One Summer in Cornwall Karen King (positive books to read TXT) 📖

Jonathan opened the door into the lounge. ‘As you can see, there are still many of the original features,’ he said enthusiastically.

The Howes exchanged ‘not very impressed’ glances.

‘When was that gas fire last serviced?’ Mr Howes asked.

‘Er . . . I don’t know, sorry. It was my uncle’s cottage,’ Hattie replied.

‘So, it’s basically one long room with an archway,’ Mrs Howes remarked as her eyes swept the room then rested on Buddy, who had been asleep up until they’d arrived.

‘Bugger off!’ he squawked and Mrs Howes gasped and turned furiously to Hattie.

‘Sorry, my uncle was a fisherman . . .’ Hattie said awkwardly, wondering if she should have moved Buddy up into the attic. Marcus had left the smaller cage with her in case she needed it.

As they walked around the cottage, uttering comments like, ‘it needs a lot of work’ when they were in the kitchen, ‘it’s a bit small’ when they went into the bathroom, with its newly painted walls, shiny new bathroom suite and light blue blinds, and ‘isn’t there an en suite?’ as they looked around the main bedroom, Hattie felt cross on Uncle Albert’s behalf.

‘My uncle was a fisherman and lived here for over fifty years,’ she said as Jonathan led them out into the back yard. ‘I think part of its charm is that it’s so traditional.’

‘Of course. We were looking for somewhere more modern, though,’ Mr Howes said a little more kindly.

‘And with more of a garden,’ said Mrs Howes, looking around disparagingly at Hattie’s colourful pots.

Hattie wondered if their comments were aimed at making her reduce the price, she’d heard that some viewers did that, and surely they couldn’t be totally oblivious to the character of the cottage. Well, they weren’t the sort of people she wanted to see living here. She wanted to sell the cottage to someone who appreciated it, who loved it as much as Uncle Albert had. As much as she was starting to. So when they had finally left, and Jonathan returned a few minutes later to tell her they weren’t making an offer, she felt like cheering.

‘We have another two viewers on Friday, and one of them, a Mr Paterson, wants to buy a holiday let so I’ve got high hopes that he will make an offer. I’m sure this is exactly what he’s looking for,’ Jonathan told her. ‘And there are several other people on my list too. The cottage will be sold in no time, I’m sure of it.’

She nodded. ‘See you on Friday, then. And could you please do those viewings? I have to go out.’

She had an appointment to take some ‘new baby’ photographs, and then a multi-generation one, for a couple who lived in Truro. She was really looking forward to doing that and was glad that it clashed with the time of the viewing. She didn’t think she could take anyone else walking around the cottage sneering at everything.

She texted Marcus: The viewers don’t like the cottage

A text came pinging right back: So we’ve got longer together then. Want to come around for a coffee? I’m back from the beach now. Xx

She grinned as she read it. Be there in 5! she texted back.

‘Morning, dear, how did the viewing go?’ Winnie asked as Hattie locked the front door behind her. Surprised, she turned to face her next-door neighbour, who was tending to her flowering baskets, then realised that of course she would know Jonathan and guess that the two people with him were potential buyers. ‘They didn’t like it, they wanted somewhere more modern,’ she said.

‘Well, I’m sorry to hear that, dear. I know you must be anxious to sell and get back to your normal life.’ She sounded genuine.

‘I am, but how do you feel about me selling the cottage?’ Hattie asked her. At the moment, the three of them got along fine; new neighbours could spoil the happy balance of the block of three cottages and she felt a bit bad about that.

Winnie put her watering can down and walked over to the wall. ‘Change happens, that’s life. We were quite pally, Albert, Marcus and me, we kept ourselves to ourselves but we were there for each other and I like that.’ Hattie nodded and Winnie continued, ‘But Albert has gone and you must do what’s best for you, dear. My daughter lives in Australia. When I go, this will be hers and I’m quite sure she will either sell the cottage or let it out to holidaymakers. This is my life, not hers. Just like Fisherman’s Rest was Albert’s home, not yours. Unless you want it to be.’

Winnie looked at her with such warmth that Hattie wanted to hug her; the guilt she’d felt at what effect selling the cottage would have on her neighbours faded away a little. ‘Thank you. I was a bit worried that you might be upset.’

‘Don’t you worry yourself about me, and let me know if you need any help with anything. I know Albert was a hoarder.’

Hattie grinned. ‘He certainly was. I will, thank you.’

Winnie nodded and returned back to tending to her plants. She was glad she’d spoken to her, Hattie thought, as she opened her gate and went next door. She felt a lot better about selling the cottage now. Although, if today’s couple were anything to go by, it wasn’t going to sell as quickly as Jonathan had thought.

Chapter Thirty-Five

‘Now, if you could all stand around Lily, in a half-circle and smile down at her,’ Hattie said. She’d already taken several photos of the three-month-old baby on her own – she was adorable and had cooed away happily – so it was time for some more group photos. She’d taken one of Lily in her parents’ arms, surrounded by both grandparents, great grandparents and great-great grandmother but now she wanted just the women in the family. She placed a shawl on the table and Lily in her Moses basket upon it and asked