‘I think we’ve decided already,’ said Tom. ‘I believe the asking price is sixty thousand — is that right?’
Mr Glass gave a small shrug. ‘I think the phrase I used was "offers in excess of...".’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Tom. ‘Tell me, did you have a particular figure in mind?’
Mr Glass put his hand to the side of his face in a gesture of meditation. ‘Well, it’s like this. Do sit down, won’t you? I’ve owned Stennack Cottage for seven years now, and as you have seen I’ve spent a lot of money getting it to my liking. I’m very attached to the place.’ As he was speaking, he put his hand on the chimney breast and moved it lightly across the surface, almost in a caress. ‘It’s probably ridiculous, but I would only agree to sell it to people who seem to be in harmony with the surroundings.’
‘You can rest assured that we appreciate the place,’ said Tom. ‘We’d keep it up.’
‘I’m sure you would, but it’s more than that.’ Mr Glass turned from the fireplace and asked, ‘Would you think it frightfully impertinent if I asked you some personal questions?’
Tom glanced in Anita’s direction. ‘If you want to know a little more about us, we’ll do our best to oblige you.’
‘What would you like to know?’ said Anita, more curious than apprehensive.
‘First of all, how would you expect to spend your time here?’
‘Well, I’m in the bank, as I explained,’ answered Tom. ‘That’s five days a week accounted for, but Anita would be here. The cottage wouldn’t be empty.’
Mr Glass turned to Anita. ‘Then you’re not a working wife?’
She smiled. ‘I don’t go out to work, if that’s what you mean. There’s plenty of work in running a house, even one so well equipped as this.’
‘But you have no children?’
‘No children,’ said Anita evenly.
‘There’s nothing to prevent you from going out to work if you wished?’
‘Nothing at all,’ said Anita. ‘But this is the style of life we both prefer. I’m not one of those women who feel deprived and demeaned by not going out to work. Our marriage is a partnership, and I do my share, and have my share of the rewards.’
‘A partnership, yes,’ said Mr Glass, and he seemed to approve of it. ‘Does that mean that you would jointly own the cottage if I sold it to you?’
‘Of course.’
‘Look here,’ said Tom. ‘If you’re worried about us not getting a mortgage, forget it. As a member of the bank, I can have as much as I like within reason, and on very good terms. Would you settle for sixty thousand?’
Anita put her hand on Tom’s arm and said, ‘Tom, dear, don’t rush things. Mr Glass wants to know more about us.’
‘You’re both being very patient,’ said Mr Glass. ‘Now, Mr Sullivan, I like to have a picture of what will happen here in the evenings and at weekends, when you are both at home. Do you watch much television?’
‘Very selectively,’ said Tom. ‘I spend a lot of time with my hobby of lapidary — stones, you know.’
‘Really? Well, there’s plenty of opportunity for that in Cornwall. I know of several local collectors. In fact, there’s a shop in St Just.’
‘I prefer to find my own specimens,’ said Tom. ‘I do a lot of walking at weekends.’
Mr Glass asked Anita, ‘And does the partnership extend to joining your husband’s expeditions?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not much of a walker. I think it’s important to have your own thing to do. I’m the gardener.’
‘I’m sure you’ll do better than I have. You may even find some interesting minerals out there. Stennack is Cornish for tin-bearing ground. There are several mines hereabouts, some of them still being worked.’
Anita said with a smile, ‘A pity it isn’t a gold mine.’
He gave her an interested look, and said, ‘It’s not impossible.’
Before they left, Tom offered sixty-two thousand pounds.
Mr Glass agreed to consider it. ‘I ought to tell you that I’ve had a considerably higher offer,’ he told them, ‘but as I explained, I want the cottage to go to the right people, and you may well be the ones. Can I phone you tomorrow?’
On the long drive back to Croydon, Anita tried hard to suppress her excitement. In her mind, she explored the cottage repeatedly for some flaw that she could seize on as a consolation in case Mr Glass decided not to sell to them. But secretly she believed he would. She knew from the way he had looked at her that she had made a favourable impression on him, and Tom had definitely scored a hit with his stone collecting.
‘Offering silent prayers?’ asked Tom.
‘Something like that.’
‘Odd sort of character, wasn’t he? He seems so possessive about the cottage that I couldn’t help wondering whether he really means to sell it at all.’
‘Don’t say that!’ said Anita fearfully. ‘Surely he wouldn’t bring people all that way if he wasn’t serious?’
‘Well, you have to admit it was strange, asking those questions.’
‘They didn’t embarrass me.’
"That isn’t the point. If you want my opinion,’ said Tom in the voice he used in the bank, ‘he’s spent too much on the place. Overstretched himself. Can’t keep up the payments. I don’t believe the story about his old mother in Plymouth. If that were true, he could easily let it furnished for a year or two, until he’s ready to go back.’
‘I don’t really care, as long as we get that cottage,’ said Anita.
Next morning, Mr Glass phoned and said that he accepted the offer. Anita went out and bought a bottle of champagne.
There were no complications in the sale. At the end of July, six weeks after they had seen the advertisement, Anita and Tom became the joint owners of Stennack Cottage. They moved in a week later. Mr Glass had put flowers in the hall to welcome them.
They had purchased the curtains and carpets with the cottage, so once their furniture was arranged, it was easy to settle in. Anita rather wished Mr Glass would call on them and see how right everything looked. She was sure he would approve. She found that her thoughts often turned to him as she went about the house when Tom was at work. But he didn’t come. He must have gone to Plymouth after all.
So she thought, until one Sunday evening Tom returned from one of his walks and said, ‘I believe I saw that fellow Glass this afternoon. I was looking for specimens in that old mine near Sancreed and for some reason I turned round and saw someone higher up the hill near the prehistoric site. He was looking down at me through a pair of field glasses. As soon as I turned, he ducked out of sight. I can see a long way, as you know, and I’m certain it was Glass. That fairish hair and slim figure. Damned if I know why he was behaving like that. A very odd man.’
‘I expect he was embarrassed,’ suggested Anita. ‘Perhaps he’d just got you in focus when you turned round. He didn’t want you to think he was spying on you.’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ said Tom. ‘It doesn’t bother me. If he starts spying on you I’ll have something to say about it. What do you think of this, then?’ He took a large encrusted stone from his bag and held it to the light so that Anita could see its emerald green surface. ‘Malachite. Isn’t it beautiful? I dug it out of the tip beside the old pit-head up there. I think there must be more of it there.’
Later that week, he told Anita, ‘I was right about Wilfred Glass. I had lunch today with the manager of the bank across the street. I happened to mention that I bought the house from Glass and he told me the fellow banks with them. It was just as I surmised — he overspent on the cottage and got himself in deep water. His old mother died eight years ago, so it was pure invention about Plymouth. He used her money to buy this place, with a hefty mortgage. He’s living in a small terraced house in St Buryan now.’