Page 27 of The Beekeeper's Cottage
She was thinking as she spoke, but Amos could see that much of it was a description of a dream she’d already had. There was a low chuckle from beside him.
‘Shame we don’t have anywhere like that.’
Amos turned to see a teasing grin on Fraser’s face. ‘Good lord, lass, did you really think I hadn’t noticed you sneaking off to the milking sheds every spare minute of the day?’
Flora rolled her eyes and looked at Amos. ‘What did I tell you? Bat ears… and bionic eyes too.’ Then she grinned at Fraser.
‘But what do you think, Dad?’ asked Ned. ‘Amos took a look at the shed this morning and it wouldn’t take much to convert them and—’
Fraser held up his hand. ‘As if I could even try and stop you,’ he said. ‘When that girl there gets the bit between her teeth, there’s no stopping her.’ He winked at Flora. ‘But I think it’s a splendid idea,’ he added. ‘And there’s no one more deserving of a little help than you, Grace. I reckon we might have a bit of a battle on our hands, but you’ll not lose your house, not if we have anything to do with it.’
‘It’s so exciting!’ exclaimed Flora, squirming.
‘I’m frankly terrified,’ replied Grace, but a little light had come back to her eyes and Amos nodded.
‘Nothing wrong with fear,’ he said. ‘It’s the place where courage is born.’
Amos met Evan Porter at the top of the drive, stepping to one side to make way for the huge car to pass him and then following as it swept around in front of the house to park. Amos was at the vehicle’s side before the agent was even ready to open the door.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Porter, Sir. A fine day, is it not?’ Amos pulled the car door open and stood with a deferential stoop, waiting until the agent had collected his things together and climbed out.
Evan frowned as he straightened. ‘Indeed, Mr… er…?’
‘Fry, Sir,’ replied Amos. ‘Or Amos if you prefers.’ He stood back. ‘Mrs Maynard said I was to keep a look out for you around two, so I thought to myself best not make a start on the mowing just yet or I might miss you. Wouldn’t be able to hear the car, see, on account of the noise the mower makes. Big thing it is.’ He scratched his head. ‘Anyway, I promised I’d take good care of you… Would you like to come with me, Sir, that’s it, right this way…’
Amos took a couple of paces backwards, indicating that Evan should walk on ahead of him. The agent glanced up at the house and then back at Amos.
‘Mrs Maynard is inside, is she?’
‘Ooooh, no, she couldn’t bear it, could she? That’s why I’m here,’ replied Amos, pointing at his chest. ‘I’ve got the keys here, somewhere…’ He made a show of fishing in his pockets.
Evan looked down at his clipboard. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘It’s just that I spoke to Mrs Maynard on the telephone this morning, and I was led to believe that she would be here.’
‘Aye, well, yes she would say that, wouldn’t she? ’Cause she’s far too polite to say anything else, but getting herself in a right state she was ’cause she don’t want to go. In the end I had to say to her, “Missus Maynard, it’s not right to be getting yourself all ruffled up, not when there’s really no need.” There’s only one person knows this place as well as she does and that’s me. No disrespect or nothing, but Mr Maynard, well, he’s never really here and he doesn’t take a right lot of interest when he is.’ Amos flashed a huge smile. ‘So, I said I’d be very happy to show you round.’
‘There’s really no need…’ Evan’s smile was cool. ‘I’m familiar with the layout of the house obviously and today I just need to take measurements and so on. I’m sure you have things you need to be getting on with.’
‘Aye, I do…’ Amos appeared to think about his words for a few seconds, but then he screwed up his face. ‘No, it wouldn’t be right. A promise is a promise, so I reckon we’d best get on with it. Where would you like to start?’
At best Amos had ten minutes to familiarise himself with the layout of the house before the estate agent had arrived, but it had been enough for him to understand even more keenly why Grace couldn’t bear to let it go. He could see her warm-hearted personality everywhere he looked; every small touch that brought comfort to the airy rooms, a friendliness and homely feel to what might otherwise have appeared stark. The furnishings, like Grace, were elegant, simple and stylish, and there were flowers everywhere. He strode confidently down the hallway.
‘Come along to the kitchen then,’ he said, beckoning. ‘Everyone always heads for the kitchen first, don’t they? And right fancy it is too.’
Evan paused, a Dictaphone now held in his left hand. ‘I’ll start at the front door if you don’t mind.’
Amos looked around him. ‘Oh, right you are… so the hallway… and then the kitchen.’
Evan ignored him.
‘And don’t forget to make a note of that there,’ said Amos, pointing to a large botanical wall-hanging. ‘Only Missus Maynard made that. Right proud she is of it too, and who can blame her? Properly gorgeous, I reckon.’ He smiled.
There was a curt nod. ‘Yes, it’s very stylish. But I don’t need to make a note of it Mr… er, Fry, because it’s not actually included in the sale. Not a fixture or fitting.’ He exhaled loudly. ‘What I’m here to do is to describe the accommodation, and take measurements and photographs.’
‘I see…’
‘So I don’t really need to know details like that, even though I’m sure Mrs Maynard is very proud of it.’
Amos did his best crestfallen impression. ‘Oh… but then perhaps you could make sure you get it in the photograph? I think she’d like that, show it off, like…?’
