Dream Cottage (5 page)

“Are you all right, my dear?” Rev Oli was concerned over Greta’s emotional state.

“She’s fine, Reverend. A little overcome, I believe. Greta can be very emotional; particularly over something she takes a shine to,” Max reassured Rev Oli.

“Oh, I thought you were disappointed with the state of the place and that its condition upset you. Right, in that case, let’s go outside and I will show you the stables and the grounds. Follow me, please!” he indicated towards the staircase.

Greta hung back with Max and hissed in his ear.

“Stables and grounds! What do you think?” Her eyes were wide with excitement.

Max paused.

“Well, it does need some serious renovation work and some equally serious money spending on it. From what I have been able to see in this poor light and in the amount of time we’ve spent here, there’s a problem with damp in most of the rooms. That will need to be dealt with by the professionals. Then re-plastered with numerous tweaks and treatments, I am assuming it has woodworm, judging by some of the rotting floorboards. Then there is the redecoration; every room will need to be decorated; new
carpets. The kitchen is way out of date, that will need to be replaced. What else?” Max waited for the response.

“So, it is doable then?” Greta held her breath and smiled.

Again Max paused; he smiled at Greta’s unbounded innocent enthusiasm.

“Well, yes, I suppose it is; but the money has got to be right, Greta. This will need some serious thoughts; about my job, money… if you want this to work… we will have to sit down and plan everything out. What will you do about your job? Lots to think about.”

Greta took this as a green light.

“Oh Max, I do love you! Thank you! Thank you!” she grabbed a hold of his face with both hands and planted a very large kiss on his lips.

“Come on; let’s have a look at these outbuildings and grounds. Hurry, don’t keep Rev Oli waiting!”

Reverend Oli was stood in the back gardens looking up into the sky over the roof of the cottage. He appeared to be watching the sun setting over the downs.

“How old is Greenacres?” asked Greta as she walked over to where he was stood gazing at the gathering of crows around the chimney pots.

“I believe it to be around 400 years old, my dear, give or take a few years. But it has stood the test of time, survived numerous wars, storms and freezing cold winters and no doubt will continue to do so. Here are the stables, the barn and the fields. There are around ten acres in all. Not had much done to them in the last few years; just sheep grazing to keep the grass down to a manageable level. No active agriculture though.”

“Ten acres!” exclaimed Greta. “Crikey; that’s a lot of ground.”

“Not for your modern day farmer; but for a hobbyist,
which I assume you will be, it is quite suitable and easily manageable.” Rev Oli turned to gauge Greta’s reaction. He was met with a huge beam.

“It’s perfect; everything, it’s just perfect; we love it, don’t we Max?” She looked over to Max who was walking around in the barn. He scuffed through piles of dusty straw and smiled when he saw a collection of old and equally dusty vintage tractors stored at the back. Max rejoined them.

“I must say the cottage is exactly what we are looking for. Would you consider selling Greenacres, Reverend?”

“Well, having seen your reaction to the property this afternoon, I will have to say yes, I would be interested in selling to you. But if I do sell, it needs to be a swift transaction.”

“May we discuss figures?” Max went in for the kill.

“I have had Greenacres valued, not long ago and the estate agent gave me a figure of around £450,000; but I would consider an offer, in these times of austerity et al. Church fabric funds need a bit of a boost, don’t you know. Always something in need of repair, be it the woodwork or the masonry. Would that fit in with your plans, Maxim?”

“I’ll need to have a chat with my accountant; but yes I think we would like to make an offer. Will you be prepared to wait for a couple of days?” Max replied. He looked over at Greta.

“Oh yes, Maxim. That will be fine. I’m in no hurry; but seeing as you have shown a keen interest in the cottage, I now feel it is time to sell, even if you decide against a purchase.”

“In that case, would you be prepared to give us first refusal?” Max needed some sort of reassurance.

Rev Oli thought for a while.

“Yes, I would! In fact, I would be delighted to!” He held out his hand and limply shook first Max’s and then Greta’s hands.

“Could I therefore ask you about the so-called rumours about Greenacres? Is there any truth to the fact that previous occupiers have met mysterious ends?” Greta asked.

Rev Oli snatched his hand away from Greta as if she had burnt him. He glared at her.

“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!”

 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 to 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.