Chapter 26
James joins us, stretching out his legs in the passenger seat as Richard takes us down the mountain
and back onto the main highway. Then, he curves around the base of the mountain before turning off to
follow first a side-road; then a narrow countryne.
We pass frozen fields, frigid and sparkling, lined by hedgerows of hawthorn and crab apples, bare of
leaves but bright with winter fruit. The fields give way to woond, the trees stretching naked branches
towards the thin sunlight filtering under the grey sky.
Crossing a humped stone bridge, we cross rushing water; the road narrow enough that Richard slows
down, steering carefully to avoid scraping the sides of his car.
Then, as we turn a corner, the woond opens up to reveal a huge building; neglected and
abandoned, four storeys high, built from brick and stone. Even from here, I can see that the windows
are barred, much of the ss broken.
“This is it.” Richard draws in towards tall steel-bar gates, razor wire looping over the top. One faded
sign deres that Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted. Another, the paint peeling from a security camera
icon warns, This Area Is Under 24 Hour Surveince.
A blue-uniformed guard stands waiting then, as he sees us, pushes the gates open.
Richard winds down his window. “All unlocked?”
“Yes, sir. I opened up all the doors. Would you like me to apany you and your party?”
“No, that’s fine. We can manage.” He drives through, pulling up onto cracked tarmac which vanishes
undertles and briars at the edges. What parts of the surface aren’t potholed, are carpeted in lush
green moss.
Stepping with care to avoid slipping on icy ground, I raise hands to my cheeks, “Oh. My. God.”
Ryan swings his head, slowly from left to right and back again, turning on the spot through three-sixty
degrees. “I’ll give you that one.”
Standing side by side, our fingersce together as we survey the ramshackle building and thend it
dominates.
The mill looms above us; the brickwork dark with soot, green-streaked from the guttering. Small trees
sprout from cracks and crevices. Ivy both scrambles up from the ground and, perversely, drapes over
the wall from the roof. What might once have been a gpole juts out, rusty and bare. Pigeons emerge
from broken, grey-ssed windows, to perch on cracked sills.
The building is ugly now, but my imagination dances at the thoughts of what it might be. Richard
and James remain silent, eyes creasing at our reaction.
Once of a day, this was an industrialndscape, but manufacturing andmerce abandoned it long
ago, and this vast, sad, beautiful, shabby, amazing ce has all but returned to nature.
“It’s huge,” I breathe.
“About ten thousand square feet in all…” says Richard. His voice is matter-of-fact. “… when you
include all the outbuildings. Plenty of space for anything you’re likely to want to do. Live. Work. Run a
restaurant… Hotel… Holiday retreat…”
Ryan toes at turf, scraping it to one side to reveal the round domes of old cobbles underneath. He turns
to Richard, arms outspread. “This? All of it? The building and the grounds?”
Richard, hands deep in the pocket of his long overcoat, nods. “Ah-ha. The mill, the sheds and annexes.
About two acres of grounds in total and the river frontage.”
“Plus…” adds James, turning up his cor… “… a lot of work.”
Richard’s mouth quirks. “Go take a look around. There’s a couple of areas that aren’t safe, such as the
old pulping pits. And some of the outbuildings are structurally unsound. But all such areas are either
locked up or fenced off. So, if you can get to it, it’s safe to enter.”
Ryan sucks at his teeth. “Pulping pits? What did they do here?”
Richard shrugs. “It was a papermill originally.” He aims a finger towards a corner… “…That’s the old
wheelhouse…
We’re by the side of the river…
It’s a mill…
… Of course we’re by the river…
“… The wheel provided power at first, then electricity took over and the wheel fell into disrepair. The
site was closed when the environmental pollution regtions forced the owners to clean up their act
and stop spilling God-knows-what into the water. So now…” He waves an arm over the glorious ruins…
“… Now we have this left. No-one wanted it.”
He reaches out, grinning, lifting my jaw with a finger. “Mouth closed suits you better, Kirstie.” Then,
gesturing all around, “Have a wander around, the pair of you. Take a look. See what you think.”
Hands linked, Ryan and I head for the wheelhouse. We find ourselves on a small terrace area by the
water, next to arge brick chamber reaching up twenty feet, and down below the river level. The wheel
itself has gone, but the remains of gears and mechanisms remain. Ryan regards the mess of metal and
rust, chewing at a lip.
Despite the time of year, birdsong echoes around us,peting with the rush of the waters. Ancient
willows stoop by the opposite bank, trailing whippy boughs. Beyond that, the trees thicken to woond
and the noisy chaos of a rookery. Close by, a squirrel scrabbles at frost-whitened turf, unearthing
something, an acorn perhaps. Holding it between paws, he pauses to inspect his unexpected visitors,
chitters at us indignantly, then dashes up a tree.
Ryan shoves hand into pockets. “What’s your first impression?”
“I’m… stunned. It’s…” I swing, waving arms out over the river. “It’s amazing.”
“But would you want to do it?” he insists. “Would you want to live here if we took the plunge?”
“Are you kidding?” I gaze around me at this neglected and forgotten Garden of Eden. “This is my idea
of paradise. You. Me. The dogs. In a ce like this? It’s heaven on earth.”
Ryan smiles his teeth very bright against his light tan and dark eyes. Taking my hand, “Come on, let’s
take a better look around. The main entrance is around the other side.”
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