From Scotland with Love (8 page)

Bella felt instantly protective. These were her clients and only she was allowed to consider them fussy. ‘Come on, Nevil, if a house isn’t right, it isn’t right, and that last property I showed them was a bit claustrophobic.’

‘So what was wrong with this one?’ he said. Bella could picture him, one eyebrow raised, pencil poised over his pad, which he mostly used to doodle on.

‘Too flat,’ said Bella.

‘Ye Gods!’

‘I’m going to come back to the office now. There are a few bits I need to see to,’ she said quickly, before he could go on about her favourite clients any more.

‘No! No need to do that, sweetie,’ said Nevil, going from irritating boss to conciliatory boyfriend in an instant. ‘It’s four o’clock – you push off home. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Nevil wasn’t usually one for suggesting she ‘pushed off home’ and she was a bit taken aback. ‘Oh, OK then.’ She paused. ‘I might call on Mrs Langley.’

‘Good plan! See if she’s finally decided to put her desirable six-bed on the market. God, she must rattle around in there.’ He chuckled. ‘Sorry, hon, there I go again – always the estate agent! You go and see your old lady. And pick up some flowers on the way, keep the receipt and take the money out of petty cash.’

Bella wished she hadn’t mentioned Mrs Langley. Nevil, though well meaning, didn’t understand that garage carnations didn’t really set the heart racing. ‘To be honest, she’s got a garden full of flowers, but it’s a sweet thought.’

‘Get her some chocolates then – something nice.’

‘Nevil, it’s OK. I’m sure when she’s ready to move she’ll let us know.’

‘It’s good of you to keep up the pressure though, Bells,’ said Nevil. ‘It shows your dedication to the job. I do appreciate that.’

As she set off in her car Bella thought about Nevil. He did get it wrong sometimes but his heart was in the right place. She found she was smiling. She’d been very lucky to find a new job in an estate agency in a very pretty market town only forty-five minutes away from her home town, run by a man who, while not exactly pretty, was easy on the eye.

Mrs Langley had been a client who had been very easy to please, basically because, after a long chat, Bella had discovered she didn’t really want to move and told her so. It had been a huge relief to Mrs Langley, who wanted to stay with the garden she had spent nearly fifty years creating. Bella had told her how simple it would be to turn the morning room into a pretty bedroom and how, with the utility room next door, she could have an en-suite and that she need never go upstairs again if she didn’t want to. They had been firm friends ever since and whenever Bella called she was guaranteed a cup of tea and a piece of cake. Bella found she often needed cake in her business. Being an estate agent required an awful lot of patience.

Nevil was aware that Bella called relatively often but he didn’t know that Bella never brought up the subject of moving unless Mrs Langley did first and then it was to reassure her that it wasn’t a good idea unless she really wanted to, no matter what anybody said.

Bella and Mrs Langley sat in the flower-filled garden at the rickety iron table on rickety iron chairs saved from being desperately uncomfortable by faded cushions that smelt faintly of old shed. A little way away from the house, it was Mrs Langley’s favourite spot, close to a creaking arbour and threatened by a huge rambler, which, now it was June, bore hundreds of tiny, very fragrant flowers that scrambled beyond the arbour and up into the nearby tree. Bella couldn’t help thinking how much the Agnews would love it, if only they were millionaires and Mrs Langley wanted to move.

Bella was handed a cup and saucer and a plate. ‘You must have known I was making lemon drizzle,’ Mrs Langley said, indicating the cake.

Bella sighed happily. ‘You know I adore everything that comes out of your oven but lemon drizzle is a bit of a favourite.’ She took a mouthful.

‘My nephew’s been in touch,’ said Mrs Langley after a few moments’ contented silence.

Bella swallowed and paid attention. It had been Mrs Langley’s great-nephew – although she missed out the ‘great’ when she referred to him – who had wanted Mrs Langley to move. Bella had always feared repercussions. It seemed Mrs Langley did too.

‘Oh?’

The elderly woman nodded. ‘Yes. He’s going to stay the night here and wants to take me out for a meal. That’s nice, isn’t it?’

She sounded just a bit desperate, as if needing Bella to think well of the stranger who had wanted his great-aunt to move out of her beloved home of fifty years and go somewhere ‘more suitable’.

‘It is,’ she agreed brightly. ‘Make sure you go somewhere really good. I suggest you get him to take you to the Dog and Fox. It has a lovely conservatory you can eat in, with wonderful views of the garden.’

Mrs Langley wasn’t distracted by the thought of another gardener’s herbaceous borders. ‘I’m worried he’s going to ask me to move again.’

Bella leant forward. ‘Did he say anything about it?’

Mrs Langley shook her head. ‘No, but – you know – I worry.’

Bella was firm. ‘You don’t have to move. There’s no reason why you should. I’m sure if you tell him you want to stay put he’ll say no more about it. After all, when you told him the first time he didn’t mind, did he?’

Mrs Langley nodded. ‘It’s just, you know, my brother – his grandfather – was very forceful. It might be an inherited trait. Last time I wrote a letter. I might not be so brave when I see him face-to-face.’

Bella put her hand on her friend’s. ‘No one can force you to move. If you did become too frail to live on your own you could have a companion. It’s not as if you haven’t got plenty of room, after all.’

‘That sounds terribly expensive. I may live in a valuable house but I don’t have much of an income.’

‘You could have the sort of companion who does it in exchange for a room. Some nice woman to be here at night, check you’re OK and then go off to work.’ Bella patted the soft, age-spotted hand. ‘But you’re a long way from that. Anyone who can bake as well as you do doesn’t need anyone making their Horlicks for them.’

Mrs Langley chuckled, seeming cheered up. ‘That’s true!’

‘And if there’s any argument, I’ll tell him there’s absolutely no market for lovely old houses with loads of character with gorgeous gardens.’

Mrs Langley smiled. ‘I’m sure he’ll believe you.’ She paused. ‘Have you time for another cup of tea and some more cake?’

Bella looked at her watch. ‘I’m meeting Alice’s train at about half-past seven. So yes, that would be lovely. As long as I’m not holding you up?’

‘I’d be very glad of the company and I won’t need to eat later if I have more cake now. One of the joys of growing old is that you don’t feel obliged to eat healthily any more, if you don’t want to.’ She put a slice of cake on Bella’s plate.

‘So when is he coming? Your nephew?’ asked Bella.

‘Next week some time.’ Mrs Langley put out a hand. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to come out with us? I could suggest …’

‘I’d be more than happy to,’ said Bella, ‘but wouldn’t it look a bit odd if you asked if you could bring your estate agent along?’

Mrs Langley laughed. ‘If I put it like that it would look very odd but I’d refer to you as my friend. Which you definitely are.’

‘You could say you needed me to assist you to the bathroom. He’d be bound to say yes then. But I think you should give him a chance first. If he arrives at the house and is instantly measuring rooms and tapping walls you could ring me, and then tell him about needing bathroom assistance.’

Mrs Langley sighed. ‘Then he’d say I definitely need to move.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Bella. ‘You could have grab rails and all sorts. Your home is perfectly suitable for you if it’s where you want to live.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I should go fairly soon. Is there anything that needs doing while I’m here?’

Bella hadn’t actually mentioned it to Nevil, but one of the reasons she called so often on Mrs Langley was so she could do the little bits and pieces her old friend found difficult. He might not have approved, feeling she was keeping a very valuable potential client in her property longer than was right.

‘Well, the hose has fallen off the tap again, if you wouldn’t mind …’

‘Of course I don’t mind. I’ll water the greenhouse and then put the hose back on. I wish you’d let me work out a better watering system for you.’

Mrs Langley looked anxious. ‘You know I hate change.’

Bella smiled sympathetically. ‘But if it meant you could go on growing tomatoes longer, it would be worth it, wouldn’t it?’

‘I suppose so. I just wouldn’t want my nephew to think I couldn’t cope with the watering any more.’

‘I’ll look into it. Nothing will happen until after your nephew’s visit, I promise you.’

‘I must say,’ said Mrs Langley after a bit of thought, ‘if there was a way of keeping my greenhouse going that didn’t involve watering cans, I would be interested.’

‘Of course there is. I’ll ask around and let you know.’

A little later, only slightly damp, Bella got into her car and set off for the station. She knew just whom to ask to sort Mrs Langley out with a watering system that involved nothing more energetic than turning on a tap.

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