Dream Cottage

by Harriet J Kent

  Chapter Five

  Greta stared at the scrap of paper that Jonny Lucas from the Smuggler’s Hide had given her. She tapped her mobile phone in the palm of her hand.

  “Should I ring the Rev… Oliphant?” She looked across at Max who was studying the Sunday papers. They were relaxing after Sunday lunch in the drawing room of her parents’ home. Leo and Ardi had retired to the lounge to watch television.

  “Yes, you can try; but don’t forget Sunday is probably his busiest day, isn’t it?” He didn’t look up from scanning the news columns.

  “Of course, yes. I didn’t think about what day it was. I just want to have a look inside the cottage.” Greta sighed.

  “Leave it for today, give him a call in the morning,” Max replied.

  “But we leave for London tonight; we don’t even know when we will be back on the Island again, do we?” Greta wailed.

  “Okay, ring him if you really want to, but don’t be disappointed if he can’t make it. He might not be too happy about someone asking about the place, according to all the gossip at the pub.” Max shook his head.

  “I’ll only ring him if you want me to; I need to know that you would be interested in taking a look at the cottage as well; not just me.”

  “Okay,” Max smiled. “Yes, Greta, I would be interested in having a look at it. But it all depends on whether he is prepared to sell it; what condition it’s in; you know, all the boring bits that get in the way.” Max stopped pretending to read and looked up.

  Greta smiled and closed her eyes; she could hardly contain her excitement in the knowledge that Max was prepared to have a look at the cottage. She dialled the Reverend Oliphant’s number and waited for him to answer.

  “Good afternoon, The Vicarage, Reverend Oli speaking,” boomed the reply.

  “Oh, good afternoon Reverend Oliphant…” Greta began.

  “Oli will be fine, my dear. How can I help you?” Rev Oli asked.

  “I am sorry to trouble you Reverend, err, Oli, I am phoning about your cottage; at least, I am told it is your cottage…” Greta dithered as she became tongue-tied.

  “I take it you mean Greenacres? Yes, that’s right, my dear. I do own Greenacres.” He cleared his throat noisily and waited for her response.

  “Uh, yes. We were out… um… oh god, sorry, oh…” Greta stumbled in her quest for a decent conversation. “I was wondering if you might be interested in selling, er, Greenacres…” Greta continued to tell the Rev about their plans to move to the Island, how she had by chance seen the cottage and how they had walked to it from the pub. When they had mentioned it at the pub, they had been given further information as to who the owner was.

  “Ah, yes, Jonny and Loo,” Rev Oli replied reflectively, a smile filled his voice. “A good man and an equally good woman. They don’t attend church much though, which is such a pity. Work gets in the way, I suppose. We could do with boosting the congregation a little more.”

  “So what are your thoughts on selling Greenacres, Reverend Oli?” Greta persisted. She looked across at Max who had placed the newspaper on the coffee table and was sitting staring directly at her.

  “Well, I hadn’t really thought about selling it; you see, it is a property which I have owned for a very long while. It’s been in my family for generations. I rent it out; or rather I did rent it, until my tenant unfortunately passed away.”

  “I’m sorry, Reverend. I didn’t realise,” Greta sounded sympathetic as Max stifled a laugh. She looked away from his twisted facial expressions.

  “Don’t worry, my dear. I am quite sure the Lord is taking very good care of her. Well, I am happy for you take a look inside Greenacres if you really want to see it. It has been boarded up for quite some time, so I don’t know how bad it is, but it does need some work carried out, in fact, quite a lot of work. Oh, by the way, could I please ask you something? Are you married?”

  Greta looked surprised at this question the Reverend had plucked out of mid air.

  “Uh, yes, I am married. I have been married for just over a month. My husband works in London, in the City.”

  “Wonderful! Forgive me; what I am trying to establish is, if I did decide to sell Greenacres to you… uh, well, that you would be able to afford to buy it and renovate it!”

  Greta was a little put out at the Reverend’s impertinence and glanced at her phone.

  “I don’t believe money would be an issue, Reverend. Obviously we would need to have some sort of idea how much the property is worth.”

  Max frowned. He stopped reading to listen more intently to the conversation.

  “Around the £450,000 mark, if that helps you,” Rev Oli promptly replied.

  “I see, okay. When could we arrange to view the property?” Greta continued.

  “How about this afternoon? No time like the present is there, my dear? I do have Evensong at six-thirty. How about meeting you at Greenacres at 3.30pm?”

  “That would be perfect, thank you Reverend Oliphant!” Greta was delighted.

  “Oli, my dear; just Oli will be fine. Everyone calls me Rev Oli!” he chimed.

  “We, my husband and I, will see you there at 3.30pm and I greatly look forward to meeting you.”

  “And you are?” Rev Oli confirmed.

  “Greta Berkley.”

  Greta ended the call and jumped up from her chair.

  “Seems like you have a new pal,” Max smiled as Greta walked about the drawing room clutching her phone. “Was he trying to hit on you? Asking if you were married?”

  Greta smiled. “No, course not! But for someone who hasn’t thought about selling, he seems pretty keyed up on house prices. Perhaps he just needs a nudge in the right direction.” Greta continued to walk around. “It’s called Greenacres, by the way.”

  “Hence the question about whether we can afford to buy it or not. Well, it’s just after 2.30pm now; so we’d better get ready to drive over. It will take about 30 minutes or so to get there.” Max got up from his chair.

  “Going somewhere nice, Maxim?” Jeanne appeared in the doorway, her hair was dishevelled. She plumped the back of her head to refresh the perm. She had just woken from a brief nap. “I don’t think I can bear to watch the afternoon film Leo and Ardi seem so wrapped up in watching! Some sort of rom-com or chick flick, I can’t work out which! Looks like there are zombies in it too!” She looked puzzled.

  “Greta has just spoken with the vicar who owns the cottage in the valley. He has agreed to meet us there in about an hour, so we can have a look inside.”

  “Oh how wonderful Maxim! I will tell the father when he wakes up. He will be delighted!”

  “We’ll have to see what state the cottage is in. The vicar seems to think it needs quite a lot doing to it. But we can gauge that for ourselves.”

  “How exciting my dears! I say, fancy this happening after seeing the cottage from the pub. I’m a firm believer in fate; what is to be, will be, and all that,” Jeanne announced. “I will have high tea waiting for you upon your return!”

  “Thank you Jeanne. But don’t forget we are leaving for London this evening,” Max reminded her.

  “Oh of course; I will make sure it is not too much of a banquet… not too high a tea!” she laughed hysterically and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Your mother is a complete basket case, isn’t she?” Max looked over to Greta, who was staring into space. “Come to think of it,” he concluded, “it must run in the family! Come on; get your coat, my dearest. Time to make tracks for Greenacres. Greta? Did you hear me?”

  Greta blinked and focussed on Max.

  “Sorry, I was…”

  “Daydreaming? Walking around inside the cottage, by any chance?” Max asked. “Here, put your coat on; at least you are back in the land of the living now, I think.”

  “You know me too well, darling. Sorry. I’m back with you now.” Greta turned around as Max placed her coat across her shoulders. She placed her hands on the top of Max’s hands and he held her shoulders.
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  “Well, we shall soon find out what this cottage is really like. But, please, please promise me this; don’t be disappointed if it’s in a terrible state. This is the first property we will have viewed and, no doubt, there will be others if this one turns out to be a dud.”

  “I know.” Greta levered her arms into the sleeves of her coat and pulled the zip up to her chin. “There’s something about the place; but I just can’t put my finger on it.”

  They drove in silence to Greenacres. Rev Oli was stood outside awaiting their arrival. To Greta’s surprise, he turned up in normal clothes with a dog collar. Lanky, with a marginally stooped frame and grey hair, Rev Oli’s clothes looked incredibly creased and there was a faint odour of mothballs hovering around him like a halo.

  “What did you expect him to wear? His cassock? You’ve got a warped mind, my love,” said Max as he parked the car in the concrete yard. They got out of the car and walked over to the Reverend.

  “Good afternoon Gretel; I am delighted to meet you. This must be uh…” Rev Oli looked at Max.

  “Hello Reverend; I am Maxim Berkley, Greta’s husband.” Max held out a hand and it was swiftly taken by Rev Oli’s smooth, limp hand and subjected to an equally smooth and limp handshake.

  “Good afternoon Maxim, well, let’s not delay any further; follow me please!” Rev Oli turned on his black suede laced up shoes and sauntered towards the open back door. “Have to take you through the servants’ entrance; can’t find the key for the front door!” he added.

  As Greta and Max walked in through what appeared to be the kitchen, Greta gasped. She stopped in her tracks.

  “Oh Max; it has such a lovely feeling about it,” she gushed, looking wildly about her.

  “You’ve only just stepped over the threshold,” Max laughed at her.

  “Trifle dark in here; power is off, I’m sorry to say.” Rev Oli continued to lead the viewing through into the dining room, again in virtual darkness. “Doesn’t help with the windows boarded up. But I couldn’t take any chances with squatters. They have more rights than most folk these days. Strange thing, that…” he muttered.

  “It’s fine, Reverend. Max has a torch, so we can see all right.” Greta followed closely behind Rev Oli, and looked around her.

  Max hung back in the kitchen. He shone the torch to take a closer look at the walls and, to his relief, could not see any dire structural happenings; not in that part of the house, at least. He was intrigued by the very old-fashioned wallpaper.

  “There is still some furniture in here; I must arrange to get it cleared, but the price of second hand furniture is very poor at present…” The Rev was talking to himself and indicating with his arms, as Greta waited for Max to join her in the dining room. “Be careful you don’t fall over anything!” he warned.

  “Has Greenacres got a drawing room?” he joked.

  “Through here, Maxim. Drawing room is just through here!” the Reverend answered.

  Max and Greta had to stuff their hands in their mouths for fear of an out of control outburst of laughter.

  “Mummy would be the Reverend’s number one fan,” Greta whispered to Max, who had turned his back to compose himself. “She would be in her element!”

  “And this is the living room; lounge; whatever you would like to call it; the light is a little better in here. Come on in, don’t be shy!”

  Rev Oli was stood in the doorway of a very cosy lounge with an inglenook fireplace and windowsills fitted with faded seat pads large enough to deposit even the plumpest of bottoms. One of the boards on the window was dislodged. From that vantage point, Max could see that it looked over the immense overgrown gardens. He beckoned for Greta to have a look.

  “Oh this is just lovely; it’s so quaint.” Greta walked into the lounge and closed her eyes. “It has such a friendly feel to the place; nothing sinister.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Rev Oli concluded. “I am glad you like Greenacres. But I still have to show you the upstairs rooms and also the grounds. Come along now; before we lose any more daylight. The sun is becoming weaker in the heavens!”

  Reverend Oli ushered Greta and Max upstairs where they found four double bedrooms, a bathroom and attic rooms. Greta was completely bowled over by the amount of space and the views from each of the bedroom windows. Each room lacked any form of suitable décor and ached for a modern-day makeover. Threadbare strips of off-cut carpet lay across most of the floors with linoleum beneath. The rooms, with bare floorboards, were covered in a thick layer of dust and spent masonry. Each bedroom contained an ornate period fireplace in black cast iron. One had evidence of a bird’s nest amongst a pile of soot and dust on the hearth. The odd black feather was a giveaway and a faint smell of mustiness and damp permeated the air. Rev Oli noticed Greta staring.

  “Crows, my dear. Always seem to be a lot of crows. They like to build their nests in the chimney pots. Confounded nuisances!” He held his fingers together in prayer fashion and bent forward as he spoke. “Needs the chimney sweep to come over and prod them off their perches with his set of rods; usually does the trick!”

  “We could do so much with Greenacres; to bring it back to life again,” Greta gulped. She felt a lump in her throat. She felt close to tears.

  “Are you all right, my dear?” Rev Oli was concerned over Greta’s emotional state.

  “She’s fine, Reverend. A little overcome, I believe. Greta can be very emotional; particularly over something she takes a shine to,” Max reassured Rev Oli.

  “Oh, I thought you were disappointed with the state of the place and that its condition upset you. Right, in that case, let’s go outside and I will show you the stables and the grounds. Follow me, please!” he indicated towards the staircase.

  Greta hung back with Max and hissed in his ear.

  “Stables and grounds! What do you think?” Her eyes were wide with excitement.

  Max paused.

  “Well, it does need some serious renovation work and some equally serious money spending on it. From what I have been able to see in this poor light and in the amount of time we’ve spent here, there’s a problem with damp in most of the rooms. That will need to be dealt with by the professionals. Then re-plastered with numerous tweaks and treatments, I am assuming it has woodworm, judging by some of the rotting floorboards. Then there is the redecoration; every room will need to be decorated; new carpets. The kitchen is way out of date, that will need to be replaced. What else?” Max waited for the response.

  “So, it is doable then?” Greta held her breath and smiled.

  Again Max paused; he smiled at Greta’s unbounded innocent enthusiasm.

  “Well, yes, I suppose it is; but the money has got to be right, Greta. This will need some serious thoughts; about my job, money… if you want this to work… we will have to sit down and plan everything out. What will you do about your job? Lots to think about.”

  Greta took this as a green light.

  “Oh Max, I do love you! Thank you! Thank you!” she grabbed a hold of his face with both hands and planted a very large kiss on his lips.

  “Come on; let’s have a look at these outbuildings and grounds. Hurry, don’t keep Rev Oli waiting!”

  Reverend Oli was stood in the back gardens looking up into the sky over the roof of the cottage. He appeared to be watching the sun setting over the downs.

  “How old is Greenacres?” asked Greta as she walked over to where he was stood gazing at the gathering of crows around the chimney pots.

  “I believe it to be around 400 years old, my dear, give or take a few years. But it has stood the test of time, survived numerous wars, storms and freezing cold winters and no doubt will continue to do so. Here are the stables, the barn and the fields. There are around ten acres in all. Not had much done to them in the last few years; just sheep grazing to keep the grass down to a manageable level. No active agriculture though.”

  “Ten acres!” exclaimed Greta. “Crikey; that’s a lot of ground.”

  “Not
for your modern day farmer; but for a hobbyist, which I assume you will be, it is quite suitable and easily manageable.” Rev Oli turned to gauge Greta’s reaction. He was met with a huge beam.

  “It’s perfect; everything, it’s just perfect; we love it, don’t we Max?” She looked over to Max who was walking around in the barn. He scuffed through piles of dusty straw and smiled when he saw a collection of old and equally dusty vintage tractors stored at the back. Max rejoined them.

  “I must say the cottage is exactly what we are looking for. Would you consider selling Greenacres, Reverend?”

  “Well, having seen your reaction to the property this afternoon, I will have to say yes, I would be interested in selling to you. But if I do sell, it needs to be a swift transaction.”

  “May we discuss figures?” Max went in for the kill.

  “I have had Greenacres valued, not long ago and the estate agent gave me a figure of around £450,000; but I would consider an offer, in these times of austerity et al. Church fabric funds need a bit of a boost, don’t you know. Always something in need of repair, be it the woodwork or the masonry. Would that fit in with your plans, Maxim?”

  “I’ll need to have a chat with my accountant; but yes I think we would like to make an offer. Will you be prepared to wait for a couple of days?” Max replied. He looked over at Greta.

  “Oh yes, Maxim. That will be fine. I’m in no hurry; but seeing as you have shown a keen interest in the cottage, I now feel it is time to sell, even if you decide against a purchase.”

  “In that case, would you be prepared to give us first refusal?” Max needed some sort of reassurance.

  Rev Oli thought for a while.

  “Yes, I would! In fact, I would be delighted to!” He held out his hand and limply shook first Max’s and then Greta’s hands.

  “Could I therefore ask you about the so-called rumours about Greenacres? Is there any truth to the fact that previous occupiers have met mysterious ends?” Greta asked.

  Rev Oli snatched his hand away from Greta as if she had burnt him. He glared at her.