‘This is going to be a money pit.’ Tony remained in the doorway with his arms folded. He looked at Kath. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to sell it, love?’
‘I’m positive. It’s been in my family for decades. It was my grandma and grandad’s before it was Aunt Vi’s. I have such lovely memories of being here as a child. I want us to be able to enjoy it; I want other people to enjoy it too, so all the more reason to get it done up and in a fit state to start renting out.’
Jenna poked her head into the living room. It smelt stale like the windows hadn’t been opened in years. ‘It is the most amazing location for a holiday let, Dad.’
‘Jenna’s right. We’ll have no trouble renting it out.’
‘Once the bloody place is done up.’
‘Stop moaning; you’re going to love planning how we’re going to transform this place.’
‘Yeah, from blinking two hundred odd miles away.’
The living room was sparse with a velvet armchair and a flowery two-seater sofa. The fireplace had a large stone surround with a small gas fire in front of it; Jenna hoped the original fireplace was hidden behind. Two windows looked out over the gardens at the front and the back, a sea of green framing them, overgrown shrubs blocking out both the light and most of the view.
‘That’ll be a lovely room once it’s done up.’ Jenna returned to the kitchen to find her dad still frowning, and her mum delving into cupboards. ‘It’s got the original slate floor too, that’s something positive, Dad.’ She tapped her foot against a dark grey slate tile.
Tony grunted.
She smiled. ‘I’m going to look upstairs.’
Tony nodded and headed for the living room. Kath wiped her dusty hands down her jeans, and wrinkled her nose as she leant over the Belfast sink and fought to open the window. Jenna went up the creaky stairs that started by the kitchen and curved round, ending on a large landing with windows to the front and back of the house. Upstairs felt more spacious than downstairs. The landing, which was actually the size of a small double bedroom, was cluttered with old newspapers, an ironing board, stacks of boxes, and a large butterfly palm in a pot, its drooping leaves edged with brown. But it was lighter too as the windows were clear of foliage and not as dirty as the ones downstairs. There were two decent-sized bedrooms and a bathroom with a roll-top bath, white sink and loo, all reasonably tasteful apart from the mismatched pink and olive green swirly tiles that decorated half of the wall.
Jenna went back on to the landing. ‘Mum!’ she called down the stairs. ‘I’ve found what needs sorting.’
Kath took the stairs two at a time. Her face dropped at the sight of the clutter. ‘We should have hired a skip.’
‘That’s all right, love,’ Tony said, joining them on the landing. ‘I’m quite happy to take stuff to the tip while you two sort.’
~
Fully aware of what limited time they had, they got stuck in. Kath started upstairs, going through the boxes on the landing before tackling her aunt’s bedroom. It was the best kept room in the place with a dressing table still filled with powders, lipsticks, perfume and her jewellery box. Jenna started downstairs in the kitchen, rifling through the dusty, cobwebbed cupboards. She pulled everything out and placed them in piles of things to go to the tip, things to sell, and things her mum might want to keep. The third pile remained pretty small, while the one for the tip grew as most of Aunt Vi’s kitchen equipment was either ancient or broken. There were a few gems among the rubbish, a couple of enamelled dishes and blue-rimmed cups that Jenna put to one side. As they got on with the jobs, the cottage filled with their chatter, a stark contrast, Jenna thought, to the way Aunt Vi must have lived with only herself for company.
They carried on sorting until they were hot, tired and it became too dark to see in the dim landing light. Tony managed one trip to the tip before it closed, but he went out again later to get fish and chips, and the three of them sat in the living room, eating straight out of the paper.
‘It’s sad, isn’t it, thinking of Aunt Vi living here on her own.’ Kath crumpled her empty fish and chip paper. ‘We really should have made the effort to visit her.’
‘It’s not like she gave you the choice though, did she? She was adamant she didn’t like visitors; not a lot you can do when someone feels so strongly.’ Tony collected the used wrappings and took them out to the kitchen.
‘But she only had us, no one else,’ she called after him.
‘Well,’ he said, returning to the living room, ‘she couldn’t have minded too much about us not forcing ourselves upon her. After all, she left this place to you.’
‘Well yes, but only because she didn’t have anyone else to leave it to.’
Whatever Aunt Vi’s reasoning for being on her own, and for leaving her cottage to her niece, Jenna was pleased that she had. Despite the grubby corners, the cobwebs, the out-datedness, there was a charm about the place. It was also blissfully peaceful. Back at her London flat there was constant noise whatever time of day: cars whooshing past, the drone of a radio or TV filtering through open windows; drunken shouts late at night.
Kath had brought bedding, so they stripped the beds, hoovered the mattresses and made them up with fresh, clean sheets, pillows and duvets. Jenna had thought her mum had been
