Nine
‘I know, Frida, I know! It’s this horrible bumpy road again. I’m sorry. I promise it’ll be one of the first things I have sorted out, baby.’
Sally was fully aware her car was an inanimate object but she loved it and didn’t like to treat it mean. And she felt very mean for dragging it up this track for the third time in four days.
As she drove round the bend that brought the farmhouse into view, her heart swelled at the sight of it. She no longer saw the peeling paint or the patchy render, the tatty woodwork, the dirty windows, and the overgrowth around it; she only saw how it would look once some much-needed TLC had been bestowed upon it.
She parked further over to the side to allow space for the agent’s car when she turned up. There hadn’t been time to see if the information had been emailed across as requested before she’d left home to get here so Sally pulled her mobile out to have a look while she waited.
‘Bugger!’
The phone signal was weak and not strong enough for her to access the internet and her emails.
‘Ah well, looks like I’m having a little wander again.’
Frida’s door had only just been closed when the sound of a car approaching came up the lane. A blue Mini appeared a moment later and a woman not much older than herself, if looks were anything to go by, got out.
‘Sally?’
‘Hi, that’s me,’ she smiled, as she walked over.
‘Fiona Parkridge, nice to meet you.’
They shook hands and Sally was pleased to receive one that was nice and firm. She laid a lot of stock on a person’s handshake and was happy with the vibe she’d picked up from this one.
Fiona looked around her. ‘I’ve never been to this property. In fact, until you called this morning, I didn’t even know it was on our books. How on earth did you come to hear of it?’
‘I found it on Friday. A serendipitous accident when putting a postcode into the satnav. I came back for a second look on Saturday and that’s when I came across your seller’s board with the phone number.’
‘I see. Well, after we spoke, I asked around the office but no one could provide me with any information other than what was in the file and I can tell you, it was slim pickings in there. Eventually I phoned Mr Burnett Snr, who is now retired, and he was able to fill me in. It was a working farm until just over twenty-five years ago when the farmer, Mr Altshott, retired. His two sons had no desire to follow in their father’s footsteps but he couldn’t bring himself to sell up and move out as the farm had been in his family for many generations. Unfortunately, the declining profit in farming over the years meant he had to sell off most of the land to neighbouring farmers in order to clear his debts and have some funds to live off. When he died, there were family arguments over what remained of the property. One son wanted to sell, the other wanted to flatten the house and redevelop the area with some kind of posh estate. His plan was thwarted when his brother investigated the lease of the property and found all sorts of covenants which prevented that. Out of spite, the brother who’d wanted to develop it refused to sell so it sat empty and decaying until they finally came to an agreement about fourteen years ago.’
‘How much land does the property come with?’
‘Forty-five acres.’
‘With the growing trend for, and recent interest, in smallholdings, I’d have thought that was a good size for someone looking to get back to being one with nature. Surely a place like this would have been snapped up? Why hasn’t it sold?’
‘You mean apart from the obvious case of not knowing we had it on our books?’ Fiona grinned. ‘Land around here has always come at a cost. The brothers set a price and refused to budge on it. They felt a premium location should have a premium price which put it out of the price-range for people looking to make that kind of move.’ Fiona gave a little giggle. ‘Mr Burnett became rather heated as he was relaying this to me. Apparently, when he tried to talk sense into the brothers and suggested they reduce the price, they were less than polite, used certain language in a tone Mr Burnett felt was unnecessary which led him to take the decision not to put any effort into trying to sell the property. After all, why should he waste his time giving viewings to people who were never going to buy it. He hid the file away and whenever the Altshotts asked how it was going, he simply told them there had been no interest. As time went on, they stopped asking and he forgot about it.’
‘I see. I suppose I should ask the price before we go any further.’
‘Ah, now you see, that’s where you’re in luck. What was waaaaaay out of the ballpark all those years ago, would now be considered quite reasonable by today’s prices. Although,’ Fiona looked up at the house, ‘what you gain in the purchase you may lose out in the refurbishment!’
She proceeded to state the value and when Sally heard the asking price for the farm, she couldn’t help but exclaim in surprise.
‘But… that’s almost the same price I paid for my tiny little house in Burton!’
‘Like I said, you’re in luck.’ She gave Sally a small wink. ‘Now, shall we head inside and see what other surprises this holds in store.’
‘I can’t wait.’
Fiona handed her a torch from the boot of her car and took a second one for herself.
‘It’s unlikely the power is still on but even if it is, I don’t fancy touching any light switches until it’s all been checked out.’
Sally nodded in agreement as they walked up the wooden steps to the main door.
‘You should see the size of the key for this. It almost needs its own handbag!’
Fiona held up a solid cast-iron key – the sort you’d expect to see locking up the gates at the Tower of London.
‘Wow, that’s a beauty.’
‘Isn’t it just. Let’s just hope the damn lock hasn’t seized up.’
She put the key in the lock and with the use of both hands, managed to turn it.
‘Phew, I was beginning to worry a bit there.’
‘I had every faith in you, Fiona.’
‘Glad one of us did. Right, here goes.’
She pushed the door and with an almighty creak, it slowly swung open.