this as a full stop to the subject, Alexia rose too, collecting paper plates while Ben disconnected the barbecues from their gas bottles.
They moved indoors to find that the last stragglers were ready to yawn off into the night. Alexia switched on the main lights and went round blowing out the guttering tea lights. ‘I declare the Middledip Wrecking Party a success.’
He ran his finger down a gaping crack in the plaster. ‘Does work start soon?’
‘The electricians and plumbers arrive on Monday while Shane and Tim get on with cleaning up the tiles to be reused. Luckily the windows and doors are OK and most of the plaster mouldings, too.’ She gazed around the Bar Parlour, its missing fireplace and bar making it look like a mouth with gaps in the teeth.
Ben drifted over to the mood boards still standing at the end of the bare room. ‘And this is how the place will look?’
She joined him, casting him a quick glance to check he wasn’t just being polite – not that he struck her as someone who’d bother. ‘Yes, this is the storyboard for the project beginning with photos of the building as it was when Gabe bought it, to my vision of the finished article. My 3D drawings are called rendered models and the 2D are the floor plans. The colour swatches make it look pretty.’ Her heart gave a tiny kick of excitement that the project was finally underway.
‘It’s a Victorian building and must have been quite grand for a village. When Middledip was bypassed by better roads in the eighties it couldn’t support two pubs, and the more homely The Three Fishes was the one to survive. After The Angel closed, the landlord died and the landlady lived here alone for more than twenty years. She eventually died without a will and distant cousins had to be tracked down to inherit. It was a long time before it could be put on the market and then nobody seemed to see its potential.’
She lifted her gaze to the beautiful plaster ceiling roses where big glass lights had dangled until Shane took them down to protect them. ‘I’m amazed nobody bought the place just to get the period features and sell them to a reclamation yard. The moulded brickwork on the front elevation alone must be worth a fortune. Maybe the grounds were so overgrown that everyone forgot The Angel was here.’
‘Until Uncle Gabe decided his tree surgeon nephew would love to take out all the overgrowth.’
‘It does seem as if you’ve been handy,’ she agreed, glad to see the faint smile return. His default expression seemed so grim. ‘Luckily, Gabe not only knew The Angel was here but was willing to invest in the building to give the village its coffee shop if additional funds could be raised to see it restored. Otherwise, The Angel would probably have fallen down from neglect.’
‘Generous of the village to contribute.’
‘What swung it was that the village hall had to close because the roof timbers are rotting. They’ll cost a massive amount to replace, much more than to fix up The Angel. The village hall committee’s obliged to slog through applying for grants and asking the county for money. We were able to just spring into action.’
He quirked a brow. ‘Bad luck for the village hall.’
‘I do feel disloyal. I’ve been to the hall to so many parties and stuff. But accommodating all the groups that used to meet at the village hall meant Jodie and Gabe could call it a community café and start fundraising.’ Alexia led him through a doorway. ‘This was the poor-relation bar. It says “Public” in the glass in the door – when the door’s hanging where it’s meant to be.’ She flicked a switch as she stepped into the room and the strip light flickered into life. A couple of stray slivers of 1970’s woodchip wallpaper lingered up near the ceiling, suggesting the Public hadn’t been deemed worthy of the red flock of the Bar Parlour. ‘It’s where pub customers used to play skittles and darts. It’s not as grand as the Bar Parlour but will work brilliantly for groups.’
Ben gazed around the big empty room with its scarred floorboards. ‘I’m surprised that whoever orchestrates things at the village hall didn’t say the funds you raised ought to go to them.’
‘I’m afraid that’s exactly what’s happened,’ Alexia acknowledged ruefully. ‘The village hall committee’s headed up by the formidable Carola, the one who demanded fish at the barbecue. She’s vehemently opposed to the community café and says the villagers should never have been asked to raise money for a building and a business that belongs to an individual. But nobody had their arm twisted. The village hall and The Angel Café have no relationship to each other, and Gabe, Jodie, me and your boss, Christopher Carlysle, who accepted responsibility for The Community Café fund, aren’t about to hand over the dosh to Carola.’
A suspicion of a twinkle lit Ben’s eye. ‘If I hadn’t come from a small town myself I’d be astonished at the politics.’ Then his phone beeped and he pulled it out to silence it. ‘Interesting as this is, I’m going to have to get home. That’s the alert to remind me that Barney needs his dinner.’
‘You must feed him.’ Alexia felt a tiny prickle of disappointment at losing his company, not to mention an opportunity for her to spout about her pet project, but told herself not to be so idiotic. ‘I’ll hang on here for a bit longer before I lock up.’
He hesitated. ‘On your own?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t you start! I could run around Middledip at night with my hands full of cash and nothing bad would happen. Honestly, I’ll wander home when I’m ready.’
‘Giving your friends time to quiet down?’ He half-smiled, his eyes bright in the overhead light.
She felt her cheeks heat up again. ‘That would be the plan.’
‘Can’t you just tell them to be more considerate? It’s your house.’
‘I could. But if I can move my career in the direction I want to then Jodie’s hoping Shane will move in when I move out. Two lots of rent will smooth my way considerably.’
Grey eyes thoughtful, he considered her. Almost offhandedly he said, ‘I can’t leave Barney hungry. He’s so young he needs feeding three times a day. You could come and meet him, if you want? It would fill an hour before you go home.’
Alexia debated quickly. It wasn’t that she couldn’t find something to keep her occupied for an hour or two at The Angel but, truthfully, she was intrigued by the idea of a late evening stroll through the woods with this man. He termed himself an oddball like his Uncle Gabe, but Gabe just happened to be one of the nicest men she’d ever known. Going over her plans for The Angel could wait. ‘I’d love to meet Barney and see how Woodward Cottage has turned out.’
They ferried the cooling grills into the kitchen in case of rain, then Ben waited as Alexia locked the big front door before they stepped together into the quiet night-time village.
Ben paused. ‘We could walk down Little Lane and hook back on ourselves up the track to the cottage, but it’s about three miles. It’s quicker to take the footpaths, if you’re not scared of the dark. I have a torch on my phone.’
Alexia laughed at the idea she might be scared. ‘I grew up here. I know my way around the bridleways and my phone has a torch, too.’ A feeling was fluttering about inside her. But it wasn’t fear.
Angling right and crossing Port Road, Ben lit up his phone ready to leave the pavement and take the bridleway. Beside him, Alexia followed suit. The bright white lights illuminated the path and the vegetation that soon replaced the
