Page 18 of Beyond Her Manner
“I never have before,” Bridget said through a smug grin.
Gillian scowled at her as she retreated. Was there anything left that Viola Berkley could take from her? With her gaze fixed back on the manor, she pondered again why Viola would need a skip. What was she going to be removing? Bathrooms? Her beloved kitchen? Historic features that her yuppy brain couldn’t appreciate the true value of? Feeling her legs weaken at the thought of any part of her precious home going in that skip, Gillian looked around her. She was going to need to set up a permanent watching post with a chair, and another pair of binoculars would need purchasing immediately — to have one was to have none!
CHAPTER 6
“Thanks for coming by to check,” Viola said, holding her hand out to the planning officer as they reached the front door. She flashed him a smile despite her body itching with anger at his unannounced appearance an hour before, which had interrupted her morning. He was only doing his job; the anger she needed to save for someone else.
“Sorry again, for disturbing you,” he said, shaking her hand. “We have to check these things when we get a complaint.”
“Oh! It was a complaint then,” Viola pushed.
The man bit his lip. “Can’t comment, sorry. Thanks for your time.”
Viola watched as the man crossed the gravel drive and entered a car parked beside an overloaded skip. Ben, her project manager, appeared by her side at the front door.
“Any idea who reported you?” he asked.
Viola looked at the lodge and noticed the twinkling of a lens in the window. “I have my suspicions, yes.”
“I’d best get on. The lads do like an early finish on a Friday, and some of the tiles in that last bathroom are proving difficultto pry up. We’ll aim to start reinstalling the kitchen next week,” Ben said, turning and heading back into the house.
“Glad to hear it.”
There was only so much that could be done with a microwave and a camping stove. After two weeks of ready meals, Viola couldn’t wait to have the new kitchen installed. Although she would make some use of it herself, she was looking forward to speaking to Mrs Johnson, Gillian’s old cook and housekeeper, later that day. Even if the woman popped in a couple of days a week to clean and prepare some meals, it would be useful.
Right now, though, she needed to deal with Gillian Carmichael.
When there was no answer at the lodge, Viola decided to try her luck at the stables. She found Gillian grooming a handsome black horse in the stable yard. She was dressed in her riding clothes again, and it took Viola a moment to pull her eyes away from the woman’s frame as she bent and stretched to brush the horse. She had always been drawn to older women, but this one was a definite no-go despite how attractive she was.
She took a deep breath and focused on her anger as she forced herself towards Gillian.
“I presume you were the busybody who called the planning department,” she began.
Gillian snapped around. “I’m sorry?”
“Good.” Viola knew damn well Gillian wasn’t apologising, merely asking her to repeat herself, but she was taking it anyway. The woman’s gaping mouth confirmed her intended offence had landed. “I can assure you, as I did the planning chap who tried to lecture me and my project manager as to what is allowable and what isn’t, that all the changes I am making tomyhome do not require planning permission. Or, in fact, anyone’s permission, including yours.”
Gillian’s mouth flapped around some more, so taking advantage of the silence, Viola continued.
“If you’d had the decency to come and ask me what I was doing, I would have been happy to show you. Instead, you prefer to sneak around behind people’s backs and report them for things they haven’t done.”
“I…” Gillian stammered.
“My project manager is adequately versed in historic properties.”
“I have legitimate concerns for the welfare of my former home and perfectly serviceable utilities,” Gillian snapped, finally finding her voice.
“They may be perfectly serviceable, yet it is not to my taste, and it’smyhome. I would appreciate it if you kept your meddling nose out of my business and away from your window,” she asserted with a firmness there could be no misunderstanding.
She could hear Gillian spitting out, “Well, I…” behind her as she walked away.
Viola decided a walk was in order. Her phone rang as she passed the side of the manor.
“Hey, Caroline,” she sighed as she answered. Her soothing voice was exactly what she needed right now; she always grounded her.
“Wow, you sound tense. You’re supposed to be relaxing in the countryside. You aren’t overdoing it, are you?” Caroline’s concerned voice replied.
“Relaxing would be a fine thing if the doorbell wasn’t constantly going or the builders banging or neighbours sticking their fucking noses in where they’re not needed.”
