Page 44 of The Do-Over

If I were talking to anyone but George, I would have given up on this conversation by now, but the sound of his voice and the way his mouth moves as he talks are holding me spellbound.

‘I’ll bite,’ I tell him with a smile that I hope isn’t openly flirtatious. ‘What’s a spillway?’

‘Basically it’s a mini dam that acts like a safety valve. If the level in the pond rises above the level of the dam, it flows safely over the spillway back into the stream below, bypassing the mill completely. Yours is over there.’ He points to the waterfall that I’m definitely not going to tell him I thought was just a water feature.

‘OK. I get that.’

‘So that’s what’s happening at the moment. All the flow from the river is coming into your pond and going straight over the spillway to rejoin the river. But, if you open the sluice gate to let water into the mill, it flows down the raceway, which is the trough you can just see through the tree, over the water wheel, causing it to turn, and then down the tail race, which is effectively just a mini stream, until it rejoins the river lower down. It’s a simple mechanism, but like a lot of these things, pure genius. More reliable than a windmill unless you have a drought and, back in the day, you’d have had daisy chains of watermills all along a river, with the water passing from one to the next.’

‘It’s a shame about the tarpaulin,’ Ernest complains. ‘I can’t see the wheel at all. I’ve never come across someone covering a wheel up like that.’

‘My grandad was a stickler for looking after it, even though it wasn’t running,’ Ben tells him. ‘Every year, he’d re-treat the wheel and then cover it back up to stop the weather getting to it.’

‘How long since it was last treated?’

‘Probably three or four years. He was too frail to do it at the end of his life.’

‘Hm. If it’s well treated and the weather’s been kept off, it might be OK. Let’s have a look inside.’

‘Oh, my word,’ Ernest breathes as I open the door and follow him and George into the mill. ‘This is a lot better than I was expecting.’

I stare around in bemusement. Is Ernest looking at the same thing as me? Because all I can see are rusty bits of metal and manky-looking wood.

‘Right, let’s start at the beginning,’ Ernest continues, getting a torch out of his bag and shining it at an enormous cog that’s half-submerged in the floor. ‘Pit wheel looks solid and the wallower is also in good condition apart from a little surface rust.’ He prods the wooden column that rises through the ceiling with his screwdriver. ‘Shaft feels nice and firm here, no evidence of woodworm or rot.’

‘We do like a firm shaft,’ Rebecca murmurs in my ear, causing us both to snort with laughter. Thankfully, Ernest and George are too engrossed in the mill machinery to notice, but I spot Ben looking at us quizzically.

‘Sorry,’ I mouth at him, and bite my lip to prevent any more inappropriate giggles escaping while Ernest continues to inspect the shaft approvingly.

‘Smut aside, what does this all mean, do you suppose?’ Rebecca whispers to me as Ernest and George move to the staircase to continue their inspection.

‘I’m not sure, but it sounds like our mill might not be as knackered as it looks,’ I whisper back.

We follow George and Ernest up the stairs to the middle floor, where Ernest makes more encouraging noises about various incomprehensible-sounding bits of machinery before wandering over to a round wooden tub and lifting the lid.

‘George, come and look at this,’ he says excitedly. ‘We’ve got French Burr stones by the look of it.’

‘I’m sorry, what?’ I ask.

‘There are essentially two types of stone you find in a mill like this,’ George explains in his smooth-as-chocolate voice. I reckon he could read the dictionary to me and I’d find it fascinating. ‘Derbyshire Peak stones are the most common, but French Burr stones, which is what you have, are harder and grind finer. It’s a good thing.’

‘Umm. I’m not sure I want good things, George,’ I tell him. ‘We’re supposed to be certifying that it’s beyond repair, remember?’

‘I know, but you heard what Ernest said, didn’t you? So far, it’s all looking pretty good in here.’ He obviously registers my look of dismay as he quickly continues. ‘Look, although it’s been covered up, the water wheel will degrade pretty fast if it’s not looked after, and while this machinery all looks in reasonable condition, it might well be seized solid for all we know.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ I tell him grimly. ‘We need that certificate.’

There are more noises of delight when Ernest reaches the top floor, and my mood plummets further. After an hour or so, we congregate on the ground floor, or the ‘machinery floor’ as Ernest insists on calling it.

‘Well, ladies, you’ve quite made my day,’ Ernest says happily. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve seen a mill in such good condition. You’re very lucky.’

‘So what happens now?’ I ask, feeling anything but lucky.

‘OK. I can’t give you a certificate today, I’m afraid. What I need you to do is get rid of the fallen tree outside so we can have a look at the water wheel. If that’s as good as the rest of it, I reckon we might be in business.’

‘What do you mean, “in business”?’

‘The bearings need to be greased, and there are probably a few adjustments that need to be made, but I reckon this mill could be a runner. Good news, eh?’

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