Page 32 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
“Of course Tom.”
“I think he left.”
“Left?” Jayde’s mouth thinned with annoyance. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Vicky returned her a bland smile. “Sorry.”
Jayde shook her head. “Oh, well — I suppose we might as well go home then.” She threw back her wine — Vicky had counted at least three bought for her by her new admirers. “If we hurry we can be home in time forBillionaire Bachelors.”
Without waiting for Vicky she set off for the door, weaving a little. Vicky followed, relieved to get away while her sister was only slightly tipsy.
But Jayde hadn’t entirely forgotten about Tom. “Why would he just walk off like that?” she complained, pausing abruptly in the doorway as the fresh air hit the wine in her bloodstream. “We were getting on really well the other night.”
“I expect he was jealous that you were getting on so well with all those other guys,” Vicky suggested, tongue in cheek.
“I know.” Jayde giggled. “I told you he fancies me.”
And she teetered off up the hill at such a sharp pace, Vicky strongly suspected she was hoping to catch up with Tom. Small chance of that — Vicky had seen the way he could stride out.
* * *
“So this is it?” Jeremy cast a disparaging glance around the room. “Not much, is it?”
“This is just the kitchen,” Vicky protested defensively.
“I can see that. It’s going to need a lot of work to make it saleable.”
“Of course.” It was a struggle to keep her smile in place. “Would you like to see the rest of it before we have lunch?”
“I suppose so.”
She led the way down the passage. “This is the sitting room.”
“Hmm.” Jeremy wasn’t much impressed. “A bit on the small side.”
“It’s cosy.”
“Yes, well... it might look a bit better without the bulky furniture. You may be able to get something for that sideboard.”
“How much do you think it’s worth?” Jayde asked eagerly.
“I really couldn’t say. I’d suggest you ask a legitimate antique dealer to take a look at it — you don’t want to get ripped off by some fly-by-night con merchant.”
“I rather like it,” Vicky insisted. A rich, dark mahogany with roses carved on the door panels, it would polish up well.
“Don’t be silly. It couldn’t be more out of place in the flat.” He was even more dismissive of the bathroom. “You’re right to get something done about this — the whole thing needs to be ripped out and replaced. It’s a shame the toilet can’t be separated into another room — buyers aren’t keen on having them in the bathroom these days.”
She was going to argue for re-enamelling the bath but decided not to waste her breath.
The main bedroom he declared, “Not too bad — and it’s quite a decent view.” But then he spotted Molly’s painting on the wall. “What on earth... ? I’ve never seen anything so hideous.”
That fired Vicky up in defence. “I thought I might try to find out who painted it. See if it’s worth anything.”
“Of course it isn’t.” His voice was laced with scorn. “It’s a piece of junk — amateurish junk, at that. The best place for it is the skip.”
“I suppose so.” Though she was reluctant to throw away something that Aunt Molly had obviously valued.
“We did find some good stuff in the attic,” Jayde put in. “Come and see.”
