Chapter Ten
‘Beryl, are you in?’
Of course I’m inthought Beryl, the front door is open and I said I would be waiting for you.
A young woman walked into the kitchen. ‘There you are!’
Where on earth else would I be, she thought. Honestly, Paul’s eldest didn’t have the brains she was born with. She was always wittering on about clouds being ways for the government to kill people and dream catchers being a way to repel bad energy. She had tried to get her to explain it once but she’d faltered after a few words. Still her mother had been fairly vacant as well. Maybe it was hereditary. In the past, Beryl would have muttered something sarcastic but these days she had learnt a little bit of peace and ignored the stupidity around her.
‘Are you ready?’
‘Aye. I’m ready,’ she got her coat, ‘and I’m still not deaf,’ she muttered.
‘What’s that?’ Ella asked brightly. She liked Beryl, she should be in a home really, but she had no family to make her, dear of her. Still, she had started mumbling a lot. Just the other day, Ella had been explaining how the elite were trying to poison the atmosphere with chemicals, and Beryl’s eyes had started to twitch and she didn’t seem to understand what Ella had been telling her. She’d told her dad about it but he said simply that Beryl would outlast the lot of them and to stop bothering her with scare stories. Now the pair of them were walking down to her dad’s pub to meet their new village landlord. Beryl had said she could manage just fine but Ella was worried that at her age she might forget. Ella was glad she’d asked because Beryl had started to mumble and twitch again.
‘Have you ever met Lady Patricia de Foix? You know seeing as how you’ve been here the longest and all.’
Ella tried to sound relaxed but in reality, she was terrified. She’d lived in one of the houses since moving out of the pub and had one of the short tenancies. People like her dad and Beryl were fine, they had generational tenancies, but other people, like her, only had rolling short hold ones and at a peppercorn rent. She and Sam both worked and they wanted to start a family. The cheap rent meant she’d be able to stop working for a while but if it went up, they might not be able to afford a family or even to stay in the village. She knew she wasn’t alone in worrying. The Hiverton Estate had not been very involved in the village for the past decade. Why the sudden interest?
‘Truth told, I never paid them much attention. It’s not as though we mixed in the same circles.’ She patted Ella on the hand. ‘Don’t you worry yourself none. All the lawyers in the world can’t kick you out of your home. You and Sam have done a lovely job there. And if all else fails, bribe them with some of your jams.’
‘It is good jam, isn’t it?’ said Ella smiling. ‘I don’t like to boast but I haven’t been beaten on the WI stall now these past five years. Do you remember when that woman from Tregarron tried to sneak a shop jam past the judges. The nerve of her. The trick is in the pectin, I’ve always said so. Shop bought can’t touch a proper homemade jam.’
Ella carried on and Beryl was glad to have diverted her for a few minutes. The girl was truly a colossal ninny but that was no reason to not care about her and her worries. Tregiskey village had been a small friendly community for well over two hundred years and hopefully would continue to be so. But as the old families had died out or moved away, generational tenancies lapsed and the properties had reverted to the estate and stood vacant; in fact at her last reckoning around twenty properties lay empty. It might not sound a lot but it was pretty much half the hamlet.
She didn’t want to alarm Ella, but everyone knew they were living in prime real estate. Their little hamlet led down to a sheltered bay with a small harbour protecting them from the worst of the winter storms. Each cottage had a decent sized garden with fruit trees, as well as flowers and vegetable beds. When the properties had been built, Hiverton Estate had decreed that each householder needed to be self-sufficient and gave them the space to achieve it.
The cottages weren’t overly large but they were more than hovels. There were also some properties that had been built with shared responsibilities. Honey Cottage had a row of bee boles built into the back garden wall. Net Cottage housed a long drying gallery for fishing nets. Apple Cottage had the village cider press and backed onto the pub. It was fair to say that whilst the original builders had been practical, they hadn’t wasted any time on thinking of names for the cottages.
As they arrived at the pub, they greeted others coming in. Not everyone could make it due to work commitments but the new owner had said it was purely informal. Despite that, as many as could had taken the time off work. Ella wasn’t the only one worried.
***
Paul looked up and saw his daughter leading Beryl in. Poor Beryl, he’d send her a couple of bottles of stout later, by way of an apology. Smiling at the pair he waved them to some seats, almost a full house. Turning around he saw a striking young lass come in. It was only ten o’clock so he hadn’t thought to put up a closed sign but he’d better let her know. She seemed a nice sort, bit too tall and skinny for his taste but it took all sorts to make the world go around. It was a bother to turn away a paying customer in February but people needed to speak their mind and they might be reluctant in front of holidaymakers. Passing Bill, he told him to grab a chair and then headed to the bar where the girl was waiting.
‘Sorry, maid. We’re not open yet. We’ve a private meeting on, see. We’ll be open at twelve if you want to come back then?’
She looked a bit embarrassed and then apologised. ‘I’m sorry, I spoke to you on the phone the other day. About arranging a meeting with the villagers?’
‘No, that was Lady de Foix.’
She shrugged. ‘Me.’ Seeing his confusion she was quick to apologise. ‘I am so sorry. I thought you realised. But how could you when I didn’t say anything? My fault. God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you embarrassed.’
‘No, it’s just I expected…’
‘Someone older? Posher?’
Paul laughed, agreeing it was pretty much exactly what he had thought. Inside he was dying. Nice way to greet his new landlady, trying to evict her. A move worthy of Del Boy. What a plonker.
‘Maybe you could you do me a favour?’ she asked.
Whipping out of his daydreaming, and adding ‘no dreaming in front of new landlord’ to the list of things not to do, he agreed to anything.
‘It’s just, I’m a bit nervous. I’ve never done this before and I don’t want to cock it up. If I say something stupid, could you jump in and help?’ She raced on spotting his hesitation. ‘Sorry, was that wrong of me to ask? Ignore me. Come on let’s do it.’
And as Paul led her through, promising to help her if she needed it, she could have sworn she heard him whisper, ‘Nice and cool, son, nice and cool.’
Facing the villagers, Paddy thought she had never seen such a hostile sea of faces. There wasn’t a smile shared amongst them and she wondered what she had done wrong. She smiled nervously and cleared her throat.
‘Good morning, my name’s Paddy Byrne, or rather Lady Patricia de Foix,’ she mumbled and then coughed, ‘sorry, you’ll have to excuse me. I’m just getting used to the new title.’
‘I don’t care what you’re called, love,’ a voice cut across her. A man had stood up and was pointing at her. He was all but bald except for an eccentric fringe that Paddy thought made him look like a monk. His belly hung over a straining belt and for some reason he was wearing a tie over his jumper. ‘I just want to know, are you planning to kick me out of my home? Because I’m telling you now, maid, you won’t get me out without a fight.’
A low mutter seemed to back him up and Paddy looked at the crowd in dismay. Why on earth did they think she was going to evict them?
‘I’m not planning on evicting anyone. At least my sister isn’t. It’s her that actually owns the freeholds. But she isn’t evicting anyone either.’
‘That’s what they all say,’ he said running his fingers through his fringe and patting it down over the crown of his head. ‘Pass the buck, blame someone else, wring their hands, but so long as they still get to go on their la-di-dah holidays and drink champagne for breakfast, they don’t care what happens.’
Paddy could feel her face was burning up. Who was this horrible man? She looked to Paul for support, but he’d already got to his feet.
‘Now look, Bill. What’s the point in her coming here to talk, if you’re going to tell her what she’s going to say, hey? Keep your peace and let’s hear her out. Don’t want her going away thinking we’re all as rude as you.’
The muttering from the pub was stronger now and Paddy thought maybe they weren’t all in agreement with Bill’s bluster. She wished her sisters were here; any one of them would handle this better than she could. Ari had given her a few tips but the problem was that Paddy was nothing like Ari, she had far more in common with Clem, the other overly emotional sister in the family. In fact, Clem would have made the situation worse, but at least she wouldn’t be quivering in front of them. That was what she loved about Clem, of the five sisters she and Clem were the most openly emotional. Like Paddy, Clem wore her heart on her sleeve. Paddy knew her own inner personality was sunny and calm, a spring butterfly. Clem’s inner personality was a volcano.
This wasn’t helping her current predicament though. Maybe she should pretend the villagers were like the paparazzi, just give them what they wanted, but she didn’t want to think of them like that. She wanted to be liked for who she was. Not because she manipulated them into it.
She cleared her throat again and noticed one or two of the crowd seemed to be smiling at her, or at least not scowling, so she focussed on them instead. Nick told her that the trick to public speaking was to catch a few friendly eyes and direct your speech to them.
‘We’ve been studying the finances of the village and see no need to make any drastic changes. Our policy is to watch and see how things work. There are a lot of empty properties, and that’s just not on. People need homes so we’ll be looking to bring in new tenants.’
‘What about us? What about our tenancies?’ called out a woman’s voice from near the window.
‘They stay as they are. Nick, that’s my sister and the financial brains says why fix what isn’t broke.’
‘You going to sell any the properties? Could I buy my place?’
Paddy shook her head.
‘That isn’t on the cards but if we were to consider selling anything, existing tenants would get first refusal and if the tenant didn’t want to buy that would be the end of that.’
‘Seems as how you’ve put a lot of thought into this,’ sneered Bill, ‘which is funny as how you said you hadn’t any plans yet.’
Paddy took a deep breath and gave Bill a tight smile, her cheeks burning.
‘We don’t have any plans but that doesn’t mean we haven’t been studying the situation for months and thinking about the options. That’s why I’m here. To check that what we have been told, and what the finances say, tally with what I find out.’
‘Snooping on us?’
Paddy could feel her neck beginning to flush but as she was about to reply she was saved by an old woman sitting near the barn who slowly got to her feet.
‘Bill Hunkin, you’re a damned fool. This girl’s family owns all these properties. She ain’t snooping, she’s getting herself acquainted. Leave her be and let her get on with her job. She’s told you, you ain’t losing your house, so accept it. But if I was you, I’d be inclined to tidy up my garden a bot. Don’t want to give her any grounds for eviction now do you?’
There was a lot of laughter at this and Bill sat down quickly. Paddy had wandered into the village twice now and on both occasions had thought what a shame it was that one of the houses had a broken washing machine in the front garden and a lawn full of weeds.
As the meeting broke up Paddy was relieved that it seemed to have gone well. The villagers appeared reassured that the estate had no plans to do anything to the village in the first year and whatever it did do, it would honour every tenancy. Some of the villagers pointed out they didn’t have a tenancy but a generational understanding, and whilst Paddy had never heard of such a thing, she promised that those too would be honoured. She then asked the villagers what they wanted and, relieved they weren’t about to be evicted, she was quickly overwhelmed with requests for better parking for tourists, internet connection, mooring rights (or removal of) for holidaymakers, a bus stop. The list went on and whilst she smiled and nodded and said she’d investigate everything, she could hear Nick asking how any of them thought it was going to be paid for.
The chief issue was with people parking in the lane during summer. Sometimes the place became grid locked as locals and tourists alike came to visit the pretty little beach. Paul was a little more reticent than some of the others as the pub landlord, his business relied on these visitors. He had a small car park but could only accommodate twenty cars. Apparently, there had been plans once for a car park to be built further up, and steps leading down to the beach. It seemed like a good idea but she could already see Nick throwing her hands up in despair. Plus, if they did build a car park more people would visit. Was that what the villagers really wanted? Paul was unsurprisingly in support of this idea.
Paddy was surprised the villagers didn’t seem to understand just how lucky they were. She would have given her front teeth to come somewhere like this when she was young, and thinking back to her old neighbours where she grew up, she knew they would love this place too. Ari had had a fabulous party at her place last year, maybe she could do the same? Invite everyone for a holiday. But then they would be adding to the villagers’ overcrowding problem. Hmm, maybe they had a point? There had to be a way of sharing all this though and she was determined to phone Nick and then Ari to discuss her findings.