Page 37 of One Cornish Summer With You
Tell me something I don’t know,Ruan had wanted to retort but had politely laughed.
‘What exactly do you want me to quote for?’ she asked while she clicked her tongue and huffed discouragingly. ‘The walls, the roof, clearing the site, new windows, remortaring the façade, new joists and RSJs internally, possible underpinning? Have you had a mining survey done yet?’
‘Mining survey? There are no old tin mines round here, are there?’
‘Maybe not in the immediate vicinity, but within five miles there are plenty. This is West Cornwall, you know.’ She smirked. ‘You won’t get a mortgage without a mining survey. Unless you don’t need a mortgage?’
‘Er. I hadn’t fully decided on finance until I got some quotes,’ Ruan replied, trying not to sound pompous.
The woman took a pen from behind her ear and poised it over a notebook. ‘So, do you want to walk me round the site and I’ll tell you what needs doing? Which is, like, everything and then some by the looks of it.’ She chortled at her own joke and Ruan forced his mouth to tilt upwards.
‘Sounds like a plan,’ he ground out.
The woman left after an hour, leaving Ruan’s head spinning with the amount of work that needed doing to restore Seaspray to any kind of habitable state.
Her ‘ballpark’ estimate, which he absolutelymustn’ttake as a formal quote in any shape or form, was 30 per cent more than Ruan had been anticipating. And that was with using fairly standard materials, no fancy stuff. Even with the sale of his flat, he would probably need a mortgage.
Walter’s other investments had taken care of the inheritance tax on the estate so Ruan had nothing further to pay as long as he lived in the place. The tax situation would be different if he did it up and sold it on, and he’d also have to find somewhere else to live. Now he’d spent some time here, who would want to live without the sight and sounds of the sea if they had the chance to stay?
The rain drumming on the caravan roof was louder than ever. It was a wonder Ruan heard his mobile ring with the heavens unleashing such a torrent. The site would be a quagmire if it didn’t stop soon.
He picked it up and stifled a groan before managing a cheery, ‘Hector—’
‘Good morning, dear boy!’ his boss cut in. ‘How areyou? Fine, I expect, if you’re WFH, as they say nowadays. Bet you’re lounging in the sun outside that bloody caravan? When are you going to buy a respectable house you can invite us all round to, rather than that wreck? No, don’t answer that. I’ve got a job for you so get inside and start doing some real work.’
‘Good morning to you too, Hector,’ said Ruan when he could get a word in.
‘Now, have I got something for you, my boy. Check your emails then call me back as soon as. I’ve been trying to get Polly Tremain’s business for three years.’
‘Polly Tremain?’ Ruan said, thinking that the name reminded him of a character from as sea shanty.
‘Yes. Polly Tremain. You must know her?’
‘Apologies but I’m not familiar …’
‘Then make yourself familiar sharpish,’ Hector said in the prickly tone that Ruan recognised as a danger sign. ‘I’ve emailed my notes about the family estate and what would be involved if – when – we win the business. I’ve already had lunch with her twice and she’s not happy with her existing lawyers, but she’s a tricky fish to land.’
‘OK.’
‘I want you to put forward a proposal for handling all her family business, from wills and property disposal to the general estate affairs. The family has several holiday cottages, a couple of farms as well as Tremain Manor, and a few hundred acres of farmland.’
‘Of course. I’ll read the brief and start drafting a proposal.’
‘You can google her too. You do know what Google is?’
‘I think so,’ Ruan said, refusing to be wound up by Hector.
‘Good. Should take you the best part of the day. You didn’t have anything else to do, did you?’
‘Yes, actually. I’d arranged to visit the Furnisses’ potato empire at Land’s End later this afternoon.’
‘Spuds can wait. This potential new client won’t. Make up some excuse with the Furnisses. I need this soon – certainly within a couple of days.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Ruan said, fully intending to keep his appointment with the potato farmers and work late if he had to. They weren’t Gaverne’s biggest client, but he respected how hard Mrs Furniss and her family worked to keep their business going through thick and thin. She and her son had carved out time to see him about a key purchase of some extra land and he wasn’t going to let them down for anyone, even this Polly Tremain.
‘I know you will. That’s why I hired you. You’re a Boy Scout, you always do your best. What the hell was that?’
‘A clap of thunder? Isn’t it raining in Penzance? You’re only a few miles away.’
