With My Little Eye (3 page)

Douglas's draft of the condominium agreement was subjected to a little nit-picking but was universally approved. A solicitor was chosen to prepare deeds. Douglas compiled a final list of the required work for Harris Benton to apply for permits and to seek quotations.

‘One last topic,' Douglas said. ‘But it's an important one. The original semi-basement kitchen ancillaries – sculleries, pantries and so forth, along with the servants' room – can make a small two-person flat or a generous single-person one. I had it in mind to find a gardener, possibly retired, who would be satisfied with a cheap or free tenancy in exchange for keeping the gardens. I enjoy sitting in a well-kept garden, but I definitely do not enjoy using muscles that I never use for anything else to keep a garden that everyone else will enjoy just as much as I do. Unless one of you …?'

There was a sudden interest in the ceiling or in what lay outside the window.

‘I thought not. Well, it will be more effective and cheaper to have a permanent gardener and split the cost four ways than to hire individual gardeners by the day. There's not much alteration work to be done in the house, because the flatlet that I'm suggesting would include the present cloakroom, which only needs a shower cubicle added. I've said all this before and it seemed to be generally agreed in principle, except that nobody has yet put forward the name of a suitable candidate. The gardens are in danger of getting out of control, so either we must organize some working parties or we'll have to levy a standing charge to cover the cost of employing a landscaping firm.'

Silence can convey a multitude of emotions. This one made it clear that neither time nor funds were going to be in ample enough supply for either option to be favoured.

The professor spoke up first. He had a mellifluous voice and seemed to enjoy using it. ‘Will you leave it in my hands for one more week? The university's deputy head gardener is reaching the bloody retirement age and he might be glad to take it on.'

‘Please God,' said Mrs Jamieson. ‘But, Professor, why did you have to say “bloody”? You are, presumably, an educated man.'

The professor showed surprise. ‘The sentence,' he said, ‘would not have scanned so well. Rhythm is important in the spoken word.'

From then on Douglas examined the professor's utterances and, sure enough, most of them scanned better for the insertion of a modicum of vulgarity. He toyed with the idea of rounding off the rhythm of his own words in the same vein but decided that he had quite enough difficulty filtering out his Englishness.

P
reparations for work often take longer than the work itself but for once, while the prospective occupiers, the favoured contractor and the various suppliers and subcontractors were champing at their respective bits, the processes of approvals and tendering hurried along their predestined paths.

Even the processes of selling the now superfluous houses went with such speed that the Jamiesons in particular found themselves in danger of being homeless. The Scottish custom of inviting offers for a property and then waiting until enough purchasers have expressed interest may (or may not) ultimately extract the best price for the seller, but a buyer may miss a whole succession of houses by a tiny margin and have to pay a solicitor and a surveyor in respect of each of them. Douglas priced the properties high but on a fixed price basis and they sold quickly.

This turned out to have a valuable spin-off. With the threat of eviction on one hand and the offer of her removal expenses as an inducement on the other, Mrs Jamieson moved her whole family and all its trappings into the rooms where her apartment was to be created, with the intention of camping there. Happily the area included one of the spacious existing bathrooms. The original kitchen, to be shared initially, was still in working order.

By chance the house was visited that same night by a party of thieves presumed to be after lead pipes and roofing. The Jamiesons' wolfhound, however, had already developed a sense of territory and exploded into action. The thieves made off in great haste but omitted the use of their van's lights, probably for fear of revealing a registration number. The result was a glancing blow to a tree, leaving paint traces. Between the damage to the van and the incompetence of the men, the police had little difficulty tracking them down. Thereafter, Underwood House was off the map of lawbreakers.

The final occupier, proposed by the professor, was Stan Eastwick, a gnarled but jovial-looking old man who had been second-in-command of the university's gardens and greenhouses for more years than anyone cared to remember. He was very active despite developing a pot belly that necessitated much work on his part with needle and thread before off-the-peg clothes would accommodate themselves to his proportions. He had remained single although rumour had it that he had been a bit of a dog in his day. He had stalwartly refused to occupy accommodation provided by the university but had purchased a modest but now quite valuable flat. He decided to sell his flat and buy the granny flat that was being assembled from the pantries and sculleries of the house; and he was given a favourable price on the written understanding that the gardens would be his responsibility. He was already well provided with gardening tools and machinery. Rumours as vague but as insistent as those about his past life suggested that he had acquired his equipment by retaining and reconditioning machines that were believed to be clapped out and had been replaced at his employer's expense, but he was prepared to swear that every last trowel or trug was legitimately his own. The other householders turned a blind eye.

His retirement date was still several months off, which allowed time for the necessary alterations to the building but, apparently on the principle of ‘one year seed, seven years weed', he began work on the gardens in his leisure time. He was also a valuable general handyman, capable of polished workmanship in joinery or electrics. When a defect was uncovered in the original structure or some essential small work had not been thought of at the time of the original quotations, Stan could usually turn his hand to it or he had a friend who could. It was Douglas's experience that whatever was added to an existing contract usually brought with it a disproportionate share of the oncosts and, unless the contractor was unusually amenable, it was often safer to keep such work separate.

The fabric of the building being in good repair, the building works required were mostly the opening or closing up of doorways and windows, some moving of partitions and the creation of one new bathroom. Harris Benton, after some research, had come up with a floor finish that could be counted on to muffle to a large extent the passage of noise down through the floors and that work turned out to be the most expensive but also the most worthwhile part of the contract. That particular task suffered delay because occupiers were already making a start to the decoration and the moving in of furniture, but constant liaison made sure that the appropriate owners, or others on their behalves, were on the spot to transfer furniture and packing cases out of the way. The subcontractor and his men proved adaptable; and almost amicable compromises were soon reached over cost and delay. Douglas, like Mrs Jamieson, soon decided to move in and let the men work round him, so he was always available to lend a hand or to suggest a compromise. The day appointed for the new owners to take occupation passed with hardly a stir because much of it had already occurred. Only six months had passed since Douglas had found the place, but spring had brought new hope and impetus.

A
lmost on schedule the paint and paper dried, the dust settled and by general agreement one Sunday afternoon was declared to have something akin to a proper Sabbath calm. Douglas had been pacifying any argumentative tradesman with a promise that when all was finished there would be a celebration; this was usually countered by the observation that such promises were frequently given but never honoured. It was not to be expected that everyone would be free to assemble at the same time, but most of the future occupants and some of their friends, along with the more popular of the builders' tradesmen, managed to put in at least a token appearance. Douglas had pressured the proprietor of a wine shop to signify his appreciation of a satisfactory price negotiated for the purchase of his premises by the contribution of a few bottles of a tolerable Rhine wine, while most of those who came brought rather more than they expected to consume for fear of being thought mean by their new neighbours. The result was a table with a formidable stack of bottles.

Some parties may be planned months ahead and still fall flat; others may occur almost spontaneously and burst into life of their own accord; and this was one of the latter sort. At the end of a period of hard work and financial anxiety, of the kind in which any surprise is almost certainly unwelcome, the relief of finishing with even a little time and money in hand left the residents ill prepared to make use of either. The builders' tradesmen, by invitation, had brought their wives or lady friends to see a job in which they took some pride, but Douglas suspected that part of the motivation was to let wives see that quite respectable and responsible people might move into accommodation that still lacked that final decoration.

The chosen venue was the (temporarily) communal kitchen, which had been enlarged to include the garden room and was for the moment doubling up as a dining room, which had been added to the house by the last owner. It was now furnished comfortably but discordantly with all the cast-offs of the various occupants. The previous owners of the house had entertained lavishly so the room was large. Douglas's tentative suggestion of a get-together around mid afternoon, in order to get to know each other and to decide a few minor management points, resulted in Hilda Jamieson and Betty McLeish, who had lingered after lunch to share the washing up and have a good gossip, fetching their own contributions to the festivities and starting the party. In the mysterious way by which news of free drink spreads, the other members of the enlarged household, their volunteer helpers and favoured members of the building team came trickling in. Conversation became general and loud. There was laughter.

It was soon clear that the group was unusually free from jealousy and hostilities – with one non-human exception. Mrs Jamieson's deerhound had already decided that this was his territory and his pack. Rowan, being black, did not easily communicate friendship or submission but peace of a sort had become established. Stan Eastwick, however, had a bulldog bitch. Winnie was of a peaceable nature, but a flat face and a docked tail form other barriers in the way of peaceful communication. Bloodshed seemed imminent.

The most obvious solution would have been to banish the opponents to their respective homes; but living under the same roof they would be bound to meet. Douglas, hoping one day to achieve the perfect gundog, took his dog training seriously and devoured every publication on the subject. Having been inclined to broadcast advice or even to pontificate on the subject he had clearly elected himself to deal with any canine attitude problems before they became established. The aggressive signals coming from the wolfhound, and especially the deep-throated rumblings, were ominous enough to make the hairs crawl up the back of his neck, but he persevered and with Mrs Jamieson restraining and soothing her wolfhound, the signs of violence, the white-rimmed eyes and the stiff-legged posture with the weight on the forefeet, began to abate while Stan Eastwick calmed and reassured his bulldog until the more noticeable signals of peaceful intent – yawning, lip-licking and blinking – were accepted.

Douglas's reputation as a useful person to have around was enhanced, more so when the three dogs were later seen hunting rabbits together through the buddleia bushes.

The end of hostilities was the signal for another round of drinks. Douglas had been acting as host and barman, duties that anchored him at the mercy of the grateful dog-owners; but Stan now seemed to have volunteered for this role and Douglas was able to slip away and chat for a minute with Mrs Jamieson. That lady was for once not plagued by children. Douglas asked her where all her brood had gone.

‘They're in front of the television,' she said cheerfully.

That caught his attention. Many parents dislike seeing their children taking root before the box. ‘Do you let them watch as much as they like?'

‘We have an inflexible rule. They watch the documentaries on SKY, the historical ones and wildlife and how the universe works and so on. And politics, of course. After that, they can watch whatever they like for the same duration on mainstream TV. You should see them arguing over the
TV Times
.'

‘I think that that's brilliant,' Douglas said. He sometimes felt that he had learned more since getting the Discovery channel than in all his schooldays. ‘But have you barred the porn channels?'

She shrugged. ‘I dare say that that would be just as educational,' she said. ‘But I don't think that they've found them yet.'

The hi-fi was playing a CD of a well known Scottish violinist playing a reel. ‘I went to hear her playing that in the Coo cathedral,' said a voice behind Douglas. ‘It was a let-down.' He looked round. An angry looking man was standing behind him. He raised his eyebrows.

Mrs Jamieson whispered, ‘He's Stan Eastwick's brother.'

Minutes later the TV seemed to have lost its power to captivate and the Jamieson family were to be seen mingling with the guests, monopolizing the conversation after the manner of the young. Douglas found himself confronted by the more attractive form of the eldest of Mrs Jamieson's brood, Natasha, the forward state of whose education was now explained. What might have suggested the outlandish name never emerged; the others of the family were blessed with simple Scottish or biblical names.

Natasha was known in the family, and soon by all the other residents, simply as Tash. She was a genuine redhead with very blue eyes and creamy skin. (Any questions were explained away when Mr Jamieson came home on leave and was observed to have the reddest hair ever seen in the area.) Tash was said to be nineteen years old, but she was taking at least one gap year in preparation for university.