Chapter 9 #3
She knew she needed to be Switzerland right now. But as he’d indicated he wasn’t one of those, maybe they could bond over some hatred of the enemy. ‘Well, that’s all we get around here now, people from London buying up our land and houses,’ she blurted out.
‘But surely they bring in money and boost the economy too.’
‘Do they, though? If you hop on the tourist steamer and take a tour of the lake, you’ll see all the big properties are shuttered up.
They’re empty most of the year while the people who were born here are being pushed out.
I know I sound like I’m exaggerating, but in ten years Inglemere will be a ghost town if things continue like this.
’ She meant to end her tirade there but found it spilling over into a more personal complaint.
‘This house was developed by people from London with grand designs in their hands and pound signs in their eyes. I can see you aren’t from round here, so no offence, but city folk buy up all the lake views and fence them off.
They don’t engage with the community or care about the environment.
It’s a very modern and pressing issue for rural towns like this. ’
He visibly prickled. ‘Outsiders have as much right to live in paradise, surely? And their presence reinvigorates the town, keeping cash circulating.’
‘No disrespect, but I don’t think that’s true,’ she argued.
‘Second-homeowners are ruining everything for future generations. While houses lie empty, schools are underfunded as they are serving fewer and fewer families. There are fewer people around to use public transport, so they put up the price of the bus fares. The banks close to make way for more shops selling ceramic sheep and tea towels with pretty pictures on them. As they discover there aren’t enough children for each class, they combine them, while laying off the school bus and shutting down the library.
Cinemas and swimming pools become a thing of the past. The village hall can’t pay the bills or afford to mend the leaking roof, so clubs disband.
More people leave and the cycle begins again.
’ She knew this was turning into a rant but was on a roll now.
‘Developers parachute in, picking up properties for prices locals can’t afford.
They get under the skin of the place by stealth, and then buzz off.
Meanwhile the second-homeowners stride around in their walking boots with no idea they’re stripping towns and villages of their colour and life.
They’re ignorant of our ways and have more money than sense.
They turn up once in a blue moon and wonder why they’re not welcomed with open arms,’ she finished.
The speech didn’t make her feel as good as it would in the pub, and it wasn’t very professional to disparage a large chunk of the clientele.
She was going to lose her job if she carried on like this.
‘How can you tell I’m not from round here?’ he asked as they reached the front door, making quotation marks with his fingers as he spoke.
She thought for a moment before answering.
He hadn’t held anything back, so maybe she could be excused for following suit.
‘Well, it’s a small town and I’d probably have been to school with you if you were local.
Secondly, to qualify for the respect afforded to a resident, you need to have lived here for three generations and have a surname like Plowright or Wainwright.
Your clothes are different. Also, you have a decent haircut.
Do you own a Rab jacket or a heavy-duty waterproof?
I thought not. That’s the biggest tell of all.
No, not the biggest…’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Your shoes are too clean.’
‘So, everyone “entitled” to live here has to have mud on their shoes? And not just any mud. Authentic Lakeland mud, no less, picked up after a session of angling following a night out with local chums?’
‘Well, I’m not—’
‘That’s if you are lucky enough to make friends here or be welcomed into the community without having three generations of ancestors buried in the churchyard. I’d say entitlement is alive and kicking in this community without your “offcomers” importing it.’
Aria was dumbfounded by his response, while Tiger reacted more favourably, trotting up to the prospective buyer and nuzzling his leg.
‘What is he?’
Disloyal, she said in her head, while ‘pug’ came out of her mouth.
‘Looks like a fat bat,’ he said fondly.
‘Hmm. He thinks he’s fearsome, so please watch what you say in front of him.’ When Tiger folded himself into the guy, Aria momentarily melted, feeling a brief stab of envy that her new pet had bonded with him in such a short time. And then she felt inexplicably jealous of the dog.
‘A Napoleon complex?’ When he tickled Tiger a final time and smiled widely, she noticed dimples in his cheeks.
She had to admit she was conflicted about the viewing.
She’d done a terrible job, which thankfully meant there would be one less second-homeowner in the vicinity, but she also felt she hadn’t been her best self in front of him.
And his opinion of her suddenly felt important.
‘It was nice to meet you, Stephen,’ she said, regaining her composure enough to hold out her hand and bring the appointment to a civilised end. His grip was as dry and cool as before and it sent a shiver through her body.
‘I’ll let you know if I’m interested in taking things further,’ he said as they parted ways. Was there a glint in his eye, or did she imagine it?