The Girl in the Scrapbook Carolyn Ruffles (read an ebook week txt) 📖

her ticking along. In the meantime, she had set up a web page promoting the cottage and a freelance journalist friend from university days had brought a photographer to the cottage and done an interview with Jennifer two months ago. She was writing a series of articles on country retreats and Jennifer had managed to persuade her to include Horseshoes Cottage. The building work had not been completed but the photographer was able to angle his shots artfully to show the cottage to its best advantage. Hopefully it would be great publicity. She had also contacted some of the national companies who advertised holiday accommodation to request a listing on their websites and was awaiting inspections from two of them. Things were moving forward, she thought with quiet satisfaction.

The best thing of all was that she was now living in a gorgeous cottage in an idyllic location. The main living room especially boasted a fantastic view over the surrounding fields and had apparently been the original farmworker’s cottage when it was built over two hundred years ago. The large brick fireplace and exposed oak beams were its best features but Jennifer privately liked the little nooks and crannies which gave the room its character.  Various extensions had been added to the rear of the property by more recent occupants to add more bedrooms and Jennifer also had extended it further still, to provide ensuite facilities for the two guest bedrooms and a separate ‘snug’ for herself when she had visitors staying.

It had not all been plain sailing. When Jennifer had embarked on the project, she had obtained quotes from three different builders and had chosen Howlett and Son whose quote was the lowest. However, things had gone badly from the start when they were a week late in beginning the work. Then, one month in, when Jennifer had paid a surprise site visit, she found only one builder there, the other two having been ‘called away on an urgent job.’ Very little had been accomplished and Jennifer had been disappointed with the quality of the workmanship on display. She had phoned Tom Howlett immediately but his phone told her ‘he was currently unavailable’, as he was every time she tried to call him in the following week. It was another week on before he called her back and then it was to tell her that, because of his involvement in another, much larger project, they would be unable to continue with her cottage renovations for the immediate future. He would bill her for the work they had completed so far and would ‘quite understand’ if she wanted to employ a different builder. Jennifer had turned to the second builder on her list but he was no longer available so she finally contacted David Brewer who had tendered the highest quote. When she had questioned the cost, he told her that high quality materials and first-rate workmanship came at a cost. He had surveyed the work already completed and had been singularly unimpressed. ‘You get what you pay for,’ he told her coolly, ‘and if you pay cowboy prices, that’s what you get.’ He gestured at some especially poor brickwork.  Jennifer had no suitable retort and reluctantly agreed to retain his services. She then retreated back to Norwich, hating the disadvantaged position in which she found herself and seething at his arrogance.

At last, though, the work had begun in earnest and, when she visited the following weekend, she could not help but be impressed by what had been achieved. However, there was then another drawback. An inspection of the wiring had revealed some major failings and she had been forced to agree to having the whole property rewired, something which had eaten an even bigger hole into her budget. Fortunately, David Brewer’s electrician had been able to do the job straight away and the resultant damage to plaster and paintwork had been easily fixed. He had been a very pleasant, young chap, she remembered – so helpful and eager to please. He had reminded her of a Labrador she had owned as a child. If only David Brewer himself had been a bit more like him but instead he had been forthright, full of himself and constantly behaved as if he was doing her a favour. When she had tried to win him over with her charm and had praised his men’s work, he had raised his supercilious, dark eyebrows and said, ‘I’m pleased that you can now see how the benefits of craftsmanship outweigh the expense.’ His words had made her seethe. How pompous could you get! Clamping down her irritation, she bit her tongue and mumbled something under her breath. At least she would not have to put up with him for too much longer.

So, it had come as something of a shock when she'd discovered he was also her nearest neighbour and lived in the beautiful, converted barn at the top of her lane. It was the day she'd moved in and she'd been following the removal lorry up the lane in her ancient, blue Peugeot when there he was, walking his dog, a lively, black and white collie. Reluctantly, she had slowed to a halt and wound down her window; she just could not bring herself to be rude and ignore him.

‘David, this is a surprise!’ she exclaimed with false cheeriness. ‘Do you live around here?’

‘Just up the road.’ He gestured towards the barn.

Her heart sank. ‘Lovely. Then I expect we’ll bump into each other from time to time.’ But not if I see you first, she thought privately. What a nuisance! When his team had finished the work on the cottage, she had felt relieved that her dealings with him had come to an end. Hopefully, he would keep himself to himself and she would hardly be aware of his existence. At least, his house was a few hundred metres away and not right next door.

Sadly though, he seemed determined to make something of a nuisance