Chapter 7
Noah stared at the boat for a while longer in silence.
‘What was Grandad doing with a boat?’ he finally said, still looking up at his legacy. An actual boat, here in a barn at Maple Tree Lodge. Had it been there all the time? Whenever he had visited on infrequent occasions? He still couldn’t believe it.
He stepped forward, unable to stop himself from reaching out to stroke the wood. It was smooth in places but completely rotten in others. It was a mess but the bones of the craft were good, he thought. Really good. It would be a stylish boat if it were ever to be renovated.
‘I remember your grandad showing up with it one day,’ said Walter.
‘We must have only been in our early twenties but I was already married to Dotty. The honeymoon period! Anyway, my brother rocked up with it on the back of trailer. Said it had been bought on a whim. Thought he would keep it at the boathouse. So we kept it there for a few years. He always referred to it as his boat so I wasn’t going to get rid of it.
Always felt bad that I’d inherited the lodge from your great-grandad.
I was the elder brother, you see. In any case, I’ve come to realise that he probably would have sold the place if our places had been switched.
He wasn’t one for the countryside.’ Walter looked up at the boat once more.
‘I figured when they settled in Bristol that perhaps they might get a mooring at the large harbour there but it never happened. Perhaps it was your grandad’s stroke that put him off.
Or maybe they worked out they that they were never really boat people in the first place. ’
‘And Dad would have never wanted it,’ said Noah with a wry smile.
‘Course not,’ said Walter, shaking his head but also smiling. ‘Your dad always preferred his motorbikes and cars. Was never too keen on the water, either being in it or even on it, from what I remember.’
Noah had a flash of a memory, of running into the sea one day when they went out on a day trip. But his dad had steadfastly refused to go anywhere near the ocean.
‘Shame,’ said Walter, sounding wistful. ‘I’d have liked to have seen it out on the water some time.’
Noah nodded. ‘I’m not sure how much work it would take to do it up,’ he said. ‘We’d have to see about the engine but I think the structure isn’t too bad. I’ve seen worse despite the rotten timbers.’
‘And that’s what you do?’ asked Walter. ‘Repair boats like this?’
Noah nodded. ‘That’s right.’
‘And you do all the work?’ Walter looked impressed. ‘That must have taken a few years of studying to learn how to do that.’
‘Pretty much had to learn everything from scratch, including the engine side of things,’ replied Noah. ‘That was the trickiest part. But yeah, I love it.’
Walter nodded his approval. ‘I always hoped that you had carpentry in your bones,’ he said, tugging the tarpaulin back over the boat. ‘You don’t remember playing in my workshop, I don’t suppose. You were pretty young.’
Noah shook his head. ‘I don’t think so,’ he said.
‘Well, in any case, maybe there’s something else you’d like to see outside.’
Noah took one last wistful look at the boat before it was covered up once more.
They walked out of the barn and he watched as Walter locked the door once more. ‘It’s yours whenever you decide what you want to do with it,’ said Walter, with a nod.
Noah was grateful for the lack of pressure but still was confused as to what he could possibly gain from working on it.
What use did he have for a boat of his own?
And yet, it pulled at something deep inside him that he’d long forgotten about.
Legacy. Heritage. Family. Things that he had always dismissed.
Still, his mind raced with possibilities. In his mind’s eye, he could see it finished, sleek and polished, racing across the sea somewhere out on the coast with him at the helm. But it was an impossible dream, wasn’t it?
He followed Walter and, to his surprise, they set off away from the hotel and around the further point of the lake.
They walked past the Boathouse Café where Walter told him of the success during the past summer. Noah was impressed by the set-up but more interested in the wood cladding and majestic rise of the building over the water.
‘Did Ben work on it?’ he couldn’t stop himself from asking. What a marvellous summer that would have been, working on such a project by the water.
To his surprise, Walter shook his head. ‘He lends a hand, of course. And he’s all right with a hammer but it’s not quite in his bones as much as the layout and structure of a place. Shame but I’ve come to appreciate his other talents.’
‘Such as?’ prompted Noah, wondering what his cousin’s adult life had been like.
‘He had a successful architect firm in London,’ Walter told him, a proud note creeping into his voice.
‘Gave up the whole shebang when we lost Tony and came back here. I’m so proud of him for that.
My grandson put his very heart into Maple Tree Lodge and now look at it.
It was in a pretty poor state over a year ago and now it’s going to be standing for another hundred years at least.’
They stopped on a bridge to look across the length of the lake back at the hotel. From a distance, Noah couldn’t help but admire the shape and build of the place.
It was a beautiful building. No wonder Ben had rushed back there to take over the running of the hotel.
Noah hadn’t inherited anything from his dad.
His father had spent every penny he had ever earned and the remaining personal items had been taken by his current girlfriend who had then disappeared shortly after his death.
But that was just fine. Noah didn’t want or need anything from his dad and knew that he had nothing of sentimental value anyway.
But still, he missed the sense that his dad was out there somewhere, laughing that hearty laugh of his over a beer in a pub somewhere.
He had told himself that he didn’t care. But he did.
‘That veranda looks new,’ he said, commenting on the glass balcony that ran the width of the hotel.
‘It is,’ said Walter. ‘Ben had a bit of a battle with me on that one. I wanted things to remain the same but of course they can’t.
Life has to move on, doesn’t it? And I have to confess that it looks pretty nice too.
’ He looked at Noah. ‘Don’t tell him that he was right, though,’ he added with a chuckle.
‘Your secret’s safe with me,’ Noah told him.
They moved on along the stony path with Noah appreciating the autumnal beauty that surrounded him. It was peaceful there, he thought, with just the birdsong and the breeze rustling the leaves on the many trees. Across the water, ripples spread out as the wind swept across the body of water as well.
‘Talk of a bad storm coming in this week,’ said Walter, zipping up his coat a little bit higher.
‘Don’t need another power cut. Not when the hotel is just starting to get back on its feet.
But we’ve got one eye on the future as well.
’ He stopped to look at a clearing. ‘This was Ben’s idea as well and I reckon it could be a winner. ’
Noah looked at the empty ground, which appeared to have been recently cleared of trees, if the large pile of newly sawn logs nearby was anything to go by.
‘What are you planning to put here?’ he asked, as they moved on and he could see three further clearings in the near distance.
‘You’ll see,’ said Walter, with a mysterious smile.
Finally, as the path turned a corner, Noah stopped to look at the wooden structure in front of him.
It was the open frame of a small, single-floor dwelling from the looks of it, made out of large lengths of oak. On top of the rectangle shape were some pointed roof struts.
‘They’re going to be our brand-new lodges,’ Walter told him. ‘We want to build four of them over here.’
‘I can only see three,’ said Noah, looking around.
‘One of them is more private, up and over there,’ replied Walter, pointing into the distance.
He brought out his phone and scrolled through the photos before holding out his mobile for Noah to take from him.
There were pictures of the architect’s drawings but more interestingly as far as Noah was concerned were the coloured mock-ups of how the lodges would look when they were finally finished. With their logs making up the sides, they replicated the style and feel of the main hotel building.
‘They’ll look great,’ he had to concede. ‘They fit in well with the landscape.’
Walter nodded. ‘That’s the idea,’ he replied.
‘How did Lily say it?’ He tapped in chin in thought.
‘Some folks like a bit of privacy and they’ll pay extra for the privilege, I think she said.
They can still have their meals over in the hotel, and there’s the bar there as well.
But when they want some real privacy and peace, this is the place. ’
Noah walked forward, heading in through the gap in between two posts and stepping inside the open structure.
‘Plumbing’s already been put in so that’s a start,’ said Walter, pointing to the pipes leading up from the floor in one corner. ‘That was pretty expensive, by all accounts. Anyway, there’ll be a small bathroom, bed, living area and a tiny kitchen too.’
Noah spun around to look down the small incline towards the lake. ‘The view’s amazing,’ he said.
‘We’re going to put up a small veranda here with a couple of seats so people can enjoy the view, day or night,’ Walter told him.
Noah wondered what it would be like to wake up every day with a view like that. For the peace and quiet which he certainly hadn’t been experiencing in the caravan which had been next to a busy road.
‘Who’s doing the building work?’ he asked.
‘Me and Ben,’ Walter told him with a grin. ‘As well as Alex. Although they both work under my tutelage,’ he said, laughing.
‘I’m sure it’ll be a real money spinner,’ said Noah.
Walter’s laughter faded a little. ‘Let’s hope so. Things are still pretty tight around here, even with all the recent renovations. After all, there’s a lot of us to support here these days.’
Noah realised for the first time the responsibility that Ben must be under.
Hospitality was a tough business, especially in the modern climate.
In that respect, businesses had to keep moving forward.
The lodges were an inspired idea and he was tempted to ask how much it would be to rent one for the weekend in the future.
It was strange that the hotel wasn’t doing as well as he’d thought. Now that it was Sunday afternoon, perhaps all the weekenders were leaving and the place quietened down during the working week.
‘Don’t know much about the hotel industry,’ he said.
‘Neither did my son,’ said Walter. ‘Put himself under too much pressure but some folks just aren’t the business type. Take your dad, for example. What did he end up doing for a job in any case? Last I heard he was running a bookies.’
Noah shook his head. ‘The last place Dad needed to be was in a gambling environment,’ he replied, with a grimace. ‘Dad never really settled at any job.’ Or any relationship either, he added to himself.
Walter nodded thoughtfully. ‘That wild streak in him, I guess. Never known anyone as restless as him when he was growing up.’
‘Except me, perhaps,’ said Noah.
To his surprise though, Walter shook his head. ‘That wasn’t messing around though, was it? That was survival, I reckon.’
Noah gave a start at the old man’s perception.
Survival was true, he thought. As soon as he had been old enough to take care of himself, he had done so.
Because nobody else was going to step forward to do it anyway.
Sometimes he had had to support his dad as well.
But by the time he was sixteen, the sheen had worn off his dad’s endless roundabout of girlfriends and businesses, neither the relationships nor the money lasted for any length of time.
It was then that he had left his dad behind and escaped to the seaside.
Contact had always been intermittent but he normally heard from his dad every six months or so.
Then he had received a sudden phone call out of the blue when his dad had become terminally ill.
He had needed his son’s help one last time, to be with him at the end.
And Noah had done so willingly. He had felt a mug for doing so but like Walter said, it was a blood thing.
Family. You had to do right by them because in the end you had to live with yourself later.
His dad might have been deeply flawed but at his funeral, Noah had found himself thinking that he had no regrets regarding his own behaviour.
He had been a good son. At least, that was what he was hoping had happened.
And there was nobody to judge him now, in any case.
‘Listen, I know you’re planning on leaving today but at least stay for dinner tonight,’ he heard Walter say.
It was more of a command than an offer, thought Noah. In his hesitation to reply, Walter spoke on.
‘It’s roast lamb, my favourite, and Faye does the best Yorkshire puddings.’ He gave Noah a small smile. ‘One more day spent with your family. What more scary a thing have you faced than this?’
Noah laughed at his uncle’s piercing perception, however uncomfortable the thought of a cosy family dinner made him feel. ‘Okay. You win. I’ll head off in the morning though.’
‘If you want.’
Noah glanced around the empty shell of the lodge once more. ‘I wouldn’t mind spending a weekend here myself when they’re done,’ he found himself saying, glancing once more at the view.
Walter looked at him. ‘You’re welcome any time,’ he replied. ‘And you’re family so it would be free.’
‘Thanks.’
Noah knew that he would never take him up on the offer, no matter how tempting.
He had always envied the Jackson family their closeness but family wasn’t for him. The past had proved that.