Lulu felt more than disillusioned. In fact, she was ever-so-slightly close to panic, and her to-do list had gone from cleaning the house and starting her new job to a list as long as her arm just to be able to sort out somewhere for her and Mabel to sleep for the night. Right at that moment, the leather interior of her Audi was looking a whole lot more attractive.
There was one thing that was for sure; her dream of floating around in a white linen dress, French market basket over her arm, and strolling down to the sea for a cup of tea in a local cafe had evaporated in the amount of time it had taken her to walk up the front path of Seafolly House.
Willow was correct, as usual: the house was barely habitable. What was she going to do? Where was she going to start?
Lulu bent down and stroked Mabel’s soft, silky fur and thought about what she had said to herself in the car about moving to Pretty Beach and life not getting any worse. Right now, though, looking at the rundown state of Seafolly House, while life was not exactly worse, it was most definitely daunting.
Goodness! What the heck was I even thinking? She thought to herself and then quickly pulled herself up, trying to stop the barrage of negative thoughts she knew were coming.
She’d done it. She’d sold the house she’d lived in for the past ten years, paid off all the debts, moved to the other side of the country, and was right on the cusp of a new life by the sea. She had to remain positive. It was time to look forward.
Picking her way gingerly down what would once have been a white shingle path with Mabel at her side, Lulu got to the end and opened the little picket gate which led to a further garden sloping down to a narrow shingle beach. A tiny old boathouse over a rickety timber jetty stood on the right, and a pile of fly-tipped tyres were piled up on the left.
Squinting down the unmade lane to the right, Lulu looked at the line of old shops looking out over the sea. A tiny little kiosk in the middle was also part of the inheritance with a rental lease about to come to an end. Just able to make out a purple shop sign across the top, Lulu wondered what on earth would come of that.
With Mabel at her side, she turned and looked back at the house, the overgrown garden, the thick brambles suffocating an old wall, the weeds and wild grasses rustling in the breeze coming in off the sea, and the scalloped shingle cladding in desperate need of repair. It did not look good, but it was a new start.
Putting her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun, Lulu nodded to herself and made a pact with the doubting Thomas voice in the back of her head. Faced with the reality of the near-derelict house by the sea, she wasn’t quite sure how long the journey would take, or more importantly, how and when it would end, but Lulu Drinkwater knew one thing; she was determined to make Seafolly House her new home.
Whatever it took, she was going to put Fenton, the debt, the heartache, and the sadness behind her and take her new life in Pretty Beach and give it a good go.
2
Lulu looked into a filthy, oversized mirror propped up on the mantelpiece in the sitting room of Seafolly House and then down at her cream, exceedingly expensive, rescued-from-her-old-life, crew neck jumper, pale cropped trousers, and the just-so nude beige sky-high heels. She gazed back up into the mirror.
‘Not quite the beach house one was thinking?’ she said to the reflection peering back at her.
‘No. In my new house by the sea, I thought there might have been a nice kitchen with a bottle of wine chilling in the fridge, a chair on the terrace to lounge in as the sun goes down. Possibly a four-poster bed just waiting with crisply pressed thousand thread count sheets and matching white linens.’
‘You didn’t factor in the nest of wasps by the back door, the mouldy floorboards, and the boarded-up windows?’ she replied to the reflection.
Lulu stared back at herself and tucked a stray piece of her hair back into her immaculately styled French pleat. ‘No, mould wasn’t part of the Pretty Beach daydream.’
Mabel looked up as Lulu continued to talk to herself, sat down beside her, and looked as glum as Lulu felt.
In Lulu’s mind, the place was meant to be brimming with potential. A little bit of cleaning to do, sure, but with a few fresh coats of paint, some of the candles from her accessories business Lovely Little Things, a quick mow of the lawn, a bit of weeding, and trimming of a few trees and her new life in Pretty Beach would start with a bang.
In reality, Lulu was looking in the eye of sleeping somewhere surrounded by stale air and damp walls or, quite possibly, in her car. Everywhere in the house amounted to many years of neglect, damp, possible structural problems by the looks of the cracks in the walls, and a garden which resembled a jungle more than it did a lovely little lawn area shelving gently down to the sea.
Lulu took out her phone and sent a message to her friend Ava, who lived in New York. Lulu had met Ava in a hotel bar in London one night not long after she’d first moved to London, they’d drunk way too much wine together, and had been friends ever since.
I’ve arrived. Errrm. It’s not quite as I thought.
Lulu waited for the reply to come in.
Oh. I’ve been waiting to hear from you! Glad you arrived safely after that drive. So, what’s it like, then?
How many swear words do you want?
Oh no. That bad?
Worse. MUCH worse!
Ava lived in a huge farmhouse in upstate New York, owned a mansion in the Hamptons and a house in New York City, ran a thriving coaching business, and had just about everything in her life together.
Right. Hmm. Oh, dear. Send me some pics.
I don’t know if I can bring myself to. Willow said it wasn’t habitable. She was correct. I should have listened to her.
Are you trying to put me off from coming to visit? Ava typed back adding a winking emoticon.
Hahahah. I only wish that were true and that was my reason. It really is bad.
You’ll be fine. I know it.
You think?
Yes!
I wish you were here to share a glass of wine with me. You would get me through this.
Not long until my bi-annual pilgrimage to Blighty and my conference! The Ava Richardson show strikes again ;)
I can’t wait. I just feel so worried about everything now I’m here. It’s AWFUL.
Trust me. You’ll be okay.
Thanks. I just feel, I dunno, really alone now. It’s hit me like a tonne of bricks seeing the state of this place.
You’ve got me. Your friend who is rooting for you who now lives in the good old USA.
I do, thank goodness. Thanks, Ava.
Do you want me to send you anything to help? I can do a direct transfer?
Thanks, but you know I’m going to say no.
YUP! Look, gotta go. I’ll Facetime you in a few days and you can show me it all properly. Remember. You’re free of that lying scumbag and going to give it a go on your own.
Lulu knew what was coming next. Ava’s warrior chant. The Ava Richardson warrior chant that had elevated her onto the international coaching stage and made her more money than she could ever have dreamed of.
Who are we? We are confident, capable, independent women who can do it on our own.
Yes. I’ll try to keep that in mind. We are. Onwards!
Lulu put her phone in her pocket and continued her tour of the house. Right at that second, she didn’t feel confident or independent, certainly not capable and had little choice but to do it on her own.
‘Right, Mabel, let’s have a look and see where we’re going to sleep in this place. At least we have many rooms to choose from. It’s not quite London sized down here,’ Lulu said as she walked back into the vast wide hallway and tested her weight on the first stair. The old timber creaked and groaned but didn’t budge and she carefully walked up the sweeping stairs to the first-floor landing.
The first floor was actually worse, if that was at all possible, than what she’d found downstairs. Heavy panelled doors led off a galleried landing each one more depressing than
the first. Lulu opened the door of the room facing the sea at the back of the house. Wallpaper peeled off the walls, old swirly carpeting from the seventies ran wall-to-wall, and a door had come off its hinges in the corner.
Lulu stepped across the squeaking floorboards wondering what she would find and as she peered around the doorframe in the corner she raised her eyebrows in surprise as she looked in.
Well I never.
In the centre of a large room, a dull copper bath, stained and tarnished, looked as if it had seen better days, but anyone would have been able to see that in its heyday it must have been glorious. With its view out to sea and beautiful old taps coming up and over from the floorboards, it had the potential for great things.
A large antique marble fireplace to the right was covered in what looked like mud and soot from years of storms bringing debris down the chimney, and the French paned windows matching the ones in the kitchen didn’t do justice to the view of the sea outside.
Lulu walked over to the bath, turned a tap, waited about five seconds as she gazed down into mouldy gunge circling the plughole, and looked over to the pedestal sink on the right. Though the bathroom was far from ready for someone to have a long, hot soak surrounded in soft bubbles with a book propped up in the middle, the copper clawfoot tub was the only bright spot on the whole of the first floor, with most of the bedrooms barely habitable.
Lulu didn’t even bother going up to the next floor. ‘Okay, Mabel. So that’s the end of that idea then. Neither of us can sleep up here. These rooms need a hazmat suit to enter, let alone sleep in,’ Lulu said as she led Mabel back down the sweeping staircase into the hallway and opened the door next to the sitting room which, by the looks of the bookcases, must have been a study.
Of all the rooms, it had the least problems. The walls sported antique wallpaper and, happily, a distinct lack of mould. The beautiful timber bookcases wore yellowed paint but wouldn’t take long to clean and the lino on the floor lifted to reveal untouched and dusty, but in fairly good condition floorboards underneath.
Lulu muttered to herself and decided that she would start with the small study. Then she wasn’t entirely sure what her plan of action would be. The state of the place had completely thrown her. She had limited resources, a small handful of friends, one sister, and a house that needed every single bit of it renovated. And a very limited budget.
Deciding to take it all bit by bit, she shut the study door on Mabel to keep her safe and walked out towards the car to bring in her cleaning supplies, vacuum, bucket and mop.
One step at a time and a new life by the sea.
3
Lulu opened the boot of her car, took one look at her cleaning bucket, and laughed. Oh, how naive I was. The sprays of all-purpose domestic cleaner, humongous packet of flimsy dishcloths, bottles of bleach and grapefruit scented bathroom spray now looked pathetic compared to the job in hand. She looked up at the house as she crossed the road.
How very suburban of me and my fancy fruit-flavoured sprays.
As the scalloped shingling dangled in the wind, she decided that industrial strength cleaners and hospital-grade disinfectant wouldn't even cut it in this place. It needed a SWAT team to zap it from above. She would happily place a bet that some people would even think it was more beneficial to knock the whole house down and start again.
Propping the front door open with the bucket of cleaning equipment, Lulu walked back to the car, got in, turned the car around, contemplated driving over the weeds onto what she assumed was the driveway, thought better of it, and parked directly opposite the front path.
Taking in the vacuum, a tote bag neatly packed with old work clothes, a blow-up bed and a duvet, she closed the door and nodded. ‘Right,’ she said, scooting over the hallway and opening the study door to Mabel who was looking up expectantly, wondering just quite where she had been left. ‘Let’s get this party started.’
Lulu propped the door open and tentatively let Mabel look around and explore, hoping she wouldn’t find anything too dangerous. Carefully removing her cream jumper, dry clean only trousers, and shoes, she grimaced to herself as dust flew up from the floor.
As the cream clothes came off and were carefully folded up into the bag, it was like she’d just removed her old, very nice, scented with curated perfumes and expensive candles life, and put it away in the bag with her clothes. Her old existence complete with nice clothes and expensive things was to be replaced with another life. One where mould and grime were very much more evident than cleaning products with essential oils.
Lulu had foolishly thought in her new house in Pretty Beach she would be spending time on a deck down by the sea, that she would sit on the first-floor balcony in the evenings watching the boats and the sun go down. She would mooch around the huge handmade kitchen with a glass of wine in flowing soft clothes, and her new coastal lifestyle would be airy, comfortable, and divine. She had imagined herself like one of the women in the coastal lifestyle magazines that used to sit unused in a perpendicular stack on her coffee table.
The reality of the old house and the dusty, dank air in the study wasn’t quite in the daydream she had envisaged as she’d driven along the motorway out of London before she’d turned off for the coastal road.
Lulu stood with her hands on her hips, shaking her head and wondering where to start. After running her hands along the shelves and kneeling on the floor to examine under the lino, she tried to remain positive and not get out her credit card (that’s if her credit card still worked) and book a night in the Pretty Beach Sandy Hotel. The same hotel where she was starting work in a few weeks’ time as a housekeeper.
As Lulu had got to work she’d thought about her life. Forty-two years old and with nothing to show for it but a bucket of cleaning products and a whole lot of disappointment.
I’m going to put my life back together. This house and this woman are going on a journey to independence one mouldy old room at a time. Confident, capable, independent!
Two hours later and wearing ridiculously inappropriate-for-the-job-in-hand thin latex gloves and a tea towel tied around her head as a makeshift face mask, Lulu had removed most of the lino, dragged it through the hallway, and shoved it onto the weeds on the front driveway.
She’d thanked her lucky stars that Willow had asked the local electrician to come in and check the electrics and had set up all the utilities. At least she had power and water. Lulu had cleaned and scrubbed and run the vacuum for nearly an hour until it was full of what felt like hundreds of years full of dust.
Opening the huge French windows to the side, fresh air gushed in, sunshine made a patch on the floor, and even Mabel, who had been sitting politely in the hallway not interested in getting involved, had got up and taken up a new position snoozing by the French doors.
Just as Lulu stood taking in the fresh air billowing in through the windows, her phone pinged in her pocket. She pulled off the gloves and took her phone out to see a message from her sister Willow.
How are you getting on????? How was the drive?
Yeah, Wills, the drive was fine. The house is not.
I did try to tell you. At least the electricity is working now and the water is on.
Thanks for that. Sorry to sound ungrateful. It’s terrible.
That’s why I begged you to let me get the professionals in.
I told you, I’m not taking charity.
Willow sent back an eye-roll emoticon.
It’s not charity. Grrrrr. Anyway, sorry I can’t be there. Typical that you move in while we’re over here. Have you made it into the garage yet?
You’re joking! I wasn’t even prepared to park on the drive!
Right. I know, you said not to, but I ignored you. The inside of the garage has been cleared out and cleaned, plus there are a few things in there for you.
A few things? Like what?
You’ll find out when you get in there.
Wills, I told you not to do anything for me. I am perfectly capable of copi
ng with all of this on my own.
And I told you I am helping you. If you won’t take my money, then I’ll find other ways.
You’re too good to me.
No. I’m not. Mum told me to look after you when she went and that useless father of ours is more interested in his new family, so it’s not like you have your dad around the corner to come and give you a hand.
True.
I take it you’ve not heard from him. You know, I thought he might have offered to help you on the day you move into Pretty Beach - that’s what most fathers would do. Oh, no, hang on his new family takes up his time, and one day ‘when we are older’ we will understand. He’s just so very busy. So, so busy. Much busier than other people. He has so much more on his plate than anyone else.
Nope. Not a word. I’m not exactly holding my breath, though. This is the man who when he misses my fortieth birthday pretends that the five-star hotel he is staying at doesn’t have any internet as his excuse as to why he didn’t send me a card, a gift or even a text message.
Ahhh! Don’t remind me of that. So horrible. We shouldn’t even be talking about him.
Ha. No dramas. No, he hasn’t called me let alone offered to help. Thanks. I’ll go and look in the garage.
Yep. I’ll get back to my sun lounger. Have to love a bit of St Barts afternoon sun.
Don’t. I can’t even imagine what it’s like.
Hahhahah. OK. I’ll check in with you later. xxxoxo
Lulu ran her hand along the painted bookshelves. The dust was now mostly in the canister of the vacuum cleaner. Now to see how the designer grapefruit spray would go on the dirt itself.
Using an abandoned old chair she’d found upside down in the garden near the door to the shed, Lulu had cleaned from the top of the bookshelves down. The multipack of dishcloths she had thought would last her until the end of the year were nearly gone by the time she reached the cupboard doors at the bottom.
Another hour of vacuuming in corners and skirting boards, and then cleaning the windows, and Lulu looked around. It was just about passable. After she’d got the mop and bucket out of the car and disinfected, she hoped that it would not only be clean but smelling better too. The air bed and Mabel’s bed would fit snugly under the window, and with any luck, everything would look a lot better after a night’s sleep.
Lovely Little Things in Pretty Beach : A magical feel-good romance book to escape with in summer 2021. Page 2
