House for Sale

Alison M Tramschek

Going to look at houses for sale can be a world wide occupation. Looking in the windows of Estate Agents is the start of an exploration down narrow lanes and through farm yards, or along suburban streets lined with flowering cherry trees, or, even, tower blocks of forbidding apartments.

After several holidays in Orkney we reckoned to know the West Midland quite well. However there was that road opposite the one which led between the locks to the Ring of Brodgar. 'Oh' they said, 'the Happy Valley road'. One morning there was a new sign in the Estate Agents window... if you want to be pompous an Estate agents directions 'legitimise off road exploration'... , we had them, papers and road maps, picnic and waterproofs, GO.

We found the house advertised. Of course we weren't looking for property, didn't we have a perfectly good family home in Glasgow? Anyway, this wasn't any good so we immediately turned away... Exploration done?...now find Happy Valley. Word of mouth directions had been very sketchy, 'You'll know it when you se it'.

We continued away from the main road, the single brick lane kinked round a bank and five houses appeared, and the lane ended at a gate into a field. The last house was on the edge of a turning circle so we obediently turned and stopped. There was a sign in the window of this empty but not derelict 'New Build'

House For Sale. Keys Available At House Below.

We trailed round this deserted building. The garden area was thick with builder's detritus, the rear was mud and weeds, rubble in the weeds provided the chance of broken ankles. We looked into the one reachable window, nothing finished, walls and doors but no proper floor.

A challenge, now, to see inside.

Keys Available meant a later evening visit. The Orkney nieces decided to come too. Somebody had to keep the older generation out of trouble, and, after all they'd never been to Happy Valley either...

We got the keys. We saw the sub beginning to set as we opened the front door. Notebook in hand the sanest member of the party noted a missing ridge tile, a funny smell.

Instant, Heart Droppingly, Falling in Love.

'It's my house' I whispered to myself. The nieces were very quiet, not like them, what had they spotted, something wrong? We went from room to room, opened every door, looked out of every window. The view from my study encompassed Maes Howe, the isthmus road between the Lochs of the Ring of Brodgar and a vista of farm and moorland. The sanest member looked at the mud and builders rubbish, no hearing, then narrow and step outside approach steps, the funny smell... The nieces opened cupboard and paced bedrooms. In a dream I furnished the sitting room and hung curtains and cooked dinners looking at 'Hillside with Sheep' and picked a vase of flowers. We would be warm and welcoming.

The sun set blindingly in the Loch. We met outside. 'Auntie Alison, its your house' the nieces said. The sanest member shook his head.

So, ten years later we live the dream of a Day Like This... oh and the sanest member grows trees in emulation of Happy Valley.