‘Actually, Mum, I’m a bit busy.’
‘You’re working? Has Miles Morgan—?’
‘No. I’m handling a private sale for a client,’ she said quickly, ignoring the fact that the definition of a client was someone who paid for your services. After all, a first casting Darius Hadley bronze would be worth a bob or two. Assuming he was still interested. ‘So, what are you shopping for? You’ve left it a bit late for holiday stuff.’ And her mother never left anything until the last minute. Obviously, she’d decided on a little face-to-face persuasion to join them.
‘The holiday is off.’
‘Off?’
Her mother sighed, laid out a couple of cups and saucers, heated the teapot. ‘We had a call last night. Apparently the water tank overflowed, a ceiling came down and the cottage is uninhabitable for the foreseeable future. The kids are devastated.’
‘Oh...I’m sorry.’
She cracked a wry smile. ‘Really?’
‘Absolutely. I know how much you enjoy it.’ It might not be her idea of a good time, but Cornwall was a spring half-term tradition that went way back, rain or shine, and as a child she’d loved it. When she had children of her own she would love it again. ‘Can’t you find somewhere else?’
‘For nine adults and seven children at half-term? And it’s the bank holiday.’
‘Eight adults,’ Tash reminded her, getting down the cake tin. ‘Lemon drizzle?’ she offered, putting it on a plate. ‘What will you do?’
‘Organise some day trips, I suppose. We’ll manage.’ She took a piece of cake, rolled her eyes in appreciation. ‘You could open a cake shop,’ she said. ‘Or maybe an Internet home delivery service? Lots of demand for good home-made cake.’
‘I could, but I won’t.’
‘Just a thought. Tell me about this private sale.’
‘Actually, it’s Hadley Chase.’
Her mother frowned. ‘Isn’t that the house—?’
‘Yes. I’ve promised the owner that I’ll find him a buyer.’
‘And he agreed?’
‘Why wouldn’t he? I have a terrific track record.’
‘With an agency behind you,’ she said. ‘Glossy brochures, ads in the Country Chronicle...’ She stopped, realising that wasn’t the most tactful thing to say. ‘Advertising costs the earth.’
‘Not necessarily.’
She showed her mother the Facebook page and got an unimpressed humph. ‘People who buy stately homes aren’t going to see this,’ she said.
‘It’s all about getting a buzz going. Getting noticed by the media.’ Getting them to follow you was the hardest part. They apparently took the view that they were there to be followed.
Her mother took another look. ‘Well, you do seem to have a lot of comments.’
‘Most of them asking who painted the picture of the house.’ The one thing she couldn’t tell anyone. ‘Or if the history has been published and where can they buy it.’ Maybe she should be following publishers. Art dealers.