Nettle wine, aphrodisiacs and thoughts of buying West Country holiday home cottage accommodation

In the dark as Alice struggled to insert the key to open the heavy wooden door of her West Country holiday home cottage accommodation, suddenly she was grabbed from behind and her eyes covered by a strong pair of hands.

“Guess who?”

Alice knew instantly.

“John, you nearly made me … well you startled me you naughty man.” Alice flicked on the light and turned to face her husband, breathing heavily. He was a dapper man in his early 40s and currently wearing a devilish smile.

“I got your message and thought I’d find out what you were doing here you little minx,” he said. “When I found this place all in darkness, I wondered what was going on – but I’m glad now I waited.”

“I’ve been next door with a poverty stricken neighbour and her children. They are a nice West Country family with a sad story to tell. We ate earlier and I had some very nice nettle wine.”

She batted her eye lashes at him coquettishly.

“I’ve got some more here so you can have some too. It’s put me in a very good mood so I hope you’re not tired after your long drive.”

John pulled Alice to him and planted a kiss on her lips before replying:

“I missed you – and my pyjamas!”

Alice pushed the door closed with her foot, slipped out of his arms, grabbed two mugs from the kitchen and headed off in the direction of the bedroom at a run with her husband close behind.

“Leave the light off,” she said, pouring the nettle wine by the light filtering in from the moon.

“There aren’t any curtains and I certainly don’t want to put on a show for the West Country yokels.”

“In a place as rural as this, surely you can’t seriously be worried.”

“In the morning, if you are still here, you will see that most of the houses in this valley are on the side of the hill. This property is overlooked by almost all of the others except those in the village further up the valley.”

Alice stretched luxuriously on the bed in anticipation of John joining her. Arching her back and running her fingers through her curly hair, she said: “Now hurry up and drink your wine and forget about any foreplay. I reckon this nettle wine is the most powerful aphrodisiac known to man.”

As John’s weight came onto the creaky bed, with a squeal of delight, she pulled him to her and wrapped herself around him.

Later, they talked until the early hours of the morning and the next day, John left very early carrying with him a list of very detailed instructions for property searches.

Alice had a headache from the previous night’s drinking but had resolved a lot of issues in her mind and was now ready to test out a few ideas.

The first idea involved the estate agent and the proprietor was on the telephone when Alice arrived. She motioned Alice to sit at a chair in front of her while she finished her conversation.

The office caught the morning sun and was also warmed by an electric heater. Nevertheless, it still retained the cold ambiance of a solicitor’s waiting room rather than a place to find a dream home.

There didn’t seem to be many West Country properties for sale either. Alice guessed that there was little income being generated by the business.

“I hope everything is going well with your holiday home cottage accommodation.” Melanie had finished her call.

“Nothing I want to complain about,” said Alice cheerfully. “Some curtains would be nice but I suppose that I can just about live without them.”

“Then how can I help you?” She had a clipped way of speaking, not a West Country accent at all. The way she spoke almost had a military feel. Alice couldn’t imagine her with Hugo at all – except perhaps giving him orders.

“I was wondering if you could give me some idea of what the holiday property accommodation I am staying in would cost to buy.

Melanie dropped her ballpoint pen, looking surprised.

“That’s rather an unusual question. We normally only get approached by owners as to the value of properties,” she said evasively.

“Well, to put it another way, if I were to put an offer to buy it in to the owners, what offer would you suggest might be attractive?”

“I really couldn’t say… If you would like me to ask them whether they would be interested in selling, I could do that for you.”

“Could you please?” Alice gave her best and most charming smile. “How long do you think it might take for an answer? Are the owners nearby?”

“I can’t tell you who owns it. It’s a matter of client confidentiality.” This was said coolly.

The normally sophisticated career woman was visibly shaken.

“I might be able to get you an answer in about two weeks – but then your holiday would be over …”

“If it’s going to take that long, then I might just submit an offer for the holiday cottage accommodation now. There’s a nice property in your window with a price of £150,000. It looks in good condition and modernised. Allowing for a new kitchen, bathrooms and central heating, I could perhaps go to £75,000 as a starter bid on the holiday home.”

“I don’t think the owners would be willing to consider that sort of price,” said Melanie firmly.

“But, by law you have to put the offer in I believe. You are their estate agent, after all.”

“Well I suppose I can put the offer in but I wouldn’t hold your breath. Now I have things to do so if you would excuse me.”

Alice took her time to leave the office and checked out some other properties for sale.

“If you want to see any other Devon or West Country properties, I could arrange a viewing.”

“No, I’m only interested in the one I mentioned,” said Alice, and went happily out into Main Street feeling the cat had been well set amongst the pigeons.

Melanie was back on the telephone as she left.

Alice walked tranquilly through the tiny sunny West Country lanes back in the direction of her holiday home cottage accommodation wondering what it would be like really to live here.

The story she had told Melanie about buying the West Country holiday home cottage accommodation in this small Devon village was designed to further her investigation into her friend’s death but, one day, it might be worth buying one for real. Suddenly, there was a clatter of hooves.