Well, okay, not quite and not yet, but...
The thing is, I went for a walk yesterday when it actually wasn’t raining/snowing/blowing a gale and walked past Reed House, the dilapidated wreck I mentioned before, and there were actually builders or gardeners or some sort of workmen there. Yes, I know it was a Saturday and they had clearly already had that comment made several times because I didn’t even have to ask. Anyway, once I offered to bring some home-made biscuits round to make their weekend a little more homely, they were quite chatty. It seems the house has been bought by a high-powered journalist and her writer husband. The foreman told me their names but they didn’t ring any bells.
“I think she writes for some business newspaper, jetting off around the world all the time. And he’s published several books but all under a pseudy-whatsit,” he added.
I don’t read the FT or even the business pages of any other paper, so I wouldn’t recognise her name anyway. But I like reading so if the builder – who goes by the name of Bob, though whether that’s his real name is anyone’s guess – can remember the pseudonym, I might be familiar with that. And meanwhile the work goes on. Nettles cleared, roof re-done already – just as well given the amount of rain we’ve had recently – and new bathrooms (plural) being installed next week.
I emailed Verity, who is currently on some cruise with Max along the coast of New England, to tell her the news but I don’t know how often she checks her email when she’s abroad, so I haven’t heard back from her yet. But someone famous in the village! Exciting!