everything, there had been some magical moments when he’d just stood in the middle of his living room, breathing in the beauty of the scene.
He smiled to himself. Winfield was turning him into a romantic. Well, he’d just have to find someone with the same sort of sensibilities to share it with.
The first viewer was most certainly not a romantic. He was called Mr Basildon and he owned his own company manufacturing something expensive in the car industry. He was a sprightly sixty-year old who said he was looking for a country retreat that he could escape to at weekends. He’d sounded very pleasant on the phone but, when he arrived, Edward wasn’t sure that he wanted this man as his neighbour. There was just something about him – a restlessness. He was one of life’s fidgeters and he also liked to clear his throat, very noisily, at regular intervals. Edward began to count the time between the throat clearings and it was less than thirty seconds. No, he would not do as a neighbour.
The next person was a Mrs Asprey who was a head teacher at a very nice school for girls who wore green blazers and straw hats in the summer.
‘Does it come furnished?’ she asked.
‘No, it’s unfurnished,’ Edward told her. He’d thought the advertisement had made that clear, but obviously not.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘And the garage?’
‘No garage. But plenty of room to park on the driveway.’
‘Oh.’
Edward tried to hide his frustration at the fact she hadn’t yet praised anything she was getting.
‘And the walled garden – that bit over there?’ she asked when they were outside.
‘That’s somebody else’s,’ Edward said, ‘but you’ll have access to this part.’
‘Oh,’ she said again with a derisive sniff this time.
Honestly, he thought as she drove away, some people were never happy – no matter what you gave them, they always wanted something else.
The third viewer was a Mr Harry Freeman who seemed like a nice guy. He did something in advertising for a large company in London, had family close by in Sussex and, most importantly, really seemed to understand Winfield.
‘These sash windows are great,’ he said.
Edward smiled. ‘They are, aren’t they? They were one of the things I first fell in love with.’
‘And the views!’ Harry gave a long, low whistle.
‘You’re in London at the moment?’
‘Suburbs. A bit cheaper, but the commute’s a pain.’
‘But won’t commuting from here be worse?’
‘Actually, I’m going to be opening up an office in Brighton.’
Edward nodded. ‘An easier commute than London.’
‘Just a bit.’
Edward continued the tour, answering Harry’s questions and giving him all the information he thought of interest.
‘Thank you,’ Harry said when he came to leave. ‘You’ve got my number?’
‘I have. You’re interested then?’
‘Oh, yes!’
They shook hands. ‘I’ve got one more person coming, but I hope to get back to everyone soon after that.’
‘I look forward to hearing from you.’
Edward watched as Harry Freeman drove away, noticing the way he glanced back at the hall. He was just as smitten with the place as Edward had been after he’d viewed it for the first time all those months ago.
The next viewer arrived a little late, but Edward soon forgave her when she got out and smiled at him. Tamara Wakefield was nearly six foot tall with raven-black hair down to her shoulders and a smile that was pure sunshine. She was a business consultant and had had enough of her noisy flat in Eastbourne and wanted some peace and quiet.
Edward gave her the tour.
‘And there’s just the one apartment?’
‘At the moment.’
‘So there’ll be more in the future?’
‘No more than eight in the whole building.’
He was just about to tell her something else when she smiled at him and the thought completely left his head. And so he showed her the garden, thinking that some fresh air might shake him back to his old self.
Abi was just returning from shopping when she saw a woman walking out of the hall with Edward. She was tall with plenty in the way of legs and hair, Abi couldn’t help thinking. Rather like a fine racehorse and probably just as expensive to maintain.
She watched as the woman got into a sporty-looking car and drove away and then Abi got out of hers.
‘Ah, Abigail!’ Edward called over to her. ‘Time for a chat?’
‘Of course.’
They walked round his side of the hall and sat on the bench in a spot of sunshine.
‘I meant to tell you,’ Edward began. ‘I’m going to be renting one of my apartments out. I hope