Chapter 8
ELIZA
One week after she’d first read about the life for sale, Eliza sat at the bus stop in Reddish, along from the estate where the house in the newspaper ad was.
This was the second time she’d visited it, early in the morning again.
This time the spring sun struggled to push through the dark clouds overhead.
She crossed the road and passed the big Morrisons supermarket, then the Reddish South train station, and next a Shell petrol station.
Finally she came to a row of houses, the start of an estate with a big playground near the road.
Despite the house being mid-terrace, like the others around, it had individual characteristics.
The ones either side were painted white, and one had a porch.
The advertised one was red-brick, with ivy growing up each side of the door and across the top.
A neat, large hedge in the tiny front garden hid the wheelie bins dominating the front of the other properties.
The windows sparkled, as did those of the neighbours’, despite them facing a steady stream of traffic, with clean curtains and potted plants on sills.
Curious as to what was around the back, Eliza skirted muddy puddles and walked past the house at the end of the row and then turned left.
The first road on the left, from there, was an alleyway.
Cars were parked along it and litter blew, and there had also been a bit of fly-tipping.
The back gardens were fenced off with doors in the middle and many of the slats needed repairing.
It was as if the houses put on a neat show out the front, for passers-by, but around the back could relax.
She counted along to the house in question and bent down to study a cluster of wild flowers – weeds, many would have dared to call them.
How pretty. Pale-pink cuckoo flowers, called so because they bloomed at the time of year that bird was often heard.
Oh. A cat sat on the fence, peering down.
Could that be the one up for sale, with its unusual circle of black around one eye, standing out against its white fur?
It looked quite startling, like a pirate wearing a patch.
Slowly, she approached and lifted up her hand to let it smell her skin.
‘Ahoy, me hearty!’ The cat narrowed its eyes and Eliza almost laughed. ‘Fair enough, you don’t know me from Adam.’
The cat cocked its head as if to ask who Adam was. Eliza grinned and went to tickle him behind one of its ears, but the cat pulled back. As rain started to fall, the cat stared down at her before lifting its nose in the air and leaping out of sight.
Unexpectedly, a lump formed in her throat. She had doubts about being trusted with a pet, after letting Socks down that time.
She headed back to wait at the bus stop, so deep in thought she hadn’t put her umbrella up, and before she knew it, she was outside the property’s front and…
oh… a young woman came out of it, locking the door behind her.
Her blonde hair was tied back under the hood of her jacket.
A rucksack hung over one shoulder. Black circles curved under her eyes and her step lacked bounce.
‘Not the best spring weather today,’ blurted out Eliza.
‘No. Makes you want to get on a plane. Fly off to somewhere tropical. At least that’s the plan.’ The woman’s eyes brightened a tad.
‘What, and pack all your troubles up in a kitbag, like in the song?’
The woman looked confused.
‘Sorry, love. Showing my age.’
‘We all do that. Only the other day I was talking about how excited I was to get my first iPod to an eighteen-year-old where I work. They looked at me as if I were a dinosaur.’
The two of them laughed. Warmth spread through Eliza’s chest. ‘So… are you off on holiday? Lucky you,’ she said, curious for more information.
‘Something like that, but more permanent. I’ve just got to choose a destination.’
‘I could do with getting away, too,’ said Eliza, trying to keep her voice cheery.
She would never say more, never confide in a stranger, but then Eliza had never confided in anyone about the man who’d made her life a misery, for fear that they wouldn’t understand; for fear that, somehow, she’d be blamed.
‘I hope you manage it,’ said the woman. ‘And I hope you don’t leave with regrets, like I am.
’ As if she’d said too much, the woman blushed and hurried off.
Eliza almost reached out, wanting to call her back, to find out why her young life was so bad that she wanted to leave it behind, along with a clearly well-looked-after, and loved, cat.
And to find out what made her so very brave. Because it was brave to let go of your current life and head off into the unknown, to start over.
Not everyone was up to it.
Eliza shivered, adjusted her glasses and stared at the house.
The man next door had come out with a bag of rubbish. He stuffed it into a wheelie bin and looked up at the sky. He smiled at Eliza. ‘Lovely girl,’ he said and jerked his head towards Carrie, who was now in the distance.
Eliza went over. ‘She said something about moving away. A holiday, perhaps?’
‘Yes, and I’ll be sorry to see her leave, but our Carrie’s a hard worker and deserves it.
She’s the first up and out in the street to get to a cleaning job – then last back after her evening work.
’ His face became serious. ‘Poor lass. Her mum died last summer. That’s why she moved here.
It was only the two of them. No other family, not a living soul. Hard to imagine.’
Eliza was caught off guard, and her eyes filled as the man went back inside.
Things had clearly been tough for this Carrie, yet she was taking decisive action to make her life better.
In awe, Eliza watched the young woman disappear from view, rucksack bobbing up and down on her back.
After one final glance at the property, Eliza returned to the station, the raindrops more frequent now.
The smell of coffee carried along the street from a tea-shop opposite the station.
A quick one wouldn’t hurt, before she headed back to Bramhall.
She went inside, sat down and picked up the menu.
Fly cemeteries?
A waitress came over.
‘Coffee please and…’ Eliza pointed to the listing.
The waitress grinned. ‘Eccles cake. That’s what the inside looks like, right, with those squashed black raisins?’
‘So it does! One of those, please.’
Eliza had enjoyed this morning, she thought on the bus home.
The pirate cat. Good-natured Carrie. The friendly neighbour.
The darkly comedic pastry. Reluctantly, she got off in the village centre, put up her umbrella and headed towards her estate.
As the clouds darkened and thunder rumbled, Eliza turned into her road, her heart heavier with each step.
Brief relief was provided by the sight of the tulips and peonies blooming in the front garden.
She opened the door to the bungalow and was about to go in when someone tapped her shoulder.
She turned to face the bulbous nose and straggly eyebrows. He must have been in the back garden.
‘You took your time, didn’t you?’ he said, eyes inquisitive, face glaring.
Her eyes widened, as if seeing properly for the first time.
That simple question held so much significance for Eliza.
If she didn’t have the right to manage her own time at the age of almost seventy-five, she didn’t have anything.
For God’s sake! That Carrie was making drastic changes, and she was far younger than Eliza!
The shouting. The banging. The glares and insinuating comments… Enough! Finally!
‘How about a cup of tea?’ she asked coolly.
She shook the paper bag in her hand. ‘I bought you an Eccles cake.’ It was enough to imagine him eating dead flies.
She suppressed a smirk. Taken aback, he followed her in.
A fork of lightning lit up the sky outside the kitchen window, and mentally she composed the email she’d write later that would be friendly and open, but wouldn’t disclose the secret about Eliza that no one in Carrie’s world must ever know:
Hello. My name’s Eliza Woods and I’d very much, most definitely, like to buy your life.