Page 44 of Coming Home to Roseford Villas
Aunt Vi came back into the room with a mug of tea and a ham sandwich. She passed both to Leo, and Bryan resumed the football game while Leo tucked in. As soon as Leo had taken his last mouthful, however, the pause button was pressed once more.
‘So, lad, you’ve decided you actually do want to take this place off our hands, then? Better late than never.’
Leo gave his uncle a nervous smile. ‘I know it took me a while to get my head straight about it, but the longer I’ve been in London, the more I’ve realised how much I love it here. When I saw you had a buyer, I can’t describe the panic I felt.’ He shook his head. ‘I thought that was that, it was all over, so when the listing appeared again on Rightmove… well, it made me get my act together.’
‘The buyer wasn’t serious,’ Bryan said, frowning. ‘Put an offer in, but then pulled out when another place came up on the coast. The estate agents were a bit previous when they changed the listing.’ Bryan shifted in his seat. ‘Although they did advise us to drop the price, since our seller in Spain wants things tied up by Christmas. Are you in a position to make that happen, son?’
Leo swallowed. Glancing at Aunt Vi, who had taken a back seat during this conversation, he looked back at Bryan. ‘I should be. I’ve been transferred my share of the sale of the house in Melbourne, which is a fair deposit, but I need to talk to a mortgage broker on Monday to see if they think I’m good for the finance. It might not be easy, since I’ve only been back in the country for a few months, but hopefully I’ll be able to convince them I’m a decent proposition.’
‘Well, we’ll vouch for you, love,’ Violet said. ‘I don’t know if that’ll make a difference, but…’
Bryan shot her a warning glance. ‘I think we’ll wait and see what the broker says. But listen, lad, we can’t afford to hang around. The house in Spain won’t be there forever, and while family is family, business is most definitely business.’
Leo nodded, not surprised by the sombre tone of Bryan’s voice. While Vi had always been the public face of Roseford Villas, Bryan had been there in the background, managing the finances, keeping the logistics moving. Leo knew that his uncle wouldn’t hesitate to pull the plug if Leo wasn’t in a position tomake good on his offer to buy, but this knowledge merely acted as a motivator rather than a deterrent.
‘I completely understand, Uncle Bryan,’ Leo said. ‘And I won’t mess you about. If I can’t make it work financially, then I won’t keep you waiting. But if there’s any way I can buy Roseford Villas, then, believe me, I will try.’ He glanced around the living room before continuing, to gather his thoughts. ‘I didn’t realise how much I loved being here until I left. And now, all I want to do is come back, and make it mine.’
Vi smiled at him, and he felt grateful as she reached out and squeezed his hand. ‘And we’d like nothing more than to sell it to you, my love. Keeping it in the family would be the best thing we could do.’
‘But if it’s not possible…’ Bryan’s voice trailed off, but his message was loud and clear. It just renewed Leo’s determination.
‘I’ll phone the mortgage broker first thing on Monday morning,’ Leo assured him. ‘And then, at least, we’ll know, one way or the other.’
With that, suddenly feeling exhausted from the journey, Leo excused himself to his room. He had a lot to think about, and a lot to organise if Roseford Villas was truly going to be his. But for the moment, all he wanted to do was sleep. As he drifted off that night, his thoughts returned to Rory. He often caught himself wondering about her just before he fell asleep, remembering her smile, and what it had been like to feel her in his arms. Would it be too weird if he sent her a ‘how are you?’ text in the morning, he wondered.
52
Rory woke up the morning after the writing retreat had ended with feelings that alternated between relief and despondency. She’d really enjoyed teaching the course, and in the end, she felt as though she’d won over the attendees. Her chat with Shona had also given her a lot to think about, both in terms of her novel and the way things had ended with Leo. She wondered, as she tended to do when she woke up in the morning, what he was doing right now. It was a chilly autumn Saturday in November, a far cry from the warm summer days they’d spent together, and Rory wondered whether the rain was falling in London, or if the sun was peeking through the cloud cover as it was here. She couldn’t help it: things still felt unfinished between them. Pondering her phone, she shook her head. What good would it do to text him? He was miles away, and even if he did reply, it might not be with words she wanted to hear.
She swung herself out of bed and into the shower. She had a tutoring session with Gabe this afternoon, her first one, and she needed to mug up on the key themes and ideas from the poetry anthology he was studying for his exams. Gabe, who was a sweet boy but probably wouldn’t be best pleased at having to devote anhour of his Saturday to the study of poetry when he could be out with his mates, deserved the best she could give him.
As she looked over the anthology Gabe had been assigned for his exams, she munched absently on a piece of toast and sipped her coffee. She was starting a part-time supply teaching post at the local secondary school at the end of next week, so she’d better get her head around that too. The piecemeal nature of her employment and income was worrying her slightly, but Stella had already booked her for a repeat of the romance writing course to run in January, which would boost things a little, even if most of that would be in lieu of rent. She was in a better position than she could have been, she kept reminding herself.
The morning rushed by, and as she spent a productive hour with Gabe, who was initially reluctant, but at least seemed to appreciate the time by the end, Rory was keen to get out and stretch her legs. She’d take a walk to the village and blow away the cobwebs. She didn’t have much in for dinner, either, so she thought she might as well grab something from Southgate’s Stores. Wrapping up against the chill in the air with her warm winter coat and a bright blue scarf, she set out from the gatehouse, enjoying the autumn sunshine, which never failed to lift her spirits.
Grabbing a couple of things, she tucked them into the wicker shopping basket she’d brought with her, that Stella had laughingly given her as a ‘moving in’ present (complete with wine, bread, a pint of milk and a jar of coffee – all of the writerly essentials, Stella had grinned), and then mooched back out onto the main street. She had no desire to head straight back to the gatehouse, as she knew she’d spend time fretting about starting at a new school instead of doing anything productive, so she headed down the road a bit to Roseford Reloved, the second-hand and vintage clothes shop. She wasn’t really in the market for anything, but she liked to browse.
A few minutes later, she was dithering about whether or not she had the funds for a cosy grey cashmere-wool blend jumper, which would be perfect for the chilly nights in the cottage, and chatting to the shop’s owner, Polly Parrott.
‘It’s certainly getting colder,’ Polly said. ‘The ceiling fell in almost a year ago, but thankfully the place is weatherproof now. It used to be arctic in here in the winter!’
‘I bet.’ Rory smiled. She’d heard the story about Polly’s ceiling from Stella, who’d also told her that Polly’s partner Will Sutherland had been right under the ceiling when it had collapsed. Thankfully, this hadn’t put too much of a dampener on their relationship as they were now living together in Will’s house on the outskirts of the village.
‘So, shall I put that jumper aside for you?’ Polly asked. ‘The colour suits you.’
Rory blushed. ‘I’m on a bit of a budget,’ she confessed. ‘I’m not sure I can stretch to it.’ Regretfully she put it back on the rail. ‘But if it’s still here next week…’
Polly smiled. ‘Here,’ she said, and handed Rory a voucher for 20 per cent off. ‘If this helps to change your mind, it’s my festive season discount. I shouldn’t really do it until the start of December, but I always try to help my customers bag a bargain!’
Rory took the leaflet. ‘That’s really kind,’ she said. But she shook her head. ‘I’ll leave it for now, I think.’ Giving the jumper a last, longing glance, she said goodbye to Polly and wandered back out onto the street. She really should get back to the gatehouse now. The fire needed lighting, if the place wasn’t going to get too cold. The bright sun overhead was deceptive: the evening would soon be drawing in, and, much as she was enjoying living alone, she couldn’t help missing Alex’s company. The two of them had looked out for each other in the time they’d shared the flat, and Rory missed the reassurance of having someone under the same roof, even though she’d enjoyed livingalone since she’d moved back to Roseford. She knew Stella was only a stone’s throw away, but it wasn’t the same. Besides, Stella was busy with her own life and family: Rory didn’t want to impose.
For a fleeting few steps of her walk home, she wondered what it would have been like had she still got the anticipation and excitement of seeing Leo again. Even if they’d had to do the long-distance thing for a while, the tantalising possibility of being with him, however infrequently, would have given them both something to keep them warm on chilly winter nights. Once more, her fingers swiped her phone to where his number was still stored. Maybe she should just send him a text, see what his response was, rather than spend any more time agonising. The worst that could happen was that he’d just ignore it. He wasn’t the type to send back a bitchy, horrible response, she was sure of that. She’d bottled out last night, after composing several versions of the same thing. Maybe, emboldened after a glass of the wine she still had from Stella’s welcome basket, she’d just do it.
53
Monday morning came, and Leo was up before it got light. He didn’t want to keep his aunt and uncle waiting, and he needed to speak to the mortgage broker immediately they opened. With trembling hands, he dialled the number he’d located of a local firm, and within moments he was speaking to an adviser.
It soon became clear that, as Leo hadn’t been back in the country for very long, his application for a business mortgage was going to be rather more complex than he’d hoped. Of course, he’d realised that there might be issues, but as the adviser went through the finer points with him, his heart sank. No matter that he had a hefty chunk of deposit, there just wasn’t sufficient proof of income and residence to back up his application. As he ended the call, he let out a long sigh.
