‘It’s that, easily, and of course, that means you can’t actually do anything you like with it. It’s a protected building, so everything has to be run by the planners.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘It’s one of the reasons my husband was reluctant to do much with it when he was alive.’
‘I can understand that. Back home, you can be tied up for months in red tape and still not get anywhere.’
‘Yes. It’s all very well, but now they want everything to be fuel-efficient and A-rated this and ecologically sustainable that. To be honest, there isn’t a scat of insulation in the whole house.’ She shook her head sadly.
‘Do me a favour?’ He leant forward slightly.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘Don’t become an auctioneer?’ He smiled and seeing the funny side of it, they both laughed. ‘You’re talking yourself out of selling it for all the wrong reasons.’
‘It’s a big house for one,’ she said softly. But as she said it, she had a feeling it would suit Dan if he were to stay in Ballycove. There was that same solidity to him as there was to the house. It was substantial; the kind of property a successful writer should be living in, rather than a poky little lean-to on the side of a hill. Actually, when she thought about it now, it would suit him perfectly, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was single and it was a bit of a ramble of a house if you were here alone. ‘And—’ she pointed towards the end of the garden ‘—there’s all of that. Those stables and the coach house at the end, I mean. They are as big as some of the cottages on the other side of town, you know.’
‘Why on earth didn’t you move the doctor’s surgery down there?’ He asked the same question that she’d asked herself a million times over.
‘I’m afraid my husband wasn’t one for change. Once he settled in, that was that.’
‘Pity, because they could be just perfect, all that exposed brick? And you’d have untold privacy if you did things right. Doesn’t that end face out on Garden Square?’
‘Yes, I suppose it all makes sense, but it’s a bit late now, isn’t it?’
‘Oh, Elizabeth, it’s never too late to change.’ He leant back on his chair and surveyed the long garden stretching away from the house. Of course, she thought, it was all pie in the sky; he wouldn’t really want to settle here, would he?
‘It would also make a lovely writer’s shed,’ she said laughing.
‘That’s more like it.’ He smiled.
‘It’s a great spot when you’re here in summer, although I’ve found it a bit rambling on my own,’ she said almost under her breath.
‘It is big, but maybe I’ll meet some nice Irish cailín and I’ll fill the whole house with a brood of kids and then, who knows, I might need to buy next door as well.’ They chatted some more about the house and in the end, she agreed, if it was going up for sale, she’d leave it to the experts. Elizabeth felt that by the time she flicked on the kettle, another small piece of her future was in some way falling into place.
‘Tea or coffee?’ she asked lightly.
‘Neither – I thought, you might like something a little stronger.’ He reached into the bag he’d placed on the table and took out a bottle of Hennessy.
‘That’s certainly going to warm us up more than my ordinary old pot of tea.’ She smiled and reached up to take down two wide tumblers.
‘Brace yourself,’ he said lightly as he poured a generous measure of brandy for them both. ‘I hope you’re not planning on swimming after this. I might have to follow you down and supervise!’
Elizabeth smiled at him. ‘So what exactly am I bracing myself for?’ she asked, sipping her drink slowly. It was delicious, a heady mix of warm and cool with the heavy smoky aroma of a man’s drink, but the delicate fruitiness of something that was expensive enough to appeal to even the lightest drinker.
‘This,’ he said, reaching into the bag once more. ‘I’d like you to take a read and tell me what you think.’ He was smiling at her now.
‘Is this your new book?’ she asked, wishing she could remember where she’d left her reading glasses, then realising they were hanging about her neck since she’d only just left the surgery. She fumbled with them for a moment, breathing on them and wiping off the day’s wear and then she placed them delicately before her eyes, before scanning over the first A4 sheet. ‘Oh, is it…’ She looked at the date again, just to check. ‘Oh, my goodness, it is the one you’re working on now.’