by Anna Jacobs
Elise gave Nell a quick look as if she was guessing why this offer of a tour was being made. She nodded slightly.
‘I’d love to see it,’ Ginger said instantly. ‘I’ve never been inside a secret room.’
‘Maybe I can pick your brain while we’re going round the gallery and café. Elise said you’d worked in cafés and we’re thinking of setting one up there, just a small place offering snacks, because most of the ground floor is earmarked for a gallery to sell our artists’ work.’
‘I’m happy to help in any way I can. I know all sorts of small details that will make it easier for the people running it, but the overall setup will depend on the shape of the rooms, won’t it?’
‘There might be a bit of leeway for making changes.’
‘Can I come too?’ Elise asked.
‘Of course.’
Warren heard voices outside and muttered, ‘Shut up, you twittering bitches!’ But he couldn’t resist sneaking a look out of the window. It would be easier to get what he wanted from this residency if he kept an eye on what his rivals were doing.
He rolled his eyes as he saw the old biddy who’d interviewed him cosying up to Mrs Denning. And who was the other one? My goodness she looked a scruffy tart with that bright red hair, dyed of course, you could see that a mile off.
He watched them go into Number 1, wondering what they were doing, then turned back towards the bed. To his annoyance, after lying on it for a moment or two trying to relax, he had to admit to himself that it was no use. He was wide awake now and wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep till nightfall probably. What he needed was a cup of strong coffee.
He went downstairs and looked for a kettle. There wasn’t one provided. He’d have to buy his own, dammit. He found one of the dented old saucepans Michelle had given him, put some water in and set it on the gas cooker to boil.
But, of course, he hadn’t done any shopping and there was no jar of coffee among the things he’d flung into a carrier bag. Cursing under his breath he took a quick look at what he’d brought and began making a list. He’d have to go out straight away. He couldn’t function without coffee.
Getting into his car, he headed out for the big supermarket he’d passed on his way into town yesterday. It had been lit up, must have been open. If only he’d thought of kitchen supplies as well as snack food for the journey, he could have stopped there to buy a few essentials.
He went into the café attached to it and ordered a coffee and a toasted cheese sandwich, eating the latter ravenously. He debated ordering something else to eat because he was still hungry, but after looking at the prices, he decided it’d be cheaper to buy loaves at the supermarket and make his own sandwiches. He had to watch every penny from now on. But he might buy a toasted sandwich-maker. That would save time on cooking.
With that in mind, he walked round the food aisles studying what was on special offer, something he hadn’t done very often. He was horrified at how much it was going to cost him to stock up. He should have taken more things off the pantry shelves before he left home, because he’d paid for half of them, after all. No, that wasn’t home, now. He’d got to stop thinking about it that way. After he left the house, he amended mentally.
He bought a kettle, a toaster and a toasted sandwich-maker, annoyed all over again at the necessity to do that.
When he got back to Saffron Lane two hours later, there was no sign of the other occupants or of Mrs Denning’s car. He’d have to find out what they’d been doing in Number 1. He was good at finding things out. Now that he came to think of it, that first house was where the art gallery was going to be.
Well, if the other artists thought they could steal a march on him when it came to placing things in good selling positions, they could think again.
He carted in the bags of food and opened the boxes with the kitchen equipment in them, filling the kettle with water to rinse it out, then filling it again and putting it on to boil.
The fridge-freezer seemed to be working, thank goodness, but his few items looked very lonely sitting on the shelves.
He should have got some fruit, he realised, and went to hunt for a piece of scrap paper to start a list for his next shopping trip. And he’d buy some frozen ready meals because he didn’t want to waste his creative time cooking. He didn’t care what he ate, just needed to fill his belly regularly. And drink plenty of coffee.
Ginger was excited to be seeing the inside of Number 1, which Elise said was different from her house, so when her friend stood back and flapped one hand to tell her to go ahead and follow Nell inside, she didn’t need prompting.
On the ground floor there was a large room with a big window at the front, as there was in Elise’s house. Had all these houses started out as shops? she wondered.
At the other side of the room there was a short corridor passing what looked like a storeroom on the right behind the shop, with a barred window at the far end.
This must be intended as a storeroom, she thought, smiling because it was bigger than her front room at home.
At the rear, as in Elise’s house, there was a neat little kitchen to the left with a larger living area on the right. However, this house was bigger than Number 3 and so was the rear garden. There was a whole wing behind the living area, containing a large airy room which would make a perfect artist’s studio, she thought wistfully, and a bedroom and small shower room behind that.
She stared across the back of the house. ‘It’d be nice to pave the outside area,’ she said without thinking. ‘You already have an L-shaped house. It wouldn’t take much to make a lovely patio for sitting out.’
Nell stared outside thoughtfully. ‘Good idea. With outdoor tables and chairs. I’ll bear that in mind. There’s nothing else to see outside, so let’s go upstairs now.’
At the top of the stairs was a huge room, absolutely bare, covering the whole of the top floor.
‘What’s this for?’ Ginger asked.
‘We can use this space for whatever we like, probably as an extension of the downstairs gallery. We haven’t decided yet. This will be the second stage.’
‘Why didn’t they put a dormer window at the front side as well as the rear? It’d make it much lighter.’
‘There’s a good reason for that: the attic’s where the secret communications room is.’
‘Really? Where’s the entrance to it?’ Ginger turned round on the spot, frowning slightly, then moved forward to where the secret door was.
Nell exchanged surprised glances with Elise, because most people didn’t guess where the entrance lay, it was so well hidden.
‘It can only be here,’ Ginger said, ‘if you look at the rest of the layout.’
‘You’re right. There are several entrances, actually.’ She showed Ginger the hidden catch. ‘Before we go in, I need to warn you not to touch anything. It’s all under polythene sheeting till Mr Kinnaird brings in some specialists to lay it out properly, so that people can walk round. I think he’s going to have glass cases put over the exhibits. At the moment, it’s still exactly as Angus and I found it.’
Ginger went inside and walked slowly round, not saying much but studying the table and its contents so carefully she seemed unaware of her companions for a while. Then she looked up and drew in a deep, happy breath. ‘I’m so glad I’ve seen it before it was changed. It makes you feel as if you’ve touched history, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes. That’s how I feel. Let’s go down again. I want to ask you something.’
‘Come back to my place and you two can discuss it while I make some more tea,’ Elise suggested.
As they were going back, Stacy waved to them from Number 2 and Elise beckoned to her to join them.
How wonderful it would be to be a permanent part of this friendly group! Ginger thought enviously. She’d got on all right with her old neighbours but these women seemed as if they were close friends, even though they hadn’t known each other for long.
‘Why don’t you discuss your idea with
Ginger in the front room, Nell, while Stacy and I make some tea in the kitchen?’ Elise suggested.
Ginger looked at her uncertainly, worried that Nell was going to ask her when she was leaving. But Elise winked at her and she took heart from that.
Once the two of them were alone, Nell didn’t waste time. ‘We’re going to open a café on the ground floor of Number 1 and I wondered if you’d like the job of running it? Given your experience, you should be ideal for it. It’ll only be part-time but there is accommodation with it, as you saw, and that’ll be free, in return for acting as caretaker and helping in the art gallery, if needed. What do you think? You can sell your own things in the gallery as well.’
Ginger could only stare at her, then say in a choky voice, ‘I think it sounds wonderful, ab-so-lutely wonderful.’
‘The only problem is your council house. How will you deal with that? Will coming here deprive you of somewhere permanent to live? Obviously, no one can guarantee a job will go on for ever. My husband and I have given ourselves three years to find out whether this project is worthwhile, so that long I can just about guarantee you, because I’m sure we’ll work well together.’
Ginger didn’t hesitate to accept the offer. ‘I was wondering whether to return to my old home or not. I can’t decide. Sometimes I think I will go back for a while, as long as my son moves out; other times I think I should start again somewhere else and make this a clean break. My life was going nowhere and the suburb is going downhill rapidly. If I have the promise of a part-time job and free accommodation here, I’ll simply give my notice to quit the council house.’
‘And your son? What will he do? Elise seemed to think he might be a problem for you, might try to move in with you again. There isn’t room for him here.’
‘I’d not want him to come with me. I’m sick of being responsible for a lazy thirty-year-old. He can deal with his own problems from now on. I asked him to leave and he wouldn’t, so I did.’
‘Ah. That must have upset you.’
Ginger shrugged. ‘My son has chosen his path and I can only leave him to follow it. The council will probably throw him out of the house if he hasn’t left already, and unless he can see a way of sponging off me again, I doubt he’ll care what happens to me. I desperately needed some breathing time away from him, Nell, to get my head straight about the situation. I left without telling him where I was going or why, because he’d have tried to stop me.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Yes. So am I. But it was the only way I could get away. You can’t force another person to do as you want, can you? Even when it’s your son. All I can do now is hope that one day things will change and he’ll get his act together.’ She didn’t feel optimistic, though.
Taking out a tissue, she blew her nose. ‘Let’s not talk about that any more, Nell. Let’s talk about my new job instead. How soon do you want me to start? When can I move in?’
‘Well, if it’s at all possible, I’d like you to start at once. I can let you have basic furniture from our attics at Dennings. I don’t think Angus’s ancestors ever threw anything away.’
‘Yes, please.’
‘We’ll open the café and part of the art gallery before we open the museum. I thought you could help us plan how to set up the café.’
And Ginger couldn’t help it. She flung her arms round Nell and danced her round the room. ‘That’s wonderful. Just perfect! Oh, I’m so happy!’
Elise came to the doorway, smiling to see such exuberance. ‘Is this what I hope it is?’
Nell disentangled herself, chuckling. ‘I now have no doubt whatsoever that Ginger wants to work in our café. And she’s going to occupy the bedsitter at the rear of Number 1, so you’ll have a new neighbour.’
‘I shall enjoy that.’
Before Nell left, she gave Ginger a key. ‘Don’t give a copy to anyone else, or let anyone into Number 1 without my say-so, except for your own visitors, of course. We’re going to set up a locking system for access to the upper floor before we open the café.’
‘I’ll be very careful who comes in for my own sake, too.’
‘Then I’ll get on with my day. Come up to the big house tomorrow morning if you need some furniture.’
Ginger looked down at the key she was holding. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to go and look at the bedsitter again straight away. I do have some furniture. If I can get what I want to keep sent down here, I’ll get rid of the rest. It’s nothing special but it’ll do.’
‘Don’t you want to pack up your house yourself?’
Ginger hesitated, then admitted, ‘I’m a bit nervous of confronting my son. I’ll have to see what I can work out.’
There was silence, then Nell said it again, ‘I’m sorry.’
But her companion shrugged. ‘These things happen. You have to carry on, whatever.’
Chapter Eleven
When Abbie and Keziah were shown into the lawyer’s office, Susie settled down on the floor at her mother’s feet clutching her teddy and looking sleepy, with one thumb firmly lodged in her mouth.
Mr Corshaw was younger than they’d expected, not much older than them, and very smartly dressed.
‘I’m sorry about your father,’ he said. ‘You must be Abbie and you’re Keziah. He told me about you both when he made his will, so you don’t need to explain the general situation to me.’
Abbie nodded. Good. She wasn’t sure whether she was comfortable with how to tell people yet. It was such a big change to her to have a sister. Keziah had had time to get used to the idea, but Abbie still felt she was in a state of shock.
He leant forward. ‘Basically, your father left you equal shares in his estate. That will amount to several million pounds when everything is sorted out and death duties paid.’
‘What?’
The two women spoke at the same time, then broke off and exchanged startled glances.
‘Am I dreaming?’ Abbie asked her sister.
‘If you are, I am too.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ Abbie said to the lawyer at last, seeing that Keziah was still struggling for words.
‘Yes. Very sure.’ He smiled. ‘You had no idea how much?’
‘Until today, I had no idea that I had a sister, let alone that I’d inherit anything so substantial when Dad died,’ Abbie confessed.
‘Does that include his flat?’ Keziah asked.
‘Yes. And the other three flats in that building. He owned them all and now you will. One is already tenanted, he was occupying the one you’re living in, Keziah, and the other two have just been refurbished and are about to be let.’
‘How big are they?’ Abbie asked.
‘All the flats are roughly the same size as his own. He didn’t want bedsitters; he was more concerned with getting good tenants who paid regularly, so he bought quality accommodation that didn’t need a lot of upkeep.’
She closed her eyes and leant back for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm herself, then looked at him. ‘I don’t want to sound mercenary, but my son and I are living in a tiny bedsitter at the moment and I’d like to move into the empty flat as soon as possible, if Keziah agrees.’
They both looked at Keziah, who said faintly, ‘Go for it. It’d be wonderful to live next to one another.’
The lawyer had a distinctly sympathetic expression on his face. ‘Your father said you were both struggling to raise children on your own. I’m sure it’d be all right for you to move in now, even before you have probate, because who’s to complain about it? Certainly not me.’
Once again, Abbie was struggling not to cry and Keziah had an arm round her shoulders.
Mr Corshaw allowed her a few moments to pull herself together, then said, ‘Your father had already planned his funeral and arranged it with an undertaker. I have the details and I will, unless you object, carry out his wishes and set the necessary arrangements in motion.’
Abbie felt nothing but relief about that. She hadn’t been looking forward to ar
ranging a funeral.
The lawyer caught sight of the time and said apologetically, ‘Look, I’m afraid I have another client coming soon. Can I leave you in the hands of my clerk? He’ll arrange a time for you to go round the two vacant flats with him and make your choice. He’ll need to check that they’ve been fully finished before you can do that, Abbie. We’ll get my secretary to make another appointment with me for you both to continue sorting out the business side of things.’
‘Thank you.’ She turned to Keziah. ‘Will you look at the flats with me and help me choose one, as well? I still can’t believe this is happening.’
Keziah nodded, picked up her daughter, then stopped and turned back to the lawyer. ‘I’m sorry to ask another mercenary question, but what about Dad’s car?’
‘Do either of you want it or shall I sell it?’
‘We both need a new car.’
‘You can toss for that one, or each buy a new one as soon as probate comes through, which will probably be a few weeks.’
‘I’m not sure my car will manage even a few more weeks.’ Keziah looked questioningly at her sister.
‘Mine probably will. You take Dad’s.’
They made arrangements to meet the clerk at the building and look over the two vacant flats, then walked towards Keziah’s car.
‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ Abbie confessed. ‘Can you?’
‘No. I thought it only happened in fairy tales.’ She fastened Susie into her seat and they set off back.
Neither felt like chatting. What did you say when the world had turned upside down? When you’d struggled to manage on a meagre amount of money for years and suddenly didn’t need to struggle? When you could have anything you needed, within reason, for yourself and your child?
