Harry painted the exteriors, and Ian moved into number two at night, rather than spoil any of Sarah’s work on the show house. When she ran out of indoor jobs she repointed the waist-high walls dividing the front gardens, and when she’d finished those Charlie Baker drove her to a local nursery to choose a flowering cherry for the back courtyard of the show house, and a Japanese maple for the front. It was only sensible to go the extra mile to make the properties as attractive as possible to prospective buyers.
‘Is something worrying you?’ asked Harry, as he helped her plant the trees one evening.
‘Yes. I’m wondering what on earth I’m going to do with myself when this lot goes up for sale.’
‘What are you doing this weekend?’ he asked, surprising her.
‘Nothing much. Why?’
‘How do you feel about barns?’
Sarah straightened, eyes gleaming. ‘Are we talking barn conversion?’
He smiled as he trampled the earth in round the cherry tree. ‘Could be.’
‘Tell me more—’ Her face fell. ‘But if they’re up for sale I can’t do a thing about it until I sell this lot.’
‘These barns are not for sale. Leastways, not yet.’
She wagged a dirty finger at him. ‘Stop teasing, Harry!’
He chuckled. ‘My sister’s married to a farmer. When I was there for dinner last Sunday Bob told me he’s had to cut back a bit, so he’s got three smallish barns he doesn’t use any more. He’s got planning permission to do them up, but not enough cash to do it with. If you offered to buy them for development I reckon he’d jump at the chance.’ He nodded in approval as Sarah’s eyes sparkled. ‘That’s better. You’ve been a bit down in the mouth lately.’
‘Have I? Sorry. Anyway, when could I have a look at the property?’
‘I’ll talk to Mavis when I get home and let you know.’ He looked up as a van came up the lane. ‘Here comes the nightshift.’
Sarah bent to hug Nero as he came bounding to greet her. ‘Hello, my lovely boy. How are you today? Hello, you two,’ she added, as the others came up the path.
‘Hi, there,’ said Josie, eyeing the newly planted Acer. ‘Gosh, it looks better and better here every time I come. Don’t you dare go lifting your leg on that tree, Nero.’
‘Don’t worry, Miss Carver, I’ll tell him not to, and he doesn’t need telling twice,’ said Ian proudly.
‘Of course you don’t, you clever lad,’ said Sarah, giving the dog a last stroke. ‘Right, then, time I went home and got cleaned up. See you tomorrow, Harry.’
‘I’ll give you a ring later, boss.’
Sarah felt weary as she drove back, conscious of a sense of anticlimax now the cottages were ready to sell. Tomorrow three estate agents were coming at different times to view.
When the phone rang while she was eating her supper Sarah seized it eagerly. ‘Harry—’
‘Afraid not. It’s Alex. Alex Merrick,’ he added, in case she was in any doubt.
The unexpected pleasure of her reaction struck her dumb for a moment. ‘Oh, hello,’ she said at last.
‘How are you?’
‘I’m very well.’
‘Glad to hear it. Are the cottages finished?’
‘Just about.’
‘Then let’s meet to discuss the sale. Friday would be good for me.’
He still wanted them, then. ‘Sorry. I can’t make Friday.’
‘When then?’
Never, for a Merrick, if she followed her instincts. But it would be interesting to see how high Alex would go with his offer.
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