by Emma Davies
Grace beamed at her response. ‘Thank you. It’s what you said about the house that helped me make up my mind,’ she said. ‘I know how living there makes me feel and so I thought that if it does that for me it might be the same for other people too. How lovely to be able to offer that feeling to anyone who wants it.’ She broke off to pull a face. ‘They’d have to pay for it of course, I’m not that altruistic… But I also tried to think of things that might make what I’m offering a bit different from everyone else and so I wondered whether offering guests the chance to learn about beekeeping might work, or gardening.’ She looked directly at Flora. ‘Even floristry…’
Flora could barely contain herself. ‘And if we had somewhere here on the farm that we could turn into a practical space for people to learn those things, practise them as well, in a relaxed setting, offering refreshments maybe…’
She was thinking as she spoke, but Amos could see that much of it was a description of a dream she’d already had. There was a low chuckle from beside him.
‘Shame we don’t have anywhere like that.’
Amos turned to see a teasing grin on Fraser’s face. ‘Good lord, lass, did you really think I hadn’t noticed you sneaking off to the milking sheds every spare minute of the day?’
Flora rolled her eyes and looked at Amos. ‘What did I tell you? Bat ears… and bionic eyes too.’ Then she grinned at Fraser.
‘But what do you think, Dad?’ asked Ned. ‘Amos took a look at the shed this morning and it wouldn’t take much to convert them and—’
Fraser held up his hand. ‘As if I could even try and stop you,’ he said. ‘When that girl there gets the bit between her teeth, there’s no stopping her.’ He winked at Flora. ‘But I think it’s a splendid idea,’ he added. ‘And there’s no one more deserving of a little help than you, Grace. I reckon we might have a bit of a battle on our hands, but you’ll not lose your house, not if we have anything to do with it.’
‘It’s so exciting!’ exclaimed Flora, squirming.
‘I’m frankly terrified,’ replied Grace, but a little light had come back to her eyes and Amos nodded.
‘Nothing wrong with fear,’ he said. ‘It’s the place where courage is born.’
Amos met Evan Porter at the top of the drive, stepping to one side to make way for the huge car to pass him and then following as it swept around in front of the house to park. Amos was at the vehicle’s side before the agent was even ready to open the door.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Porter, Sir. A fine day, is it not?’ Amos pulled the car door open and stood with a deferential stoop, waiting until the agent had collected his things together and climbed out.
Evan frowned as he straightened. ‘Indeed, Mr… er…?’
‘Fry, Sir,’ replied Amos. ‘Or Amos if you prefers.’ He stood back. ‘Mrs Maynard said I was to keep a look out for you around two, so I thought to myself best not make a start on the mowing just yet or I might miss you. Wouldn’t be able to hear the car, see, on account of the noise the mower makes. Big thing it is.’ He scratched his head. ‘Anyway, I promised I’d take good care of you… Would you like to come with me, Sir, that’s it, right this way…’
Amos took a couple of paces backwards, indicating that Evan should walk on ahead of him. The agent glanced up at the house and then back at Amos.
‘Mrs Maynard is inside, is she?’
‘Ooooh, no, she couldn’t bear it, could she? That’s why I’m here,’ replied Amos, pointing at his chest. ‘I’ve got the keys here, somewhere…’ He made a show of fishing in his pockets.
Evan looked down at his clipboard. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘It’s just that I spoke to Mrs Maynard on the telephone this morning, and I was led to believe that she would be here.’
‘Aye, well, yes she would say that, wouldn’t she? ’Cause she’s far too polite to say anything else, but getting herself in a right state she was ’cause she don’t want to go. In the end I had to say to her, “Missus Maynard, it’s not right to be getting yourself all ruffled up, not when there’s really no need.” There’s only one person knows this place as well as she does and that’s me. No disrespect or nothing, but Mr Maynard, well, he’s never really here and he doesn’t take a right lot of interest when he is.’ Amos flashed a huge smile. ‘So, I said I’d be very happy to show you round.’
‘There’s really no need…’ Evan’s smile was cool. ‘I’m familiar with the layout of the house obviously and today I just need to take measurements and so on. I’m sure you have things you need to be getting on with.’
‘Aye, I do…’ Amos appeared to think about his words for a few seconds, but then he screwed up his face. ‘No, it wouldn’t be right. A promise is a promise, so I reckon we’d best get on with it. Where would you like to start?’
At best Amos had ten minutes to familiarise himself with the layout of the house before the estate agent had arrived, but it had been enough for him to understand even more keenly why Grace couldn’t bear to let it go. He could see her warm-hearted personality everywhere he looked; every small touch that brought comfort to the airy rooms, a friendliness and homely feel to what might otherwise have appeared stark. The furnishings, like Grace, were elegant, simple and stylish, and there were flowers everywhere. He strode confidently down the hallway.
‘Come along to the kitchen then,’ he said, beckoning. ‘Everyone always heads for the kitchen first, don’t they? And right fancy it is too.’
Evan paused, a Dictaphone now held in his left hand. ‘I’ll start at the front door if you don’t mind.’
Amos looked around him. ‘Oh, right you are… so the hallway… and then the kitchen.’
Evan ignored him.
‘And don’t forget to make a note of that there,’ said Amos, pointing to a large botanical wall-hanging. ‘Only Missus Maynard made that. Right proud she is of it too, and who can blame her? Properly gorgeous, I reckon.’ He smiled.
There was a curt nod. ‘Yes, it’s very stylish. But I don’t need to make a note of it Mr… er, Fry, because it’s not actually included in the sale. Not a fixture or fitting.’ He exhaled loudly. ‘What I’m here to do is to describe the accommodation, and take measurements and photographs.’
‘I see…’
‘So I don’t really need to know details like that, even though I’m sure Mrs Maynard is very proud of it.’
Amos did his best crestfallen impression. ‘Oh… but then perhaps you could make sure you get it in the photograph? I think she’d like that, show it off, like…?’
Another gadget was removed from Evan’s pocket.
‘Perhaps if you could just stand to one side so I can record the width here?’
Amos moved a foot to his right. ‘About here okay?’
There was a loud sigh.
‘Mr Fry—’
‘Amos… I reckon it’s okay to call me that.’
‘Mr Fry,’ Evan insisted. ‘I think it’s best if perhaps you could just let me get on. That way we’ll get this done a lot quicker and easier. I’ll ask if I have a question…’
Amos frowned. ‘Right you are then,’ he replied. He planted his feet and took up a stance a little distance away with his hands held behind his back. Then he picked a spot on the opposite wall and stared at it. He didn’t move for about a minute but then he turned his head to stare at Evan, following his every move. The moment the agent looked up and caught his eye, Amos snapped his gaze away, back to the spot on the wall. He couldn’t remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so much.
After perhaps another ten minutes, which included taking the details of the cloakroom, Evan moved off down the hallway. Amos practically galloped past him.
‘Right, the kitchen now, is it?’ he panted, taking up an almost identical stance in the middle of the room. ‘Now don’t forget—’ he began.
Evan held up his hand.
‘Or, the—’
A glare this time.
Amos could keep this up all day.
‘Mr Fry… As I really
don’t wish to capture the essence of this beautiful room with you standing in the middle of the photograph, please could you move?’
Amos moved as if to stand by the wall.
‘Over here… behind me.’ There was an exasperated sigh.
By the time Evan had finished taking the details of the ground floor, he looked fit to burst. Amos, on the other hand, was finding it harder and harder to keep from laughing and had to cough on a couple of occasions to hide his mirth. It was too cruel, Amos knew that, but there was something much bigger at stake here and Grace needed all the help she could get.
He eased off the act a little as they toured the upstairs, but only because Amos wanted Evan to feel relatively comfortable again. After all, he was saving his pièce de résistance for the garden…
They had been in the garage block, looked at the storage sheds and greenhouse, and toured the patio area and flower beds around the area of garden closest to the house. Amos was sure that Evan had taken some beautiful photos of the garden and its sumptuous lawns. He also knew, however, that the best view was from the area of garden where it began to slope away, down to the flower field, past the bees…
They had just got to the top, in among the apple trees, when Amos suddenly ran in front of Evan, and raised his hand in the air. He stood waiting patiently, a hopeful look on his face. The agent was doing his best to ignore Amos, fiddling with the settings on his camera, and so Amos stretched his hand higher and waggled it, looking for all the world like he was about to burst.
‘Yes, Amos… what is it?’ came the weary voice.
‘Sorry, Mr Porter, Sir. I know you said to be quiet, but I can’t stand by and let you just carry on. I’d hate for anything to happen to you, that wouldn’t be right at all… and, oh dear…’ He cocked his head to the side as if listening for something. ‘Can you hear that?’
Evan gave a tentative glance down the garden and then, with a dismissive shake of his head, began to walk forwards. Amos ran in front of him again, arm raised high. Evan stopped dead.
‘What?’ he snapped, his irritation starting to show.
Amos looked hurt. ‘It’s just that the bees…’ He rubbed his neck.
‘Bees…?’
‘Aye… In a right proper temper they were this morning, and by the sounds of things they don’t sound much happier now. Trouble is, you need to go right down by ’em to get the best photos of the view…’
Evan swallowed.
‘I tell you what though,’ offered Amos. ‘I could go down first and see what I can do. They’re used to me, see, and I might be able to calm them down a bit…’
‘But no one mentioned anything about bees.’
‘Didn’t they?’ asked Amos, scratching his head. ‘Oh… well, yes, there’s bees all right, hundreds of ’em, thousands probably. Three huge hives… they’re normally all right, but it’s a busy time of year for ’em and tempers get a bit frayed, plus of course they’re due to swarm any day now.’
Evan took a step backwards.
‘I’ll go,’ said Amos. ‘I’m sure it will be fine… You best wait here.’ Amos moved off cautiously. ‘It’s all right, ladies,’ he said softly. ‘It’s only old Amos… Just passing through, no need to get your knickers in a twist.’
He waited until he knew he was out of sight and then leaned up against a tree trunk for a moment, his shoulders silently heaving with laughter. He turned his face to the sky and listened to the birdsong, aware that there was a gentle hum in the background, but if anything it sounded even happier than it had the day before. A good five minutes passed before he even contemplated returning to where they had been standing before.
He approached Evan, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. ‘Lord, that was a mite scary for a minute,’ he said. ‘But it’s okay… I think we’ll be safe to go down now. We had a good chat, and I explained what you was here for and that they weren’t to have a problem with you. They usually do listen.’
Evan stared at him. ‘You talked to the bees? Really?’
Amos stared right back. ‘Aye, well what else do you do?’ He paused, looking Evan up and down. ‘Oh, I get it,’ he said. ‘You think I’m just some old country bumpkin who’s a bit soft in the head, don’t you? Well, I might be, but I know a thing or two about bees, Mr Porter, and one thing I do know is that you tread very carefully around angry bees. I’ve seen what they can do…’ He left his sentence unfinished and stood his ground.
Evan shuffled his feet. ‘Perhaps if I show you how the camera works you could take one or two shots for me. It’s really quite simple.’
Amos sniffed and peered at the instrument as if it were on fire. ‘No, I don’t reckon so,’ he replied. ‘I’m not good with things like that.’ And then he softened his expression. ‘Come on, lad, I’ll take you down,’ he said in resigned fashion. ‘It’ll be all right, I’m sure.’ He took a couple of paces forward. ‘Just stay on my right-hand side until I tell you,’ he added.
And in that fashion, with arms held wide to the sides forming a ‘protective’ barrier, Amos shepherded Evan down the slope and past the bees, stopping every now and again to listen before waving him on. After they were well clear of the hives, Amos cautiously lowered his arms and gestured at the view.
‘Right, best take your pictures, and then we’ll get back,’ he said, letting Evan know in no uncertain terms that the bees could only be held at bay for so long.
With one ear cocked for the sound of an approaching swarm, Evan did just that, firing off several photos before practically running back up the slope.
Amos walked across the lawns with him.
‘There now, that weren’t so bad, was it?’ He smiled. ‘And worth it for the view, I reckon. There’s not a finer spot around here.’ He shielded his eyes from the sun and gazed around the garden. ‘Well, I dunno about Missus Maynard, but it’s going to fair break my heart leaving this place an’ all…’
Evan fiddled with his camera, trying to replace the lens cap.
‘Indeed… Well, I think that’s all I need for now. I had best get back and make a start on the details. The sooner they’re done the sooner we can offer this beautiful house for sale.’
Just like that, thought Amos. He knew that Evan had a job to do, but if Amos had felt any remorse for the show he had just put on over the last half hour or so, it departed pretty quickly. The agent clearly felt no compassion for Grace’s circumstances. Too busy thinking about his commission most likely.
Amos nodded sadly. ‘Aye, I suppose you must,’ he replied. ‘I’ll see you off.’
‘There’s really no need, I can find my own way.’
‘I’m sure you can but, like I said before, a promise is a promise. I promised Missus Maynard that I’d be here for when you came, and in my book that means both greeting you and seeing you off the premises.’ He held the agent’s look and they walked back to Evan’s car in silence.
Just before climbing in, Evan consulted his clipboard once more, checking the detail on the page.
‘Just one more thing before I go, Mr Fry… I don’t seem to have a note of who will be showing prospective purchasers around. I’m not really at liberty to discuss it with you, but perhaps you could pass on a message to Mrs Maynard and tell her that with properties such as these we recommend that someone from our office attends.’ He plucked a business card from the top of the clipboard and handed it to Amos. ‘If Mrs Maynard could call me to discuss it, I’d be very appreciative.’
Amos stared at the card. ‘Well, I’ll tell her… but I can’t rightly see her wanting to show folks around, can you? Probably best if I do it for her, I reckon, save her from fretting, but I’ll certainly pass on your message, Mr Porter.’ Amos gave him his best cooperative smile.
Evan got in the car and drove off without saying another word.
10
‘You said what?’ said Grace, waving her hand. ‘Oh no, don’t tell me, don’t make me laugh any more, it hurts…’
They were sitting on the patio just b
eyond Grace’s kitchen, enjoying a cup of coffee in the evening sun. Grace had spent most of the last ten minutes bent double with laughter as she listened to Amos regale her with the events of the afternoon.
‘Oh, Amos, you’re a genius,’ she said, wiping the moisture from underneath her eyes. ‘I just wish I had been there to see it in person. I can’t get the image of the estate agent out of my head, creeping gingerly past the beehives with you trying to shepherd the bees out of his way. As if you could.’
‘His face was a picture,’ agreed Amos. ‘I’m really not sure what he thought was going to happen, but his imagination was certainly working overtime.’ He reached forward to pick up his coffee cup and took a sip. ‘Whether any of it will have made any difference, I have no idea, but it was worth a try.’
‘I can’t thank you enough,’ replied Grace. ‘Just the fact that you did it makes me feel less helpless, like I have some control over what’s happening. That’s not a feeling I’m all that familiar with, at least not where my husband is concerned anyway.’
She was about to continue but then closed her mouth again. Amos didn’t need to hear any more.
‘And I also need to thank for you all of this,’ she added, indicating the pile of chocolate bars on the table, one of which had already been eaten. ‘It was such a lovely thought.’
‘I have a terribly sweet tooth, I’m afraid,’ admitted Amos. ‘Delivering these here without having eaten any first showed considerable restraint on my part…’ He picked up another bar. ‘Fruit and Nut, or Galaxy?’ he asked.
Grace pursed her lips. ‘Oh, Galaxy please…’
Since lunchtime when Amos had first put forward his suggestion of showing around the estate agent, Grace had spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about this man. It had seemed a perfectly sensible suggestion to start with and yet the moment she had watched him leave to go back to the house without her she had begun to question herself. So much so that, by the time they had arranged to meet up afterwards for a ‘debrief’ as Amos put it, she had convinced herself that she needed to politely withdraw from his offer of help. And then he had appeared, arms loaded with half a dozen different chocolate bars, laughing that, while it was not quite her body weight, it was the best he could come up with at short notice. It was such a thoughtful gesture that she hadn’t been able to say a word. Since then, they had shared a simple meal, a coffee and made a pretty good start on the chocolate. Sitting, laughing in the sun, had been the perfect end to the day. It had been effortless, in fact, and now Grace was beginning to wonder why that was.
