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Tamsyn gave a heavy sigh. ‘Yeah, they want me in at one o’clock, but they may not need me past four when everyone starts leaving the beach. I can never be sure what I’m going to get paid. Dad hinted again last night that I should be thinking about leaving home but even with saving all I can I don’t stand a chance of being able to afford my own place. Especially not around here.’ She sighed again and sipped her latte. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t moan. Especially not after the day you’ve had.’
‘My day has got a whole lot better,’ said Daisy. ‘Thanks to you.’ Tamsyn gave a weak smile, which quickly changed into a huge grin.
‘I’m going to hand in my notice. I’m going to quit the beach café.’
‘Whoa there. Let’s not get hasty,’ said Daisy. She wasn’t the best source of advice but at least Tamsyn had a job, however crap it might be.
‘No, I should have done it years ago. If I quit then I have to get something better.’ She picked up her coffee to clink mugs with Daisy.
‘Or you could keep the beach café job whilst you look for something else,’ she suggested. ‘That way you still have some income.’ How did you tell someone you cared about that this was the worst idea ever?
‘Hmm,’ said Tamsyn, appearing to consider this.
Daisy stared on wide-eyed and fearful. ‘What’ll you do?’
Tamsyn slowly ran a finger across her eyebrow. ‘I might do reading …’
‘I don’t think anyone will pay you for that. Unless you mean like a book editor – I think that’s all they do all day.’
‘No, palm reading, silly.’
‘I didn’t know you were like your mum.’
‘I’m not sure I am but if I don’t try I won’t know.’ Tamsyn was still grinning, the obvious flaws in her plan clearly not obvious to her.
‘You should probably test out your skills first. Punters will be hacked off if it turns out you can’t tell them their future.’
Tamsyn appeared to ponder this. ‘Let me try on you,’ she said, taking Daisy’s hand.
Daisy looked about her quickly, what would other people think? It looked like Tamsyn was about to propose. ‘I think you’re meant to read it not hold it,’ pointed out Daisy, embarrassment stealing over her.
‘I’m seeing if I can sense a connection.’
A loose connection in Tamsyn’s head was all Daisy could think of. Tamsyn shut her eyes and gripped Daisy’s hand. Daisy acknowledged an elderly couple who went past shaking their heads. Daisy waited. ‘Anything?’
‘I’m not sure what I’m meant to be sensing.’
‘Usually people with a gift tell you something about yourself you don’t already know.’
‘How can I not know something I’m telling you? Makes no sense.’ Tamsyn looked confused.
‘If you have the gift. You tell me something I know but you don’t.’ Tamsyn opened her mouth looking as if a light bulb had just pinged on above her head. ‘And not something Reg told you,’ added Daisy quickly. Tamsyn’s face dropped. ‘Just relax and see if you can sense anything.’ Daisy offered Tamsyn her hand once more.
‘Okay, let’s try again.’
Tamsyn held Daisy’s right hand for a while. Daisy noticed her coffee was going cold so picked it up with her left hand, which felt odd and she clumsily put it to her lips.
‘A-ha!’ shouted Tamsyn her eyes snapping open.
Daisy slopped her drink down herself. ‘Cock,’ said Daisy and Tamsyn gave her an old-fashioned look making her feel she needed to amend her swearing. ‘Cock … a-doodle-doo?’ Tamsyn seemed happy with the alteration. ‘Did you sense something?’
‘Yes,’ said Tamsyn emphatically.
Daisy was preoccupied with wiping the spilled coffee off her top. ‘Okay, what was it?’
‘Teaspoons!’ said Tamsyn her voice triumphant.
Daisy stopped what she was doing and blinked. ‘What about teaspoons?’
Tamsyn straightened. ‘My mind was a complete blank …’ This did not surprise Daisy. ‘And then teaspoons popped into my head. Do you collect teaspoons?’ Daisy shook her head. ‘Hmm. Have a fear of teaspoons perhaps?’ Daisy shook her head again. ‘Do you even like teaspoons?’
‘Not especially,’ said Daisy, as the serviette she was using to mop up the coffee began disintegrating.
‘Ahh, but you don’t dislike them.’
‘No.’ This was possibly the oddest conversation she’d ever had.
‘There you go then.’ Tamsyn seemed pleased. ‘I think I might have something.’
‘It’s a bit of a cliché but seriously Tamsyn I don’t think you should give up the day job.’
‘O-kay.’ Tamsyn’s tone was sulky.
‘You need to plan what job you really want to do. What are all the things you love? Think of those and they may uncover a wonderful opportunity.’
‘I love buttons,’ said Tamsyn and Daisy bobbed her head enthusiastically whilst she tried desperately to think of an associated job.
In that moment Daisy realised she also wanted something more – to do something she loved and not just for the money. She was here until the end of June and she couldn’t spend her time doing nothing because then it would seem like a life sentence. In the back of her mind something Max had said started to germinate. Perhaps it was worth having a chat to the planning office about the railway building; it couldn’t do any harm.
Jason was sitting in the pub engrossed in a newspaper headline about a drugs raid in Exeter, not taking his eyes off the page as he sipped his half of shandy.
‘All right?’ Max pulled out the stool opposite noting Jason’s intense expression. This was the stuff of his dreams – a big police case.
Max was wearing his lifeguard’s uniform and his orange shorts strained when his muscled thighs flexed as he sat down. He put his pint down and looked across the table. It made Max smile that as well as the drugs raid, Nesbit the eagle’s safe return home had also made the local front page.
‘Have the shed arsons made it to the nationals yet?’ he joked.
‘Don’t ridicule it, it’s a serious crime, Max. Mr Patel’s shed was torched on Monday and his tortoise was burned alive.’ Jason’s face was sombre unlike Max who was already cracking up.
‘Toasted tortoise. It might become a delicacy,’ said Max, bringing his laughter under control.
‘He was very upset,’ said Jason, folding up his paper precisely and laying it on the table.
Max snatched up the paper and turned to the sports pages. ‘I hear you’ve got another big case to crack.’
‘Yes, a second burglary took place this morning.’ His eyes widened as he spoke.
‘Proper crime wave,’ said Max, with a smirk.
‘It could be the start of something. Perhaps organised crime.’ There was no mistaking the excitement in Jason’s voice.
‘Steady on,’ said Max, before taking a long slow drink. ‘Not likely in Ottercombe Bay though is it?’
Jason raised a finger. ‘Now, you say that but a place where you wouldn’t expect to find an underworld cell has to be the perfect place to hide one.’
Max couldn’t disagree with the logic, however unlikely it was in reality. It was hard to keep a straight face. He started to hum a melody.
Jason gave him a longsuffering look. ‘And you can stop with the Midsomer Murders theme tune as well.’
Max and Jason had always been mates – an odd combination of the once local troublemaker and the ultimate goody two shoes. They had diverse upbringings and therefore differing outlooks on life but their differences were what made them a good team. Max encouraged Jason to be brave, to step outside the rules occasionally and Jason tempered Max’s wayward streak.
Jason and Max were both from local families who could trace back their ancestry to multiple generations of Devon residents – but there the similarity ended. Jason had doting parents; a mother who worked part time and a father who was a coach driver and shared Jason’s love of trains. They were still very much in love after umpteen years of marriage and were immensely proud of their son, the policeman.
Max on the other hand had mainly been brought up by his mother who to all intents and purposes had been a single parent through his formative years because her husband had been in and out of prison as his petty crimes got bolder. She had finally moved to Scotland with a new boyfriend when Max was eighteen leaving him with his dad. His father had tried to stay on the right side of the law but it simply wasn’t profitable enough to support them both. Max turned a blind eye to his father’s antics until he tried to persuade him to join him on a criminal venture – that was the last time Max had spoken to his father.
Jason adjusted his jacket and leant forward a fraction. ‘Your dad must be due for release soon. Isn’t he?’ he asked, looking slightly embarrassed.
Max’s expression changed. ‘Not for another couple of months. Let’s not go pinning anything on him just yet.’
Chapter Two (#u8881f309-5ef2-5e6d-8f5b-56d8dd21c484)
Jason was turning out to be a useful person to know. As the local bobby, everyone knew him and therefore he had a wide network he could tap into, particularly as he had a colleague with an uncle working in the local planning department. After a warm-up phone call from Jason he was happy to meet Daisy for a chat. She had made an effort, steered clear of both espresso and Bug’s furry patch on the sofa, and she felt ready for her meeting.
An older-looking gent with thinning hair and thick glasses collected her from the waiting area at the council offices and they did introductions.
‘Thanks for meeting me,’ said Daisy, starting to feel a little less prepared as she followed him into an office and saw a mountain of paper on his desk.
‘No problem but you will need to submit a formal application through the proper process. Anything discussed here today does not in any way constitute agreement of any changes to the property or land we are discussing. I hope you appreciate this?’
Daisy swallowed hard. With formal wording like that he would get on well with Great Uncle Reg’s solicitor. She hadn’t even suggested anything yet and she was being told off. ‘Yes, of course. I’m just looking for guidance. Some ballpark areas that may be worth exploring.’
‘This is the last application we received for the property,’ said the planning officer, passing Daisy a pile of papers. She had a quick flick through and spotted some blueprints – it looked like her grandfather had taken the whole thing seriously and spent some money in the process.
‘And I think the solicitor said this was turned down, as were the other ones before it. I’m guessing the same would happen again if I were to suggest building a new property in what was the car park.’
‘I think that is a fair assumption. There are properties nearby that would be affected and the apartment building previously proposed would have looked out of place in the surrounding area and had a visually overbearing impact.’
‘How about smaller buildings? Single-storey properties perhaps?’ Holiday cottages could be a profitable option, thought Daisy.
‘Very unlikely,’ he said, a crease deepening on his forehead. ‘You see the car park has a designated public right of way through it.’ He drew a line with his finger across the blueprints virtually cutting the car park in half.
‘And knocking down the platform and railway building?’ She had to ask.
His frown intensified. ‘The railway station is considered a historic building. It is grade two listed and is therefore subject to a number of conditions. Demolition is not an option.’
‘Can I open the car park and charge people to park there?’ This felt like an easy way to make money although, now it was August, the summer season was already well underway.
‘Subject to obtaining a parking permit, public liability insurance and undertaking a risk assessment to ensure there would be no environmental damage caused by vehicles or inconvenience to pedestrians.’
Daisy had to control the urge to huff out her frustrations. ‘Could I not just take down the fencing and charge £5 a day?’ she said, failing to hide a brief pout.
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘Right, so what can I do?’ Daisy was starting to feel this was a pointless meeting.
He nudged his glasses down his nose and viewed the file over the top. ‘Subject to application you could apply for a change of use.’
‘What else can you use a car park for?’ It was hard not to sound cheesed off at this point.
‘I meant the building itself.’
Daisy perked up. ‘Could I convert it into somewhere to live?’ One holiday rental would be better than nothing, she thought.
‘It’s possible,’ he said, although his face said different. ‘But I believe something commercial that retains the original features of the property and complies with the grade two listing would be the most likely to be looked upon favourably.’
Daisy wasn’t sure what else you could do with a railway platform and dilapidated ticket office. ‘Like what?’
‘A railway museum perhaps?’ He looked the most animated he had since she’d met him. What was it with men and trains?
She felt her shoulders slump forward in surrender. ‘I don’t think that would bring in much money.’
‘You’d be surprised. There are a lot of railway enthusiasts who would be interested and it would likely cover the increase in rates that would accompany a change of use.’
‘Increase?’ said Daisy sitting up, meerkat-like.
‘Yes, there is an annual cost associated with the property, which will fall to you as the owner. Any change of use will incur a review and a likely increase.’
Bloody brilliant, thought Daisy, not only could she do nothing with it, which would mean it would be virtually impossible to sell, it was also going to cost her money. Great Uncle Reg hadn’t thought this through.
The planning officer went on about what she could do to keep the site secure as they had had some complaints over the years of kids messing about and playing ball games in the car park area but Daisy let it wash over her, agreeing at what she hoped were appropriate moments. There was no way she was throwing good money at it. She thanked him for his time and advice, took his business card and vowed to think carefully about all he had said. But it was unlikely she would be submitting a planning request any time soon.
She decided she needed something stronger than an espresso and headed for the pub. Monty gave her a warm welcome and she sat at the corner table where she had sat with Max and sipped a large glass of Rioja. She had taken a liking to red wine whilst living in Spain and Rioja was one of her favourites, but it didn’t taste the same today; there was a certain bitter aftertaste.
Just when she thought she was at today’s low point, Max walked in, looking tanned and relaxed like he didn’t have a care in the world. He scanned the bar and when his eyes alighted on Daisy his face fell and Daisy involuntarily huffed. She didn’t like him because ever since she’d come back he’d seemed to annoy her; what with leaving her to lug home the heavy boxes, suggesting her mother had killed herself, knocking coffee down her before her interview and generally being hostile. It appeared to be a mutual loathing; although she wasn’t sure what she’d done, she got the feeling he was on Great Uncle Reg’s side when it came to what was best for her. She began studying the contents of her glass. Monty materialised and started to pull Max a pint – it appeared a bob of the head between them was communication enough. Daisy wondered how Max could afford to drink out virtually every night and then realised she had no idea what he did for a living.
Max took his drink, turned around and scowled briefly at Daisy.
‘You can sit here too, if you like.’ Daisy indicated the empty seats. She guessed it was most likely Max’s usual spot. She wasn’t going to move but she would attempt to be civil, however hard that might be.
Max gave a quick look around. There weren’t any other tables available. ‘Okay,’ he said looking rather reluctant as he sat down opposite Daisy sending across a whiff of freshly showered man. ‘Sorry to hear about the burglary.’
‘Thanks.’ She noted his clean t-shirt and casual jeans. Even his clothes mirrored his customary relaxed demeanour.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their respective drinks and avoiding eye contact until Daisy could bear it no more. ‘My day was shite. How was yours?’
Max sniggered. ‘Not great, but possibly not as bad as yours. What’s up?’
‘Met a planning officer about the old railway. Turns out it’s grade two listed so I can’t demolish it and I can’t build near it. All I could do is apply for change of use and make it into a boring museum for railway nerds.’
