The Hollow by Leon Crow

Author:Leon Crow [Crow, Leon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-01T16:00:00+00:00

22

Half an hour later they were sat at the harbour in Port Agnes waiting for the ferry to make its next crossing. It was either that or an hour’s detour up and over the river. Ben spotted the tourist boats moored up against the harbour wall, largely docile at this time of the year. But in high season they were active every single day and almost always full to bursting. He would never get a licence or a mooring to operate his own from the harbour, but he could operate something similar from the jetty by Keeper’s Cottage.

When the ferry docked and there was nothing to be done except sit and allow the ferryman to do his work, he almost mentioned his plans, but he couldn’t. Claire deflected him unknowingly with talk of colour schemes and furnishings for the guest rooms. They located the supermarket and picked up a selection of cleaning products and foodstuffs, then moved on to the hardware store for the heat gun and some paint. Ben got himself a tool kit too, one that contained just about every handyman’s tool dreamed up by the DIY gods. He wasn't prepared to wait on Wade. A part of him secretly hoped the man would let them down. If Wade didn’t earn his keep then there’d be no argument to answer when he took his plan to the next stage. He’d do that eventually anyway. It was just a matter of time.

“I’m sure Wade has all of those things,” Claire said, staring into the tool box as he admired it.

He shrugged.

“I don’t care,” he said. “I want my own set.”

They purchased enough tins of emulsion to complete the whole upstairs in various shades of white and olive green (for feature walls), white spirit, new brushes, rollers and a new pair of garden shears.

“What do you need those for?” asked Claire.

By the time they made it back to the road that lead to the ferry crossing and a return to Blackberry Cottage, he realised he could hold it in no longer. Claire had to know.

He pulled off and followed a little lane as it zig-zagged down the steep sloping sides of the river valley towards the river itself. There was a car park at the bottom and a pub with seats bordering the river’s edge.

“A quick detour,” he said.

He parked the car so that they were facing the river.

“Look,” he said.

“What am I looking at?”

He smiled.

“Can’t you see?”

She looked out across the water and his eyes followed hers, waiting for the moment of awareness, but she didn’t see.

He pointed towards an unkempt clump of dwellings on the far bank.

“You really can’t see?”

“Ben, we’ve got a job to do…”

“Notice the lane there? The one running down to the water?”

“Yes,” she said. “What about it?”

“Imagine a mooring spot there, a proper one. Imagine a little terrace with a few tables, those trees all cut back, the buildings modernised, balconies…”

“Ben. What are you talking about?”

“That’s our lane,” he said. “Those are our cottages.”

“That’s

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