Helena never went up the drive to her old childhood home without thinking how lovely it was. And, now it was a very upmarket Cotswolds bed and breakfast, Fairacres was even lovelier than it had been when she was a child. The garden, which had been a bit rambly and overgrown, was much neater now it had to have ‘kerb appeal’. But the atmosphere of homely comfort was still the first and lasting impression. High-end it might be, but it was supremely welcoming.
She drove round to the back of the house, leaving the sweeping drive for any guests who might be arriving. She went in through the back door and found her mother in the kitchen. A cooling tray with fingers of shortbread on it stood on the table, obviously just out of the oven. ‘Hi, Mum! Baking again? I’ve chosen my moment well.’
Gilly laughed. ‘There are some broken ones you can eat.’
‘Can’t give the guests broken biscuits,’ said Helena, picking up two shards of shortbread, still warm. ‘These are so good! No wonder I had to move out! You’d have had to remove the doors to extract me, I’d have been so fat.’
Gilly moved the kettle across to the hot part of the range. ‘It’s nice to see someone eat. The last time I offered Cressida a biscuit she looked as if I’d handed her a dog turd on a doily.’
Helena assessed her mother’s mood. Personally, she was always up for a bitch about her sister-in-law but her mother was generally more loyal. Gilly didn’t seem to want to go on about her son’s model-like wife, or ‘waif’ as Helena privately – and guiltily – called her. ‘Why did you mention her?’ she said, taking another crumbling mouthful and sitting down.
‘She’s just phoned. She wants us to go to them for Sunday lunch. That’s nice, isn’t it?’
Helena thought her mother sounded rather desperate, so she nodded in what she hoped was a neutral way. ‘It’s been a while. We can take sandwiches in the car for afterwards.’
Her mother laughed. ‘Helena! I know she’s not exactly a lavish hostess but you never leave the house hungry.’
‘I’m sure we get exactly the right amount of calories required for a light lunch and there’s always plenty of delicious kale to fill up on. But we never leave thinking, that was a lovely meal, do we?’ Helena had given up trying not to let her feelings for her sister-in-law show. ‘Whenever I see Cressida – the sky will fall in if anyone called her “Cress” – with her over-toned arms and perfect fake tan, I want to tell her to put on a cardi and eat a scone!
‘But, Mum! I have news – sort of.’
‘Really darling? Shall I make tea? Did you have lunch?’
‘Yes please to tea,’ said Helena, anticipating her mother’s excitement. ‘But no to lunch. I had an enormous ham and cheese sandwich on toasted sourdough and it was delicious!’
When Gilly had put the kettle on she sat down opposite Helena. ‘So tell me your news?’
A huge fluffy ginger cat, apparently just as keen for information, landed on Helena’s lap like a fur-covered sandbag. Automatically, Helena started stroking it. ‘Well, I had to rescue a kitten from a very narrow space, with a ladder, for my landlord. A kitten about a tenth the size of you, Ulysses.’
‘But darling! You’re claustrophobic!’ Gilly moved the shortbread out of reach of cat hairs.
‘I know! I was sort of hoping I’d grown out of it, but it was like a grave down there, surrounded by soil. It was heaped up and could have smothered the kitten and me at any moment.’ Thinking back to being in that space made Helena feel shaky all over again. She broke off a bit of a biscuit that was quite good enough to go into the guest bedrooms.
Gilly frowned. ‘This is the landlord that is imminently going to make you homeless?’
‘Yes. I’ve only got the one landlord. And I could hardly not rescue the kitten, could I?’
‘That was so brave.’
This was exactly the response she was looking for. ‘It was difficult! But Jago – the landlord – was far too big to get into the space.’
Gilly had pulled her chair a bit nearer to Helena’s. ‘Surely he could have found someone else?’
‘There was no time. The heap of rubble could have collapsed at any moment. It wouldn’t take much to squash a kitten.’
‘Don’t!’ said Gilly, getting up to make the tea. ‘Do you want brandy? Or Rescue Remedy?’
‘I’ve already declined the offer of brandy,’ said Helena. ‘But Rescue Remedy might be good.’
Helena thought she heard her mother mutter, ‘Same thing really,’ as she went to find the bottle.
After Gilly had waved off her daughter, who was bearing a plastic box of bolognese sauce as well as quite a lot of shortbread, she went to find her phone so she could make an appointment. While she had told Helena about their lunch date with her brother and sister-in-law, she hadn’t told her that Cressida had added, ‘We’ve got an exciting plan we want to share with you,’ when she’d issued the invitation. Gilly had an idea she knew what this plan was, and she wanted to prepare before the visit. Hence the appointment with her accountant.
William Davies had been her accountant for seven years. He had advised her when she was setting up her bed and breakfast business and had been a supportive presence ever since. She’d had him recommended to her by a friend who felt that Sebastian, her ex-husband, who was using an old school friend ‘mates rates’ solicitor to arrange his divorce, was far too advantaged. Putting Gilly in touch with William Davies was her attempt to level the playing field somewhat.
The following morning in William’s office, Gilly took the chair offered to her and sat down opposite him. She smiled, aware she was pleased to see him. ‘How are you?’
William sat back down behind his desk, having risen as she was shown in. ‘Well, thank you. And you? Mandy will bring us some tea in a moment.’
Gilly nodded. She’d left a tin of home-made shortbread at the front desk as usual. The tea which was brought, unasked, every time she visited, was part of the thank you from Mandy and her colleagues. While they waited she contemplated the fact – not for the first time – that William had very good hair. It was greying in an attractive way and there was lots of it.
‘So,’ William said when the tea had arrived, ‘what can I do for you?’
‘I’m wondering if there’s any way I can raise some money from my house without actually selling it.’
‘Why?’
It sounded like an intrusive question but Gilly knew it wasn’t. William was her accountant, after all, and well used to the demands on the Bank of Mum made on her by her son, though very rarely by Helena.
‘I’ve been invited to lunch on Sunday. Cressida has “an exciting plan” and, to be honest, if they didn’t need my money I doubt she’d have mentioned it. On the phone, anyway.’
William nodded slowly. ‘Do you have any idea how much?’
Gilly shook her head. ‘Not really, but I imagine as it’s a lunch, and they’ve invited Helena too, it must be quite a lot or they wouldn’t feel the need to involve her.’
‘I see.’
Gilly felt that William managed to express quite a lot of disapproval with those two short words. He wasn’t even frowning. She went on. ‘It’s Helena I’d like to help, if I can. She’s being evicted quite soon and she’s found it hard to find new premises, as she needs quite a large space. Her friend Amy – also a weaver but who uses small looms – doesn’t have the same trouble and has already found somewhere.’
William nodded. Gilly ploughed on. ‘I wondered if I could let Helena have the ground-floor bedroom as a studio? She hasn’t asked me, of course, she never asks me for money, but if I end up giving her brother something I have to do something for her too, to make it fair.’
William didn’t reply immediately, giving Gilly the impression he was preparing to give bad news. ‘To be honest, Mrs Claire, if you gave up that room you’d stop being profitable. The other rooms give you enough money to pay for the upkeep of the house but it’s the extra room that makes the profit. And it’s your only room with disabled access and going on your TripAdvisor ratings, people do really love it.’
‘You’ve looked me up on TripAdvisor?’ Gilly was surprised and a little bit indignant.
William nodded. ‘I did my research.’ He went on: ‘You had to spend quite a lot of money converting the bathroom for wheelchair access. Even if Helena paid you rent it wouldn’t cover the lost income.’
The trouble with her accountant, Gilly thought, was that he was nearly always right. And at that particular moment she couldn’t think of a time when he’d been wrong. She examined the large ring she wore on her wedding finger. She’d bought it herself as a symbol of her independence when she was finally free of her ex-husband.
‘I can’t believe you looked me up on TripAdvisor,’ she said to give herself time to think. She sighed. ‘And you don’t think there’s any way I can raise capital on my house? Equity release? Something?’
‘I don’t think that’s really for you. You do have to pay back the money – or your children will after you die – and really, you’re a bit young for equity release. If the money was for you I might feel differently about it. But think how hard you had to fight to keep your house, the house left to you by your parents. You shouldn’t have to compromise that.’
‘OK, so what about me selling? I could downsize?’
‘You could, of course you could. But that would mean giving up your business and you’re so good at it I can’t believe you don’t enjoy it. TripAdvisor,’ he added, before she could argue. ‘Your reviews. I don’t think you want to sell.’
Gilly felt a bit stubborn. ‘Maybe I’m tired of running a B & B?’
‘If you are, then you should sell, but are you really? You’re a comparatively young woman. Do you want to retire? Or maybe travel? Have an adult “gap year”? Do something else with your life?’
‘You were supposed to be talking me out of selling, not offering alternative lifestyles,’ Gilly said, and then realised she’d sounded a bit grumpy.
‘I’m pressing you because I know you love your B & B, your home, and that TripAdvisor tells me it’s one of the best places to stay in the area.’
‘If you think that flattery …’ But Gilly didn’t finish her sentence. She knew he would see the smile that she’d couldn’t suppress. She was one of the best B & Bs in the area and no, she wasn’t remotely ready to downsize and retire.
‘I’m not flattering you, Mrs Claire, I’m telling you the facts as I see them. Of course, it’s your decision.’
‘But you think I should say no to any requests for money?’
He smiled. ‘I think you should try very hard to say no, but I do realise how difficult that is for you. You have a very kind heart.’
He had told her before that she was the only client who felt obliged to bring shortbread for the staff and she knew that as an accountant he didn’t see having a kind heart in quite the same way as, for example, a vicar would. ‘Well, I will try to stand firm,’ she said at last.
‘Good. But while you’re here, I wonder if I could take advantage of your kind heart and consult you about a party I’m organizing for the eightieth birthday of one of my aunts.’
‘Oh?’
‘I was wondering if you knew anything about January Barn. Would it be suitable for a family party, with lots of the family being quite elderly?’
‘Oh yes. I quite often have people who are going to events there and they all say it’s lovely.’
‘Which brings me to the second thing I want to ask you. Could I rent all the rooms in your B & B?’
Gilly was a bit taken aback. ‘Of course you can, but it rather depends on when your party is. I may have bookings already.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘I do get bookings quite far in advance. I know I should have my diary on my phone but although Helena explained how to do it I kept forgetting to update it. And frankly, it’s quite nice to have a bit of time to reflect sometimes.’
William nodded. ‘It’s quite soon, I’m afraid – this month. January Barn have had a wedding cancelled and haven’t yet filled the spot. They were quite keen on having a less labour-intensive event although obviously one not quite as lucrative.’
Gilly got up. ‘Why don’t you email me the dates and I’ll get back to you? I’d love to have your family to stay.’ Already she was considering passing on any bookings she might have to her friend nearby whose B & B was nearly as good as her own.
‘And I know they’d love staying with you,’ he said. ‘It would be for my aunts and some cousins. I’m very fond of them.’
‘Of course I’d be happy to give you a special rate as your family will be taking all the rooms,’ said Gilly.
‘As your accountant I shouldn’t let you do that,’ he said firmly, but Gilly could see a twinkle in his eye he couldn’t quite suppress.
She felt a rush of warmth towards this kind man who wanted to do something nice for his elderly relatives. ‘But as your friend I think you have to let me charge what I think appropriate.’
He laughed. ‘I’m glad you think of yourself as my friend, Mrs Claire.’
‘I do, and I think it’s high time you called me Gilly.’
‘And you must call me William.’
Gilly smiled and got up. ‘I must go. Thank you so much for your advice and get those dates to me as soon as you can.’
He got up too and walked her to the door where she stopped, pointing to the wall. ‘I’ve never mentioned it before, but I really love those photographs. Seeing the hills covered in frost with the sunshine just catching them, the river looking magnificent, they’re really beautiful.’
‘Do you like them? I took them from my glider.’
‘Glider? You have a glider?’
He nodded and opened the door.
That’s a bit of a surprise, thought Gilly as she left.
