kitchen! There was a big American fridge and an island to breakfast off.
‘Ready?’ said Jess. ‘The traffic lights are about to change.’ Puffing under the weight of her rucksack, she gazed at the picture. ‘Bet that place costs a lot to heat.’
Why wasn’t I that sensible? Instead, in my head, I was already clicking my fingers at servants whilst eating a delicious afternoon tea on the front lawn. As for that staircase! And those four-poster beds! And talk about privacy, there was room for a mid-terrace house before you came across the neighbours. I was about to step away, when underneath the For Sale caption I noticed some bold writing.
“Live-in housesitter urgently required, to maintain gardens and house until property sold. Enquire within.”
‘What’s the matter?’ said Jess. ‘You look like you’ve just been given limitless texts.’
‘Do you believe in fate?’ I said.
She read the advert and stopped chewing her gum for a moment. ‘Are you completely bonkers? Us? Living in a place like that?’
‘Why not? Come on, you and I aren’t going to be beaten by our current situation. This is the answer. Think about it – your job at the garden centre is bound to impress. And I’m well nifty with a duster and vacuum cleaner. This could be my one chance to prove to Adam that I do have a practical streak.’ There’s no need for him to know how wicked the setting is – just that I’m prepared to scrub and clean and work hard to put a roof over my head; that I can do anything I put my mind to, including making a success of my cake company. If I slogged my guts out to do well at this job, he’d be impressed. Then I’d wow him with my “concrete business plans” (um, leaflets, cooking classes, entering cake contests). My mind raced.
‘You and me, together, we’ll have that place sold before you can say “Mulled Wine Muffin”.’ I beamed, a chink of hope breaking through the storm clouds of my lovelife.
‘But we haven’t any experience.’
I snorted. ‘You’re joking? The way we’ve kept house for Adam and Ryan? You don’t need a CV a mile long to know how to bleach a loo or polish a mirror.’ I pointed to the window. ‘“Urgently required”’, I quoted. ‘Sounds desperate.’ I scooped my hair back into a scrunchie, unzipped my gold parka jacket and smoothed down my sequinned jumper. ‘After a few days away, the two men in our lives will be pleading with us to move back.’
‘I don’t know, Kimmy…’ Jess wiped her nose. ‘What about references? How do we explain suddenly turning up like two lost tourists?’ She stared hard at the photo and pointed to the right hand back corner of the lawn. ‘Who do you think that is?’
I screwed up my eyes and examined the topless young man with floppy chestnut hair, leaning on a spade. He certainly had his work cut out – that garden was huge.
I fixed a smile on my face and held out my hand, flat, in front of Jess’s mouth, glad she got the message but didn’t actually spit her gum into my palm. Then she smeared on her favourite lipgloss – homemade of course, using Vaseline and food essence. I took a deep breath and pushed open the glass door. Jess caught my eye and I winked. A tiny bubble of hope tickled the inside of my chest. This dream house was going to help me win back Adam.
‘You are certainly not within your rights to withhold rent.’ A woman in a smart navy trouser suit, and pristine blouse, looked up from her phone and gave a stiff smile. ‘The owner has been informed of the problem and we’ll be in touch shortly,’ she said, returning to her call. ‘Pardon? You do realise we record some of these conversations…? Well, maybe you’d care more if faced with eviction!’ Calmly, the middle-aged woman put down the telephone receiver
‘Are we sure about this?’ whispered Jess and I nodded.
‘How can I help?’ asked the estate agent, in a flat voice. Her smile had shrunk as she’d clearly worked out our luggage was bargain Primark, not Prada. We set down our bags and I placed the Christmas tree and cake box on a nearby desk. The room was practically furnished with office equipment, and talk about unfestive – there wasn’t so much as one tinsel garland.
‘We’re looking for, um… somewhere to rent,’ I beamed. There was no point looking too keen, and mentioning the house straight away.
She pointed to two black swivel chairs on the other side of her desk, which was cluttered with stationery, assorted files and a wilted, white-flowered plant.
‘It’s kind of urgent.’ Understatement. I sat down and luxuriated in office’s warmth. ‘We’re currently homeless.’
The woman’s eyes glazed over and the atmosphere seemed even darker as clouds gathered outside.
‘Homeless?’ She raised her finely plucked eyebrows.
‘It’s just a blip.’ I forced a laugh, which hopefully oozed confidence as if to say “of course a deposit would be no problem”. As long as the rent was based on Monopoly prices, that is. I glanced sideways at Jess.
‘And I’m employed at the moment,’ Jess said. ‘I work at…at…’ She sneezed loudly. ‘Nuttall’s Garden Centre.’
The woman winced. Her badge said Mrs D Brown. D for Deidre? Or Dawn? Perhaps Dragon?
‘We may only need somewhere short-term,’ I said.
‘That might make things difficult,’ she said, crisply. ‘Most landlords are looking for long-term tenants.’
‘Tell me about it.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Finding somewhere to live, in between jobs, is one of the few downsides to being housesitters – like occasionally being made homeless.’
She leant forward a little.
‘I know – it’s unusual work,’ I continued, innocently. ‘Most people don’t know the half of what’s involved.’ Ahem, including myself.
‘I’m familiar with the job spec,’ she said and tapped her biro again. ‘Aren’t you rather young for such a–’
‘Responsible position?’ interrupted Jess. ‘That’s what the agency thought when they gave us our first job.’
Go Jess!
‘But they were so impressed with Jessica’s gardening skills,’ I interrupted, wondering if housesitting agencies really did exist, ‘and my… um… housekeeping experience. You should have seen our last place. Overrun with mice,’ I whispered. Well, it was true about Ryan’s pad.
Her brow smoothed out a little. ‘I bet you’ve seen some sights.’
‘Ooh yes, um, fleas under the sofa and mushrooms in the carpet.’
Plant expert Jess shot me a puzzled look, but Mrs D lapped it up.
‘And the house before that had been well trashed,’ I continued.
‘What happened?’ The estate agent put down her biro, no longer sounding as if we were a nuisance.
‘The
