The House in the Clouds - Victoria Connelly Page 0,12
of gravelled driveway in front of the house, she noted the other vehicles and two large skips, and she could hear the sound of banging coming from inside. It seemed odd that Mr Townsend was thinking about decorating already when the builders were still at work, but maybe he’d found a quiet little corner of the hall to call his own and wanted to get that just right so he had somewhere to escape to.
She sat in her car for a moment, gazing up at the hall’s large sash windows. It was a true beauty and she wished with all her heart that she’d been able to make that winning bid. But could she have done it? Should she have risked everything and saddled herself with a massive mortgage just after walking out on her company? As she sat in her car now, gazing at the friendly face of the building that she loved so much, a part of her berated herself for not pushing just a little bit harder to make the place her own.
Abi reached across to the passenger seat where she’d placed a small portfolio of her work, taking it with her as she got out of the car and walked across the driveway. She remembered the last time she had done so and how she’d had that remarkable feeling of coming home. Well, so much for premonitions, she told herself.
The front door was open and she went inside, mindful of the workmen all around her and wondering if she should be wearing a hard hat. Sure enough, a burly looking man approached her, a frown on his dusty face.
‘You can’t come in here, love,’ he said gruffly. ‘It’s not safe.’
‘I’m looking for Mr Townsend.’
‘He’s not in here. Try the back.’ He pointed with a stubby finger. ‘But be careful!’
She nodded.
Walking in the vague direction the builder had pointed, Abi passed the magnificent staircase, glancing up just as a shower of dust descended. She coughed and kept walking.
As she left the noise of the building work behind, she could hear the voice of a man on the phone and followed that, hoping it might be Mr Townsend. Sure enough, she saw him a moment later in a large room overlooking the downs which was empty save for a desk with a laptop on it and what looked like an airbed on the floor. She grinned. This was obviously his home for the time being.
She gave a little wave as he glanced up from his call and saw her for the first time. She didn’t recognise him from the auction, but he had dark sandy hair and a nice, open face, Abi decided and, despite being surrounded by builders, he looked as neat and crisp as if he was putting in a day at the office, albeit in jeans and a casual shirt. Some people had that ability, didn’t they? To look neat and tidy even when slumming it and Mr Townsend, she thought, was one of those people.
She watched as he ended his call and strode across the room, hand outstretched towards her.
‘Miss Carey?’
‘Abigail, please.’
‘Abigail,’ he said, an awkward smile on his face. ‘Sorry about the call. Chaos here.’
‘I can see,’ she said, returning his smile only a little less awkwardly, she hoped.
There was a kind of tension in his expression and a furrowing on his brow that spoke of worries and stress.
‘I’m Edward Townsend.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And is it Edward or Eddie or Ed perhaps?’
‘No, it’s Edward,’ he said seriously.
‘Right.’
‘Thank you for coming, by the way.’
‘I was surprised to get your email,’ she confessed.
‘It seems a bit early to be thinking about wallpaper.’
He frowned. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Wallpaper,’ she repeated. ‘That is why you called me, isn’t it? I’ve brought my portfolio.’ She showed him the folder she was carrying as he was still looking confused.
‘I think there’s been a misunderstanding.’ He glanced around the room. ‘Listen, let me get you a drink. Tea? Coffee?’
‘Tea, please.’
‘Good. Then I’ll explain – erm – what’s going on.’
Abi watched as he walked across to a little table at the far corner of the room with tea-making things on it.
‘Things are a little primitive here,’ he said, ‘but at least it’s clean. The kitchen isn’t fit for humans at the moment apart from the new fridge.’ He switched the kettle on.
‘You’ve been living here full-time?’ Abi asked.
‘Er, no. I’m back and forth between London and my work. That is…’ he paused. ‘Yes. Back and forth.’