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‘I’m going to draw up a list of action I feel needs to be taken to render this place habitable. I think it would be wise to rip up the floorboards in both bedrooms and the bathroom and replace them. It won’t be a major expense and it will get rid of any lingering memories of the former owner.’ He caught her eye and they both grimaced.
‘And the ceilings down below?’ Alice knew the answer before he said it.
‘They’ll have to come down. The plaster in the dining room looks as if it’s only being held in place by the donkey’s breakfast.’
‘Donkey’s breakfast?’ This was a new one to Alice. He gave her a smile.
‘Sorry, the proper name is woodchip wallpaper. Builders always refer to it as donkey’s breakfast because it’s made up of wheat and chaff between two layers of paper. It’s gone out of fashion these days so if you replace the ceilings you won’t have to worry about stripping it off.’
They walked around the house and decided to remove the back wall of the dining room and open it into the kitchen, making a good-sized kitchen diner. Upstairs Peter came up with the idea of splitting the big bedroom and creating a new, smaller bathroom. By so doing, the former bathroom became bedroom number three. He brought in a ladder and climbed into the roof space. Alice left him to get on with it. His parting words were that he would e-mail her his surveyor’s report before the end of the week.
It was another fine, dry day so, after he’d gone, Alice decided to leave her car outside the house and walk into town along the river. The footpath snaked down through the trees until the river widened and ran out into the sea. At this point she turned off onto the promenade and walked along, parallel to the beach. There were a few hardy souls sitting out in the chilly April sunshine. A host of dogs more or less supervised by their owners were having a wonderful time running and playing. Alice wondered whether Danny the dog ever came down here. A few windsurfers were out, but the gentle breeze was not really enough to power them. She paused to read a poster attached to a lamp post.
UK Windsurfing Competition Weekend
Beauchamp-by-the-Sea
14th to 17th June 2013
She looked back out to sea. The few hesitant learners out there were definitely not going to be taking part in that competition.
‘Hello again, Alice. Are you having your afternoon constitutional?’
She wheeled round. It was Megan, the vicar of Woodcombe.
Alice noticed that the vicar was dressed in sailing boots and a waterproof jacket. She had a bit of colour in her face and looked all the better for it. ‘Hello, Megan, have you been sailing? Is that your hobby?’
‘Well, I do enjoy messing about in boats, when I get the chance, but this afternoon I’ve been working.’ Alice gave her a quizzical look, so Megan explained. ‘One of my parishioners died a couple of weeks back. He asked for his ashes to be scattered at sea, so we’ve been out doing that this afternoon.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘It’s pretty chilly out there on the water.’
‘Would a cup of tea and a cake warm you up?’ Alice pointed across the road to the Sea View Café. ‘My treat.’
‘I like the sound of that. Thank you, Alice, I would love to.’
They crossed the road and managed to get a table by the window. The view along the beach to the red cliffs beyond was delightful.
‘So, how are things?’ Megan sat back and enjoyed the warmth in there.
‘Good. Very good, in fact.’ Alice went on to tell her what the surveyor had said. ‘All in all, it doesn’t look like there’s anything too wrong with the house structurally. But he says it is definitely dry rot. He’ll get a firm in to give an estimate for treating it. It sounds like we’ll have to do quite a bit of replastering, but he says it’s not terminal.’
‘Where’s the house?’
‘Lyndhurst Avenue. Do you know it?’
Megan looked up and nodded. ‘I know it quite well, actually.’
‘It’s a really nice quiet road. I really think I might move in there once it’s finished.’
‘Well, we’ll miss you in Woodcombe if you do. Of course, you could always sell it and buy somewhere in the village.’
Alice had been thinking about that for a few days now. Everybody in Woodcombe was so nice and friendly, but then, so were the neighbours she had met in Lyndhurst Avenue. ‘I know one thing for definite. London has had it, as far as I’m concerned. Wherever I end up, I reckon Devon is the place.’
‘Nobody waiting for you in the big city?’
Alice shook her head. ‘That part of my life is all over now.’
‘What, nobody at all? I thought a lovely girl like you would be fighting them off.’
‘Not that young, Megan. I’m thirty-eight, you know.’
‘You look younger. But, have you really been buried in your job to the exclusion of all else? When’s the last time you went out on a date?’
Alice was momentarily nonplussed. The waitress arrived with their tea and a triple-decker cake tray. They chose a cake each and by the time she had left, Alice had had time to think about her answer. ‘I suppose it depends what you mean by “date”. I was taken out for dinner last Saturday by a friend from work.’ She hesitated. ‘But he’s not that sort of friend.’ Seeing something in the vicar’s eyes, she hastened to clarify. ‘No, I don’t mean he’s gay or anything. He’s going to rent my London flat while I am down here.’ She looked across the crockery to the vicar, whose expression was unconvinced.
‘Still, it sort of qualified as a date, didn’t it?’
Alice smiled. ‘That’s what Mrs Tinker said, but even if it was, he’s got a girlfriend. In fact she spent this weekend with him.’
‘You seem to know a lot about him.’ She was teasing now. ‘Anyway, apart from this sort-of-date, when was the last time you went out on a proper one?’
This took some calculating. ‘Do you know, Megan? I can’t really remember. Probably a couple of years ago…’ Her voice tailed off. Megan was quick to leap in and help out.
‘Still beats me. I tell you this, Alice, if you think you’ve got problems, try swapping places with me. The old dog collar is a real passion killer. One whiff of what I do for a living and members of the opposite sex are reaching for their car keys. Still,’ she took a bite of the cream éclair on her plate, ‘there’s more to life than men.’
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