The Circle Now Is Made (King's Way Book 1) (6 page)

“Wishful thinking. Come on, I’ll show you the rest.”

The layout was simple. The hallway led to each of the rooms in turn, the rearmost section being subdivided into two bedrooms and a bathroom, serviced by a narrow passage across the width. In front of the sleeping area was a spacious lounge, and sandwiched between that and the café, which overlooked the sea, was a large kitchen.

“All the catering equipment's in the attic there,” explained Jan. “Everything was stripped out for some reason - except the range, of course: too big to hump up there.” She pointed eagerly at the ceiling. “Now, come and see the dining area.”

The cafe itself, devoid of furniture except for the original counter, looked immense. Greg peered through French windows onto the bay and the cold, steely sea beyond. Jan, grinning at Greg’s amazement, unlocked the French-windows and led him out onto a large patio, partially cantilevered in heavy timber to extend its area.

“There must have been benches and tables out here,” deduced Greg as he surveyed the remains of rusted bolts set into the concrete dais.

"S'right Sherlock. What you reckon?”

“Jan, it's great! But why haven’t they made use of it themselves?”

“Can’t even guess: no imagination, I reckon. Bay gets packed in summer - from Easter on, in fact. It’s divided by rocks into coves all along; perfect suntraps. And apart from the Holly Tree, there’s nowhere in miles you can get so much as a cup of tea. There’s a restaurant in Trevelly, but it's pricey for casual campers and sunbathers.”

“Mmm, probably closes for lunch anyway,” said Greg derisively. “People have free access to the bay, then?”

“Oh yes; the estate has an isolated bay of its own, and only runs to the edge of this field. The lane you came down is a public road to the beach. Honestly Greg, this place could pay a good living.”

“I’m sure it could.” Greg nodded his agreement. “It’s a pity everything's so uncertain.”

“I know - I couldn’t take it all in when I first came here; it hadn’t been lived in -much less used commercially - for years. Wicked shame, I reckon.”

“What sort of work were you doing for Penmaric?” asked Greg.

“Secretarial - looked after his paperwork. Lovely job, and I could do the bulk of it here and look after Jamie at the same time. Pay wasn’t fantastic, but this place came rent free.”

“Who’s running things now?”

“Well, Sarah tried, but she's had so little cooperation from Nigel she’s put it under temporary management. She’s promised me my job if things are resolved, but it’s a big ‘if’. I’m still doing enough hours to cover the rent, but the new manager has his own secretary.”

“Couldn’t you work for him?”

“Not considered it really, but it wouldn’t be any more permanent than having a go at this place.”

Greg nodded. “You’re right - and for a little more effort this place could pay far better dividends.”

“What do you reckon then, should we go and see her?”

Greg realised he’d been caught off guard again, though this time by his own enthusiasm. While he'd nothing to lose, there were things he wanted to be sure of before meeting Sarah Penmaric. “You said she mentioned selling the place originally?” he asked. “Do you think that might still be on the cards?”

“Well.” Jan seemed hesitant. “Perhaps I’d better explain the situation, to save an awkward situation later.” She then went on to explain that Sarah had originally made the offer of sale to Mick and Jan as a joint one.

"She hedged round a ridiculously low figure because, to my mind, a quick sale would solve several problems. Wooden buildings aren't always easy to sell because of the mortgage aspect, so the price would have to reflect that.  She didn’t say as much, but the sale would have brought some immediate cash in to pay off debts,” explained Jan. “This land and the cabin are a drop in the ocean compared to the estate as a whole, so it wouldn’t exactly be missed. Secondly, I sympathise with Sarah because I think she's going to feel awkward about evicting Jamie and myself when the time comes. Selling us the property would have saved her that headache too.”

“What stopped you buying it?”

 "Two things: as Mick told you the other night, I don't really want to commit to him at this stage. But even if I did, he wouldn't hear of taking on any sort of loan: said he was too long in the tooth for that sort of responsibility.”

“But for the sort of price you'd have paid for this, a loan would have been no more than rent will cost you eventually - wherever you live.”

Jan shook her head. “We’ve covered all that ground times over, but it's deadlock. He won’t have it.”

“That aside for a while,” said Greg, “do you think they might still be willing to sell?”

“I'm sure they'll have to in time,” answered Jan. “Biggest problem is that if they're forced to sell the whole estate, this will almost certainly be included.”

“That would be criminal!” Greg gasped. “Do you think - if we could convince them it's a viable proposition - one of the local banks would be willing to put the money up? Do you deal with a bank or building society in the area? Loans aren’t easy these days I know - but for a sound business proposition...”

“Steady on!” Jan smiled nervously and held up her hands. "I don’t have the kind of money that attracts financiers. The only manager I know is Weaver down at Low-Shires: my parents dealt with him for a good many years.”

“Sorry, I was running before we’ve even started walking,” said Greg. “Best take things a step at a time.”

After she’d checked on Jamie, Jan opened an outsized loft hatch in the passageway and lowered some steps.

"Good God!" mouthed Greg as he switched on the light and surveyed the area. Laid out on a boarded area was a selection of Calor-fired commercial equipment - even a sophisticated Italian coffee machine.

“Bit tatty...” started Jan almost in a whisper.

“Tatty?” responded Greg in dismay. “It’s
superb
. I know it’s mucky; doesn't look its best up here, but it’s all stainless steel. Someone must have planned renovating the kitchen-diner area as they lugged it up here to make space. Come on, time to go and see the lady of the manor."

"Okay." Jan put on her coat and grabbed a remote intercom from a hall table. "I can't stay long in case Jamie wakes up."

Jan led Greg a short distance through the trees to Penmaric House. If Greg had been amazed at the cabin, he was astounded by the house. It
was
the grandiose structure with turrets and spires, rising through the pines with fairy-tale grandeur.

“It’s a bloody
castle
!” Greg almost croaked with dismay. “Nothing like the four-square country house I’d imagined.”

“Yes, it’s lovely isn’t it? Like a chateau - or so I’m told! I’d seen the tops of the spires from the road years ago, but never imagined I’d
work
here.”

“I'd think the pair of 'em could live grandly from the proceeds of the sale. Why don’t they just put it on the market and be done?”

“Looks as if they’ll have to.” Jan shrugged hopelessly. “Though I’m sure Sarah doesn’t want to leave; she’s very sweet, but she adores being
lady of the manor
.” Jan considered for a moment before adding: “Whatever else she might or might not be though, I’m certain she has a high regard for this place… and the welfare of the workers.”

“Are there no dependants beside Nigel and Sarah?” asked Greg.

“No. Lawson Penmaric had never been married before. I’m sure his idea towards the end was to leave an heir to continue with the estate. Although he’d always looked on Nigel as a son, he'd come to realise his faith had been misplaced.”

“So Penmaric wasn't as indifferent toward his employees as Nigel is?”

“Goodness no! Say what people might, Penmaric did his damndest to protect his staff.  In spite of that though, if and when the estate is sold off we’ll be left without homes - Jamie and me sooner than anyone if nothing comes of this lot. Whoever takes over will no doubt find a way of paying off the workers with a few hundred for a lifetime’s loyalty.”

Greg stopped walking so he could ask another question before they reached the house. “You know a lot about this setup don’t you? Do you think Penmaric
has
left anything of value?”

“I don't honestly know. Although I handled the paperwork, I couldn't - wouldn't - divulge financial details anyway, Greg.”

Greg shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t want you to - I respect loyalty.”

“All I can say - as most folks know anyway,” continued Jan, "is that the estate nearly folded some years ago. Penmaric somehow pulled it out of the fire at the eleventh hour and it's bumped along since. But I always got the impression he had
something
up his sleeve.”

Greg nodded, and increased his pace as they neared the house; he was anxious to meet Sarah.

The door was answered by a domestic.

“There y’are m’dears,” she said as she relieved Jan of her coat and ushered the pair into an awesome library, made homely by a flickering log fire.

“Dunno about you Jan, but I feel like a street urchin.” whispered Greg as he surveyed his weathered gear.

“Mmm.” Jan grinned in awe. “Hard to believe someone could own a place like this and be anything
but
wealthy.”

Greg sighed as a flicker of irony crossed his face. “Déjà vu.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.”

Sarah Penmaric, lady of the house, eventually entered, though Greg was surprised to find her stylish, immensely attractive - and unpretentiously informal. She introduced herself simply as Sarah, and called on the maid to serve sherry.

“It will help warm you through - it’s
bitter
again isn’t it?” The pair agreed as they sipped their drinks in front of the fire.

Although Greg had been wary of Sarah, after a short conversation he became convinced that, in the main, she had Jan’s interests at heart. She suggested taking rent for the cabin - a percentage of profits was mentioned - with an ultimate view to selling.

“I would have to make a legal provision though,’ she explained, ‘to allow for a situation whereby Nigel and myself were forced to sell quickly… and you weren’t able to buy...’

“I understand that perfectly,’ interrupted Jan, wishing to save Sarah discomfort.

Sarah smiled and continued. “Obviously, renting out the cabin won't solve our problems, though every little helps, and it would lessen our responsibilities." She looked towards Jan, pausing as she sipped her sherry, then shook her head slowly. "I can’t imagine why I said
our
responsibilities – I don't think Nigel would care if I
gave
the cabin away."

“Neither would we.” Greg laughed, adding more seriously: “If we made the cabin look like a viable proposition, do you think we’d secure local backing? As a business venture rather than domestic, I mean."

“I’m sure you would,” replied Sarah. ‘Originally, I'm told, the café paid its way even with a premium rent. Lawson told me there were people ready to
rip his arm off
when he considered selling it years ago, largely because the authorities were amenable to usage of the land as a camping or caravan site. Perfectly screened from the road and the house here, you see."

Greg’s eyes widened as Sarah spoke. “Why didn’t he sell it then?”

"I adored Lawson but he was set in his ways. He worried about nuisance and all sorts of things, and apparently the estate was running well at the time anyway.”

“I’m all for having a go.” Jan - who'd said little until that point - almost trembled with enthusiasm.

Greg, for his part, had already decided that, however short-lived the project might be, he'd at least get some insight as to the potential of local holiday trade.

“I must say I’d like to have a crack, too,” he said with a broad grin, “provided the rent isn’t too dear.”

“I don’t think it will be,” said Sarah. “I’ll arrange a meeting with the estate manager.”

While Jan collected her coat from the hallstand, Sarah walked across to where Greg stood finishing his drink.

“Greg.” She placed a manicured hand on his arm. “I hear you’re looking for work in the area. Are you interested in a few part-time duties?”

Greg was hesitant, aware that his sales resistance hadn't been up to par of late.

"What sort of work?” he asked cautiously.

“A little driving mainly... Call and see me tomorrow and I’ll explain.”

Greg and Jan left Penmaric House in a euphoric mood, both eager to discuss the proposed venture as they hurried back to the cabin.

“Whatever happens, if we're placed in a position to buy at the right price,” urged Greg, “we should take it, if only for the property investment.”

“Mightn’t that be awkward in the circumstances?”

“Not really, we'd still be going into it as business partners. Anyway we’ll cross that bridge if and when we reach it.” Greg almost clicked his heels as he recalled Sarah’s comments regarding the possibility of a holiday site. “I know nothing about camping and safety regs, but we'd get thirty or forty static pitches on that ground comfortably!”