Chapter 9
Sally: So have I got this right - the hut is falling down, your neighbours have complained and the council are going to take it away from you?
Beth: Yes, apparently it’s a health and safety risk
Sally: But you’ve decided you want to keep it
Beth: I’d decided I was going to sell it but then Jake got all uppity and judgmental so I told him I was keeping it
Sally: Jake being the guy at the B&B, the rude one you don't like? With the green eyes?
Beth: That’s the one. I told him I was keeping the hut but I only said that because he was so unpleasant! He said I’d neglected Aunt Lizzie! That she’d hung onto the hut when she was ill so she could leave it to me but I was the sort who would just sell it and not care
Sally: What’s it got to do with him?
Beth: Exactly!! But anyway, he just made me so angry I told him he was wrong and I was keeping it
Sally: Even though you don't want to
Beth: It's not that I don't want to, I just thought it would be too expensive to repair. And if Matthew moves out I'll have to pay for the flat myself and it will be a struggle. And I don't actually know how to renovate a beach hut.
Sally: All good reasons to get rid
Beth: I know! But then Jemima said I should sell it
Sally: And she’s the snotty neighbour with the attitude?
Beth: That’s the one. She wants her friend to buy the hut
Sally: Which would solve all your problems
Beth: Well, yes actually it would. But that made me angry as well. All these people who keep telling me what they think I should do!
Sally: So you told her you wouldn't sell
Beth: Yeah
Sally: Even though you really should?
Beth: Even though I really should. And now I'm waiting to hear from the solicitor what’s happening about this purchase order
Sally: Wow! I thought you said Welby was a quiet little place. Look at you, fighting with the locals and standing up for yourself. Go Beth go!!
After her encounter with Jemima on the beach, Beth had made a phone call to Timothy Evans, the solicitor who had dealt with Aunt Lizzie’s will, launching into a breathless account of snotty neighbours and councils with purchase orders. It had taken a while before the young man she was speaking to seemed to grasp the point of the conversation. But that may have been because Beth’s recounting of the situation with Number 4 contained lots of references to unfaithful boyfriends, unpleasant women with blonde hair and men with green eyes who judged her without knowing her.
Eventually, Timothy had cut through much of Beth’s rambling and deduced that the hut was in peril. He announced that a call to the council was needed and assured Beth that she could leave it in his capable hands.
And now she was waiting for his call, sitting on the edge of the bed and chewing her thumbnail. She had tried sitting on the balcony but for once the view was failing to bring her any peace. She had tried walking along the beach, but the feel of soft sand beneath her toes didn’t bring her any sense of freedom. She had tried sitting on the slipway and watching the waves roll in, but the regular movement, like nature’s soft heartbeat, failed to provide its usual respite and she had resorted to sitting on the edge of her bed, chewing her nail and watching Muddles lay in the sunlight, clearly having no problem leaving her cat-based problems behind.
Would the news be good or bad, she mused, and what exactly would be good news? She reached out to tickle Muddles’ tummy, receiving a loud pneumatic purr in return. Because if Timothy told her he had performed some solicitor-style magic and saved the hut, Beth was then presented with the rather thorny problem of how she was going to be able to afford the repairs, because she was quite sure that it would require more than the ￡174.60 she currently had in her bank account.
But if he said she was too late, the hut was already lost then she would always have to live with the knowledge that she had failed Aunt Lizzie somehow. As well as being unable to put two metaphorical fingers up in the direction of a pair of angry green eyes, or tell snooty designer shoe lady where to put her offer of a buyer.
Her phone rang making her yelp and Muddles glared at her for disturbing the peace.
‘Timothy here, Beth,’ said the voice in her ear and gripping the phone tightly she moved to the window, staring feverishly out to sea, listening to his summary of events and trying to concentrate on what he was telling her.
‘Sorry, Timothy. Is the interested party me or the council?
‘Er, it’s the other beach hut owners.’
‘Oh, yes. Of course.’ She had a feeling he’d already explained that several times.
‘So, am I the defendant?’
‘Yes, that’s right. Anyway, the CPO has been applied for and…’
‘The what?’
‘The CPO … the compulsory purchase order, remember?’
‘Oh yes, sorry.’
‘So, the CPO is going through formulation and…’
‘It’s going through what?’
There was a small sigh and a brief pause.
‘Okay. The council have accepted a claim that the hut poses a danger to third parties and is now the subject of a compulsory purchase order.’
Beth’s heart sank. Now it was about to be taken away from her she realised how much she wanted to keep the hut.
Oh, Aunt Lizzie, I’m so sorry , she whispered to herself.
‘But bearing in mind it is now under new ownership they have agreed that the CP… that the purchase order will only be followed through if the hut is not brought up to an acceptable standard by the new owner…that’s you.’
Timothy had been speaking quickly as though to forestall any further interruptions but now he paused and Beth’s jumbled thoughts raced to catch up.
‘They’re not going to take it away?’
‘Well, that’s not exactly what they said. They won’t take it away if you carry out repairs. And quickly. The other residents have pointed out that it won’t survive another winter and could cause damage to other properties if allowed to fall down, which apparently it is in the process of doing.’
‘So, I can keep the hut? If I repair it?’
‘That’s it!’
‘That’s wonderful news, Timothy. Thank you so much.’
‘Yes, well, it’s not entirely good news Beth.’
Nothing seemed to be entirely good news these days.
‘Oh?’
‘You see, the other beach hut owners made their application to the council the minute Lizzie died.’
Beth scowled and waited.
‘So, this process has been ongoing for some weeks,’ said Timothy in his soft voice.
There was an anxious knot beginning to form deep in Beth’s stomach.
‘And?’ she asked cautiously.
‘And although the council have agreed’ said Timothy, clearing his voice nervously, ‘to give you a chance to repair the hut...’
Beth was clenching her phone so tightly that her fingers were turning white. ‘Yes?’
‘You only have two weeks.’
‘Two weeks!’ yelped Beth.
‘I’m afraid so. But at least they’ve given you two weeks. And it’s only a wooden hut, surely it can’t take that long to put right?’ he suggested innocently.
Ending the call, Beth waited to see how she felt about the news. The hut was still hers, sort of. All she had to do was spend money she didn’t have, carrying out renovations she had no experience of on a property which was derelict. In under two weeks.
It was madness, she decided, wrapping her arms around herself. It would be far more sensible to go back to the beach and ask Jemima if she would give her the number of the man who so desperately wanted Number 4. Beth could enjoy a few relaxing weeks in Welby and return to Bristol without having to worry if she could pay the rent. And if Jemima did look a little smug when Beth arrived with her request, so be it. And if Jake Balfour snorted with derision when he heard that Beth had sold Aunt Lizzie’s hut, then she didn’t care. She would never see either of these people again.
Except that she didn’t want to sell the hut. She didn’t want to give either of them the pleasure of knowing she had done exactly what they thought she would. For once Beth Carter wanted to be the one calling the shots, however irresponsible it was.
She clattered down the stairs.
‘Lavinia! Are you there?’
Beth could tell from the aroma drifting throughout the house that Lavinia was in her kitchen and Beth felt her stomach roll in hunger. Her breakfast had been ruined by old green eyes and the smell of Lavinia’s cookies reminded her just how little she had eaten over the last few days.
‘Beth! Goodness me, what’s the matter?’ asked Lavinia, taking a tray of biscuits from the oven and laying them on the table. ‘Not bad news, I hope?’
‘No. Well, not exactly, depends on your point of view I suppose,’ said Beth, blowing a strawberry blonde curl from her forehead and frowning. ‘Actually, no,’ she decided. ‘Good news.’
Lavinia sat down and poured them both a glass of lemonade, waiting for a flustered Beth to stop drumming her fingers on the pine table and impart her news.
‘I can keep the hut!’ said Beth breathlessly. ‘Sort of anyway. The council won’t go ahead with the purchase order just yet. I have to carry out repairs to make sure it isn’t a danger to anybody.’
‘Oh, that’s wonderful. Lizzie would be so pleased you’re keeping number 4 and…’
‘But I’ve only got two weeks,’ interrupted Beth in an agonised squeak. ‘Two weeks before the council will carry out an inspection and make a final decision. Two weeks!’
Lainia clapped her hands together, a big smile stretching her plump cheeks. ‘Amazing! And you’ve just taken two weeks off work. It couldn’t have worked out any better.’
Beth blinked. Lavinia was definitely a glass half-full sort of a person. In fact, in Lavinia’s head, the glass was positively overflowing.
‘I can’t restore the hut in two weeks,’ Beth said, her eyes as wide as saucers. ‘I’m not sure I can restore the hut at all! I hoped they might give me a year or so. Maybe two. But I can’t do it in two weeks!’
‘Why not? Do try a biscuit, Beth darling. They should be cool enough now. I’ve added a little lemon verbena and they smell delicious, don’t you think?’
They smelt superb, thought Beth, reaching out and taking one without her eyes leaving Lavinia.
‘I can’t do it in two weeks,’ said Beth slowly, ‘because I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never restored a hut before. I’ve never owned a hut that needed restoring!’
Lavinia was testing a biscuit, nodding happily at the taste. ‘Lizzie used to carry out her own repairs. I remember you helping her.’
Beth ate the cookie, absently taking another as she cast her mind back. It had never occurred to her to ask how her aunt had become so proficient with a hammer and nails or knew so much about repairing old wooden huts. But Lavinia was right. And if Lizzie could manage, did that mean Beth could? Did Aunt Lizzie’s woodworking skills run in the family?
‘I don’t know,’ she said uncertainly. ‘Aunt Lizzie was a lot more practical than me. I could show you a million things to do with an Excel spreadsheet but I’m not so good with tools. Especially not power ones, they can be a bit frightening. Scrumptious biscuit by the way, very lemony.’
‘Then don’t use power tools,’ suggested Lavinia, practically, ‘Lizzie never bothered.’
‘But two weeks! I really don’t…’
‘Two weeks is better than one week. I’m sure you can manage, Beth dear.’
What was left of Beth’s thumbnail went back between her teeth. ‘I suppose I can try,’ she said nervously. ‘What am I saying, I’ll have to try. I can’t afford to pay anyone to do it for me.’
‘Excellent! And you can stay here while you’re working on it.’
Beth frowned. Actually, with a beach but to repair, she probably didn’t have the funds to stay with Lavinia for two weeks. And Welcome was probably one of the cheapest Bed and Breakfasts in Welby. Maybe she would have to sleep on the beach until Number 4 was safe. There was a sign on the slipway about no overnight stays but she could be discreet. Wander up the beach after dark as though she was going for a late stroll and then find somewhere secluded to camp. She wouldn’t be able to light a fire or use a torch because someone could see and the council would have her evicted. And it would be pointless having a beach hut if she was no longer allowed on the beach.
‘Well,’ she began, ‘I can stay with you for a few days at least.’
‘For two whole weeks,’ continued Lavinia with a determined smile.
‘I’m just not sure I can afford…’
‘Nonsense! You’re not paying to stay with me, Beth Carter. Do you think I would charge you for a roof over your head?’ She gave Beth a stern stare. ‘Absolutely not!’
‘Lavinia, you run a Bed and Breakfast, of course you have to charge me for a room. That’s the whole point.’
‘Yes, but that’s not why you’re here. You’re here as a friend, a friend I haven’t seen for many years. And you’re here so you can carry out the wishes of another friend. My oldest friend, who I miss dearly. I wouldn’t dream of letting you pay for a room.’
Beth opened her mouth to argue but Lavinia was taking off her apron and folding it up in a businesslike manner before holding up her hand. ‘No discussions, Beth,’ she said firmly. ‘None at all. Now, you can stay in your little room at the top of the house. The only other person who might arrive during the next few weeks are the Butlers and they can’t get up there, not with Mr Butler’s hip. I always put them as low down the house as possible. Miss Stewart may turn up before you leave, but she’s someone else who can’t get up all those stairs, although she says the view is the best in the place. No, she always takes the double room at the front so you see, it’s quite convenient.’
She sent a sweet smile in Beth’s direction, pretending not to notice the tears in her eyes. ‘So, I’m going to put a jug of homemade lemonade and some more biscuits on the balcony. Why don’t you sit there and make some plans? You’ve got a lot to do over the next two weeks if you’re going to save Lizzie’s hut but she would be so proud of you Beth, so very proud,’ and she shooed Beth out of the kitchen and up the stairs.