Birds Of A Feather Episode 09
Jess and Alfie were on their way back from their morning walk when she saw a battered old van chugging up the lane towards them.
She stopped when she saw it pull up outside Nightingale Cottage.
Was it a traveller’s van? She hurried down the hill towards it.
Her excitement turned to disappointment as a tall, thin man in his late twenties climbed out.
He was dressed in faded jeans and a loose sweatshirt.
His long hair was tied back in a ponytail and a straggly beard obscured most of the lower part of his face.
He came towards her, smiling as he did so.
“You must be Jess. I’m Rob.”
For a moment the name didn’t register.
“Rob Jenkins,” he went on. “The potter. We spoke about me moving into one of the units at Folly Farm.
“You said for me to call in to collect a key from you when I arrived.”
Although the idea of converting the old farm buildings into craft units had been a joint effort between her and Maggie, Jess was the one who’d done all the legal stuff, including the tenancy agreements.
She remembered speaking to Rob on the phone, but his well-educated accent had given her a mental picture that was totally at odds with his appearance.
“Of course,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. We weren’t expecting you until next week, were we?”
“No. I was in the area and wondered if you’d mind if I dropped a few things off at the unit?”
“I’ll get the key.”
Jess looked across at his van. Every available space, including the passenger seat, was piled high with boxes and bags.
“Are you planning on moving in today?”
“Would you mind? I had to leave my other place earlier than expected. It’s OK if you’d rather not.”
“The unit’s all ready for you, so you might as well.
“The farm shop and tea room don’t open on a Sunday, so it’ll be nice and quiet up there today.”
His face lit up.
“That’s fantastic. Will I add the extra rent on to the next payment?”
Jess shook her head.
“There’s no need for that. Look on the extra days as a moving-in present from us. I hope you’ll be very happy here.”
“I’m sure I will. I love this part of the world.”
Jess remembered the samples of pottery Rob had sent her. Platters and bowls in muted blues and greens with willow trees, flowers and birds etched on them in fine detail.
“I loved the samples you sent us,” she remarked. “I think you’ll fit in very well here. Come inside while I fetch the key.”
“If it’s OK with you, I’ll stay out here and admire the view. It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Rob remarked.
Jess smiled.
“It certainly is. There’s always something different to see.”
When she returned with the key he was still gazing out across the valley to the moorland beyond.
“What’s that lovely old house over there?” he asked.
“Billington Grange,” she explained. “A couple called the Heston-Plucknetts live there.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Seems a pretty big place for just two people.”
“They have a son but he’s working abroad. In the States, I believe.”
What Daphne Heston-Plucknett, the world’s biggest snob, had actually said was that her son, Rupert, who’d graduated from King’s College, Cambridge, with a first, had landed himself a fantastic job in New York, where he was earning megabucks and practically running the place.
But Jess didn’t think Rob needed to know that.
“Anyway, he’s grown up and left home,” she explained. “So I suppose they do rattle around in it. I know I would.”
“Not any more they don’t,” a voice behind them called as Jess’s elderly neighbour came up the road.
How Elsie had managed to hear their conversation from that distance, Jess didn’t know. She could only assume that she had the hearing of a bat.
A pink crocheted hat that would look more at home warming a teapot was perched at a rakish angle on top of Elsie’s halo of silver hair.
This was offset by a quilted jacket in an eye-watering fluorescent orange.
“Hello, Elsie.” Jess smiled. “This is Rob Jenkins. He’s –”
“The potty fellow who’s moving into Folly Farm,” Elsie interrupted. “Yes, I know.”
Of course she did. Elsie was a one-woman neighbourhood watch and nothing went on in Little Billington without her knowing about it.
“What were you saying about Billington Grange?” Jess asked.
Elsie’s hoot of laughter earned an answering woof from Alfie.
“Or Plucknose Palace, as I prefer to call it. A removal van pulled up there a couple of hours ago.”
Jess stared at her.
“Daphne and Geoffrey are moving out? I’d heard they might be putting the house on the market, but I haven’t seen a For Sale board.”
“Well, if they’re not moving out, then the bailiffs have moved in and taken all their furniture.” Elsie chuckled.
“Where are they going?”
“The Old Post Office.”
“But the Old Post Office is only a tiny two-up, two-down little place!” Jess exclaimed. “Poor Daphne.”
“Poor Daphne indeed.” Elsie sniffed. “As my father used to say, you should be careful how you treat people on the way up, because you might meet them on your way back down.”