unlocked the back door and ushered Max and Greta inside.
“I expect you would like time on your own to have a good look around. I will be waiting outside if you need me.”
“Thank you very much, Reverend. We won’t be long. If we are gone for ages, just come in and drag us out!” Greta walked into the kitchen. “We are expecting the architect to turn up soon; so if you see someone looking lost, that’s who it will be!” she added.
The Reverend smiled and waved. He looked over towards the concrete yard and saw a car drawing up and a familiar figure getting out of it. His smile evaporated instantly. He looked very uneasy. The man walked over to him.
“Thought I might find you here, vicar,” Marcus Mowbrie brusquely remarked. “I hear that you’re selling the place. After all these years of me asking, tell me it isn’t true?” he quizzed, adjusting his waistband.
“It’s none of your business, Mr Mowbrie,” Rev Oli looked ashen-faced and uncomfortable. He stepped away from Mowbrie’s invasive glare.
“Damn right it is my business, vicar!” Marcus retorted. “All these years I have offered to buy Greenacres and you’ve continually said no, you would be keeping hold of it. Then, all of a sudden, some young couple appear from out of the blue and you’re selling it to them. You know that wasn’t part of the plan. Surely you wouldn’t be stupid enough to go back on our… arrangement?”
Reverend Oli stared directly at Marcus.
“With the greatest respect, I don’t know what you’re implying. The cottage will be very suitable for the young people. They have a lot of plans for Greenacres and they are greatly looking forward to living here. And as far as I am concerned, there is and has never been an… arrangement!”
“I own the fields around here, as well you know, and I could make Greenacres a great place to live too!” He stared intently back at the Reverend.
“The difference is, Mr Mowbrie, again most respectfully, is that the couple will be living here, not using it as a get rich quick venture, which, forgive me if I am wrong, is your sole intention?”
“Now, that would be none of your business, vicar. Once sold, it would be up to me what I did with it. Keep it or sell it!”
“I therefore rest my case,” Reverend Oli smiled nervously but remained outwardly calm. He stepped away from Mowbrie and walked towards the back door.
“I will top their offer, vicar. Name your price!” Mowbrie called after him.
Reverend Oli didn’t reply but disappeared into the cottage. He leant against the kitchen wall, drew out a paper tissue and wiped his sweat-beaded brow.
“A gentleman never goes back on his word, vicar! Remember that!” Mowbrie strode furiously towards his car, slammed the door and spun the wheels across the concrete yard, out of sight. Rev Oil closed his eyes and sighed. His heart was pounding against his chest. He opened his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “But I didn’t ever give you my word… or anything else,” he whispered.
Max and Greta heard the commotion. They found Rev Oli by the back door.
“Is everything okay, Reverend?” Greta was concerned. “We heard voices and then a car screeching off.”
“Yes, all is well, thank you, Gretel. Nothing to concern yourself about.”
Reverend Oli stood away from the wall and placed the sodden tissue back into his pocket.
“Ah, here comes your architect fellow, I believe. Perhaps you would like to introduce me?” He smiled cheerily.
“Of course!” Max stepped out of the back door and met the architect, shook his hand and pointed in the direction of the back door.
“Mike, how are you?” Max smiled.
“Very well, thanks Max. Hey, this place is certainly a find and a stunning location too,” Mike reciprocated.
“This is Rev Oliphant, the owner. And this is Greta, my wife,” Max indicated towards them.
“Pleased to meet you Reverend, and you too Greta.” Mike awkwardly removed his hand from the
“I expect you would like time on your own to have a good look around. I will be waiting outside if you need me.”
“Thank you very much, Reverend. We won’t be long. If we are gone for ages, just come in and drag us out!” Greta walked into the kitchen. “We are expecting the architect to turn up soon; so if you see someone looking lost, that’s who it will be!” she added.
The Reverend smiled and waved. He looked over towards the concrete yard and saw a car drawing up and a familiar figure getting out of it. His smile evaporated instantly. He looked very uneasy. The man walked over to him.
“Thought I might find you here, vicar,” Marcus Mowbrie brusquely remarked. “I hear that you’re selling the place. After all these years of me asking, tell me it isn’t true?” he quizzed, adjusting his waistband.
“It’s none of your business, Mr Mowbrie,” Rev Oli looked ashen-faced and uncomfortable. He stepped away from Mowbrie’s invasive glare.
“Damn right it is my business, vicar!” Marcus retorted. “All these years I have offered to buy Greenacres and you’ve continually said no, you would be keeping hold of it. Then, all of a sudden, some young couple appear from out of the blue and you’re selling it to them. You know that wasn’t part of the plan. Surely you wouldn’t be stupid enough to go back on our… arrangement?”
Reverend Oli stared directly at Marcus.
“With the greatest respect, I don’t know what you’re implying. The cottage will be very suitable for the young people. They have a lot of plans for Greenacres and they are greatly looking forward to living here. And as far as I am concerned, there is and has never been an… arrangement!”
“I own the fields around here, as well you know, and I could make Greenacres a great place to live too!” He stared intently back at the Reverend.
“The difference is, Mr Mowbrie, again most respectfully, is that the couple will be living here, not using it as a get rich quick venture, which, forgive me if I am wrong, is your sole intention?”
“Now, that would be none of your business, vicar. Once sold, it would be up to me what I did with it. Keep it or sell it!”
“I therefore rest my case,” Reverend Oli smiled nervously but remained outwardly calm. He stepped away from Mowbrie and walked towards the back door.
“I will top their offer, vicar. Name your price!” Mowbrie called after him.
Reverend Oli didn’t reply but disappeared into the cottage. He leant against the kitchen wall, drew out a paper tissue and wiped his sweat-beaded brow.
“A gentleman never goes back on his word, vicar! Remember that!” Mowbrie strode furiously towards his car, slammed the door and spun the wheels across the concrete yard, out of sight. Rev Oil closed his eyes and sighed. His heart was pounding against his chest. He opened his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “But I didn’t ever give you my word… or anything else,” he whispered.
Max and Greta heard the commotion. They found Rev Oli by the back door.
“Is everything okay, Reverend?” Greta was concerned. “We heard voices and then a car screeching off.”
“Yes, all is well, thank you, Gretel. Nothing to concern yourself about.”
Reverend Oli stood away from the wall and placed the sodden tissue back into his pocket.
“Ah, here comes your architect fellow, I believe. Perhaps you would like to introduce me?” He smiled cheerily.
“Of course!” Max stepped out of the back door and met the architect, shook his hand and pointed in the direction of the back door.
“Mike, how are you?” Max smiled.
“Very well, thanks Max. Hey, this place is certainly a find and a stunning location too,” Mike reciprocated.
“This is Rev Oliphant, the owner. And this is Greta, my wife,” Max indicated towards them.
“Pleased to meet you Reverend, and you too Greta.” Mike awkwardly removed his hand from the
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