The golden flowers nodded that it was time to move on, but Anna would only sell the house to the right people…
BY REBECCA HOLMES
Anna straightened up and looked out of the front window as she tidied up, ready for a new set of people about to view the house.
The daffodils, dependable as ever, swayed in the stiff breeze that had cleared away the earlier mist. Their cheerful mix of yellows and cream with egg-yolk orange centres contrasted perfectly with the luxuriant moss coating the old stone garden wall.
However long winter seemed to last, spring always came around, moving things on, sweeping away the old and ushering in the new yet again.
The same applied to life, she reflected, casting a final glance over the room and finding it to her satisfaction. Whether the expected visitors agreed on that last point was another matter. So far, they seemed to think differently, including the estate agent.
“It’s all very nice and cosy, and obviously well looked after,” he had said when he came round for a valuation, somehow making the words sound like insults. “But it’s dated.
“That kitchen must easily be forty years old, and Rayburns are even more out of fashion than Agas. Any buyers will almost certainly rip it all out and replace the whole lot.”
Anna fumed inwardly. She loved her kitchen. It was the heart of the home. She could almost feel the walls flinch at the man’s comments.
The windows all but glared at him, where the morning sunshine usually gave them a friendly glow.
With Ben ominously quiet, Anna decided it was down to her to say something in the house’s defence.
“Everything’s solid and of good quality. The range will still be going strong long after any new cooker gives up the ghost.”
It was probably best not to mention there were a few of those here – doubtless just as aghast at the conversation as she was.
“No one goes for that now. They want new. I appreciate you’re both emotionally attached after living here for so long and bringing up a family – and pets,” he added as Coleridge, their easy-going, elderly tabby cat growled and ran off after almost being trodden on, “but you have to be practical.”
She could see what he meant up to a point, but surely emotions played some part? Why put your heart and soul into somewhere if you didn’t love it?
Heart and soul were the words that came to mind the moment Anna and Ben had first stepped through the weathered, wooden front
