What have I let myself in for?’ Jeanie asked herself, staring at the dilapidated windmill set in a small, cobbled yard. Two of the mill’s wooden sails looked in danger of falling off, and the other two had already done so, and were now being used as a fence.
‘Talk about a fixer-upper!’ said Jeanie, running a hand distractedly through her blonde hair.
The estate agent’s photograph of the windmill had been accurate enough, though the wording was a little romanticised… ‘An opportunity to own a unique slice of history’, ‘Charming and full of potential’.
‘“You might want to bring a wrecking ball” would have fitted just as well,’ thought Jeanie wryly – though there was no denying that she had already fallen in love with the place.
The windmill had come onto the market just at the right time – as she had been marking the fifth anniversary of her mother’s death, and the third anniversary of her father’s. If anyone needed a new focus in life, a fresh start, it was Jeanie.
