The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3232 by Angharad Copyright© 2018 Angharad

It was the second shop we looked at that resonated with me. It was bigger than their original one and the flat above it had three bedrooms, a kitchen/diner and bathroom. It would need some rewiring, some new plumbing and complete redecoration, all of which could take weeks. Then we’d have to get the equipment ordered, possibly before things were finished in the shop, in case there was a time delay.

The visit to the old premises made us a little tearful, everything was gone but the forensic service of the fire brigade had identified the source of the fire as where the girls said the sunbed had been fitted. “I hope the guy who did it is insured,” mumbled the fireman who showed us the damage.

“Why? Can we sue him?” asked Julie pointedly.

“I’m no legal expert, luv, but if he fitted it yesterday and it burnt down the same night, it looks as if a court might think it a tad suspicious in terms of neglect.”

“He was in a hurry to get back to Maidenhead.”

“I’d write some of this down if you can, ladies and if you have his name, all the better. From the bits I can see of the remains of your wiring, it all looks in good condition.”

“It was, we had it done before we moved in, didn’t we, Mummy?”

“Yes, Maureen organised it, so it would be top class.”

“Maureen? I know a few women electricians and very good they are too, but I don’t know anyone of them called Maureen.”

“Maureen Ferguson,” Julie offered.

“That’s not the one who used to be called Maurice is it? Used to work in the shipyard, my brother knew him.”

“I don’t think so,” I said closing the discussion and led Julie away before she challenged his prejudices, it would be useful to keep him on board until we got any compensation we could from the sunbed company. Hopefully, they’ll have full third party insurance for public liability.

The estate agent, a Mr Brookes, of Rivers, Poole and Brookes Estate agents and valuers, took the hint to clear off while I convinced the girls the new shop would be even better, though it would take some time.

Phoebe went off and found a coffee shop and returned with three lattes and some croissants, so we had a traditional English breakfast while we examined the shop. I sent Maureen a text and half an hour later she was there with two of her workers and astonishingly the others were all men. When I raised an eyebrow she whispered, “Can’t get the trannies these days,” and then snorted to herself.

“”You got a lease yet?” she asked me and I shook my head.

She pulled out a notebook and began making entries in it. “It’s going to cost about twenty k,” but we’ll rewire upstairs as well and replace this thing,” she tapped an internal door, “with a proper fire door, and we’ll do the ceilings with a fire resistant boarding. I would strongly recommend a fire escape for the flat outside the building.”

“What a spiral staircase type thing?”

“Yep, about five k extra but it could be a lifesaver.”

I spoke to Simon while Mo chatted with the girls, the two colleagues were checking for damp and even went up into the attic to look for woodworm and other pests. They discovered bats—the worst pests because they are completely protected. I still have a licence and ran up the ladder and saw it was a colony of brown long eared bats. I told them they were not allowed to disturb them at any cost. They just shrugged. Maureen said she’d make sure the law was followed though it could make the rewiring a bit of a problem. She said she’d speak to English Nature and send them the photos she’d taken on her phone to see what they were allowed to do.

Mr Brookes returned at my behest and I told him of the bat colony. His face fell a couple of storeys. ‘Oh shit,’ he muttered.

“You’re certain?”

“Totally, brown long eared, about twenty of them.”

“Can’t we get someone to remove them?”

“You could try but at up to five thousand per animal, it could prove expensive and if the magistrates so deem it, the punishment could also include a prison sentence.”

“All for some flying bloody rodents.”

“They aren’t rodents, they’re completely different order of mammals, to start with they’re insectivores not omnivores, although they’ll take spiders as well. Maureen has informed Natural England so if they disappear now, they’ll come looking for you, Mr Brookes, because as an ecologist I have informed you they are there and pointed out your responsibility as agents for the property.”

“I don’t think our client will be too happy about it.”

“In which case see if he’ll sell, I could be willing to buy at the right sort of price.”

“For an ecologist you seem to be well grounded in business strategy.”

“She’s a professor, Mr Brookes,” quipped Julie,” she negotiates contracts all the time and much bigger than this piffling place.”

“I see, I’ll call him later today and see if he would like to set a price.”

“Please explain that I’m not interested in debating prices, if he makes us a reasonable offer, we’ll buy, if not then we’ll look elsewhere. Remember my husband owns a bank and he can make things happen, good and bad and very few people can match up to a few billion pounds, which he has at his disposal.”

“Are you threatening me, Lady Cameron?”

“No, just making a prediction. The last person who tried to stiff him now lives in a cardboard box under Waterloo Bridge.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“That was what Simon said when the guy tried to rob him, the bank’s lawyers did the rest, pity, he had a nice house in Kingston upon Thames before that.”

“I see.”

“I thought you would,” I smiled benignly but it was all false and he knew it. No one shafts me any more except my husband.

When we stopped for lunch at a nearby pub, the Matelot’s Arms or some other part of his body, can’t remember which I called Si again and he asked me what I thought it was worth. I read him the specifications from the handout and then mentioned the bats in the attic. He roared and said, “That’s worth a couple of thou or more off the asking price. Tell the guy to phone me when he’s ready.”

“I’m sure I could deal with it,” I said almost in tears.

“I know you could, but he’ll prefer to talk to another bloke.”

“It could be a woman who owns it.”

“Nah, his name is Watercress or something like that, hang on, it’s Waterston, Alfred Waterston and he’s about eighty five according to our records, he also has an account with us and owes us quite a lot of money.”

“Isn’t that conflict of interest, Si?” I gasped.

“Nah, it’ll be quite amicable unless he doesn’t like my offer.”

“Which is?”

“Haven’t decided yet, one of our estates people is on his way to look at it.”

“We need for Maureen to gain entry to start renovations.”

“Don’t worry, it won’t take long to process once he agrees.”

“You home tonight?”

“Why, what’s on offer?”

“Could be,” I said blushing at the double entendre.

“Eh?”

I rang off.