Jasmine Cottage lived up to its name. The sweet-scented white flowers spread a delicate flush of colour over the old red brick as the plant snaked its way round the old window frames, over the ramshackle porch and up towards the roof. In amongst the feathery leaves of the summer jasmine were thicker, woody stems that Lucy was pretty confident were winter jasmine. Six months ago she wouldn’t have had a clue, but after spending all her spare time trying to tame Annie’s garden she discovered she’d taken in more details from the gardening books she’d found in the tiny bookcase under the stairs than she’d have thought possible.
If she remembered correctly, winter jasmine had yellow flowers, which meant that once Christmas was over she could look forward to a flush of cheery bright colour.
Since she’d spoken to Mr Bannister on the phone, she’d been completely distracted by the puppy and hadn’t been able to give the cottage (or him) another thought. In fact, she’d not even remembered to mention it to Charlie. But now she was here every doubt about whether this was the right thing to do fled her mind.
Which could be bad news, given the state of the overgrown garden, and peeling porch and window frames.
It might be a good job she enjoyed a challenge she thought wryly, as she pushed the small gate, and it rocked alarmingly on its one hinge and squeaked in protest.
‘Morning, Lucy.’
Jumping at the cheery greeting, she spun round to see the tall, lanky figure of Simon Proofit.
‘Simon, am I glad to see you!’ Which could be taken as rude. ‘Not that, well, I was expecting Mr Bannister.’
Simon grinned as though her reaction wasn’t totally unexpected. ‘Alf couldn’t make it.’
‘Alf,’ Lucy felt the smile twitch at the corners of her mouth, ‘that’s his name?’ That made him seem much more human.
‘It is, he inherited more than just the business from his grandad. What do you think?’ Simon gestured at the cottage. ‘It’s the type of property we say,’ he put on his ‘estate-agent’ voice, ‘has got oodles of charm and character.’
Lucy laughed, the last trace of the jitters disappearing from her stomach at his disarming smile. ‘I bet you do. Along with dry rot and rising damp?’
He chuckled. ‘The plumbing has character as well. Want a look?’ He strode past her, and was opening the front door before Lucy had a chance to answer.
Lucy stepped from the stone flags to the warmth of the old oak floorboards and fell head-over-heels in love with Jasmine Cottage.
‘It’s beautiful.’ The words came out on a sigh.
‘It is.’ Simon’s tone had softened, lost its normal slightly bombastic strength, and he walked over and settled into one of the armchairs by the fireplace, sending up a plume of dust that danced in the sunlight. ‘It’s been empty since May had to go into the nursing home, and her family haven’t wanted to part with it. I think they’ve hung on because giving up on the place would be accepting she’ll never come back.’
‘How sad. I don’t think I know her, she must have left before I came to the village.’ Lucy wandered over to the window; she had the perfect view of the green, of the bench where she and Charlie had sat so many times. For a second something caught in her throat, a sadness she didn’t want to acknowledge. Charlie had to go where his daughter led. If Josie took Maisie away, then he’d be leaving the village too. She was sure he felt the same way about her, as she did about him. That he’d want her to go with him. But it wouldn’t be easy. They both had busy lives. And leaving this lovely place would be hard.
For the first time in her life she felt like she belonged somewhere. That Langtry Meadows was her home.
‘Oh, May’s been gone a couple of years now.’ Lucy turned her attention back to the estate agent, and he waved in the direction of the fireplace. ‘You could put a nice wood burning stove in there.’
She gazed round the room. ‘It would be so easy to make it cosy.’ She could reach the beamed ceiling if she stretched up, but the place felt safe, and comforting, even in its present neglected state. ‘I could soon clean up the floorboards.’
A few bright rugs scattered around, a bookcase in the corner, some new curtains would transform the place. She could even squeeze her desk into the alcove.
‘Want to see more?’ Sensing a sale, Simon jumped to his feet, and waved her on enthusiastically.
The kitchen was bigger than she’d expected, and brighter, with a lovely large window which she was instantly drawn to and found herself looking out over the small cottage garden. Next to the house was a York paved patio, with a small, round wrought iron table and chairs and a mass of colourful pots all different shapes and sizes that she could imagine overflowing with summer bedding plants.
Lucy turned back to study the room. There was a mix of old fashioned cupboards, and under her feet the red quarry tiles seemed to glow, leading her gaze straight to the cream Aga.
‘Wow, is that a proper Aga?’
Simon grinned. ‘It is, May’s daughter told us it’s been looked after, but it runs on coal so you might want a more modern version.’
‘Oh I love it, just as it is, it must be so cosy in the winter in here.’ She could sit, on a chair by the Aga, reading a book or doing her marking, and gaze out at the cute back garden. Charlie and Maisie would adore the place, though she really, really mustn’t think that way, their future could be far away. But the pup would love it here, it would be heaven for a dog.
Oh God, she mustn’t think about that, the poor thing was really ill, and she still didn’t know quite how poorly it was. The way it had looked at her, so trusting, lifting its head even though it was so weak. She blinked. She mustn’t think about it, she’d had her heart broken once before as a child, when she’d lost her dog, her best friend. Her and her mother had moved, and not been able to take Sandy with them, and now she really didn’t know if she was ready to risk the heartache again. Even thinking about the poor little scrap, the thought of it dying …
She gulped away the feelings and stroked a hand along the old stone sink.
She’d love it here. She just knew she would. And buying it was something she’d be doing for herself.
‘I’ve got to warn you that the bathroom isn’t up to much.’ Simon was heading up the small staircase as he spoke, ducking to avoid the beam. ‘It was originally outside the back door of course, which is now a brilliant storage shed, I’ll show you in a minute, but they squeezed one in up here about forty years ago.’ He turned to wink at her. ‘Modern development.’
The small bathroom was far from modern, but she could imagine how it would look if she got a claw foot bath near the window, if she stripped out the thin green carpet, the olive-coloured tiles, and the avocado suite that might well be as old as the bathroom itself.
‘You’d need a survey of course, but the place is basically sound as far as we can tell. The family did look after it for May, it just needs a bit of updating and a few throws and cushions and stuff, not that I’m into interior decorating, but my mum is a whizz with a bit of soft furnishing. Only started to appreciate it when I started going into other people’s houses and realising how much difference a few bits and bobs could make.’
Lucy couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, and he blushed, ushering her into the next room.
‘Master bedroom, nice view over the green and pond, you can peer round the net curtains and keep up with business better than Elsie Harrington can. Must drive her mad being hidden away by the church.’
‘She does get to see what goes on in the square.’
‘True. What do you think then?’
‘Honestly?’
‘Honestly.’ He