by Susan Lewis
Lucy’s heart tripped pleasurably. ‘I guess I should,’ she replied, and scooping up the receiver she felt a flutter of excitement as she said, ‘Cromstone Auctions, can I help you?’
‘Mm, now that doesn’t sound like Maureen or Daphne,’ a male voice remarked at the other end of the line.
‘No, this is Daphne’s daughter, Lucy,’ she told him, looking at her mother.
‘Ah, Lucy, you’ve arrived. Excellent. It’s Michael Givens here. I’m sorry we haven’t managed to meet yet. My fault entirely. I’ve been in Italy for the past month, but I believe congratulations are in order. My partner tells me everything’s now been signed over to you.’
Remembering that Michael Givens was the head of the law firm that had overseen the transfer of ownership of the business and farmhouse, Lucy said, ‘Oh yes, hello Michael. It’s good to hear from you. As far as I’m aware there are a couple more things for me to sign. I’ve got the details in an email somewhere. I’ll dig it out and call your office to make an appointment to come in and do it.’
‘Very good. I’ll try to be here when you come so we can at least say hello. Now, would your mother be around? I’d like a quick word if she is.’
‘She’s right here, I’ll pass you over.’
As her mother took the phone Lucy became aware of other voices outside besides Hanna’s, and went to the window to investigate. It turned out to be a couple of tourists, judging from the guidebook and camera, and she could only wonder what Hanna was saying since they both appeared highly entertained.
‘… so we just arrived today,’ Hanna was informing the Mckenzies, ‘and now here I am stuck in the back of flipping beyond with no friends, nothing to do, nowhere to go … I’m sorry, but anyone who wants to live around here seriously needs their head read.’
John’s eyes were twinkling merrily. ‘I’m sure they do,’ he agreed. ‘And would you happen to know yet which school you’ll be going to?’
Hanna heaved a dejected sigh and rolled her eyes. ‘Maiden Bradley,’ she replied sourly. ‘Sounds such fun, doesn’t it? Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re teachers.’
‘We’re not,’ Philippa assured her.
Apparently relieved, Hanna said, ‘You are so lucky you’re not my age.’
‘Must be hell,’ John sympathised.
‘But I’d have thought getting involved in the auctions would be quite interesting,’ Philippa ventured.
‘Oh yeah, like riveting, provided you’re into piles of junk, because that’s what most of it is. My mother, of course, likes to refer to it all as antiques, but she’s someone who really needs to get a life.’
John’s eyebrows rose. ‘That’s quite a sales technique you’ve got going there,’ he commented.
Hanna scowled, until realising she was being teased she started to smile. ‘Actually, I’m still working on it,’ she assured him, tossing her hair over one shoulder, ‘but I’m glad you think it’s coming along. So how long have you lived around here? I don’t remember seeing you before.’
‘As a matter of fact, we’ve just moved in,’ Philippa told her. ‘We’ve rented the Mercer’s house at the bottom end of the village. The Old Lodge. Do you know it?’
Hanna tilted her head to one side. ‘Is it the big one, just past where you turn off for the farm shop?’
‘That’s the one. So we’re all newcomers, it seems, though obviously you’ve been a regular visitor up to now.’
‘Yeah, ever since Granny and Grandpa bought the business, which was about five or six years ago. He was in insurance before, and they lived all over the country because he was in charge of setting up new offices. Mum used to hate it when she was growing up, because she never really got to make any friends. Granny didn’t like it much either, but she’d never say so, because Granny never complains. It was Mum who told me that. Anyway, getting into antiques was something Granny always wanted to do, so when Grandpa retired he said it was her turn to choose where they lived and what they did, and this,’ she fanned out her hands, ‘is it.’
John and Philippa cast admiring glances over the sleepy-looking farmhouse with its grey slate roof and riot of climbing plants of all varieties and colours. To the right, sloping away to the woods below, was a lush sweep of lawn, while to the left a high stone wall with a gated arch appeared to front a small cluster of buildings.
‘Is the saleroom around there?’ Philippa asked.
‘Yeah, that’s it over there,’ Hanna replied, pointing to the roof of the barn. ‘To get to it you can either go further up this lane and take the next turning on the right, or you can go through the arch just there into Steptoe’s yard at the back – that’s what Dad calls it, anyway. Mum and Granny like to call it the quadrangle, or courtyard, because it sounds posher. Duh! The offices are out there too. They used to be cowsheds, would you believe, but luckily they don’t stink any more, and there’s another little barn at the far end that no one’s ever bothered to convert, so it does stink. I’ve been thinking about moving in there and rotting away along with everything else. I might just as well for all the action I’m going to see around here.’
John chuckled at that, which brought a look of surprise to Hanna’s eyes.
‘No one ever laughs at my jokes,’ she said. ‘Apart from my dad, but he’s my dad so he would. And I suppose Mum does too, sometimes. Ben, that’s my brother, thinks I’m hilarious, or that’s what he says and he thinks it’s soooo funny when he does. Not! He flew off to Thailand this morning to start his gap year. I am so going to miss him. It wouldn’t be half as bad here if he’d have come too, except he’d be bound to find a girlfriend and dump me.’
‘But we’ve spotted plenty of young people around the village,’ Philippa told her. ‘And there are quite a few famous people in these parts too, I believe, so I really don’t think you’ll be short of friends, or bored.’
Hanna was shaking her head in a way that asserted her superior knowledge. ‘You see, there are young people, and then there are young people,’ she explained, ‘and believe me, the young people here aren’t anything like the young people where I come from. I don’t suppose you have any interesting children, or grandchildren, do you, by any chance?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ John answered. His eyes were moving past her now to the striking young woman with long dark hair and an exquisite heart-shaped face who was coming towards them.
‘Hello,’ Lucy said, holding out a hand to shake. ‘I’m Lucy Winters. I see you’ve already met Hanna.’
Taking her hand John said, ‘We have, but we didn’t know her name until now. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lucy. I’m John Mckenzie.’
‘And I’m Philippa,’ Philippa said, shaking her hand too. ‘We’ve just moved into the Old Lodge at the other end of the village.’
‘Oh yes, I know it,’ Lucy said. ‘Isn’t it the Mercers’ house? I heard they were renting it out, did they change their minds and sell?’
‘No, we just have it for six months,’ Philippa told her. ‘It’s a lovely place with a beautiful garden. I think we’re going to enjoy our time there very much.’
‘I hope so,’ Lucy smiled, thinking how uplifting it was to meet people like this on the doorstep rather than yobs and drunks.
‘Hanna’s just told us that you’re taking over from your parents,’ John remarked chattily.
Lucy grimaced. ‘Fingers crossed I won’t let them down. Is that why you’re here, about the auctions? Whether you’re interested in selling or buying, our aim is always to please.’
Hanna looked at her as though she’d lost the plot. ‘Is that it?’ she demanded. ‘That’s your opening line?’
‘Have you got a better one?’
‘As a matter of fact, I’ve already been complimented on my sales technique.’
Lucy blinked.
‘She completely won us over,’ John informed her with mock seriousness. ‘And we are indeed here about the auctions, because the Mercers would like you to come and take whatever you might want from thei
r garage.’
Lucy was thrilled. ‘My first commission!’ she cried triumphantly. ‘Would you like to come in? I’ve made some tea, which has probably gone cold by now, but Hanna can always make some fresh while we look at the diary to sort out the best time to come.’
Hanna was incredulous. ‘Hello?’ she cried. ‘What did your last slave die of?’
‘I promise it wasn’t making tea,’ Lucy smiled, patting her head.
Philippa’s good eye was twinkling. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said, ‘but I fear we’ll be intruding if you’ve only just arrived. Why don’t we come back tomorrow? Or perhaps we could offer you some tea at our house once you know when you can fit us in.’
‘That’s a great idea,’ Lucy agreed. ‘I’ll just go and grab a pen so I can jot down your details.’
‘No probs,’ Hanna piped up, ‘I’ll put them into my phone.’
Pleased by the unexpected helpfulness, not to mention apparent good humour, Lucy waited as Hanna tapped in the Mckenzies’ number, then said, ‘I’ll call later to fix up a time, is that OK?’
‘Marvellous,’ Philippa said warmly. ‘We shall look forward to it. And you’ll come too?’ she asked Hanna. ‘I know John and I are old and decrepit, but we’re in need of making some friends too, so perhaps we can find a way to help each other out.’
Lucy tensed, but to her relief all Hanna said was, ‘Whatever.’
‘So gracious,’ Lucy murmured, rolling her eyes. Then, holding out a hand to shake again, ‘It was lovely to meet you.’
Appearing just as pleased, the Mckenzies reciprocated with warm handshakes, and as they strolled on down the lane to circle around the back of the village, Lucy linked Hanna’s arm to walk her back inside.
‘They seemed really nice, didn’t they?’ she commented.
‘I guess so,’ Hanna retorted in her usual bored tone. ‘Why do you reckon she’s got that patch over her eye? It looks really weird, but kind of cool the way the pink matches her shirt.’
‘I’ve no idea,’ Lucy replied, glad to realise Hanna hadn’t blurted out the question to the Mckenzies, or she wouldn’t be asking her. ‘So are you going to come with me when I go to see them?’
Hanna sighed as she pulled a face. ‘If I must.’
Realising pride wouldn’t allow her to exude anything as uncool as enthusiasm, Lucy left it there and ushered her inside.
‘It’s not usually so busy at this time of day,’ Daphne said apologetically as they came into the kitchen. ‘All these phone calls, but it’s only because Godfrey and Maureen are both out this afternoon. If they were here the calls would be going through to the office and barn.’
‘We just met the new neighbours,’ Lucy told her, going to take a yoghurt from the fridge and plonking it in front of Hanna. ‘What was their name again?’
‘What’s this?’ Hanna protested, picking up the Mr Men yoghurt pot. ‘I’m not six, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
With a gurgle of laughter, Lucy removed it from her hand and replaced it with a bottle of Baby Bio. ‘It’ll help you grow.’
‘Yeah, very funny,’ Hanna commented, taking the yoghurt back. ‘Mckenzie,’ she added.
‘Ah yes, that’s right,’ Lucy said. ‘Have you met them yet, Mum?’
When her mother didn’t answer she looked up to find out if she was listening, but Daphne’s back was turned.
‘Hello?’ Lucy called out. ‘Mum? Are you with us?’
‘Yes, yes,’ Daphne answered, starting to rummage in a drawer. ‘I was just … Oh dear, where is that number? I’m just going to pop over to the office. Back in two ticks,’ and she took off at some speed, leaving Lucy and Hanna to look at each other and shrug in confusion.
Further down the lane Philippa’s arm was linked through John’s as they ambled along, taking in the heady smells of summer while listening to the birds chattering and chirruping in the trees. Since leaving the farmhouse neither of them had spoken, but Philippa could guess what was going through John’s mind.
In the end, in an effort to reassure him, she said, ‘It’s all right to invite Hanna if her mother comes too.’
His voice was gruff as he said, ‘Of course.’ Then, ‘She’s a bonnie wee lass.’
‘She is that,’ Philippa agreed.
They continued on in companionable silence after that, skirting the edge of a meadow full of buttercups until they reached a stile behind the pub, and decided to stop off in the garden for a drink.
Chapter Six
HAVING POPPED DOWN to the village a few minutes ago, Sarah now knew, thanks to Jan from the Drop Inn whom she’d bumped into at the greengrocers, that their new neighbours, the Mckenzies, had seen Lucy and apparently Lucy was already making appointments. So, not wanting to waste any more time, Sarah was now trying the alternative number she had for Cromstone Auctions, having found the first one busy. This time she was answered on the second ring and certain, from the lack of local accent, that it wasn’t Maureen Crumpton, and knowing it wasn’t Mrs Fisher, she said, a little hesitantly, ‘Is that Lucy, by any chance?’
‘Yes, it is,’ Lucy replied warmly. ‘Can I help you?’
‘It’s Sarah Bancroft here,’ Sarah told her, taking heart from Lucy’s tone, ‘from the manor. I saw you arriving a couple of hours ago and thought I’d ring to welcome you to Cromstone.’
‘That’s so kind of you,’ Lucy cried, clearly delighted. ‘How are you?’
Starting to smile, Sarah said, ‘I’m fine, thank you. And you?’
There was an anxious laugh in Lucy’s voice as she said, ‘I’m OK. A bit apprehensive about taking over, if the truth be told, but one step at a time and all that.’
‘I’m sure you’ll do brilliantly,’ Sarah declared, meaning it. Was she overdoing her friendliness now? She hoped not. What should she say next? ‘Is your mother OK?’ she blurted. ‘Only when I saw her yesterday she seemed a little, well, out of sorts, I suppose. I mean, it’s none of my business, of course … I’m sorry, it really isn’t any …’
In a long-suffering tone Lucy said, ‘I expect she was worried about my dad. He went off to their cottage on Exmoor to start some decorating and managed to forget to tell her he was going.’
Relieved that she didn’t seem to have trespassed too far on to personal territory, Sarah said, ‘I see. Well as long as everything’s all right …’ She cleared her throat. ‘Actually, I was wondering … I have a few things that I’d like to put in your next sale if I can. Perhaps I can bring them over when you’ve had time to settle in?’
‘Of course,’ Lucy responded eagerly. ‘Do you need some help carrying them?’
‘I’m sure I can manage. There’s an old wheelbarrow in the shed I can use. Tell me when’s a good time for you.’
‘Actually, why don’t I come to you? That way we’ll have a better idea of what we need to transport and whether or not we need help. My diary’s empty at the moment, but I probably ought to consult the official one, so I’ll get back to you in an hour or so, is that OK?’
‘Absolutely,’ Sarah assured her, already looking forward to it. ‘No rush. Whenever’s convenient.’
After finishing the call Sarah felt her spirits lifting as she went off down the garden to drag out the wheelbarrow, certain it would need a clean if it was going to be their transport, and probably a drop of oil to help it on its way. However, it turned out to be in need of a great deal more than a quick fix, such as a wheel and a barrow minus a hole.
‘Great,’ she muttered, and shoving it back into the shed she closed the door quickly, before the mountain of rusting garden tools could come crashing out on top of her.
‘Hello! Anyone at home?’ an all-too familiar voice shouted from the drive that led up to the side of the house.
‘Down here,’ Sarah called back, and starting across the garden she braced herself for Annie the hairdresser’s pointed scrutiny of her woefully neglected state.
‘Ah, there you are,’ Annie announced as she pushed open the rickety woo
den gate to come on to the back terrace. ‘I thought you must be at home, because the front door was open. Lucky we don’t have too many burglars around here, isn’t it, or you’d be in trouble.’
Sarah smiled past her discomfort. It wasn’t that she disliked Annie, with her swinging blonde bob and sparkly fingernails, it was simply that she’d never felt particularly at ease with her. Come to think of it, she didn’t feel especially at ease with anyone outside her family these days, but there was no doubt that Annie’s eagerness to be friends always seemed to make her withdraw even further into her shell.
‘I was just passing,’ Annie declared in her airy way, ‘and I thought, seeing as I’ve got a couple of hours free, you might like a nice cut and blow-dry. No charge, I’d be happy to do it, because if you don’t mind me saying, your ends’ll split right up to the roots if you leave them much longer.’
Trying not to resent her for pointing it out, while knowing she was right, Sarah said, ‘That’s really kind of you, Annie, but …’
‘No buts,’ Annie came in quickly. ‘Like I said, it’s gratuitous’ (Sarah realised she probably meant gratuit), ‘and unless you tell me you’re on your way out somewhere …’ She raised her eyebrows, letting the sentence hang and apparently challenging Sarah to fib.
Sarah wanted to, but she wasn’t fast enough.
Annie beamed a smile. ‘Come on then,’ she said kindly, ‘let’s go and turn you back into the princess you really are. Then who knows, you might even feel ready to come and join us girls on one of our Friday nights out.’
Unable to imagine anything she’d like to do less, apart from run into Kelvin and Margot, or maybe have her teeth drilled without anaesthetic, Sarah gave up the fight and allowed herself to be steered back into the house.
