Page 3 of Finding Love in Micklewick Bay

Stella felt a flutter of excitement in her chest as she made her way along the road to her new apartment. She’d only collected the keys from the estate agents last Saturday morning and was still settling in. Her mind went to the boxes that were piled up in the hallway. She’d been so busy with her work, unpacking them had proved to be a slow process. Her mum had kindly offered to help, but Stella had told her she’d prefer to do it herself; she knew where she wanted things to go and she didn’t relish the prospect of having to hunt around for her stuff and ending up having to call her mum to find out where she’d put them. Thinking about it now, she should have taken the week off to move in, but the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. She’d have felt unprofessional if she’d returned the Dixon brief at the last minute, especially with it concerning such a notorious family. And Stella didn’t do unprofessional.

Arriving at the line of garages at the rear of the property, she stopped before the one allocated to her apartment and zapped her key in its direction. Seconds later, the electronic door slowly rolled back allowing her to slip her vehicle into the space.

She’d just climbed out of her car when her mobile phone pinged. Stella tapped the screen, smiling as she saw that it was a group message from Jasmine. It was in her friend’s usual upbeat tone with a flourish of celebratory emojis.

Hiya lasses. It’s Friyay! Woohoo!! Looking forward to seeing you all at the Jolly tonight! Jazz xxx

Stella fired a quick text back, her thumbs flying over the keys.

Hi Jazz, woohoo indeed! Looking forward to seeing you too! Sxx

That done, she slipped her phone into the pocket of her jacket, aimed her key fob at the garage door and watched as it slowly unfurled.

As she was making her way along the side street, her high heels tapping on the York stone flags, her eyes alighted on a man walking towards her. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with close-cropped dark hair. Dressed in jeans and a pale-blue linen shirt, he walked with an easy-going roll. Their eyes locked as they drew closer, and Stella felt the familiar punch of lust in her stomach. Wow! He really was out-of-the-way good-looking.

‘Hi,’ the man said in a voice that could melt chocolate. He flashed a lopsided smile, his clear blue eyes twinkling, triggering an unexpected flutter in Stella’s chest.

Well, hello!Her interest had been well and truly piqued. ‘Hi.’ Stella returned his smile, her immaculately groomed eyebrow arching ever-so-slightly.

They maintained eye contact until they’d passed one another. Two strides later, Stella couldn’t resist the urge to look over her shoulder, only to find him looking back at her. His grin widened and he raised his arm in a wave. Stella’s heart gave an unexpected leap.What the heck was that?

Reaching the front of the imposing building and feeling slightly discombobulated by the unfamiliar feelings the stranger had stirred inside her, Stella tapped in the keycode for the oversized front door, pushing it open with a swish. Her nose was instantly assaulted by the smell of fresh paint. A thrill rushed through her as she stepped into the communal entrance area which had been tastefully decorated in neutral shades, the walls adorned with black and white photographs of the former warehouse in its previous incarnation. Large olive trees in oversized terracotta pots stood either side of the door, softening the look.

The vast, former commercial building had stood empty for decades in what had become a less than desirable part of town. Built in 1801 from imperial sized bricks, it stood five storeys high and had originally served as a warehouse, passing through many hands during its lifetime, most notably the wealthy and titled Fitzgilbert family. It had been purchased early last year and work under instruction of a mystery buyer had begun in earnest once plans for its conversion to nine luxury apartments had been given approval. It had generated a great deal of local interest.

Though the building wasn’t listed, it had managed to retain many of its original features, including the wood panelling in the entrance area as well as that in the ground floor room that had once served as an office. This space had also managed to cling onto the coving around the ceiling, though the cast iron fireplace had long since gone. The wooden staircase in the centre of the entrance area was simple in its design – as could be expected of such a building. Several treads had been replaced and were now covered with a thick, hardwearing wool carpet. Its original wooden banister, worn smooth from years of hands running up and down it and contributing to its rich patina, was found to be in perfect condition and had been polished to a deep shine. The old lift, to the left of the stairs, had been given a thorough overhaul too, bringing it up to today’s safety standards while still retaining its original charm.

To the right of the stairs was a row of metal letter boxes, one for each of the apartments. They sat above a long wooden bench that had been left in the derelict building. It too had been cleaned up and painted in the same shade of dove-grey eggshell to match the walls and was accessorised by plump tweed cushions in complementing shades. Lighting was courtesy of a vast contemporary style pendant light with strategically spaced spotlights in the ceiling. The whole space exuded an air of quietsophistication juxtaposed against a shadow of its commercial heritage.

The exterior of the building had been given a face-lift too, the bricks cleaned up, its mortar repointed. The old, rotten window frames, once filled with the gaping jaws of grimy smashed glass, had been replaced with metal-framed Crittal windows which sat perfectly with the industrial vibe. The style was echoed in the wide doorway, allowing extra light to flood into the entrance.

To the rear of the old warehouse, the large outside space that had been piled high with rubbish and rubble had also had new life breathed into it. It been skilfully landscaped and divided into eight narrow, but long gardens, one for each apartment.

The building had been transformed from a derelict eyesore into an imposing and desirable property.

When news of the proposed development of the old warehouse had broken and the virtual images of the completed apartments displayed on a noticeboard outside the property, a frenzy of interest broke out. There were to be two, small, one-bedroomed apartments on the ground floor, two, larger apartments on the next three floors, with the grandest of them all occupying the entire top floor. It boasted three vast, arched windows. The central one had a door added that gave out to a large, wraparound balcony. Completing the refurbishment, it had been fitted with a domed roof-light of impressive proportions.

Having been given a tip-off by her contact at the local estate agents, Stella had been quick-off-the-mark in paying a deposit to secure herself an apartment; she’d put her own on the market straight after. That too had been part of an industrial conversion, though on a smaller, less imposing scale.

Since then, the air of neglect that had hung around the area had slowly begun to slip away. Another disused building nearby had gone up for sale, complete with plans for its conversioninto more apartments. No one was surprised that it was quickly snapped up. The small run-down row of terraced houses to the rear of Stella’s apartment building were also undergoing something of a renaissance. And the rubbish that was usually strewn around the streets in that part of town had disappeared. It had spurred the local council to give the rusting metal railings that formed a barrier to the drop down to the bottom prom a new lick of paint.

The once grotty area, where people avoided straying after dark, had suddenly become rather desirable, and property prices had shot up rapidly. Stella was glad she’d snapped her apartment up when she had.

After retrieving her post from her pigeonhole, she made her way up the stairs to her second-floor apartment, eschewing the lift in favour of taking the healthy option and clocking-up some steps, as she always did. Somewhere up above, she heard the click of a door closing. Though she’d heard activity on the stairs and the whirr of the lift, the building had been relatively quiet and she was yet to meet any of her new neighbours; she guessed not everyone had moved in.

A feeling of calm washed over her as she entered the hallway of her new home. Leaving her cabin case at the door, she kicked off her heels and strode across the thick wool carpet through to the living room. She slipped her jacket off and lay it over the back of the sofa, then headed straight to the glass door that opened out onto the balcony. Pushing it open, she stepped outside, taking a lungful of the warm, salty air, the tiles refreshingly cool underfoot. She closed her eyes for a moment, opening them again and slowly releasing her breath.Bliss!Her gaze swept over the panorama, following the broad arc of golden sand, continuing along to the cove that housed Old Micklewick over in the right, and resting on the clutch of higgledy-piggledy fishermen’s cottages that were nestled there. It was here whereher friend Lark lived in the quaint, but tiny, Seashell Cottage on Smugglers Row. This old part of town was also home to her favourite pub, The Jolly Sailors, and where she’d be venturing to in a couple of hours’ time. It was something she was looking forward to enormously. Looming over the cove stood the powerfully majestic Thorncliffe. Its brooding presence signalled the start of the huge line of cliffs that ran along this part of the North Yorkshire Coast, keeping the surging power of the North Sea at bay.

Hearing the sound of her mobile phone ringing, Stella reluctantly pulled herself away from the view and headed back inside, leaving the door open. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her phone to see it was her mum calling.

‘Hi, Mum. How’s things?’ Stella flopped down onto the large L-shaped sofa, stretching her long legs along its generous proportions.

‘Hello, lovey, not bad thanks. How about you? Have you had a good day?’

‘Put it this way, I’m glad it’s Friday.’ Stella twirled her ponytail around her fingers, her eyes scanning her new living room.

‘Oh dear, that doesn’t sound too good, but at least it’s the weekend now.’

‘Yeah, thank goodness.’

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