Sunday best. They didn’t look a happy bunch.
‘I think it’s my great great grandfather Edward Handford, who designed the gardens here,’ said Joel. He looked around him, trying to picture what the place could look like without the dust, and the oppressive darkness. The rooms had high ceilings, and there was masses of space. This could be turned into an amazing house, but he could sense Claire’s lack of enthusiasm. ‘I know it’s dark and old fashioned, Claire, but I’m sure if we took away the panelling and opened up the stairway the place would seem lighter. See that window halfway up the hall? If we made that bigger, it would bring in more light. Come on, let’s look upstairs.’
Claire followed him upstairs, pursing her lips as they went through room after room that looked tatty and worn, as if nothing had been touched here for centuries.
‘I feel like I’m in Miss Havisham’s house,’ said Claire, as they walked out of one particularly cobwebby room. ‘How on earth do you think your uncle managed living here?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Joel. ‘Look, I know it’s a lot of work, but can you really resist those views?’
He pointed to the back window. The back garden, as overgrown as the front, stretched down a hill before them, and gave way at the bottom to views of the South Downs. Joel drew the curtains back, and threw open the casement window. Light came pouring in. Suddenly the dark, poky little bedroom they were in was transformed into something much brighter. The sprig-like wallpaper, now faded, had been pretty once. It was possible to see that the room could be bright and pretty again.
‘This could make a lovely nursery,’ Joel cajoled Claire. ‘I know it doesn’t look much now, but really there’s bags of potential. And where else are we going to get so much space for the money?’
Although they were planning to take out a mortgage to buy the house from Joel’s mum, she had generously given them a good price, one they couldn’t really afford to turn down.
‘I suppose,’ said Claire reluctantly.
He looked out of the window and out towards the bottom of the garden. There was a faint sound of sheep in the background, and the birds were singing.
‘You don’t get sounds like that in London,’ he said.
‘True …’ said Claire, still uncertain.
‘You don’t like it?’ Joel had been so certain she would be brought round, once she’d seen the potential of the house. He’d only visited here a few times in his life, but there was something about the mystery and romance of this place that had intrigued him. He couldn’t wait to get going on the restoration.
‘It’s not that exactly,’ said Claire, rubbing her stomach, ‘it’s just such a big move. With Junior on the way, and all the work here, I don’t know how we’ll manage.’
Joel took her hands in his. ‘It will be fine, I promise,’ he said. ‘I am going to make this house perfect for the three of us, and for however many of Junior’s brothers and sisters who come along. It’s going to be fabulous, you’ll see.’
And that’s what he’d done. The first six months they’d been in the house, they’d put in central heating and Joel had worked as hard as he could to strip out the dark wood, bring in more windows, and open the old house to the light. He’d wanted to bring love and laughter back into the house. And now Claire was gone, and the work that had gone into their home seemed wasted and fruitless. He wondered if Edward had felt the same in the end about the garden. Why else had he let it go to rack and ruin? It all seemed such a waste.
Chapter Eighteen
Lauren couldn’t stop thinking about Troy, as she pushed Sam down the hill to the park. It was one of those sharp, cold days you get in early March, but at least the sun was out, so she thought they both needed some fresh air. Over and over she repeated back their last conversation. Troy seemed to be hell bent on showing her he’d turned over a new leaf – he’d even started to pay her a bit of maintenance – and she felt that maybe, just maybe, he actually was.
Her mum was not as convinced, though, and every time Troy’s name came up in conversation, she did her level best to make Lauren ‘see sense’ as she put it. ‘That lad is never going to do right by you,’ she said. ‘He hasn’t got it in him. Don’t let him pull you down.’
Part of Lauren agreed with her mum. It was still early days, and while Troy seemed to be getting on with the kids, and enjoying their company, who was to say when the novelty would wear off? Lauren knew she should keep her wits about her, and remain wary, and yet, and yet …
As she turned into the playground she gasped in horror, all thoughts of Troy driven from her mind. Someone had clearly been having a party. The remains of an impromptu barbecue smouldered in a corner, and bottles, some of them broken, were scattered all over the ground. And yet again, someone had sprayed graffiti over the swings.
‘Oh, this is the pits!’ Lauren said to no one in particular.
‘Isn’t it?’ Another mum Lauren vaguely recognized, came up behind her. ‘We should get on to the council.’
‘What are they going to do?’ said Lauren. ‘I’ve tried that before. All that happens is someone comes down here, paints over the graffiti, and then goes away again. Nobody actually does anything.’
‘Well, what can we do?’ said the mum, introducing herself as Rose Carmichael. ‘The police never come down here. Nothing will ever change.’
‘That’s a bit defeatist, don’t you think?’ said Lauren. ‘I’m not sure it’s as bad as all that. If we all did something, maybe we could change things.’
‘I suppose,’ the mum looked unconvinced. ‘Have you got any big ideas about what you could do?’
‘Not exactly,’ said Lauren, ‘but at least I’m willing to try. I think it’s time we took matters into our own hands and reclaimed the playground for families.’
She took out her mobile and rang Eileen.
‘Eileen, have you got a moment to come down to the playground? It’s in a terrible state – worse than normal. I really think we should start sorting it out. We can’t wait forever for the Parish Council to do something about it.’
‘I’m only on the High Street,’ said Eileen. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’
Lauren put Sam into the swing and pushed him half heartedly while the other mum did the same with her little boy.
‘I just don’t get why anyone would do this,’ she said. ‘It’s so mindless.’
‘I know,’ said Rose. ‘Were you serious about doing something about it?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Lauren.
‘Well, if you’re prepared to do something about it, I’m in,’ said Rose. ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Lauren, ‘but I’m sure my friend here can help.’
Eileen was striding up to them with a horrified look on her face.
‘This is awful,’ she said. ‘I
