Vanessa: Architect of My Destiny

'No. First time.'

'Well, provided you're not a vegetarian, I think you'll find they serve some pretty decent grub. You're not a vegetarian, are you?'

'A fully paid-up member of the carnivore club,' I assured him.

'Oh, good. But first we should have a glass of cava. Nessa likes a glass of cava, don't you, Nessa?'

Vanessa just smiled.

As we waited for the cava to arrive, Seb, who didn't strike me as a particularly cheerful chap, got down to business. 'I'm not sure how much Nessa has told you,' he said, 'but I have, umm, acquired a little row of derelict houses. Five in all. My plan was gobble them and replace them with something a little more fitting of the area. But the council says that I can't. Not only that, but they say that I have to repair them. The houses, I mean. I've had a word with my brief, and he reckons the council has me over a barrel. Bloody politicians and their flunkies.

'Nessa tells me that you are an expert in these matters. I suppose what I want to know is: is there some way around this? And, if not, how can I repair them enough to on-sell them? I don't know if you've had a chance to have a look at them.'

'Just from the outside,' I said.

'A mess, aren't they?'

'They are a bit neglected,' I conceded. 'But, depending on the internal condition - structure, etcetera - it should be possible to restore them to their 1820s elegance.'

'And then sell them on at a profit?'

'I would have thought so,' I said.

'Oh.' And suddenly Seb looked happier.

'As long as you didn't pay too much for them.'

'I basically paid for the freehold,' Seb said. 'The land the houses are sitting on.'

'Then you could do very well,' I said.

'We need to get you inside,' Seb said. 'I'll get Stanley to give you a tour.'

'Stanley?'

'One of my chaps. He's living in one of the houses. Just temporarily. He ... umm ... discourages any squatters, you might say.' And, for the first time since I had arrived at The Butcher's Shop, Seb smiled. I couldn't decide whether he was smiling at the thought of rescuing his investment in the terrace or at the thought of Stanley discouraging squatters. I feared that it might be the latter. Stanley was, after all, the chap who had demolished another man's hand under cover of a welcoming handshake.

I went to visit Stanley on Friday morning. 'You must be Stanley,' I said, when he answered the door.

'Stanley. Yes. You must be George.'

'Harry,' I said.

Stanley looked puzzled. 'Oh. Seb said to expect someone called George.'

'That's me too,' I said. 'You can call me Harry, or you can call me George. I'm fine with either.'

Stanley frowned. 'But you're the expert? You're the bloke what wants to look inside?'

'Yes. Seb wants me to see if I can tell him what it will take to restore them to their former glory.'

'If they were mine, I'd just knock them down and start again,' Stanley said.

'They're listed,' I told him. 'The council tends to be a bit adamant when it comes to listed buildings.'

'All you'd need is a couple of decent-sized JCBs. You'd have it done by dinnertime.'

I just smiled. Stanley was a big lad. Six foot five? Six foot six? And his arms looked as though they might have started life as the branches of an oak tree. I could see why the chap who hadn't liked Vanessa's research answers had decided that, in the grand scheme of things, it might just be easier to pay the bill and take himself along to the nearest A & E department.

'Are all of the houses weathertight?' I asked Stanley.

'Not really. Number two has a few windows missing. When it rains ...'

I nodded. 'OK. Can we start with number one?'

Stanley went and got a bunch of keys, and I took a notebook and my camera out of my rucksack. Considering that the first house wasn't far off its 200th birthday, it wasn't in bad condition.

'Want me to order the JCBs?' Stanley asked when we had finished looking at the last of the houses.

'No. I think they can all be rescued. Whoever built them, built them to last.' And then my phone rang. It was Vanessa. 'Ah, Mr Thornley. How are you? I expect you'll be calling about the bricks.'

'Thornley? Who the fuck's Thornley?' Vanessa said.

'Perhaps if I could call you back in five minutes or so? I'm just finishing up a meeting with a prospective client.'

And then the penny dropped. 'Oh. You're ... there, are you? You're with Stanley. He's a big lad, isn't he?'

'The corn is as high as an elephant's eye,' I said.

She laughed. 'Call me when you get a moment then.'

'Thank you for your understanding, Mr Thornley,' I said. 'Five minutes. Ten at the most.'

'Elephant's eye?' Stanley said.

'An architectural term,' I explained.

Stanley frowned but nodded.

When I called Vanessa back, her first question was how was my hand?

'My hand?'

'Stanley.'

'Oh. He was surprisingly gentle.'

Vanessa laughed. 'Just as well he doesn't know that you are meeting me at The Duke of Wherever at five-thirty - or thereabouts.'

'Am I?'

'I hope so. Seb is up in York again. Remember?'

'Oh, yes.'

'So ... what's the verdict on the houses?' Vanessa asked, when I returned from the bar with two ice-cold bottles of Stella.

'The whole terrace is a little gem,' I said. 'Seb has done the deal of the year. There's work to be done, of course. But I would have thought there's also a serious profit to be made.'

'Oh good. Seb will be pleased.'

Vanessa took a sip of her lager and then looked at me with one of those expressions that says: I have something to say. I'd like you to pay attention. 'Seb asked me if he can trust me with you,' she said. 'He said that he got the feeling that I liked you a little too much.'

'Oh? And do you?'

'How much is too much?' she said. And she laughed.

'Does this mean that he'll get someone else to run the project?'

'No. I'm pretty sure he'll want you to run the project. He likes you. It's me he's worried about.' And she laughed again.

'Does this mean ...?'

'It means that we probably need to be a bit more careful. A bit more discreet. I think we should avoid being seen together in public too often. In a city full of strangers, it's slightly alarming how often you run into someone you know. Or someone who knows you.'

Vanessa had a good point.

We finished our beers and then wandered back to my flat. 'I was going to suggest that we get a cab across to Something Fishy,' I said. 'But maybe that's not such good idea. I have some smoked oysters. And I think there's some monkfish in the freezer. Why don't I make us a chowder?'

'Perfect,' she said.

I'm not sure that my chowder was perfect, but it was pretty good. We ate it with lightly-toasted sourdough bread. Afterwards, we headed for the bedroom where Vanessa opened proceedings by presenting me with a small bottle of personal lubricant. 'I want you to fuck my arse,' she said. 'I realised today that it's something that we haven't yet tried.'

'I think we've ticked off pretty much everything else,' I said.

'Exactly.'

I spent the weekend preparing a report for Seb. Given that he had limited options, I also drew up some sketch plans and some indicative costings. And then, on Monday afternoon, I took a stroll over to his office, just off Marylebone Road.

'Am I going to like this?' Seb said, as we sat down to go through the findings and the recommendations.

'I think so. I think you've got yourself a diamond in the rough. It just needs a bit of polishing.'

'Expensive polishing?'

'Mmm ... cashflow,' I said. 'But my guess is that, once the exterior is sorted, you will be able to sell the first house to fund the second - and so on.'

Seb nodded. And, an hour or so later, he was not only nodding, but he was also smiling. 'Well ... we'd better get started,' he said.

The project went remarkably smoothly. The weather cooperated. And even the people at the council were uncharacteristically helpful. I'm not sure why. Perhaps, on one of their site visits, they had encountered Stanley. We got the initial sign-off on the first of November and, by the second week of April, the job was completed.

Throughout it all, Vanessa and I were as careful as a couple of long-tailed cats in a roomful of rocking chairs. At least I thought we were. I hoped we were.

And then Seb had a surprise for me. Well, he had several. But the first was an invitation to join him in watching Middlesex's first cricket match of the season. I hadn't picked Seb for a cricket fan. There was a further surprise when I met him outside the ground: Stanley was there. Waiting for us. I hadn't picked Stanley for a cricket fan either. And so, as the umpire at the bowler's end called 'Play', there I was, sitting in the stand, with Seb on one side and Stanley on the other. Oh, well ... I probably couldn't come to too much harm, sitting in the open air, with a thousand or so witnesses and more than a smattering of security boys and girls.

It was during the first drinks break that Seb announced that he had found a buyer for my business.

'Oh? Do I need a buyer?' I asked.

'The price is very good. Far too good for you to refuse.'

'Really? That good?'

'Your work here in London is done,' Seb said.

'On your terrace perhaps, but there are at least a hundred more such terraces dotted around London - some of them, barely standing.'

Seb smiled. 'We should not deprive the rest of the country of your talents. I have acquired a property for you in Bath. I believe you like Bath. You will have to pay me back, of course. But the sum is trifling when compared with what one would normally expect to pay. And there are the proceeds from the sale of your business. I also have a project for you: a fine Georgian country house on the outskirts of Trowbridge. It should keep you busy for a while.'

'You're very good at this sort of thing, aren't you?' I said.

'I hope so. As, indeed, you are very good at what you do.'

'Do I get a day or two to think about this?' I asked.

'No. I have already done all of the thinking that needs to be done. The moving men will be knocking on your door at seven o'clock next Monday morning. I was going to suggest that we have a dinner on Saturday night to wish you farewell but, unfortunately, something has come up down in Barcelona. Stanley and I need to go and knock a few heads together. However, I'm sure that Nessa will be only too happy to entertain you on my behalf. I shall not be back in London until Monday night.' And then he added: 'As I'm sure you understand, Harry, Nessa means a lot to me. I would be lost without her. It's not a risk that I can afford to take.'