Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Caleb arranged for one of his old friends, Joe Souter, a decorator, to come up to the cottages on Wednesday morning.
I’d spent the last couple of days poring over colour charts and interior design magazines, trying to pull together a tasteful and classy holiday-home business without crippling ourselves financially.
Mum and Dad told me they’d set aside financial provision for me to undertake the revamp, but it wouldn’t last for ever and at these prices I knew I’d have to shop around and be selective.
‘You’ll transform these cottages into little palaces,’ said Katie confidently, as she waited with me at the annexe for Joe to arrive.
I paused at a page in the magazine which was flopping open in front of us.
‘I’ll start pulling together a fabric and furnishings list of what we need and then shop around online.
’ I screwed up my nose. ‘I suppose we’re going to have to consider getting some sort of social media presence up and running too.
We need Instagram, Facebook and X accounts and an overhaul of the existing cottage website, too. ’
‘Oh, good grief,’ she groaned. ‘Please don’t look at me. I struggle when I get a new mobile phone.’
‘You’ve got your own website for Katie Summers Ceramics.’
Katie looked awkward. ‘Yes, I have, but I didn’t set it up. Caleb took care of that for me.’
‘But you manage to maintain the site okay, though.’
She glanced away, blushing. ‘Er, not really. It’s looking a bit neglected at the moment, and I should be putting more updated posts on it…’
I flicked through another couple of pages.
‘Caleb helped me set up my website for my artwork, too. I’ll ask him to help us out.
I’m sure he won’t mind.’ A chrome lamp caught my eye, but I winced at the price tag and moved on.
‘If we want to draw the tourists and reach a wider audience than Port Starr, we need to put ourselves out there.’
Katie thrust one finger in the air, visibly inspired. ‘I’ll start updating my website again from tomorrow. This has given me the impetus I needed. Then Caleb can link our individual websites to the new one for the cottages. Customers will get a real idea of us as individual artists, too.’
‘We’d also better get in touch with Mrs Dundas, who runs that community tourist magazine.
Getting the cottages in there will be vital.
’ A thought struck me as I was adding to my to-do list. ‘Katie, how would you feel about joining me in the office? We’ve already got Jenny undertaking the cleaning, so we could advertise for someone else to help her out.
Having you help with the reservations, enquiries and general admin would be invaluable. ’
Her face shone. ‘I’d be delighted to. Nobody would be happier to hang up her rubber gloves than me.’
I laughed. ‘It’ll also give you a bit more time to focus on your ceramics. We’d better draw up another list of things to do. This one can be for social media and marketing ideas. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to take some time!’
I didn’t miss my old life. The realisation came as a shock. The cottages were proving to be just the right kind of distraction for me, after Nick the Dick and everything that had happened.
The next morning delivered watery sunshine and a fresh breeze, with just a faint cackle from the gulls.
It began with the welcome delivery of my easels, paints and other art paraphernalia, as well as the remainder of my clothes and modest knick-knacks from Artisan thanks to the proactive organisation of Mr Hanson, who had also kindly arranged the packing up of my belongings.
After everything had been unpacked, I raked around in my art desk drawer and located a couple of spare sheets of my prettiest notepaper to write Mr Hanson a proper letter.
I wanted to thank him not just for organising the swift transmission of my belongings, but also for his kindness and support over the last year.
Once I’d completed the letter and sealed it in a matching floral envelope, I popped it in my bag and strolled down to the main street.
And that’s when I spied a set of two champagne glasses nestled on an electric-blue satin cushion in the jeweller’s window.
The glasses had an elegant flute design, hand-painted with an iridescent lustre, and the rim of each glass was encircled with a light touch of gold.
The colour of the glass was almost like a delicate shade of sorbet, and a faint silhouette of McKerron Castle was embossed on each glass in faint silver.
They were a bit more expensive than I would’ve liked, but I bought them for Mr Hanson without hesitation.
Adele, one of the shop assistants, parcelled them up in a sturdy box, alongside my note, and I dashed around the corner to the post office to mail the parcel off, before striding back towards the cottages to wait for the arrival of Joe and Katie.
Joe would prove to be an excellent member of the team, with his decorating prowess.
They turned up soon after, and I made three cups of hot chocolate to fortify us for the task ahead.
‘Got a name for your new business, then?’ Joe asked, surveying the cottages from the cobbles, sipping his hot chocolate.
‘Not yet,’ I admitted, ‘but I’m working on it.’
I pointed over at the annexe. ‘Oh, I’ve got another colour chart. I’ll just pop back and get it.’
I dashed across under the pale, churning sky and retrieved the other paint chart. With Joe on board, we were aiming to relaunch at the beginning of May, which was, I was sure, doable.
As I tapped back across the cobbles, a bold little robin fluttered out of nowhere and sat on the moss-encrusted wall that framed the courtyard. His spindly legs held up a barrel chest of the deepest crimson. As he flew off, a gull swung on the breeze towards the harbour.
Nature; the wealth of it around here; its rich colours… An idea lodged itself in my head. ‘Birds,’ I gasped into the sea air. ‘A bird theme. That’s it.’
I dashed back into the first cottage where Joe and Katie were still chatting, with a grin plastered across my face. ‘I’ve decided on the theme for the cottages.’
I waggled the other paint chart in the air to illustrate the point. ‘Birds. I’m going to name each of the six cottages after a wild bird – and we can go for a colour scheme that reflects that particular bird.’
Katie’s dark eyes glittered. ‘That sounds great.’
Joe nodded and smiled. ‘Sounds classy.’
‘And I think I’ve come up with a name for the business: White Willow Cottages.’
Katie and Joe made appreciative noises.
‘“White Willow”?’ she asked. ‘Sounds gorgeous.’
‘It’s a Scottish deciduous tree that’s often used to create wildlife-friendly hedgerows.
Birds love them.’ I yanked my mobile out of my back pocket.
‘I’d better start jotting all this down.
’ Another thought shot into my mind, and I asked Katie to make me six plain ceramic nameplates for each of the cottage front doors.
I could paint them myself with an image of each bird and the name of the cottage.
‘And I know a nice young lad who’s just finished a carpentry course and is keen for some work,’ added Joe. ‘Anything like that you need to fit, mend or make, Samuel Baxter is the man.’
‘Thanks, Joe. If you could give me a contact number for him, please, that would be great.’ I was fizzing with nervous excitement. ‘And as for the cottage gardens,’ I gabbled, ‘I think it would look lovely if we could buy six bird tables and six different birdbaths to put in each.’
Joe and Katie continued to stare at me as I paced up and down in front of them in the hallway of the first cottage, still talking. ‘Oh, and I had a thought the other day about getting wrought-iron furniture to put in each garden, too.’
‘I’ll notify the lads about all this redecorating,’ said Joe. ‘Starting this weekend is out as we’re finishing Mrs Whittaker’s dining room and hallway, but we can make a start on the cottages first thing Monday morning.’
One thrilled hand flew to my chest. ‘Monday it is, then. Thanks, Joe.’