lips, he tutted and sighed and warned in a low, ominous voice, “They do say as folks only ever stay one night there … summat about –” he rolled his eyes – “ ghosts .”
Tom laughed. “The way I feel right now, I don’t think ghosts would worry me one bit.”
Disappointed, the old chap straightened up. “Please yerself, son. Are you planning to stay a while?”
Tom nodded. “I hope to,” he said. “Only, I need a few days’ grace, so I can look around to find a place to rent – long-term – until I sort myself out.”
“Well, I never!” The old chap gave a kind of whoop. “That’s it, then! Your troubles are over.”
Intrigued, Tom questioned him. “How d’you mean?”
“Why! Cliff Cottage, o’ course. It’s a pretty little place right atop the hill there, warm and cozy, and you’ll wake up to the sound of seagulls calling and a view straight from heaven …” Pointing toward the far side of the harbor, he explained, “It’s owned by a lady who spends most of her time in Ireland … or is it Scotland?” He scratched his head and pondered, but his memory wasn’t what it once was. “Any-road, now she’s gone away … put the place up for rent, she has. I swear, you’ll not get a prettier place to live, if you tramped the world twice over.”
Excited, Tom got out of the car to shake his hand. “It sounds perfect!” he said. “Who do I see about renting it?”
The old man puffed out his chest. “You see me , son, that’s who yer see. I’m the fella yer want!” Holding out his hand in greeting, he told Tom proudly, “The name’s Jasper … Jasper Hardcastle. I’m working hand-in-glove with the agent. I’m entrusted with a key to the property, so I can take you there now if you’ve a mind?”
The old chap was so naturally friendly, Tom had taken to him straight off; in fact, he began to feel as if he’d known him for years. “Right then! It sounds good to me. You’d best climb in the car.”
As they drove through the harbor and along the promenade toward the upper ground, Tom commented on the beauty of West Bay: the harbor filled with boats of every size and color, the curving promenade, and that wonderful view out to sea. “It’s just what I need,” he confessed. “A year or so away from the hustle and bustle of London … some time to myself, a place where I can get things into perspective.”
“That’s the very reason I came here forty-five year ago.” The old fellow gave a colorful account of himself. “I lived me younger days in Darwen … in the North,” he revealed. “I were twenty-eight year old, been wed just a year when I lost me darling wife – pneumonia, it were.” His voice dropped as though he was talking to himself. “Wicked business! She were seven month gone with our first babby.”
Tom could feel his pain; it was much like his own. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured.
“Aw, no!” Jasper bucked up. “It were a long time ago. But, like I were saying, I’d been to West Bay as a lad with me mam and dad … had the time o’ me life, I did, an’ I never forgot. Well, I just kinda wandered back, if yer know what I mean … got casual work wherever I could: helping the fishermen; serving at the pub; a bit o’ gardening ’ere and there. I were a handyman then, an’ I’ve been a handyman ever since. Helped out where I could during the war, being as I were too old to fight in it.” He chuckled. “An’ I’ve never regretted one minute of it. The more I stayed, the harder it got to leave. There’s a kinda magic about the place that wraps itself around yer. Teks a hold on yer heart an’ won’t let go.” He laughed. “Mind it don’t get you the same way.”
“Right now, I wouldn’t care if it did,” Tom confessed. He glanced at the old chap, thinking he looked extraordinarily well for his age, and he told him so.
“Ah, well, that’s ’cause I’m allus on the go. Seventy-three year old, an’ I’ve never once had to see the
Tom laughed. “The way I feel right now, I don’t think ghosts would worry me one bit.”
Disappointed, the old chap straightened up. “Please yerself, son. Are you planning to stay a while?”
Tom nodded. “I hope to,” he said. “Only, I need a few days’ grace, so I can look around to find a place to rent – long-term – until I sort myself out.”
“Well, I never!” The old chap gave a kind of whoop. “That’s it, then! Your troubles are over.”
Intrigued, Tom questioned him. “How d’you mean?”
“Why! Cliff Cottage, o’ course. It’s a pretty little place right atop the hill there, warm and cozy, and you’ll wake up to the sound of seagulls calling and a view straight from heaven …” Pointing toward the far side of the harbor, he explained, “It’s owned by a lady who spends most of her time in Ireland … or is it Scotland?” He scratched his head and pondered, but his memory wasn’t what it once was. “Any-road, now she’s gone away … put the place up for rent, she has. I swear, you’ll not get a prettier place to live, if you tramped the world twice over.”
Excited, Tom got out of the car to shake his hand. “It sounds perfect!” he said. “Who do I see about renting it?”
The old man puffed out his chest. “You see me , son, that’s who yer see. I’m the fella yer want!” Holding out his hand in greeting, he told Tom proudly, “The name’s Jasper … Jasper Hardcastle. I’m working hand-in-glove with the agent. I’m entrusted with a key to the property, so I can take you there now if you’ve a mind?”
The old chap was so naturally friendly, Tom had taken to him straight off; in fact, he began to feel as if he’d known him for years. “Right then! It sounds good to me. You’d best climb in the car.”
As they drove through the harbor and along the promenade toward the upper ground, Tom commented on the beauty of West Bay: the harbor filled with boats of every size and color, the curving promenade, and that wonderful view out to sea. “It’s just what I need,” he confessed. “A year or so away from the hustle and bustle of London … some time to myself, a place where I can get things into perspective.”
“That’s the very reason I came here forty-five year ago.” The old fellow gave a colorful account of himself. “I lived me younger days in Darwen … in the North,” he revealed. “I were twenty-eight year old, been wed just a year when I lost me darling wife – pneumonia, it were.” His voice dropped as though he was talking to himself. “Wicked business! She were seven month gone with our first babby.”
Tom could feel his pain; it was much like his own. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured.
“Aw, no!” Jasper bucked up. “It were a long time ago. But, like I were saying, I’d been to West Bay as a lad with me mam and dad … had the time o’ me life, I did, an’ I never forgot. Well, I just kinda wandered back, if yer know what I mean … got casual work wherever I could: helping the fishermen; serving at the pub; a bit o’ gardening ’ere and there. I were a handyman then, an’ I’ve been a handyman ever since. Helped out where I could during the war, being as I were too old to fight in it.” He chuckled. “An’ I’ve never regretted one minute of it. The more I stayed, the harder it got to leave. There’s a kinda magic about the place that wraps itself around yer. Teks a hold on yer heart an’ won’t let go.” He laughed. “Mind it don’t get you the same way.”
“Right now, I wouldn’t care if it did,” Tom confessed. He glanced at the old chap, thinking he looked extraordinarily well for his age, and he told him so.
“Ah, well, that’s ’cause I’m allus on the go. Seventy-three year old, an’ I’ve never once had to see the
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