A vintage YEAR

Celia's mum had bought a new house – and there was something magical in the cellar

- Lulu Taylor

Istood, somewhat flabbergasted, in the hall of my mother's new house. 'Why on earth did you buy it?' I asked, looking about in dismay.

'Well, I don't know, Celia. It seemed like a good idea at the time. And it's beautiful.'

Yes, Carswell House was undeniably enchanting on the outside - solid and golden with many-paned windows and a front door framed by graceful columns. But inside, it was a mouldering mess of damp plaster, peeling wallpaper, rotting wood and leaks.

'Surely you must have noticed all this?' I asked, waving at the mess in the hall. The place was filthy and had barely been emptied. There was furniture everywhere but most of it seemed broken or tatty. Buckets of stagnant water sat around to catch the leaks.

'The owner was so lovely. He gave me some rather delicious wine, and all of this seemed fun and exciting and full of potential. If you saw him, you'd understand. Oh, Celia, you'd adore him. You know how you like redheads.'

'I used to,' I said grimly. I had recently broken up with Ted, my long-term boyfriend who happened to be a redhead. I was now not only broken-hearted but also homeless. I had walked dramatically out of our flat with just a suitcase full of whatever I could find in the awful 15 minutes while Ted and his lady friend got out of our bed. As Ted was my boss, I had also quit my job, so I was free to help Mum move into her new house, stay for a while and lick my wounds.

'Well, anyway,' Mum said cheerfully. 'You'd like him, he's an angel. And I can't tell you how nice the house seemed after a drink with him.'

'Ah.' I gave her a sideways look. I was beginning to understand. On a gorgeous spring day, a charming handsome man had plied my mother with red wine, and she had decided on the spot to spend Dad's legacy buying this house.