Page 35 of Not Exactly Mr. Darcy
A yap preceded a blur of brown-and-white fur, before CeeCee snarled a welcome.
“Get down!” Gran spoke firmly. “Now, sit.”
CeeCee whimpered and then wriggled into a sitting position, her ears flip-flopping as she obeyed.
“You need to be firm with her and show her who is boss.” Whether Gran said this for Liv’s or George’s benefit, Liv didn’t know.
Liv put down a hand for CeeCee to sniff, which she did, pushing her wet nose into Liv’s fingers. Liv didn’t look at her until she sat. Then she ruffled the top of her head, to an ecstatic whimper.
George sighed. “I’m so sorry. CeeCee is still learning. She does make a good watchdog, though.”
“But she’s probably not the welcome to the Hall that you want visitors to experience,” Gran said.
Amen, Liv silently agreed, as George’s face fell and she nodded.
“Now, what is it you wanted to show me?” Liv asked, glad to change the subject.
“Okay, well, as you can see, this area has been a little neglected over the years.” George waved a hand around the space, the weeds poking through the cobblestones attesting to that.
Here, the back of the house centred a U-shaped courtyard with two single-storey stone outbuildings stretching out either side.
“These outbuildings used to be carriage houses, then they became garages. This side used to be stables”—George pointed to the other side—“which was refurbished as a café, which Marge was running in conjunction to the pub. It was meant to be straightforward, with simple meals like soup and sandwiches and Devonshire teas, some of which could be prepped in the pub then brought over here, but when Covid happened, the café was forced to close. Then after the Hall was closed for such a long time, it never had enough visitors to make reopening worthwhile.”
Liv nodded. “There are toilet facilities?”
“In that space there,” Gran said, pointing to a room at the end of the stables block, behind the café’s kitchen area.
A stream of dust signalled the arrival of another vehicle. Marge got out. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up.”
“We haven’t started the tour,” George said.
“Oh, good.” Marge turned to Liv. “Look, I want you to know that I’m 100 percent committed to this. I want to reopen the café. But it will take some time for the council to reissue permits, which they will only do after there’s an inspection.”
“Can I see inside? This is all new from what I remember when I visited here as a child.”
“You’ve been here before?” George asked.
“When I was thirteen. Let’s just say I didn’t have an appreciation for historical things like I do now.” Fifteen years made a difference.
“Why didn’t I know that you’ve been here before?” George wondered aloud.
Liv shrugged and glanced at Marge, who seemed to understand that Liv wanted to begin.
George unlocked a padlocked door and gestured for Marge to lead the way.
Marge showed the kitchen’s prepping, cooking, and food storage areas, and the café’s indoor eating area, which consisted of maybe a dozen tables. Stacked against a row of windows were an equal number of outdoor tables and chairs, along with some patio umbrellas.
“We used to have tables and chairs on the patio that’s outside. It overlooks the park and the avenue that leads all the way down to the church.” Marge pointed to where a row of mature trees lined a road that would be beautiful in autumn. “We toyed with having some tables here in the courtyard, but the view wasn’t as nice.”
No. The buildings looked a little dilapidated, the wooden doors weathered, paint peeling, the shutters falling off. Ivy crept up parts of the house, which might be signs of a bigger problem. She made another note in her diary to check damp issues with Liam. Presumably he cared about the house’s repairs as well as the gardens.
“So the kitchen is serviceable?”
Marge nodded. “It wouldn’t take too much to get things back up to scratch. A deep clean for starters.”
“And who would do that?” Liv asked.
“I would. I’d get some of my staff from the pub to help too.”
