Hot Revenge Box Set 2

Chains and padlocks dangle loose from double-doors standing wide. The space inside is dim, beckoning us inside.

We enter, stepping between cones of bird droppings into a single open space, taking up what looks like the whole of the ground floor. Daylight filters through clouded glass and cobwebs from the far side. Pigeons scatter as we enter then resettle, cooing protest at our invasion of their private space. Their calls echo with our footsteps as, without speaking a word, we cross the open floor to the murky windows.

A quick search through my bag produces a tissue, and I swipe over dust to clear a small viewing hole through the grime, just big enough to peer out and over the river.

“We can do better than that,” comes Ryan’s voice from a few feet away.

He’s standing by another set of steel double-doors. Again, a chain dangles free from between the handles and he lifts a locking bar, then swings the doors open. Pale sunlight spills inside, and dust motes sparkle brilliantly in the beams casting to the concrete floor.

He wriggles fingers at me. “Together.”

Hand in hand, we step outside to find ourselves on a stone-flagged walkway, edging the water, perhaps twenty feet wide, stretching to the far end of the building one way and to the wheelhouse the other.

Beyond the edge, the weir stretches over the river, curving across the water in a smooth arc, a good fifty feet across from one bank to the other. Above the weir, the water is a smooth green pool. Then, in a fall of ten feet of so, it froths and rushes, boiling down to the next level before continuing its journey to the sea.

My heart pounds. “This place must be worth a fortune. How could we possibly afford it?”

Ryan heaves in air. “It’s only worth a fortune if someone is willing to put in the work. And…” He swipes a hand through his hair… “I don’t think Richard would have brought us here if he thought it was out of our reach.”

Footsteps clip behind us: James and Richard, talking quietly as they walk around from the side. James aims a long arm upwards towards some feature, I think, measuring a wall by eye.

“How are you doing?” he asks as they join us.

“What do think?” says Ryan. “Could it be rescued?”

James seems quite relaxed. “Oh, yes. The walls are sound. There’s no sign of subsidence I can see.” His eye roams upwards to the squabbling pigeons. “I imagine you’d need new timbers throughout and almost certainly a new roof. And you’d want to have the ground checked over for pollutants. I don’t know off-hand what contamination you might have from the paper industry, but we can find out easily enough. The question is…” He inhales… “How big a project are you willing to take on?”

His eye travels to me… “And if you have to live here while the work’s on-going, are you willing to rough it for a while?”

was effectively a building site for a while? And it could be a while. Certainly, several months. Probably longer.

do it.” I whirl on the spot, hands outstretched. “I love it.

Excitement ripples behind his voice, blending into apology. “I don’t mean to be rude, but please excuse us for a

twitch. “Of

We’d be almost

tent, living on jam sandwiches and weak tea if it meant we could

his whole face. He

up. “Let’s go to the top. I want to see

*****

loading bay. In a house, this might be called a balcony. Here,

at the rusty bars. “I think we’ll improve on

we will. But look

One way, the river continues its path to the city and

sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Let’s go

*****

men wait, quiet,

owner?” begins Ryan. “And how much do they want for it? You said it’s not actually up for

and the obvious strikes me. “It’s

Emphasis on old. He’s retired and wants to liquidate his assets. I rather think he sees his remaining time being spent on a beach somewhere rather warmer than this. He asked

please. Find out what price

mobile. “Already done. He said he’d get back

*****

and cake in the lounge then piles logs onto