Chapter 29 Albie #2
Builder after builder turned them down, declining to even visit to provide quotes.
Carpenters were booked up for the next six months, thatchers too busy repairing roofs damaged by a recent summer storm, and plumbers were apparently stretched thin with emergencies.
Their growing suspicions were confirmed when Kirsten called a building company under an assumed name for a loft conversion for her aunt’s house in Romsey and was offered an appointment the following day.
Ethan’s latest message had cemented things, anger palpable.
Efforts falling flat ref contractors
They’ve been warned off, and/or
promised work elsewhere.
F*ckers! E
While Albie blanched at the swear word, he’d come to the same conclusion.
What were they going to do? He couldn’t let Rose down, and everyone was so emotionally attached to rebuilding Little Beaubrook now.
It would be his fault if they lost money, or worse were disappointed. He’d roped them all into this.
Now, a jaunty knock was sounding on his flat door while he was mid-way through his first disagreement with Clover.
He was too old to try and navigate a relationship.
He’d forgotten how to do it. ‘I’m so sorry, l-let me just get that,’ he stuttered, tucking his shirt into his trousers and backing away, ‘I won’t be long. ’
‘Albie,’ Clover’s tone was indignant as he pulled his bedroom door closed, ‘don’t you dare—’
‘Give me five minutes and I’ll be back.’
‘Albie? Everything okay?’ Kirsten’s muffled voice echoed along the hallway.
‘Coming! Sorry.’ Opening the door, he stepped back.
She stayed in the corridor, looking shifty. ‘How are you?’
‘Yes, fine,’ he replied, distracted. ‘Can I help with something?’
‘You don’t seem fine, you’re not wearing colourful enough clothes for a start,’ she pointed to his beige trousers and navy jumper over periwinkle shirt, accessorised only by a purple neckerchief, ‘and we know this thing with the builders is wearing you down.’
‘I must admit, it’s not ideal. We’ll need to look further afield. Just not sure they’ll want to travel in from outside Hampshire.’
‘Hmm. Well, we know it’s a stressful situation for you,’ she said sympathetically, ‘and thought it’d help to have something else to focus on.
After all, this is a joint project, not solely your responsibility.
Appreciate you have Clover now, but perhaps you could do with some more constant companionship. ’
‘Are you going to stop talking in riddles?’
‘Yep.’ Bending over, she picked a box up from the floor and thrust it into his arms. ‘Here.’
‘What on earth…?’ Feeling the box slide sideways as he took it from her, he tightened his grip, a weight shifting inside and a small yip emitting. Dumbfounded, he marched into his antique-filled lounge, the urgency about getting back to Clover forgotten. ‘What have you done?’
‘You’ll see,’ Kirsten bounced excitedly on her heels, ‘we’ll take turns helping with walks when your arthritis-’
‘Walks?’ Heart in mouth, he placed the box on the sofa and peeked inside.
Sitting on a fluffy orange blanket was a brown miniature dachshund with huge dark liquid eyes, a long curious nose and velvety floppy ears.
‘Oh,’ he choked, ‘a sausage dog. For me? What a cute little thing. I-I don’t know what to say. ’
Kirsten squealed. ‘Oh, I’m so relieved you’re pleased. I know it’s a big commitment, and we probably should have asked first, but wanted it to be a surprise.’
‘We?’ he asked, unable to take his eyes off the puppy, reaching in to stroke him tenderly on the head. The dog instantly butted his new owner’s hand with his nose, demanding more fuss.
Kirsten grinned at Albie’s rapt fascination.
‘Everyone chipped in. There’s also a bed, toys, blankets, food, bowls and other supplies at Tori’s.
We may have gone a little overboard,’ she said sheepishly, ‘but he’s just so adorable.
When I explained he was for you, Rosie got tearful, but I said she can visit whenever she likes.
Sorry, not sorry. Oh, also we didn’t buy him from a breeder, we rescued him from an animal welfare charity.
So many dogs need good homes. Truthfully, I almost bought one myself, but haven’t got the time right now… Albie?’
‘Hmmm?’ He’d been busy petting the puppy, only half listening. ‘Yes?’
Giggling, she prompted, ‘I take it we did good? Not sure I’ve ever seen a man fall in love with a dog at first sight.’
‘You all did good, thank you so much.’ His eyes moistened.
‘Always wanted a dog as a child but wasn’t allowed, too difficult with the war and rationing.
Then I met Rose, and she was allergic to animal hair, so no pets.
Probably just as well, as we were always out and about working, or helping in the community. ’
‘And since?’
‘Since she died? It felt wrong to take on a permanent commitment, and I wasn’t sure how long I’d be around for.’
She blanched. ‘What do you mean?’
‘My health hasn’t been good. I don’t talk about it much, but I’ve been living with heart failure for a while.
It usually affects me through shortness of breath and fatigue.
I’m under the care of a doctor, and following a regime, but didn’t think I had many years left.
’ With a start, he realised those symptoms weren’t appearing as frequently as they had back in Devon.
‘Albie, please don’t say things like that.’
‘Oh, I’d made my peace with it. Anyway, if anything happens to me, this little fellow will have lots of people caring for him.
’ He swallowed, gratitude at his neighbours’ consideration lodging a lump in his throat, happy with the idea of having a live-in companion and the opportunity to nurture and train the cheeky mite.
‘He will.’ Kirsten scooted closer and peered at the dog, whose head was cocked to one side with an impatient look on its sweet little face Are you going to pick me up and give me a cuddle, or what? Snorting, she commented, ‘He looks cheesed off. Think he’s waiting for a hug.’
‘He does.’ Picking him up gently, he held him aloft. ‘Hello, young man, what shall we call you then?’ The puppy squirmed, craning his head to lick Albie’s hand. ‘What do you think?’ He turned to Kirsten. ‘Does he look like a Fred?’
She tickled the sausage dog’s tummy, who let out a sneeze at the scent of beeswax. ‘Aww. I was thinking more like a Norbert?’
‘Norbert?’ he sputtered.
‘Hey, don’t mock! I think it’s cute.’
‘Hmm. What do you think?’ he asked the puppy, sinking down on the faded floral sofa.
In response, the animal wiggled his body, pulled an indignant expression, let out a small squeak and proceeded to wee all over Albie’s lap.
As he and Kirsten fell about roaring with laughter, Albie snorted. ‘I think that’s a no.’
‘I’d agree.’ Wiping her eyes, she said, ‘God, doesn’t everything feel so much better when you can laugh with someone?’
‘Absolutely. And my mood is much improved after this marvellous gift. Now,’ he stared down at his damp trousers, ‘can you be a dear by fetching me a cloth and disinfectant?’
‘I’m glad you’re having so much fun out here,’ Clover’s voice broke into their mirth as she appeared in the doorway of the lounge, ‘but you’ve been longer than five minutes.’
Kirsten jumped up, looking between them with a horrified expression. ‘I’m so sorry, I had no idea you had company, Albie.’
‘Don’t worry, he doesn’t anymore.’ Clover re-adjusted her collar, patted down her silver hair and shot Albie a loaded look. ‘I’ll let myself out. Let me know when you’re ready to talk.’
‘I’ll go—’ Kirsten started.
‘Wait, I’m sorry,’ Albie said, rising from his seat with the puppy in his arms, ‘please don’t leave.’
Clover’s grey eyes widened. ‘Cute dog. It’s all right, you have your mind on other things, and you need to do some thinking anyway.
We’ll speak later.’ With a small nod, she straightened the Chanel handbag on her arm, lifted her chin and walked from the room.
A moment later the flat door closed gently.
‘Wow. Even when she’s pissed off, she’s classy,’ Kirsten commented, turning to him. ‘What happened?’ Her gaze ran over his bushy hair, which perhaps was more mussed than usual, before noticing a shirt tail was sticking out from under his jumper. ‘Wait… was she in your bedroom? Did you—?’
‘Please, stop,’ he interrupted, blushing. ‘A man of my age does not talk about his love life. And Clover is a lady.’
‘You mean your sex life?’ she quipped. ‘Sorry, it’s none of my business. But she seemed upset, and the way she left… ouch. Seems like you’ve some making up to do.’
‘It was a disaster,’ Albie admitted sorrowfully, ‘that’s all I’ll say.’
‘I suppose at your age it might be difficult—’
Pained, he interjected. ‘It wasn’t that. At least not in the way you mean. I wanted to, but my head wasn’t right. There hasn’t been anyone since Rose.’
Kirsten winced. ‘It’s understandable you might feel nervous or confused, after so long. Also, it feels strange being with somebody else, after a long-term relationship.’
‘Yes, there’s a big part of me which feels disloyal to Rose. But that’s not the only thing.’
‘What then?’
Flushing, he held on to his squirming puppy. ‘I can’t believe I’m telling you this…’
She tutted. ‘We’re friends. Just say it. Nothing too graphic though please, I want to be able to look you in the eye afterwards.’
‘Ha. Well, it’s just that Rose and I met when we were young, so she’s the only woman I’ve ever been with. I’m not sure about sharing that with anybody else. I don’t know Clover well enough, even though we gel over so many different things and enjoy each other’s company.’
‘I see.’ Kirsten neatened her ponytail as she considered this.
‘Well, I’m not the authority on this but it sounds like it’s too soon and you need to get to know each other better.
There’s a lot of emotion tied up with the physical side of a relationship.
Perhaps what you need is more emotional intimacy with Clover.
To open up and allow yourself to be vulnerable. ’
‘Hmmm. Perhaps.’ His eyes flitted over the mantel clock above the fireplace, wishing it would gong now to help him escape this excruciating conversation.
‘Have you told her any of this?’ Kirsten asked, moving into his field of vision to peer into his eyes. ‘About Rose being the only one? Before you, um…’
‘No. I sat up, and she asked what was wrong and was I sure whether this was what I wanted. She started looking a little upset, and then you knocked on the door and I had to leave her in my room—’
‘Brooding over the rejection and waiting for you to come back? Oh, Albie.’ She winced. ‘Don’t you remember anything about women? Why didn’t you send me away?’
He groaned. ‘Because I panicked. Oh, perhaps I’m too old for all this romance nonsense—’
‘No. Nope.’ Kirsten took the puppy from his arms, placing him back inside the box and settling him in the fluffy blanket. ‘Clover is amazing, and anything of any value is worth humbling yourself for. Have a shower, clean yourself up and call her. Who knows, you might even laugh about this one day.’
That evening, he settled the puppy in his little round bed, sitting on the floor to pet him.
With the state of his knees, he probably wouldn’t be able to get back up, but he’d worry about that later.
‘I think we should pick a Bridgerton inspired name,’ he mused, ‘how about Colin? You’ve got a cheerful, good-natured look about you.
’ The miniature dachshund dipped his head. ‘You like that? Okay, Colin it is.’
Stroking the centre of the puppy’s forehead, he recalled the shared laughter with Kirsten earlier.
How good and joyful it was. Before coming to Beaubrook Manor, he’d only been concerned with keeping the promise to Rose to restore her family home, and then joining her wherever she now resided.
But he’d made friends over the past few months, had people he cared about who cared about him, and now a puppy and a budding relationship with Clover – whom he shared a love of Bridgerton, history, long walks and classic films with – if he hadn’t completely messed it up.
He’d know soon enough, when she deigned to return his calls.
Either way, his life was rich and full, and if they could find contractors willing to finish the cottages, he was convinced they could succeed against the developers when they eventually turned up.
The quandary was, in keeping the promise to Rose, his broken heart might heal from the loss and loneliness, so it could be a long time before he and his late wife were reunited. Staring down at the newest member of his family, he was guiltily, horribly, no longer sure what he wanted.
He jumped as the warm rosewood mantel clock with its little pitched roof, stunning painted dial depicting blue nesting birds and marked with Arabic numerals, started gonging.
Checking the time, he saw it was nowhere near the hour or half-hour, but felt the manor was trying to reassure him. ‘Oh, now you decide to chime in.’