She desperately hoped that whoever got Hunter’s Moon both deserved and appreciated it. Time and again she had to remind herself not to get emotionally involved, but sometimes a house got under your skin and there was nothing you could do about it.
Three offers came in during the week, all for the asking price or over, and all in a strong position. Then two more were delivered first thing on Friday morning. Five decent offers was a solid result, and she felt pleased.
She was hugely relieved there was nothing from Natasha and Charlie. She had steeled herself to look at their registration document and do a thorough background check. There was no evidence of Charlie’s name anywhere: it would obviously be bankrolled by Natasha’s father. All right for some, thought Belinda. But then again, Natasha had ended up in rehab, so maybe having a rich daddy wasn’t such a good thing.
She took a photocopy of all the offers and put them in the file she was taking to Hunter’s Moon. Then she compiled a spreadsheet, outlining the amounts offered and all the other relevant details, so everyone could consider the bids at a glance. She tried to personalise each offer as much as she could in case the Willoughbys wanted to visualise who was to have their home: couple with one child moving from London, three generation family from Birmingham.
‘Can you write to everyone who’s made an offer and thank them?’ she asked Cathy. ‘Tell them we’ll be in touch early next week when a decision has been made. Ask them please not to call us in the meantime. Send the letters out first class this afternoon. We don’t want them pestering us all weekend.’
‘Who do you think will get it?’ asked Cathy.
‘Probably the Shepherd’s Bush lawyers.’
‘Oh yes. The little boy was sweet.’
‘Yes, and I got the impression they wanted more kids. Anyway, we’ll have it wrapped up by the end of the week.’
‘Do you think that’s all the offers?’
Belinda shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I expect most people would want to get their bid in before now. It takes a bit of nerve to go right up to the wire.’
It was quarter past eleven. The hands of the clock swept nearer and nearer to midday. Belinda picked up her car keys.
‘Just call me if any more offers come in,’ she said. ‘But I doubt they will.’
*
She headed out to Hunter’s Moon with a heavy heart. All she could think of to lift her spirits was that The High House looked set to complete in six weeks. She’d been to view several houses already, but nothing was quite right. She was prepared to be patient. She had waited so long for this day, and worked so hard, nothing but the perfect house would do.
Hunter’s Moon was looking more beautiful than ever when she arrived. Bright green buds and blossom abounded. Teddy nosed at her ankles anxiously as she got out of the car, as if to say ‘There’s something going on’.
As well as Sally, Alexander and Leo, Belinda was surprised to find two more members of the Willoughby family in the drawing room. Alexander introduced them.
‘These are my sisters. Phoebe. And Annie.’
‘Commonly known as The Afterthought.’ Annie held out her hand. She was plain but smiley, in a grey jumper and trousers and flat boots, her hair scraped back in a ponytail and a pair of glasses perched on her head.
Phoebe was a total contrast: tall and slender with a chic short grey crop, a crisp white shirt under a mohair sweater and black palazzo pants. Her make-up was striking: heavily made-up eyes and dark red lipstick. She must be in her seventies, thought Belinda, but she looked as if she’d stepped out of the pages of a magazine.
‘We’ve got the whole family embroiled, I’m afraid,’ said Sally, who had brought in coffee and a plate of raspberry muffins.
‘Of course,’ said Annie. ‘Leo was right. This is exactly what families are for.’
Belinda caught Alexander’s eye. He gave a little shrug as if to say what can you do, but he was smiling.
‘Just ignore us,’ said Annie. ‘We haven’t come to tell Beetle and Sally what to do. Just give them our support.’
‘I’m sure you’ll throw the odd opinion in,’ said Alexander. ‘You’ll find it impossible not to.’
‘It’s good to have everyone’s input, surely?’ said Annie. ‘We all love the house. We care what happens.’
‘Not as much as we care about Beetle and Sally, though,’ said Phoebe. ‘Let’s not forget that.’
‘Can you imagine,’ said Leo sotto voce to Belinda, ‘what it was like for poor Dad growing up here with those two?’
But he was smiling, and Belinda smiled back and said, ‘I expect it was pretty wonderful.’
She cleared her throat. She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was five to twelve. She hadn’t heard anything from Cathy.
‘We might as well start going through all the offers,’ she said to everyone, and handed around photocopies of her spreadsheet. ‘They’re all pretty solid and all pretty much bang on the money. It’s a question of time frame and personal choice, I suppose. If you want to narrow it down and make a shortlist, then meet the potential buyers, that’s always an option—’
Her words were drowned out by the roar of a motorbike. She stopped and looked up, alert.
Everyone gravitated towards the window. There was an enormous Harley-Davidson Electra Glide pulling up outside the door.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Leo in admiration.
They all watched as a leather-clad courier made his way to the door. He was holding a large envelope.
‘I’ll go,’ said Sally, and left the room.
Belinda’s heart was thumping. She had thought she was out of the water, but she feared not.
Sally came back in with a thick cream envelope with a crest emblazoned in the top right hand corner.
‘It’s addressed for your attention, Belinda.’
Belinda felt as if she was being served with a writ as she took it.
She opened it, but she knew without looking this was the offer she had been dreading. The first page was a formal offer way beyond what anyone else had bid. It blew everyone else out of the water.
Attached to that was solicitor’s details and evidence of cash in the bank from a Coutts account. The headed paper was from the company Belinda had already checked up on at Companies House during her initial research. Natasha’s father.
It was a very businesslike offer of the kind estate agents could only dream of – no caveats or conditions or potential pitfalls, the contract to be exchanged at the Willoughbys’ convenience.
Accompanying the official paperwork was a handwritten letter in pale blue ink. Belinda smoothed it out and began to read it aloud.
Dear Mr and Mrs Willoughby
Two years ago I was on the verge of totally destroying myself with drugs and alcohol. I was lucky enough to meet a wonderful man, and together we healed each other, through the power of mindfulness. From that day on I determined to help other people who had lost their way in life by opening a retreat.
I began my search for somewhere to fulfil my dream, and as soon as I saw Hunter’s Moon I knew it was the one. Its quiet calm and its beautiful setting would be the perfect environment for my clients’ journeys back to a place of safety.
I would pour my love into the house. The love that I can see it has been given over the years. I want to keep its beautiful aura so my guests can feel at home while they are on the bravest and most difficult quest they will ever make. I will use the walled garden to nourish them while they are there. They will breathe in the scent from the flowers you have planted. I will honour your memory every day during our rituals.
Hunter’s Moon will be safe in my hands and in my heart.
Natasha
Belinda felt sick as she put the letter down.
This was the moment when she could reveal what she knew about Charlie and tell them all what he had done. Yet she also knew that what had happened between her and Charlie wasn’t relevant. The difference between this offer and the next one down could make a
real difference to the Willoughbys’ lifestyle. She couldn’t sabotage that just because of what had happened in her private life. It wasn’t professional.
‘Well, that’s that, then,’ said Alexander, shrugging. ‘You can’t argue with an offer like that.’
Belinda desperately hoped that someone would come up with an objection. Perhaps the Willoughbys would want Hunter’s Moon to remain a family home? That was quite common with vendors.
‘It does seem a waste,’ said Annie. ‘For the poor house to be teetotal. I mean, Hunter’s Moon is all about drinking – Pimm’s on the lawn and mulled wine in front of the fire and champagne in the bath.’
Phoebe made a face. ‘Instead it’s going to be all chanting and sun salutations and downward facing dog.’
‘Truthfully,’ said Alexander, ‘I don’t care what happens to it. If it’s not ours then it’s not ours. We just have to move on.’
‘We’ll always have the memories,’ said Sally.
Belinda couldn’t think of anything to say. The offer spoke for itself.
‘Let me leave the offers with you. It’s only fair you have a chance to sleep on it. I don’t want to put you under any pressure.’
‘Which would you go for?’ Leo was pressing her for her opinion. ‘I mean, there really is only one, isn’t there? Can you see any snags? Any reason why not?’
This was the moment for her to voice her fears. To hint that perhaps the team behind the offer were not as solid as the paperwork might indicate. But that was only her experience, her opinion. It had no reflection on what was there in front of them in black and white.
‘It’s always a gamble,’ she said finally. ‘Things can always fall through right up to the moment of exchange.’
Sally chided her son. ‘Leo, don’t put Belinda under pressure.’ She smiled at Belinda. ‘We’ll have a family chat and make our final decision then call you tomorrow.’
‘Take as much time as you like. Whoever wants to buy it will wait a few days, I’m sure. I can tell everyone their offers are still under consideration.’
Belinda said her goodbyes to the family then Leo walked her out to her car.
‘Thank you. I know your advice and guidance has made this easier for Mum and Dad. They feel very safe in your hands.’
‘Thank you. I’m just sorry they’re having to sell in the first place.’
She opened her car door. The two of them looked at each other. This was her chance to say something.
‘There is one thing. I’m in a bit of a quandary,’ she said.
‘Go on.’
‘That last offer? The girl who’s buying it is engaged to my ex-husband.’
‘Your ex-husband?’
He looked shocked, and Belinda felt as if he was looking at her with new eyes.
‘It was a long time ago and it was only a short marriage. One of those youthful mistakes.’
‘I’ve been lucky enough not to make one of those.’ He smiled, and she thought he was trying not to judge.
‘The thing is, I know he’s bankrupt. His wine shop went bust just before we got divorced. Part of me feels I should tell your parents. Give them full disclosure. But the offer isn’t actually from him. It’s from Natasha and her father. So I don’t want to put them off when it’s such a lot of money.’
Leo frowned. ‘Do you think the offer’s sound?’
‘As solid as it can be. He’s got the funds. There’s no mortgage to negotiate. I just feel guilty not giving them the heads up. But at the same time I don’t want to put them off.’
‘Don’t say anything.’ Leo was decisive. ‘That’s a lot of money. They’re going to need it.’ He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘My decision. So no need to feel guilty.’
‘Thank you. That’s eased my conscience a bit.’
*
Leo looked down at his shoes and traced the gravel with his toe, his hands in his pockets.
‘When it’s all signed and sealed, maybe I could take you for a drink?’
‘Oh.’ She felt relieved that her failed marriage hadn’t put him off.
‘Or dinner. There’s a little pop-up in Peasebrook I keep hearing great things about.’
‘A Deux? Yes, it’s supposed to be wonderful. I’ve never been.’
‘Well, I think that would be the most perfect thank you.’
Belinda wasn’t sure what to think. Did he really just want to say thank you or was this a date? She remembered the woman he was on his way to see the last time she’d seen him.
Maybe she should play it cool? She tried not to smile, because she could hear Bruce’s voice in her head: ‘Babe, he would not be asking you out if he didn’t want to spend time with you. Trust me. No man saddles himself with a bird he doesn’t fancy for an evening out.’ And Cathy. ‘It’s the law of attraction, Belinda. The Universe has given him to you.’
Yet despite their voices trying to convince her, she didn’t want to set herself up for a fall.
‘Let’s get the deal done first,’ she said crisply. She slid into the driver’s seat and put the keys in the ignition. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
She shut her door, started the engine and drove away.
As she made her way down the drive, she sorted through her thoughts. Her heart was still pounding from the unexpected thrill of Leo’s invitation. Yet underlying that was a feeling of nausea and a bitter taste in her mouth.
Bloody Charlie Fox. As wily as his name, and who always landed with his bum in the honey. She could already imagine him parading the terrace, looking out over the rolling hills and smiling. Bastard, she thought as she pulled out of the drive and accelerated down the lane. Bastard bastard bastard.
His aunts descended on Leo as soon as he went back into the drawing room.
‘Darling – she’s a sweetheart. How about it?’ Phoebe’s eyes were sparkling with the intrigue.
‘She’s a smart cookie, too,’ added Annie. ‘And very pretty but she doesn’t know it, which is always devastatingly attractive.’
‘For heaven’s sake, you two! When will you ever stop?’
Leo was used to his aunts’ matchmaking; their eternal frustration at the fact he hadn’t settled down.
‘Maybe something good will come out of this bloody nightmare,’ said Annie. ‘Beetle, darling, should we have a farewell party?’
Leo looked at his dad. He looked tired and drawn. The emotion of the afternoon must have got to him, and his aunts were always exhausting even if they meant very, very well.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Alexander. ‘I think that would be an actual living hell. Even more than this already is.’
For once, Annie knew when to keep quiet.
31
1967
Phoebe had designed the most beautiful invitations to Margot’s birthday party, in the shape of a book, in navy blue and silver and decorated with the moon and stars. There were over a hundred of them. Sally couldn’t imagine knowing that many people.
‘We ask everyone,’ said Annie. ‘Even the postman.’
‘Parties are what we Willoughbys do best,’ Phoebe added.
‘I’ve never had one,’ Sally admitted. ‘Well, not unless you count a children’s party, with pin the tail on the donkey and pass the parcel.’
‘Watch and learn,’ said Phoebe.
And so Sally watched in utter amazement as the Willoughbys galvanised themselves into the organisation. They all had a role and they all knew what to do.
‘You’ll be in charge of cooking,’ said Alexander. ‘We never do food, usually, so that’ll make a change. I’m in charge of music. Phoebe does the decorating. Annie sorts out the practical stuff. Parking and so on. It’s actually really easy. All you need is good weather, lots of booze and loads of guests.’
Yet again, they made it all seem so simple.
Margot just sat back and watched them get on with it, which was what she always did. Since her trip to the seaside with Terence, she’d been in a permanent state of semi-hysteria. She’d b
een to the doctor to get some tablets, some for daytime and some for night, so during the day her anxieties were kept at bay, and at night she could sleep. But she was mixing them with more drink than was probably sensible. Anything to blot out the horrible truth, that her words had dried up, that she was haemorrhaging money, and that Terence thought she was a fool. But she’d sent him a party invitation. He had come to her rescue, after all. His loan had bought her some time.
‘I’m only lending it to you,’ he’d said. ‘Because I know you will come through in the end.’
That should have given her confidence, but of course it hadn’t.
If she were sensible, she would cancel the party. It was going to cost a fortune. It always did. But if she did that, she would have to admit the truth to everyone. She hadn’t told anyone else. Not even Dai. Especially not Dai.
What kind of marriage was that? she thought. When you couldn’t share a catastrophe with your husband? He was obsessed with gardening. He scurried about in the most awful clothes and was always covered in mud. What bloody use was that?
There was another reason she hadn’t told him; because deep down she was afraid he might be pleased she had failed. Pleased she could no longer queen it over him. The ultimate in Schadenfreude.
God, these pills were making her paranoid. She thought they were supposed to make her feel better. She tried to focus on the party. Phoebe had found a black silk 1920s dress in a shop on the King’s Road and Margot had nabbed it.
‘I’m going as Daisy Buchanan,’ said Margot. ‘Dai – you can be Jay Gatsby.’
‘I’m not bloody dressing up as him,’ he grumbled. ‘I couldn’t be less like Jay Gatsby.’
Margot eyed him critically.
‘True,’ she said. ‘You can always go as Mr McGregor.’
Dai didn’t rise to the bait.
Phoebe decided that the rest of them would go as characters from Alice in Wonderland.
‘Sally, you will be a perfect Alice, with your hair. Alexander can be the Mad Hatter. I’ll be the Red Queen. And Annie – you can be the White Rabbit.’
The Forever House: A feel-good summer page-turner Page 23
