Eleven
The phone in her father’s study began ringing just as Flora was coming out of the kitchen with a fresh mug of coffee in her hand.
She was about to walk past when she recalled her father telling her he was doing a plastering job over in Upper Ditchley today.
She quickly changed direction and managed to pick up the handset before it clicked over to the answer-machine. Her dad usually diverted it to his mobile when he was out but he’d clearly forgotten.
‘Good afternoon, Doherty & O’Brien, how may I help you?’
She listened to the voice on the other end for a moment before walking around the desk to look at the diary which was kept in one of the drawers.
‘I’m just checking Mr O’Brien’s availability, if you could bear with me, please.’
It took Flora a few seconds to get to the right page – how many times had she told her dad to use the blooming marker ribbon? – and note the jobs he had booked in.
‘You say you’re looking for an appraisal on an old property which may require extensive renovation work, is that correct?’
When the caller confirmed this to be the case, Flora checked the diary to work out which job this could be fitted around. Given the comments over the weekend, this sounded like it was exactly the project her dad needed.
‘Mr O’Brien could be available on Thursday afternoon, just after 3pm if that suits you? It does? Great.’
She grabbed a pen from the pot on the desk.
‘If I can just take your name, mobile number and the address of the property, I’ll get you in the diary.’
When she’d recorded the details and hung up the phone, Flora looked at the address she’d written down. Bramblebush Farm? She’d never heard of that one.
‘Hey, Dad, I’m in the kitchen.’
Flora, hearing her dad come in the front door, gave the pot on the hob a stir before turning to switch on the kettle.
‘Evening, love, something smells nice.’
‘I made that sausage and mushroom casserole you like but instead of spuds, I’m making rice. I also picked up some pitta breads – just for a change.’
‘Sounds good. Have I got time for a shower?’
‘Yup! I’m just putting the rice on now so you’ve got about twenty-five minutes.’
Her dad gave her a weary smile and headed off upstairs.
As soon as he was out of the room, Flora’s own smile slipped off her face. Her dad was tired from manning the business at this end while Robbie dealt with the bigger renovation in Oxford. The problem with the smaller jobs was that the equipment was being loaded in and out of the van every day. On bigger projects, the heavy items could often be left in situ until the work was finished but the incidental jobs were usually completed on the same day.
She thought of the appointment she’d made for Thursday – all being well, it may turn out to be something halfway decent.
Her dad walked back into the kitchen just as she was placing the bowls of rice and casserole on the table.
‘Here you go, you look like you could do with one of these.’
Flora passed over a chilled bottle of beer and opened a cider for herself. She took the rack of warm pitta breads from the oven, put them beside the rice and casserole and sat across from her dad.
They loaded up their plates and ate in silence for the first few minutes.
‘How was it today? Did the new window frames go in okay?’
Matt took a drink before replying.
‘Of course they didn’t! Despite all the careful measuring, each frame still had to be altered to fit. The downside of working with very old buildings, as you know, is that most replacement items need tweaking before you get a perfect finished product.’
‘I’ll bet they looked good though, when they were done.’
‘Yes,’ Matt smiled at her, ‘they did. Seeing the end result is what makes this job exciting, no matter how back-breaking it can be at times.’
‘Well, just in case you forget to check, I’ve booked you in to do an appraisal on Thursday afternoon.’
‘Oh, Flora, I was hoping to have an early finish that day…’
‘I’m sorry but I think this has the potential to be a big job. Some woman wants you to give her an appraisal on Bramblebush Farm.’
‘Bramblebush Farm?’
‘Yeah. I’ve never heard of it, have you?’
‘The name is vaguely familiar.’
‘Do you know where it is?’
‘I think it’s to the north of the village but I can’t say for sure.’
‘The lady I spoke with is looking at buying it and wants an expert eye to appraise it, tell her if she can do the alterations she has in mind and a ballpark on the cost.’
‘That could be a big job, right enough.’
Flora gave a small smile.
‘Exactly! It could be! Which is why your early finish on Thursday has been cancelled. Sally… something, I can’t recall her surname, will meet you there at 3pm.’
Matt’s head shot up to look at her.
‘Sally?’
‘Err, yes… why? Do you know her?’
‘No, no, I don’t believe so.’
Flora waited for her father to expand on his comment and when he didn’t, she continued, ‘Okay. So, anyway, the postcode is in the diary and she said it’ll take you right to the door if you use GPS.’
‘Great. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. Now, since I did the cooking, I’ll leave you to clear up. The soap woman in Oxford has finally got her act together and I need to finish off her logo for the morning so I’m going upstairs to do that.’
She stood and walked behind her dad to plant a kiss on his head as she passed by on her way out the door. Flora heard him let out a yawn as she stepped into the hallway and she stopped to look back at him, her concern lying heavy on her heart.
His shoulders had dropped and his head was drooping forward, almost touching the beer bottle clasped in front of him.
She held in a sigh and quietly made her way upstairs to her little box-room study, all the while hoping that this farm job would be the project her dad was looking for.