Chapter 20
20
‘Overshot, nice,’ Ernest comments as we walk around the side of the mill and the external components come into view.
‘I’m sorry?’ I say.
‘He’s talking about the flow of the water,’ George explains. ‘It flows in from above the water wheel, see? It’s the most efficient way to drive a wheel because you’re using the weight of the water to turn it. Undershot wheels are the opposite; they have paddles that dip into water flowing beneath them, a bit like a paddle steamer in reverse. They’re nowhere near as efficient though.’
‘Why aren’t they all overshot then?’
‘You need a good drop from the pond to the tail race to drive an overshot wheel.’
‘Sorry, you’ve lost me again. What’s a tail race?’
‘OK, let’s start at the top and work our way down. To drive a watermill you need water, right?’
‘Which comes from the pond.’
‘Yes, but if we’re looking at the whole picture, you need something to refill the pond, otherwise you’d run it once, empty the pond, and that would be it.’
‘I hadn’t thought about that.’
‘So what usually happens is you have a river nearby, and part or all of the flow from the river is diverted into your mill pond. River levels are unpredictable and mills like this one work best with fairly constant water flow, so think of the mill pond as a kind of battery. When you run the mill, you’re depleting the battery, and the stream or river recharges it.’
‘But if you have a stream or river constantly flowing into your pond and you don’t run the mill, wouldn’t it flood?’
‘It would, but that’s where the spillway comes in.’
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?’
I stare at him as my heart falls through the floor. He’s obviously completely forgotten how we wanted this to go. Ernest is chatting happily with Ben, but George obviously picks up on it, as he gently pulls Rebecca and me aside as we walk back round to the cottage.
‘Look, I know this isn’t what you wanted, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to adapt your plans if you don’t get the certificate.’
‘I can’t think how,’ I tell him gloomily as Ben pulls out his mobile phone and dials a number.
‘Dave,’ I hear him say when the call connects. ‘I’m calling to ask a favour. Yeah, there’s a tree that I need moving. No, at the mill. As soon as possible really.’
There’s a long pause, presumably while Dave, whoever he is, checks his availability. ‘Wednesday?’ Ben says eventually. ‘Perfect. Thanks. Yeah, see you then.’
‘Dave will come and deal with the tree on Wednesday,’ he announces unnecessarily.
‘Perfect,’ Ernest says happily. ‘I’ll call Charlotte and give her the news. I can’t speak for George here, but, assuming nothing urgent comes up in the meantime, I’ll be back on Wednesday too with a large pot of grease. All being well, and assuming the water wheel is OK, I reckon we might be able to fire it up as soon as the tree is out of the way.’
‘Well, that couldn’t have gone much worse,’ I mutter darkly as we watch the Volvo bounce back down the track.
‘What are we going to do if we can’t get the certificate?’ Rebecca asks. ‘I guess we could adapt the plans and do up the mill instead of converting it. It would certainly be a talking point for the new owners. “Come next door and have a look at my fully functional mill.”’
‘Sounds like the ultimate dinner party bore to me. It was bad enough listening to Ernest wanging on about wallowers and pit wheels. Honestly, if George hadn’t been there to translate and explain, I think I would have gone to sleep.’
‘Hmm. I did notice you were paying rather close attention to him,’ she says with a half-smile. ‘I still think he’s gay, but I’m sure the idea of him getting hot and greasy with the mill machinery isn’t the worst mental image you’ll ever have had.’
I allow the image to form in my mind, sitting it alongside the earlier one of George on his traction engine, and I have to admit it does improve my mood. I file them neatly away for future use before returning my focus to our predicament.
‘Ben?’ I ask, after thinking about it for a while. ‘I don’t suppose you have any mill saboteurs in your extensive contact list, do you?’
He smiles. ‘Sadly not. In fact, I don’t have anyone with any form of mill expertise, I’m afraid. I do agree with Rebecca though. It might actually be a selling point.’
‘I doubt it,’ I tell them. ‘It’s like a swimming pool on steroids.’
‘What have swimming pools got to do with it?’ Ben asks, confused.
‘Having a swimming pool generally devalues a house and makes it harder to sell,’ I explain. ‘Having a fully functional bloody watermill is going to be even worse.’
‘I’d have thought swimming pools would increase the value,’ Ben persists. ‘They’re aspirational, aren’t they?’
‘Maybe, if you were in a hot country and had an outdoor pool you could use a lot. But here, you either need an indoor pool if you’re going to want to use it year round, or you get to use it on the three nice summer days when you’re not working. And, for the privilege of doing that, you lose a fat chunk of garden and have to spend a fortune on chemicals and what have you to maintain it. Oddly, very few people see that as a plus when looking for a house. How much do you think it costs to maintain a sodding mill? And you’re never going to get any benefit out of it unless you’re some kind of psychotic uber-baker who’s obsessed with milling their own flour. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like a pretty niche market to me.’
‘I’ve just had an idea,’ Rebecca remarks thoughtfully. ‘If this mill is so historically significant, or whatever, there are probably grants and stuff you can get to pay for its upkeep. So, you get your dinner party talking point, the government coughs up to maintain it, and every so often you bring in someone like Ernest to mill some flour and charge for entry. It could be a win-win.’
‘Hmm. Maybe, but I reckon it’s still going to need a very specific type of buyer. One who appreciates the privacy the park gives them, but is also happy to invite a load of strangers round every so often to watch Ernest strut his stuff. In fact, you’re going to need specific strangers too, because listening to Ernest talk about milling is guaranteed to send most people to sleep.’
She sighs. ‘You’re right. Back to plan A.’
‘Which is?’
‘Hope like hell that Ernest finds a fatal problem when he tries to run it.’
‘Are you sure you don’t know any mill saboteurs?’ I ask Ben again.
He smiles. ‘Not one, sorry.’
‘Right, well, I guess there’s nothing we can do but crack on for the time being. We’re not going to learn anything more until your mate Dave gets rid of the tree.’
As I settle back into the familiar task of painting the window frames, I allow various images of George to play through my mind. I know I’ll probably never see him again after he and Ernest have sorted the mill out, but I’ve never reacted that viscerally to a man before, even Alasdair. To be fair, the only other eligible man I’ve seen since leaving Morton Lansdowne is Ben but, even if Rebecca weren’t chasing him for all she was worth, the beard would rule him out for me. I tell myself firmly to get a grip and focus on solving the problem at hand.
Not until after I’ve enjoyed these mental images for a little while longer, though.