(1990) Sweet Heart Read Online Free Page A

on a wet day,’ said Mr Budley.
    ‘It might be nice to keep some of these old things, mightn’t it, Tom? Make a feature out of them.’
    ‘Keep the whole house as it is and save a fortune.’ Tom winked at Mr Budley, and blew his nose.
    ‘You could,’ Mr Budley agreed. ‘You could indeed.’ He threw open the dining room door with a weary flourish. ‘The mill owner was an important man in the community. This is reflected in the size of the reception room.’
    It was larger than she expected, with a refectory table that had ten chairs and could have seated more. The beamed walls were wattle and daub, they were informed. There was a recess by the fireplace with a kneehole writing desk and chair. It would be good to have friends for dinner in this room. She pictured them around the table, the fire roaring.
    They crossed the hallway. ‘The drawing room,’ Mr Budley said. His ebullience seemed to have left him.
    The room must have been a fine one once and was dominated by the huge inglenook. The curtains across the French windows at the far end diffused the sunlight, and the rich warm glow masked much of the grime and faded colour. There was a peach-coloured sofa with shell-shaped cushions and several matching chairs, a cocktail cabinet that could have come from a state room of an ocean liner and an elegant chromium magazine rack.
    It felt strange walking across the floor. Very strange. She had a curious sense of familiarity, and as she opened the curtains of the French windows she felt she had seen the same view before. The bank rose up to the right, the grass rippling in the wind. A chestnut horse was grazing in the paddock beyond the wooden fence. The feeling faded and left her wondering where it reminded her of.
    Mr Budley was studying his watch, ‘I — ah — haveclients waiting at another property. Would you think me terribly rude it I left you to see the grounds on your own? Or do you wish to go around the house again?’
    Tom looked at Charley, then turned back to the estate agent. ‘How much interest have you had? You mentioned someone might be offering this week, didn’t you?’
    Mr Budley glanced over his shoulder as if worried he was being spied on. ‘Confidentially, I think an offer of two hundred and thirty would secure this.’
    ‘It needs everything doing,’ Tom said.
    ‘Oh yes. No denying.’ Mr Budley raised his hands. ‘But with everything done it would be worth four to five hundred thousand, at least, with development potential — so much potential. Where can you find a property like this, so close to London yet so quiet? It’s really very underpriced. If my wife and I were younger we’d buy this, no hesitation. How often can you buy beauty?’ His eyes darted nervously again.
    ‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ Tom said.
    ‘You’ll make the right decision. I can tell you are people who make right decisions.’
    They followed the agent down the steps and Charley held on to Ben as he hurried off up the drive.
    Tom puffed out his stomach and covered his mouth with his hand. ‘Nancy Delvine lived here!’ he said, mimicking Mr Budley.
    ‘Gosh? Really?’ she mimicked back.
    ‘Have you ever heard of her?’
    ‘No.’
    Charley let Ben go. He bounded towards the stream. A crow swooped down low over him.
    ‘But you used to be in the rag trade.’
    ‘So I don’t think she can have been very famous.’
    ‘Well,’ Tom said, ‘what do you think?’
    ‘I think Mr Budley’s a creep.’
    ‘I don’t imagine he comes with the house.’
    Charley was silent for a moment. ‘It’s a wreck.’
    ‘We wanted a wreck!’
    ‘Do you like it?’ she said.
    ‘I love it! It’s absolutely wonderful. I want to live here!’
    ‘I like it too. It’s just —’
    ‘Just what?’
    ‘I’m not sure about being so isolated.’
    ‘Christ, we’re much safer here than living in the middle of London.’
    ‘I’ll probably get used to it,’ she said.
    ‘We’ve got those people interested in Wandsworth