Hannah

After our aborted rendezvous, it was some time before I heard or saw any more of Horatio, or of the house buying scheme. But one I day I had reason to think of him. Annie and Mary had been playing in the field across from our house. It is not good building land as it dips - and there is a natural spring there - so it is just left to grow wild, and no one minds if the children go there to play.
But when it was time to come in, Annie brought me a very odd object.

“Look Mamma. I found a dolly’s head across the road. It is very dirty and ugly, but I thought if I washed it, it maybe would look better.”

I had a quick glance at the object - sort of brick red, dirty as she said, and a head obviously, but also most certainly not from a doll.

“Oh, I think this might not be a dolly at all, but something very old. Let’s give it a careful wash and then when I next see Mr. Whittington, I will ask him if he knows anything about it.”

So we scrubbed it up, and it was still quite ugly. About eight inches high, made of stone, it has the face of a man with a moustache and beard. His eyes are very prominent in the face and are staring straight ahead. I had no idea how old it was, or whether it was valuable or not, but I remembered Horatio’s talk at the first garden party which mentioned Celtic Heads being found in this area, so this just might be one of those.

Annie was very interested when I told her it might be very old, but we decided to wait before we told anyone else about it, until Horatio gave us his point of view.

But before we had time to contact him, in late November, I had a note through my door, as did all the houses in our area which were considering being sold, saying that Mr. Andrew would be coming to view the property the following Monday, and if we were not going to be available, would we let Mr. Whittington know.

I was disappointed that he didn’t include a personal note with mine - as he had discussed the possibility of me going with the agent to view the houses. It does seem clear that I will not be needed, and Horatio must have taken a day off on Monday.

So we cleaned our houses that weekend with more zest than usual. It was gone 3 on Monday before I saw Horatio and another man who I assumed to be Mr. Andrew come in their carriage up towards our house. They alighted, and I went out to greet them.

“Hello, Mr. Whittington. Pity you had to have your trip when the weather is so unpleasant. Do come in out of the wind and rain.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Harrison. May I present Mr. Andrew, who is Lord Howard’s agent and dealing with the matter of valuing. Mr. Siddens and the surveyor, Mr. Haynes are currently finishing off at Woodheys, but as we are running late, it was decided that we would split into two groups, and Mr. Andrew and I are covering your houses here and have just come from Rock Tavern.”

I ushered them through my front door into the hallway. “To the right is my kitchen, and to the left, is my lounge,” I said. “Do you require exact measurements of the rooms?”

“No, I don’t think so, Mrs. Harrison. These rooms are typical in size - about 12 ft square I should say. I will just have a peak into the kitchen and see if that is the same. Yes, it is.”

“Then the stairway goes to the two bedrooms.”

They went up the stairs and had a quick look in the bedrooms. I blushed at the thought of Horatio seeing where I sleep.

“You have no other rooms?”

“We have an outhouse lavatory, and a garden shed,” I said, “as you can see.”

“Fine. Now we will go and have a look at Mrs. Thornley’s house. Where is her front door?”

“You need to go around past my front room windows and you will see it there.”

So they went and talked with Mary, who no doubt showed them her four rooms where five children as well as she and her husband sleep. What a squash it must be.

And then, not half an hour after they arrived, they were off again. Horatio had not thrown a single glance or given me a word to show that I meant any more to him than any ordinary housekeeper. I had cleaned my house, put on a smart dress, baked a cake, and spent hours dreaming of this chance of ours to be together in my home - and absolutely nothing came of it. I felt so let down.

After I saw them leave Mary’s house I went across and asked what they had done. “They looked like they couldn’t be bothered. Not in the least interested in me or my house, as I am just a name and number to them. And that Horatio person that you seem to think so highly of seems a right snob to me.”

“He wasn’t very friendly was he? I had hoped they might have tea and cakes with me, but he said they were running late. I think they were all meeting back at his house when all the work has finished.”

“And what do you guess the price will be, Hannah?”

“I think somewhere between £300-400 for each half of the house.”

“Have you got that sort of money to spend?”

“Yes, and I have decided that I will go ahead and buy both halves, rather than risk having some unknown gentleman from Manchester buy the other half. That way we can decide together when and how things that affect the fabric of the house are done.”

“Have you had any more meetings of your buying group?”

“No, not since July, but I know Horatio was waiting until after this survey was done and he had a specific figure in mind to either agree to or to try to negotiate down. So I expect he will be calling another meeting in the next few weeks or so.”

I said goodbye to Mary, and went back to my own house, thoroughly deflated by the way the day had been handled. If Horatio could treat me with such disdain in the company of this other man, it did not bode well for any future relationship between us.