Jack Vettriano Painting

Jack Vettriano Painting
Old Mr. Crackenthorpe was stretched out in an invalid chair, a silver-headed stick by his side.
He was a big gaunt man, his flesh hanging in loose folds. He had a face rather like a bulldog, with a pugnacious chin. He had thick dark hair flecked with grey, and small suspicious eyes.
"Let's have a look at you, young lady."
Lucy advanced, composed and smiling.
Jack Vettriano Painting
"There's just one thing you'd better understand straight away. Just because we live in a big house doesn't mean we're rich. We're not rich. We live simply – do you hear? - simply! No good coming here with a lot of high-falutin ideas. Cod's as good as a fish as turbot any day, and don't you forget it. I don't stand for waste. I live here because my father built the house and I like it. After I'm dead they can sell it up if they want to – and I expect they will want to. No sense of family. This house is well built - it's solid, and we've got our own land round us. Keeps us private. It would bring in a lot if sold for building land but not while I'm alive. You won't get me out of here until you take me out feet first."
Jack Vettriano Painting