wouldn’t dream of saying that.’
‘Nothing to stop you thinking it though, eh?’
‘Shall we make a start?’ I said, uncomfortable at being quite so transparent.
His lips gave a little tug to the side. ‘Absolutely. Tell me what you need me to do.’
‘So, is there anything you’re specifically hoping for with this process?’ I asked, glancing at my notes.
When he didn’t answer, I looked up to find him studying me.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. Just seems an odd question, bearing in mind you already know the only reason you’re even here is because my sister cajoled you and my family forced me. If I wasn’t looking for the process to happen in the first place, I can’t see how I could be hoping for anything from it.’
I took a deep breath. ‘It’s fair to say that my clients are normally a little more pleased to see me than you are.’
‘I can see that,’ he said, leaning against the door jamb and crossing his ankles.
‘But that doesn’t mean, now that you’re committed to the process, that you won’t gain anything from it just because you came to it from a more unconventional angle.’
A grin flickered on his face, as fleeting as a guttering candle. ‘Unconventional. That’s one way of putting it.’
‘So, having heard what I do, is there anything you can think of that you would specifically want to gain from all this?’
He straightened from the doorway and looked at me. I tilted my head back to meet his eyes. Now I’d taken my sodden shoes off, I had to look up even further.
‘I’m not exactly sure what you want me to say Kate, but if you’re hoping for some sort of emotional blather about me wanting to find myself amongst all the clutter, then I’m sadly going to have to disappoint you. The only thing I’m looking for with this process is to turn my house into a place that’s fit for a family Christmas. At the moment, with all this stuff everywhere, it’s not. I’m just wanting a tidy house, Kate. Not therapy.’
‘Fair enough.’ I scribbled a note and made to move on.
‘It would seem your clientele are generally a lot deeper than I am.’
‘Not at all. Everyone’s different. I just want to make sure that I do the best job I can for each client, and that means finding out what it is they really want.’
‘Don’t they all just want less crap kicking around? Isn’t that the whole point of your business?’
‘Yes and no. That’s usually what it starts off as them thinking they want, but quite often there’s a deeper issue that they don’t even realise is driving them until part way through the process.’
He gave a quick raise of his eyebrows. ‘Right. Well, as you heard, the only thing driving me is a sister half my size.’
I felt the smile slide onto my face and for a moment he returned it.
‘So, let’s just accept that I’m shallow and move on. Where do you want to see first?’
He leant on the newel post and I watched the corded muscles on his forearm flex as his hand rested on the bannister.
Was that true? Was he really that shallow, or was he, in fact, one of my most complicated clients? Usually about this time, I had a pretty good idea of who my client was, but with Michael O’Farrell, I still didn’t have a clue.
‘Shall we do bottom to top?’
He gave me a quick nod and led the way down the stairs to the basement level of the four-storey Georgian. Here the space had been given over to a large open-plan living area that had bi-folding doors leading out onto a garden. There was a small counter/kitchen area for preparing snacks and cups of tea, to save having to traipse up and down the stairs when time was being spent in here. A flat-screen TV collected dust against the wall and a couple of couches and beanbags sat unused underneath some appliance boxes and other discarded items. Looking out onto the garden, it could be a great space for entertaining, or just relaxing, but right now it was uninviting and cold. From my time studying the outside, and now here, there already seemed to be a theme emerging.
Next I followed my client back up the stairs to the ground floor where he stopped outside a room opposite the kitchen we’d sat in earlier. As I caught up to him, he opened the door. Inside was an architect’s easel, a work station with a large flat-screen computer on it and a bookcase stuffed with books, papers and all sorts of other random items. Under another pile of papers a small two-seater sofa lounged against the wall. Michael walked over and flicked on the lamp over the easel. There was no window dressing of any kind and streetlight shadows from the trees outside danced on the stripped wooden floor. At least, what you could see of it.
‘My office.’
‘You work from home?’
‘I do.’
I glanced around. ‘And do you always know where everything is in here?’
He followed my gaze and I saw something cross his face. I wasn’t sure if he thought I was being sarcastic so I clarified my question.
‘It’s just that sometimes, especially in work areas, what looks like a mess to an outsider is actually a very specific way of working for the person whose space it is. People find their own way of working and obviously I don’t want to do anything to upset your working methods.’
He picked up a mechanical pencil from the desk and fiddled with it.
‘As much as it pains me to tell you this, I can’t actually find a bloody thing most of the time.’
‘OK. We can fix that and find a much better system for you, which will make for a more pleasant and efficient working environment.’
‘Just because it looks a tip doesn’t mean I’m not “efficient” at my job. People might think I’m an arsehole but they still know I’m a damn good architect.’
I tried not to look surprised at his defensiveness. Time to employ some professional soothing. ‘I never meant to suggest that you weren’t. I’m sorry if it came across that way.’
He fiddled with the pencil a little more, then nodded, seemingly accepting my apology. ‘But you are saying my office isn’t pleasant?’
‘I’m just saying that we can make it more pleasant.’
He gave a little shake of his head, that almost-smile flashing briefly. ‘Very tactful.’
I looked up from my notes. ‘So, what’s next?’
Staying on the same level, he pointed to a door behind which was apparently a downstairs loo, before moving on to show me the living and dining rooms. Both were gorgeous spaces, not that it was easy to see that at the moment. But they could be.
‘You play the piano?’ I asked, seeing an upright groaning under another pile
