move if necessary. Once an island, always an island, and it would annoy me if I had to keep walking round it.’

  ‘To be honest, if you did sell, whoever bought it would probably rip out the kitchen and start again,’ said Leo, not unsympathetically. ‘I like the mix of free-standing and fitted units myself but people are very into sleek white cupboards with invisible catches.’

  ‘I’ve never been a fan of integral dishwashers and things. I like a fridge to look like a fridge!’

  ‘Some of the modern kitchens I see, it all looks like a fridge,’ said Leo.

  ‘I wouldn’t be without my dresser,’ said Gilly, looking at the huge old bit of furniture that her father had had built in when he and his wife first bought the house. It took up an entire wall and swallowed up a vast amount of crockery, dozens of mugs and jugs that hung on the hooks that edged each shelf and a fair amount of clutter that was stuffed into the cupboards. It was her work of art and she loved it as if it was a family pet. Just the thought of having to live without it made Gilly shudder. It would never fit in that granny annexe her daughter-in-law had been so keen for her to live in.

  Gilly cleared her throat. The tour had taken quite a long time, there was a lot of house and it seemed natural, now, to add, ‘Would you like a glass of wine?’