Folly.’
‘Francesco’s Folly,’ Vivienne repeated thoughtfully. ‘Do you know why it was called that?’
‘The estate agent said Francesco was the name of the Italian who built the place back in the late seventies. The folly part will be self-explanatory once you see the place. I gather our Italian had a large family, most of whom he outlived. He finally passed away a couple of months ago at the age of ninety-five. His two great-grandsons inherited the place but they both live in Queensland and wanted it sold, pronto. Which is where I came in.’
‘I can’t wait to see it,’ Vivienne said.
‘And I can’t wait to show it to you,’ Jack replied.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I T TOOK THEM longer than anticipated to reach Port Stephens, stopping for over half an hour on the Pacific Highway just north of Newcastle. Jack answered several missed business calls and Vivienne had a nice long chat with Marion, who was pleased to hear that her friend was feeling better and planning to get back to work, though not necessarily with Classic Design.
After leaving Raymond Terrace, it took them a good forty minutes to drive to Nelson’s Bay—the main seaside town in Port Stephens—where they picked up the keys from the agency handling the property, then made their way to Francesco’s Folly, which was near an area called Soldier’s Point. Despite having enjoyed the drive and the scenery, by the time Jack turned his Porsche into the driveway of their destination, Vivienne was keen to see the house.
And what a house it was! Only two storeyed, but it looked like a mansion perched up on top of a hill. Mediterranean in style, it was cement-rendered in a salmon-pink colour and had more archways and columns than Vivienne had seen outside of a convent or a museum.
‘Heavens to Betsy!’ Vivienne exclaimed as Jack drove up the long, extremely steep driveway.
Jack grinned over at her. ‘It’s pretty spectacular, isn’t it?’
‘Not quite a traditional Aussie holiday house, I have to admit. A mad mixture of Tuscan villa and Greek palace. What’s it like inside?’
‘Extremely dated. Trust me when I say you’ll have your work cut out for you to transform it into something I could live with on a permanent basis. But the views, Vivienne. The views are to die for.’
‘But Jack, it’s enormous!’ she said as they drew closer and she began to appreciate the true proportions of the place. ‘Are you sure you want to buy a place this size? I mean...it would be different if you were married with a big family, like Francesco was.’
Jack shrugged. ‘I have two married sisters with a total of five children between them. And a mother with a lover. They’ll use the place, too. Though, to be brutally honest, I’m not buying it for them. I’m buying it for myself.
‘I knew the moment I walked out onto one of those balconies up there that I wanted to live here,’ he said, pointing to the balconies, which spanned the full length of both floors. ‘Maybe not twenty-four-seven just yet, but at least at weekends and for holidays. Call me crazy if you like but that’s the way it is. Now, stop trying to talk me out of this, Vivienne,’ he said as they drove round to the back of the house. ‘It’s a done deal.’
The back of the house was where the garages were located, along with the main entrance to the house, guarded by two huge brass doors with equally huge brass locks. The tarred driveway also gave way to a gravel courtyard, the wheels of the Porsche making crunching noises as Jack brought his car to a halt in front of the multiple garages.
‘Leave that behind,’ Jack ordered when she picked up her bag. ‘I don’t want us being interrupted by phone calls. I’ll leave my phone behind as well.’
‘What about my camera?’ she asked. ‘I’d like to take photos.’
‘No photos first up. Just your eyes. Come on.’
She did as ordered, despite thinking to herself that if she agreed to do this job she would have to learn to
‘Francesco’s Folly,’ Vivienne repeated thoughtfully. ‘Do you know why it was called that?’
‘The estate agent said Francesco was the name of the Italian who built the place back in the late seventies. The folly part will be self-explanatory once you see the place. I gather our Italian had a large family, most of whom he outlived. He finally passed away a couple of months ago at the age of ninety-five. His two great-grandsons inherited the place but they both live in Queensland and wanted it sold, pronto. Which is where I came in.’
‘I can’t wait to see it,’ Vivienne said.
‘And I can’t wait to show it to you,’ Jack replied.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I T TOOK THEM longer than anticipated to reach Port Stephens, stopping for over half an hour on the Pacific Highway just north of Newcastle. Jack answered several missed business calls and Vivienne had a nice long chat with Marion, who was pleased to hear that her friend was feeling better and planning to get back to work, though not necessarily with Classic Design.
After leaving Raymond Terrace, it took them a good forty minutes to drive to Nelson’s Bay—the main seaside town in Port Stephens—where they picked up the keys from the agency handling the property, then made their way to Francesco’s Folly, which was near an area called Soldier’s Point. Despite having enjoyed the drive and the scenery, by the time Jack turned his Porsche into the driveway of their destination, Vivienne was keen to see the house.
And what a house it was! Only two storeyed, but it looked like a mansion perched up on top of a hill. Mediterranean in style, it was cement-rendered in a salmon-pink colour and had more archways and columns than Vivienne had seen outside of a convent or a museum.
‘Heavens to Betsy!’ Vivienne exclaimed as Jack drove up the long, extremely steep driveway.
Jack grinned over at her. ‘It’s pretty spectacular, isn’t it?’
‘Not quite a traditional Aussie holiday house, I have to admit. A mad mixture of Tuscan villa and Greek palace. What’s it like inside?’
‘Extremely dated. Trust me when I say you’ll have your work cut out for you to transform it into something I could live with on a permanent basis. But the views, Vivienne. The views are to die for.’
‘But Jack, it’s enormous!’ she said as they drew closer and she began to appreciate the true proportions of the place. ‘Are you sure you want to buy a place this size? I mean...it would be different if you were married with a big family, like Francesco was.’
Jack shrugged. ‘I have two married sisters with a total of five children between them. And a mother with a lover. They’ll use the place, too. Though, to be brutally honest, I’m not buying it for them. I’m buying it for myself.
‘I knew the moment I walked out onto one of those balconies up there that I wanted to live here,’ he said, pointing to the balconies, which spanned the full length of both floors. ‘Maybe not twenty-four-seven just yet, but at least at weekends and for holidays. Call me crazy if you like but that’s the way it is. Now, stop trying to talk me out of this, Vivienne,’ he said as they drove round to the back of the house. ‘It’s a done deal.’
The back of the house was where the garages were located, along with the main entrance to the house, guarded by two huge brass doors with equally huge brass locks. The tarred driveway also gave way to a gravel courtyard, the wheels of the Porsche making crunching noises as Jack brought his car to a halt in front of the multiple garages.
‘Leave that behind,’ Jack ordered when she picked up her bag. ‘I don’t want us being interrupted by phone calls. I’ll leave my phone behind as well.’
‘What about my camera?’ she asked. ‘I’d like to take photos.’
‘No photos first up. Just your eyes. Come on.’
She did as ordered, despite thinking to herself that if she agreed to do this job she would have to learn to
Similar Books
