Chapter 1: A Vacancy & Blue Prints

The property at number 7 Divitt Street, Port Adelaide had been in my family since it was built by them in 1863. It consists of two floors and a cellar. It was built of a local stone, as was the norm back then. It was suggested at various times that the cellar hid secret passages to the wharf, so smugglers could move their contraband unseen by the local constabulary. No such passages were ever found so maybe they didn’t exist, according to our family records and the original blueprints. I did bother to go looking, as a child, but even with my vivid imagination, I couldn’t find them, if they ever existed at all.

First, it was a shipping office, for the Melbourne Steamship Company, which it was named after. Then a logistics office, then a cartage merchant, and finally in 1911 a solicitors office. It remained so, and the same firm of solicitors had been the sole leasee since that time.

As the current family matriarch, it fell to me to look after and control the family businesses as is my want. Who am I, I hear you ask? I am Kathleen Ambrose. There is no board of directors or any such thing, it was purely a family-held group of businesses in and around the Port of Adelaide.

Along with myself, I have a brother, who I consulted from time to time. We aren’t exactly close but along with his two children and their broods that was all the family I have. They enjoy some benefits of the course and in time when I am no longer around one of those will take over.

Yes, it had made us wealthy, the rents were not cheap in the Port, but then again the maintenance on these old buildings, so close to the river, was somewhat extensive and expensive.

Life was good for our family. The family name was well respected and we were considered to be ‘good people’. We supported local sporting clubs and charities. Held annual events on the river, rowing, and sailing, and we supported the local ‘Save Our Dolphins group.’

Opening a letter from Cahill & Sons Solicitors was not uncommon, they wrote to us frequently, listing the number of repairs that needed doing. Old man Cahill was in his eighties now and his letter stated that as his sons and nephews were only interested in working in the city, they were going to relocate their offices and would not be continuing with the lease after it expires at the end of the next month.

“Bugga,” I said quietly to myself, not that we needed their rent but it was reliable and they were never late. I picked up the phone and rang the old man. I could have rung his mobile number but I knew he wouldn’t answer it. So using the landline I rang his switchboard. A pretty voice answered the phone. She got halfway through her opening spiel before I interjected. “Hello Carol, sorry to cut you off, it’s Kathleen Ambrose here, for Horace, please.”

“Yes Miss Ambrose, just one moment please.” Came the reply.

“Morning Kathleen.” The old man said, he was still bright and cheery for an 86year old. “Sorry I didn’t ring in advance, but I clean forgot after I wrote that darn letter. Hope it doesn’t inconvenience you too much sweet lady?”

Horace was a charmer, I’m sure he would have been a handful in his youth. I had known him all of my adult working life, which means I have known him for 42 years. Always the gentleman. Old-world charm, mixed with impeccable manners, sharp wit, and a glorious sense of timing. To picture him, think of Winston Churchill, but better looking and far more polite.

“Horace” I replied, “There is nothing you could do that would inconvenience me,” I told him. “We will be sorry to see you go and I will miss our monthly lunch at Carmine’s,” I told him. “You do know nothing is stopping you from driving down from the city to join me for lunch is there?”

“Kathleen, nothing stopping me other than I am going to be working from home, up in the hills from now on. So the boys can have the swish city offices, and clientele, while I will look after my old favorite clients from home” He told me.

“I will miss you my dear old friend” I replied.

“Enough of the old thank you.” He retorted.

We said our goodbyes and promised to keep in touch, which would be harder now of course. And that is how Ambrose House at number 7 Divett Street in the Port became vacant.

I took my time to talk to the local Real Estate agents, just to see what the market was like. Everyone offered their services. I was just as happy to leave it until it was empty and then have a good look around to see what we could do with it. Besides, I had a real estate agent that worked for me, but I like to keep people on their toes.

Talking with my brother Terence, he had some ideas, to turn them into 2 apartments and to sell each floor off while maintaining ownership of the actual building. I did give that some serious thought. Or just convert them into apartments and rent them out. I learned we could triple the current lease, it seems living in these older buildings had become rather a vogue. And Port Adelaide was an up-and-coming sort after postcode to be seen in.

I found the old blueprints, which were useless, the changes that had been made in 159 years made the original blueprints pointless unless as my niece, Miriam, and her gorgeous daughter Emily, suggested, we turn them into some wall art. I laughed and chuckled to myself.

“I tell you what Emily my love, you can have them on the proviso that you don’t sell them off. You may do with them what you wish.” I told them. They smiled and thanked me.

I engaged a local architect to draft up some plans and costs to convert each floor. I knew it wouldn’t be cheap but was shocked when the preliminary costs came in. Again this architect was no ordinary architect. Erica had made herself a wonderful reputation, she had succeeded in a profession that was dominated by men. In the world of architecture, a woman is someone who sat at the front desk and answers phones. I had used Erica Wilson and associates, exclusively since I first met her, some ten years before.

To look at her reminded me of Tina Louise who played Ginger on Gilligan’s Island, stunningly beautiful. She was a redhead, with pale skin, and freckles, over her nose, tall and slim for a person in her late 30s. Well-spoken and well presented. Listens didn’t need to take notes, had an excellent memory, could offer an opinion without offending, and was a very likable person.