seemed so bad in the morning. It was a cold grey day, but once the fire was lighted and she had had her breakfast and fed Tom, she set about cleaning the cottage. She wasn’t sure, but presumably someone would come to look at it. Whoever held the mortgage would want to know its value and they would send someone from a house agents.
There was no telephone in the cottage, so she would have no warning. Charlie Beard the postman came soon after breakfast, propping his bike against the old may tree by the gate and accepting a cup of tea while she looked through the handful of letters he gave her. Her heart sank at the bills—electricity, the last load of coal, the rates… When Charlie had gone she went through all the drawers in the hope of finding some money Granny might have tucked away, and was rewarded by a few pounds in an envelope, and these, added to what she had in her purse, would just about pay for the coal. She wasn’t too worried about food; there were vegetables in the garden, potatoes stored in the shed at the end of the garden; eggs could be exchanged with cabbages any time with Mrs Coffin at the end of the lane…and Mr Banks had said that he would send her the money for the shares. It could be worse, she told herself bracingly. Of course, there were any number of vague thoughts at the back of her head. The furniture—would she have to sell it or would it be taken over with the cottage? And Tom? Tom would have to go with her wherever she went; he was too old to have another owner, although she couldn’t imagine him living in any other house but the cottage.
She finished tidying the house and went into the garden. There were potatoes to bring in and sprouts to pick as well as the apples stored in the outhouse. Because it was drizzling still she put on the old mac which had hung behind the kitchen door for she didn’t know how long, and pulled on her wellies, and while she was out there, since she was wet anyway, she stayed for a while tidying the flower beds in the front garden. There was nothing much in them now, a few chrysanthemums, very bedraggled, and the rose bushes, bare now of all but a handful of soggy leaves. Sadie pottered about until dinner time and after her meal, knowing that it would have to be done sooner or later, started to sort out her grandmother’s clothes and small possessions. It was dark by the time she had finished, packing everything away tidily in an old trunk she had dragged down the narrow little stairs which led to the attic at the top of the house. And after tea, for something to do, she went from room to room to room, inspecting each of the four bedrooms carefully to make sure that they were as attractive as possible, and then downstairs to do the same in the dining room and sitting room, and lastly the kitchen, for surely she would hear something tomorrow, either from Mr Banks or from the house agents.
There was a letter from Mr Banks in the morning, but beyond the modest sum, the proceeds from the shares, which was enclosed, he had nothing to say—indeed, day followed day and nothing happened. Sadie went down to the village on the third morning to cash the money order and buy groceries and submit to the kindly questions of Mrs Beamish, the post-mistress, and several other ladies in the shop. She didn’t mind the questions, she had known them all her life; they weren’t being curious, only sympathetic and kind, pressing her to go to tea, offering her a lift in the car next time its owner was going to Bridport, asking if she could do with half a dozen eggs. It was nice to know she had so many friends. She went back to the cottage feeling quite cheerful and after her dinner sat down and composed a letter to Mr Banks, asking him if there was any news about the cottage being sold; she was aware that selling a house took time, but almost a week had gone by and surely he would have something to tell her by now. She finished her letter and was addressing the envelope when she heard the creak of the gate and looked out to see Mr Banks coming up the path.
Mr Banks, a rather dour-looking man although kindly, greeted her so cheerfully that she immediately asked: ‘Oh, have you heard something?’ and then seeing that he wasn’t going to answer for the moment, added quickly: ‘Let me have your coat, Mr Banks—how nice to see you, only it’s a wretched day for you to be out. Come and sit by the fire and I’ll make tea.’
‘A most miserable day, Sadie,’ he agreed, ‘and a cup of tea will be most welcome.’
She went into the kitchen and made the tea in a fever of impatience, then made small talk while they drank it, answering his questions politely while she longed for him to get to the point. Yes, Mr Frobisher the vicar had been to see her, and yes, she had answered almost all the letters she had received when her grandmother had died, and yes, she still had some of the money which he had sent her for the shares. ‘But I paid all the bills,’ she pointed out, ‘so at least I don’t owe anything, Mr Banks.’
‘Splendid, splendid. And now I have good news for you. Through a colleague of mine I have been in touch with someone who is looking most anxiously for just such a place as this—a playwright, and I believe something to do with television. He is a widower with two children who have a governess and he lives in Highgate Village, but he is seeking somewhere very quiet where he can work uninterrupted. He will not necessarily live here, but wishes to stay from time to time for considerable periods. He wishes to inspect it tomorrow afternoon, and asks particularly that the place should be empty; that is to say, he will naturally bring the agent with him, but if you could arrange to leave the key…? About two o’clock if that’s convenient. If he likes it he will purchase it at once, which means that the mortgage can be paid off immediately and since the price seems agreeable to him, there should be two or three hundred pounds for you, once everything outstanding is dealt with.’
‘How nice,’ said Sadie, and tried her best to sound delighted. Now that the crunch had come she was appalled at the idea of leaving not only the cottage but the village. She had lived there for twenty of her twenty-three years, and Chelcombe was her home. To earn her living she would have to go to a town, even a city, and she was going to hate it. Besides, there was Tom. She said forlornly: ‘I must start looking for a job.’
Mr Banks eyed her thoughtfully. ‘It might be a good idea if you put up in the village for a little while. You could go to Bridport on the bus—it goes twice a week, doesn’t it? There is bound to be an employment agency there, it would be more satisfactory if you could obtain employment before you leave here.’
‘I’ll do that, Mr Banks. You’ve been awfully kind. I’m very grateful. I suppose—I suppose you don’t know about the furniture?’
‘No, and that at this stage can only be conjecture. If they wish to take over the house as it stands, then of course the buyer will pay for the contents, otherwise you will have to sell it, unless you can find unfurnished rooms. But if you intend going into domestic service then you could be expected to live at your place of work.’ He frowned a little. ‘Are you sure that there’s nothing else that you can do?’
Sadie shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not, but there must be plenty of housekeeping jobs, or mother’s helps or something similar. In the country if I can, and with Tom, of course.’
Mr Banks heaved himself out of his chair. ‘Well, my dear, I’m sure you will find just the work you are looking for. In the meanwhile, don’t worry, things could have been much worse.’
With which doubtful comfort he went away.
The cottage already shone with polish and there wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen. All the same, Sadie went all over it once more, making sure that it looked welcoming and cosy, and in the morning, she picked some of the chrysanthemums and eked them out with a great deal of evergreen from the hedge, and arranged a bowl here and a bowl there. She ate a hasty lunch then, made up the fire, put a guard before it, begged Tom to be a good quiet cat and not stir from his seat in the largest of the armchairs, put on her coat and headscarf, and let herself out into the bleak afternoon. She turned away from the village, for she had no wish to see whoever was coming, and walked briskly up the lane, winding its muddy way up to the crest of the hill. There was a magnificent view from the top in clear weather, but today the sad November afternoon was closing in already; in another hour it would be getting dark and even colder. She hoped that they would be gone
