Back in the SADDLE

An encounter with a handsome stranger left Georgia in a spin

- Claire Buckle

It’s not that I don’t want to sell, dear,’ Mrs Holloway said, pulling her cardigan tighter around her thin frame. ‘I’m looking forward to living near my daughter. But this workshop... it meant such a lot to Clive.’

In her 10 years as an estate agent, Georgia had encountered this kind of hesitation many times. ‘I understand,’ she said patiently. ‘But prospective buyers might like to see the space for what it is. Right now, it's a little... well, cluttered.’

She was already composing the brochure description in her head — a charming period home with sea views, a south-facing garden, outbuildings and endless potential.

Mrs Holloway smiled wistfully. ‘My Clive called this his Aladdin's cave. He could fix anything, you know. People used to bring him all sorts — bikes, mostly, but he repaired lawnmowers too. He loved helping folks out.’

Georgia glanced around. There were a couple of push mowers, several rusty bicycles, some spare wheels, and tangled chains in oily piles. Scattered tools covered the workbench, and shelves held rows of old coffee jars filled with nuts and bolts.

‘I understand. But clearing it out will help buyers imagine what they could do with the space, like a home gym or a workshop of their own.’

Mrs Holloway sighed, running a hand over the worn wooden bench. ‘You're right. It’s just...’ Her voice wavered. ‘I don’t know where to start. My son-in-law was due to come down from Scotland to help, but he’s gone and broken his foot.’

Georgia softened. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. But how about getting a quote from a house-clearance company or scrap-metal dealers? I'm sure they'd recycle it.’