Chapter 25
Albie
Create Beautiful Places and Spaces
‘After you,’ Albie swung open his cottage’s fire-engine red door, motioning Clover to precede him.
‘What a gent, thanks,’ she replied, stepping over the threshold with a whisper of blue silk. ‘Also, have you noticed the roses out front, and your door paint match my favourite lipstick?’
Albie coloured, blustering, ‘What a coincidence.’
‘If that’s how you want to play it,’ she teased, walking along the narrow hallway. Pointing to the antique sideboard where a lamp stood, the leaves around the bulb and coloured glass tiles giving it the appearance of a flower. ‘That’s beautiful. Tiffany?’
‘Yes. That was Rose’s. It’s got sentimental value, but there isn’t a spot for it up at the manor. I thought it would look good here.’
‘Yes. Belongings are funny things, aren’t they?’ she mused, stroking her fingers over the white, blue and pink glass petals. ‘They can remind us of good times, but also hold us back.’
‘Meaning?’ His eyebrows drew together.
‘We shouldn’t hold onto treasured possessions if it prevents us making space for new ones.’
He paused, before asking, ‘Are we still talking about the lamp?’
Wry amusement spread across her face. ‘You know we’re not.’ Straightening the sleeves of her blue silk dress, 1940s style with small shoulder pads and a matching bow belt, she nodded at the stairs. ‘Are you giving me the grand tour, or not?’
‘It was only completed yesterday,’ Albie explained on a puff of pride, after guiding Clover around the cottage.
He’d enjoyed showing off the mixture of white-washed walls and wallpapered rooms, the Victorian-style claw-footed bath, an iron bedstead in the main bedroom, and the rich woven rugs laid out on gleaming polished floors.
The teal Salcombe Blue AGA range was the focal point of the kitchen, and copper pans he’d picked out hung from a rack on the low-beamed ceiling.
All in all, he was delighted with how Friendship Cottage had turned out.
‘You’ve done well, it’s quite an achievement. The building looks picture-book perfect from the outside. I can’t wait to see it at Christmas, and the inside has a striking aesthetic.’ Clover leaned back against the solid oak dining table, lipsticked mouth curving.
‘I can’t take all the credit.’ He waved a hand.
‘Never could have done this without the builders and association members. Over the past few days, we pulled together to finish it off, including arranging the furniture to make it welcoming and homey.’ In line with Rose’s rule for living about making beautiful spaces, which he’d picked as today’s advice.
‘I believe it’s called staging.’ Giving him a once-over, she tacked on, ‘You’re quite good at that yourself. I love today’s outfit.’
‘Oh. Thank you.’ He glanced down at his monochrome wingtip shoes, pleated navy trousers, plaid jacket and beige waistcoat, with red tie and white shirt. A black fedora was perched on his head. ‘It’s one of my favourites. Although Harley did ask me earlier why I was dressed like Al Capone.’
Clover threw back her head and laughed in a rich tone. For a moment, Albie was transfixed, wishing he was a young man again and could sweep her off her feet. Of course, it would be entirely inappropriate at their age. Wouldn’t it? And could he honestly imagine romancing anyone but Rose?
‘He does have a dry sense of humour,’ Clover said, bringing Albie’s attention back to their conversation. ‘So, now you’ve created such a beautiful place, what are you planning to do with it? Presumably you’re not moving in, as you have the flat?’
‘I’ll stay in the manor, but aim to rent the cottage out eventually.
In the short-term, we could take pictures, put them online, and invite people to come and look around?
History buffs perhaps, to start with. We held an ad hoc commonhold association meeting outside the building that looks like an inn earlier.
Sorry, you didn’t answer your mobile, otherwise you’d have been welcome.
Anyway, we think if we can get more people involved in the local area, show we have visitors taking an interest in the cottages, the developer will find it difficult demolishing any of the seven vacant ones they manage to buy.
A public outcry could make them more inclined to build elsewhere.
Of course, this all depends on us moving up the timescale for finishing our own cottages.
We’re aiming to complete one every fortnight. ’
Her expression was both impressed and worried. ‘I’m the type of woman who likes a challenge, but that sound quite ambitious.’
‘It is.’ Taking his fedora off, he spun it between his hands.
‘However, it should be doable as the foreman can bring in crew from other contracts, and has a network of reliable tradesmen. Gilly and Ariel are also making rapid progress stripping wallpaper, plus Kit and Theo have moved their efforts from clearing all the front gardens to clearing out the rest of the buildings.’
‘Hmm.’ She tapped a finger on her chin in an I wonder gesture. ‘And what are you going to do with your back garden? A bit of a mess, isn’t it?’
‘We focused on the interior over the past week, so it’s still on my list,’ he admitted, perching his hat back on his head. ‘Not been out there for a while, that square patch of brown grass is distinctly uninspiring.’
‘Perhaps we should take a look.’ Clover walked over and unlocked the back door, striking a movie star pose with one hand on her hip as she repeated his earlier words to him. ‘After you.’
‘Erm, I should head up to the manor. I’m already late for dinner.’ Why did she make him so nervous?
‘We can’t have you going hungry,’ she responded with a little smile, ‘but I’m sure it will keep for a few minutes. Come on, Albie-never-Albert, humour a girl?’
‘All right,’ he replied, wondering why she was so adamant, ‘if you insist.’ Shuffling past her, he stepped outside, expecting his feet to sink into damp grass. Instead, there was solid wood. ‘Heh?’
Behind him, Clover pressed a switch and said, ‘Ta-da!’ The space lit up against the blue-violet evening twilight, and two spotlights mounted into the cottage wall above them illuminated the newly constructed decking.
Clicking another switch as he gaped in bemusement, a multitude of fairy lights twinkled in the air, hanging from tall posts in the four corners of the lawn.
Even better was the grass designed in curving manicured swirls dotted with rose bushes packed densely with ivory, pale yellow and pink blooms. ‘I-I don’t know what to say.
’ It was wondrous, magical. ‘It’s such a beautiful space. Who did all of this?’
Clover’s face flushed with pleasure. ‘Moi, with the help of some association members and a couple of professional landscapers I roped in from the Happy Café. It was extremely difficult keeping it secret from you, and we were almost discovered a few times. Didn’t you wonder why Steve was so insistent the kitchen blinds stay shut, and why the back door was never open, even with the sunny spell over the past few days? ’
‘No. I was too focused on what was going on in here.’
‘Well, from the look on your face, it was worth the skulking around. Also, I know how much you love roses.’
‘Yes. My late wife was obsessed with them. Always said they had a dazzling elegance. Her parents were big fans too. Hence the walled garden, and her name.’ Tangled emotions twisted in his chest, and his eyes grew unaccountably damp.
Joy. Gratitude. Pain. Poignancy. He didn’t know which to deal with first. ‘I don’t know how to express my appreciation,’ he sniffed. ‘This is special. Thank you very much.’
Reaching out, she touched his elbow. ‘That’s all I need.’
He swallowed nervously. ‘Why did you do it?’
‘Because I’ve had a long life, and it’s been an age since I met someone I clicked with so instantly.
Your companionship means a lot to me, Albie.
The last few weeks have been lovely.’ Grey eyes soft, she looked like a young girl in her twenties in that moment, rather than a woman who’d weathered decades.
‘I wanted to do something for you. Just because I could.’
Her fingers curled around his forearm, tugging him nearer. Her breath warmed his cheek, and he called himself an old fool for moving closer. Could they? Should he…?
‘I’ve something else to show you.’ She jarred him from his wonderings, pointing further down the lawn.
‘Follow me and watch your step.’ Leading him along several flagstones laid in a meandering path among the blossoming roses, they came to a stop beside the bottom wall.
‘Theo and Kit laid a small patio. A nice spot for whoever lives here to enjoy the balmy air on a summer evening.’
‘Oh.’ He regarded the green wrought-iron table with matching chairs, upholstered with floral patterned cushions like the ones on his manor sofa. A citronella scent wafted from a solitary candle, and a white cardboard box sat beside it. ‘This is simply perfect, Clover. I’m in awe.’
‘Don’t thank me yet, until you’ve opened the box.’ Taking a seat, she gestured him to do likewise.
‘What’s this?’ Sinking down beside her, he held back a groan of relief at being off his aching knees, though they weren’t bothering him quite as much these days.
‘Open it and find out.’
‘You do know it’s not my birthday?’ Raising his eyebrows, he slid the box closer, peeling off the tape and flipping back the lid.
‘I don’t know when your birthday is, and we must cover that later, but this is better. I’ve brought a piece of home to us.’
‘Home?’
She tucked a glossy silver wing of hair behind her ear.
‘Devon,’ she crowed. ‘Our home county. For dessert, there’s scones, strawberry jam and clotted cream – all homemade by Kirsten, of course – but there’s also Brixham crab, fresh bread, pasties, and blue-veined cheese made by a farm down the road from where I grew up.
’ Bringing her large handbag onto her lap, she opened the clasp and drew out two plastic tumblers and an insulated bottle bag.
‘And the piece de resistance,’ she touched her fingers to her lips with a loud mwah sound, ‘good old-fashioned scrumpy.’
Albie chortled as she produced a bottle of cider and unscrewed the cap, pouring two generous cups of sparkling gold liquid. ‘Cheers!’ She handed him one, clinking their rims.
‘Cheers,’ he replied, swallowing a large mouthful. ‘That’s delightful.’
After downing half her cider, she scraped her chair closer to his. ‘It is. Extra-strength, too.’
There was a sparkle in her eye, and for a taut moment, Albie wasn’t sure he was brave enough to utter the next sentence. ‘Ms White,’ he said in a trembling voice, cringing with potential embarrassment at the situation he might land himself in, ‘are you trying to get me drunk?’
‘Why, Mr Curville,’ she cupped her palm around his cheek, ‘I should hope so. I prize your companionship, but I’m also trying to seduce you.’
‘You are?’
Her gaze was tender. ‘Yes.’
‘Seduction, at our age?’
Leaning forward, she whispered against his mouth, ‘No one is ever too old for romance. Besides, I may be wrinkled on the outside, but mentally I’m still in my thirties. Aren’t you?’
So many muddled emotions flew through his head he didn’t know what to do with them, but the one shouting the loudest was a voice that sounded like Rose. Do it. Live. Love.
He didn’t give guilt or doubt a chance to take hold. He could try. ‘I may need a little time.’
‘That’s okay, we can have a slow-burn romance,’ Clover reassured.
Closing the gap between them, he gathered his courage and kissed her.
It wasn’t with youthful passion, or the excitement of a newly married couple.
It was altogether different, full of respect, admiration and affection.
Deeper than a passing ardour, greater than a temporary elation.
It was better than anything he could have imagined, and a spark which had lain dormant for more than eighteen years flickered to life.
It was only as they drew away from each other with matching grins they saw the roses surrounding them had changed from pastel shades to a bright, startling red.
‘How…? Why…?’ Clover gazed around with wonder in her eyes, shaking her head at impossible things.
Albie stroked a finger over her cheekbone, thinking the roses were lovely, but she was lovelier. ‘Do you believe in magic?’
‘Unequivocally,’ she breathed, staring pointedly at his face. Then, rallying, she tilted her head at the scarlet blooms. ‘Well, it looks like I’m not the only one who’s ready for some romance.’