After seeing a tree with lots of lights and very few decorations bar a few snowflakes in a shop in Newport Reef, she’d taken it one step further for the ‘undressed’ tree she’d taken inspiration from online. A supplier of Juliette’s did the same cluster lights the high-end boutiques were selling for a fortune for half the price, and Sallie and Ben had spent hours winding set after set of them around the tree first in the inside branches, then outside and then vertically up and down until the whole thing glittered and shimmered as if it had taken on a life of its own.
‘It’s so, soooo good darling! You’ve outdone yourself. I guess it’s even better in the late afternoon as it gets dark? Right when the wedding party will be coming in.’ Lucian said clapping his hands together in glee.
‘Absolutely - it really does look magical at that time of day in here.’ Sallie smiled - she was over the moon with how it had all turned out. The excruciatingly long days on her hands and knees cleaning the floor and the juggling of looking after Tillie with the setting up the decor were now all beginning to feel like they were worth it.
‘I’ll go and get the tea and we’ll sit over there,’ she whispered and pointed to one of the old trestle tables. She went and got the tea and the mugs and came back to Lucian to find him standing looking in awe at the fernery.
‘This room looks like my kind of room darling! I mean who has a Gin Room?’
‘It’s turned out quite nicely, hasn’t it? Just need the plants to really come into their own now.’
‘It’s like it’s got its own little climate - you could rent it out like a sauna,’ Lucian said and chuckled quietly as they sat down at the table and he got out his tablet.
‘Right, so the latest on the couple,’ Lucian said tapping away on the tablet.
Sallie sat back and listened to all the details - everything had gone to plan so far. She relayed her part of it all - Loretta at All the Beautiful Brides was all over the dress and it was on schedule to be ready and couriered from Hong Kong. All the decor was done apart from the last-minute lanterns. The caterers were sorted and had trialled the recipe that Ben and Sallie had tasted in the tiny cafe in France and the drinks order was ready and had been despatched to Jeddos off-licence.
‘So, we just need to give the photographer a quick ring to confirm for tomorrow morning for the shoot and then we’re done. All we have to worry about after that is that they actually turn up,’ Lucian summarised, looking up over the top of his glasses from the tablet.
‘I guess we are done, yes - though I never like saying that, there’s always been some little thing that’s gone wrong on every wedding I’ve worked on so far. So much so that I’ve now realised it’s par for the course that something unexpected will happen.’
‘Well, as long as that tree stays up and the heating doesn’t conk out on the day, I think we can cope with most things. Once we get these photos up and processed we’ll be well on the way darling. Then we can start hitting the social platforms with all the content and watch it all take off in front of our eyes.’
Sallie laughed, leant forward and patted Lucian on the top of his hand, ‘You do really make it all sound so very simple.’
Chapter 48
Sallie fiddled with the knob on the cooker to turn the heat up and broke some eggs into a pan, while standing at the hob in her pyjamas with a cup of tea. Ben was in the shower and they were having a rare Friday morning off, so she was making a cooked breakfast - one of Ben’s favourite meals.
Another flurry of snow had brought white to the outside of the Boat House, and a grey-white sky full of puffy clouds and a calm sea moved in and out outside the window. She walked over and laid out two white linen placemats, placed a little vintage bottle with a sprig of green in the middle of the table and a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice on the mat.
Ben came out of the shower in jeans, a soft blue shirt and crew neck sweater over the top and sat down at the table as Sallie placed a small platter with eggs, tomatoes, and mushrooms and a side plate with fried bread on the table. Ben started to help himself and piled some on Sallie’s plate as she popped a dish with rashers of bacon next to the platter.
‘You need to try a bit of this bacon - I thought it smelt a bit funny as I took it out of the fridge,’ Sallie said as she put the plate on the table.
‘I can’t smell anything,’ Ben replied, cutting a tiny piece of the bacon off and popping it into his mouth, ‘It’s fine, I only bought it the other day so I’d be surprised if it was off,’ he said and went to scoop some onto Sallie’s plate.
‘Euuh, no, not for me today - the thought of eating bacon makes me feel ill. Just the smell of it in the pan was enough.’
‘You’ve always loved bacon, haven’t you?’
‘Up until now,’ Sallie said, as she piled all the other bits onto her plate helping herself to two portions of fried bread.
‘Mmmm, you sure know how to make a breakfast Sals.’ Ben said as he tucked in.
‘Thanks - you always say that, every single time I make it.’
‘Do I? That's because it’s delicious. You know what? It's the one thing that's missing in Pretty Beach - a decent old-school cooked breakfast. The nearest one is over by the wharf in the Old Town.’
Just as they were clearing up and loading the dishwasher, Ben’s phone pinged with a text.
Hey Ben. Shane Pence here. Look, I think I might have something of interest for you. An old Victorian property in walking distance to the wharf and restaurants. Four floors, partial views from the top - looks like it might be good for you. It’s in need of work and they’re only going to sell off-market if there’s someone wanting a deal. I’m over there this afternoon if you want to sneak in for a viewing.
Sounds just what we’re looking for. What time will you be over there?
I’ll be there at two. Strawberry Hill House on Strawberry Hill Lane. Let me know or just turn up before. Look, it’s a bit of a tricky situation with the owner and they’ll only sell off-market really.
OK, cheers mate. We’ll see you there.
Sallie had finished clearing up the plates and putting the frying pan and pots into the dishwasher.
‘You're not going to believe this - four-storey Victorian in the Old Town in need of work!’ Ben exclaimed.
‘No! Oh my! Don’t, Ben, I can’t even get my hopes up. Four-storey? It must be one of the villas down on the front then. There aren’t any other Victorian properties over that side with four storeys, are there?’ She replied, frowning.
‘There is, according to this address,’ Ben said, showing his phone to Sallie.
Sallie pulled her laptop across the table, put the address into the maps app, clicked on the little blue man on the right-hand side and landed directly outside a majestic four-storey old Victorian house on the other side of Pretty Beach.
‘Wow! Strawberry Hill Lane - I didn’t even realise these were four-storey. It’s that little lane that comes all the way in from the farm, the one a few roads back that links down through to the wharf. I’ve never walked up there properly. We must have been just about able to glimpse those rooftops there when we went for that picnic at the farm in the Summer,’ Sallie said, excitedly.
As they sat there staring at the solitary picture on the internet they worked out that it was actually five storeys if you included the basement. It was located at the end of a run of six just about detached old Victorian villas. A tall building with square bay windows to each floor, the woodwork on the windows painted a faded yellow, the falling off plaster a blue-grey. Steep steps led up to a huge Victorian entrance door and the front garden was surrounded by black iron railings and a large, overgrown magnolia tree.
They moved the little blue man around the maps to the back of the house - it appeared to have a long garden to the back and a small tumbledown garage or outhouse at the very back with a personal door and old-fashioned timber garage doors topped with windows opening onto a tiny lane.
Sallie turned the computer back to her and tried
to expand the image.
‘Looks too good to be true, Ben,’ she said squinting at the screen.
‘Hmm. Right well you better get showered and ready, we’ll have a tidy up here and then we’ll walk over there, shall we? Shouldn't be too cold.’ He said, taking out his phone to check the weather map.
A few hours later they’d cleaned the apartment, put their coats and hats on and headed out down the laneway and over to the other side of Pretty Beach where Sallie had first arrived on the bus when she’d moved down from Freshlea.
They’d stopped in at Holly’s to grab a take-away coffee and given Holly an update on Nina, then they’d strolled along in the cold air, hands cupped around their coffees chatting about the Orangery wedding and how funny Tillie was.
They walked all through Pretty Beach, past the sand dunes and down onto the pavement past the restaurants and through the park Nel had first told Sallie about when she’d arrived on the bus and then strolled down to the wharf. Then they followed a tiny, winding road up and to the left until they got to Strawberry Hill House.
Sitting right on the end there it was. Tall, majestic and Sallie couldn’t work out what to think of the paint colours - yellow windows and blue-grey plaster which had fallen off in places wasn’t quite the colour palette she was thinking for her dream new home. They looked down the narrow lane with the double yellow lines, devoid of cars and not a single soul in sight.
Sallie and Ben perched on the wall with black railings at the front and looked up and down the deserted road. On the other side, a narrow grassy strip led to the back of another line of Victorian houses with ornate gable trim, facing down towards the sea their sheds and outbuildings neatly packed together at the back, their dark slate roofs glinting in the sun.
Five minutes later Shane Pence came marching up the road.
‘Sorry guys - nightmare to park over this side, though we all love the double yellows in tourist season, right? Now I will say that this place has parking behind it and permits so it wouldn’t be a problem from that angle if you actually live here, and it’s got a garage, though that needs some, err, help. There’s no way I’d live over this side of town without parking - that’s one of the reasons I got in touch, actually - this one has it all.’
‘No worries, Shane,’ Ben said jumping up from the wall and holding out his hand to Shane.
‘Okay, so it’s a bit of a tricky situation here - it’s probably not even going to go to market officially. They contacted me to see if I have anyone on my books who might be interested in an offer. The old guy who owns it has an, errr, well between you and me, he likes the slot machines. The daughter and son live on the second and third floor and well, long story short they need to sell it to pay off some of his debts. But here’s the but - they are only willing to sell it for a good price otherwise she’s going to go back to work and pay off the debt that way. Keep that to yourselves, but I wanted to give you the heads-up on the deal here.’
‘So, they know we’re viewing?’ Sallie asked as they stood on the pavement looking up at the imposing old house.
‘Oh yeah, of course. I told them I’ve one couple who have been actively looking for an old property for a while. Right, let’s go in,’ he said, extending his arm out towards the gate.
They opened the black iron gate, stepped across a tessellated tiled path and up fourteen steep steps to an enormous, glossy black double front door. A huge seashell was attached to an old brass knocker, old brass letterboxes sat beside each other underneath and two footed pots stood either side of the doorway with a stained-glass window above. Ben squeezed Sallie’s hand as they walked into the large, wide hallway. A stripped timber set of stairs swept down with a curved handrail to the left, a patterned Minton encaustic tiled floor played out in front of them and four stripped pine doors with heavy white porcelain door knobs led off from the main entrance area.
Everywhere they looked, on every surface were little knick-knacks, porcelain figurines, framed botanical prints and piles and piles of books. It was tidy and sufficiently clean but the walls were peeling here and there, the ginormous rugs threadbare, and random patches of damp could be seen at the top of the high ceilings.
Stepping into an ochre-coloured sitting room, three comfy old couches faced into a large Victorian fireplace, terracotta-red heavy velvet curtains were pulled back from the bay windows, mustard yellow cushions were haphazardly thrown on the sofas and a large orange rug was askew in the middle of the floor.
Sallie looked up at the high ceilings, the glorious old fireplace and the incredible old bay windows in wonder, her heart beating hard in her chest; she felt like a two-year-old wanting to jump up and down - she loved it already.
Shane continued along past the stairs, leading them through to the back and a large rectangular kitchen with handmade timber units running around three walls, speckled brown backsplash tiles and an old ten-seater mahogany table piled with books, papers, jugs, mugs and a computer with wires draped and trailing over the edge to the floor sat at the end nearest the door.
‘Ben, my goodness, I’m going to pass out! I love, love, love it,’ Sallie whispered as they looked around the room. She kept squeezing his hand whenever they got to another old feature she adored.
Either side of a wide, double sash window looking down towards the rooftops of the houses opposite, two large plate holders were crammed full with cups, dried flowers, mugs, plates and vases in a variety of yellows, reds and greens. Whoever lived here may have a gambling habit, they also loved earthy reds and yellows.
Small shelving ran all the way around the top of the kitchen cupboards rammed with hand-made pots, pitchers and old dried hops. A rail with hooks attached to the bottom held more brightly coloured mugs and cups. Sallie had never seen so many hooks or mugs in her life, and at every turn there were more little trinkets.
On the other wall, a large pinboard with hundreds of photographs and postcards from what looked like years and years of memories looked like it could at any time topple to the floor and in the middle of the back wall a huge old cream Aga sat neatly back in a recessed alcove covered in laundry, an old-fashioned kettle and storage jars spilling out with wooden spoons and utensils.
Shane looked at Sallie and smiled.
‘I’m getting the vibes you’re liking it.’ He chuckled and looked at her, ‘As soon as I saw it I thought of you.’
They came back out of the kitchen and went up the first set of stairs - the old bannister was knocked and bumped with paint peeling off showing signs of years’ worth of wear. Deep skirting boards were knocked and worn and the window on the first landing was covered with a heavy linen curtain printed with yellow and black tigers. Where did you even purchase fabric like that? Sallie thought as they turned the corner on the landing and went up the next few steps to the first floor.
The first bedroom with stripped floors housed a huge bay window with the sea in the distance, the roofs of the Old Town of Pretty Beach and the black hung tiles of a neighbouring house. Ash from the large marble fireplace spilled out onto the grate and thick, bright pink velveteen curtains were held back from the sash windows with an orange tassel and thick plaited cord.
To the right, a doorway had been removed leading into a small ensuite bathroom with a green roll top bath sitting in front of another marble fireplace with taps coming out through the middle of the floor.
Sallie walked over to the window. The sea topped the view of the tiled rooftops and chimney pots of the old houses in front that lined the way to the wharf.
They continued up the next set of stairs, looking at each of the floors and walked all the way up to the top floor and leading off one of the bedrooms Shane opened a pair of shutters and double doors to a small, timber balcony. They stepped out and Sallie gasped - it was like they were on top of the world. The spire of Pretty Beach’s flint church could be seen to the right and two old directors' chairs looked hopefully out to sea. The freezing cold, icy air all around them didn't stop them from staring out to
the ocean.
‘This would be a nice spot in the Summer, hey?’ Shane observed as a gust of cold wind came in and they all shivered.
‘Nice? This is like the place of my dreams!’ Sallie replied.
‘I knew it as soon as I got the call,’ Shane replied. ‘You need to know all about it though - there’s definitely damp and the plaster outside is a problem - it’s not a small job.’
‘Yeah, and the decor,’ Sallie replied.
Both Shane and Ben looked at her and laughed.
‘What? It’s horrendous. It’s no small job to paint and decorate a place of this size.’
‘True,’ Shane replied. ‘It’s so rare for one of these to come up over this side of Pretty Beach though.’
‘I don’t think I’ve seen one like this since I’ve been here Shane, and trust me, I’ve been looking,’ Sallie replied, holding onto the railing of the balcony.
‘Oh no, definitely not - not in the last five years as far as I know, unless another one snuck on without me knowing. I’m going to check the records later and look for a price comparison.’ Shane said, nodding his head in agreement.
Sallie leant gingerly over the railing to the garden three floors below. Everything was overgrown and similar to the interior; every available surface littered with terracotta pots, carved timber hangings and an old orange hammock with green tassels was strung between two trees.
She squinted down to the end to an old timber building, which may have at one point been a Summer House; it was now painted a deep bottle green, covered in ivy and climbing plants and the panes of glass in the doors were either missing or cracked and half falling out.
‘It’s like a secret garden down there,’ she said and both men peered down at the walled garden.
Winter at Pretty Beach Page 17