Chapter 10
ELIZA
Eliza stood outside the terraced house. She’d parked up in the lane, out the back.
Carrie had sent her the lime-green car’s details in advance.
Eliza had arranged the insurance and the rest of the paperwork a few days ago and had travelled across by bus earlier today to pick the vehicle up.
Back in Bramhall she’d packed it full, leaving her own car on the bungalow’s drive, fully embracing a new life and change – and regretting it only a little when the car stalled at traffic lights and revealed a very expressive-sounding engine.
In fact she’d found it quite emotional, sitting in the front seat, many of her belongings in the back.
Eliza had gently run a hand over the steering wheel before driving off to the unknown.
She’d agreed to meet the house’s owner at the front of Carrie’s place, late afternoon.
Once the contract had been signed, Carrie and Eliza had exchanged several emails.
She’d agreed to send regular updates about Boo.
Carrie’s friends had been satisfied with Eliza’s initial email to Carrie and were prepared to meet her.
And Carrie had a boss called Jez who was happy to give her a trial month’s working on reception in the hospitality job the ad had talked about, specifically in a place called The Biterie. Sounded like a restaurant.
Buying Carrie’s life had been a huge decision.
For several reasons. Sooner or later, there’d be consequences, because of her secret, but she wouldn’t think about that.
Onwards and upwards. She’d done the right thing.
She had. The sun shone down and Eliza squinted as a man approached, in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt as dazzling as his celebrity white teeth.
‘Hello. I’m Geoff, the landlord. Are you… Eliza Woods?’ He shot her a confused look.
‘Guilty as charged.’ She smiled politely.
‘Oh… There must have been a mix-up. I was expecting someone, well, um, with less… life experience.’
‘Oh.’ She took a moment. ‘I suppose I never actually told Carrie my age – does it matter?’
He beamed. ‘Suits us. Before Carrie, I had a couple even younger than her who left the place in a terrible state, with a broken lock, cigarette ash everywhere, and they hadn’t mown the lawn once.
So maturity, whether in spirit or actual years, is a big plus.
’ He offered to take her rucksack but she shook her head and followed him up the path to the front door.
Geoff rubbed his hands together and let her in.
As he closed it behind them, Eliza let go of her case and took in her surroundings.
She blinked several times.
Busy flowery walls. Patterned carpet. Should have worn her sunglasses.
Framed chocolate box scenes hung along the wall.
Her eyes crinkled at the corners. It was warm, welcoming, with the line of shoes by the wall and the bundle of coats hanging on hooks at the bottom of the stairs. She put down her rucksack.
‘I have sworn never to dishonour the decor Uncle Reg had since he passed twenty years ago.’ Geoff grinned. ‘He loved the sixties. You should have seen his vinyl collection. In fact, it’s in the loft with an old record player if you ever fancy a spin on the turnstile.’
‘I’d like that!’ said Eliza.
‘I suspect he enjoyed the hippy era too much; his memories from that time were always a bit hazy. I loved coming around here as a lad. I have refreshed it a bit over the years but have done my best to find wallpaper and carpet reflecting his tastes. In any case, I’m not sure how a contemporary nut-white or biscuit colour would cope with some tenants who’ve not wiped their shoes or who eat their meals sitting on the sofa.
I’m now in my late sixties, the age he was when we lost him, except I’ve no hair left and dentures in… ’
Ah, hence the Hollywood smile.
‘Uncle Reg wore a black toupee to the end and his teeth were proof of years of living life on the wild side.’ He gave a nostalgic sigh. ‘What a guy.’
‘What did Carrie first think about this place?’
‘To be honest, there wasn’t much of a reaction when we first walked in, what with her having just lost her mum.
She became more chatty over the last year, if I ever popped by, but there was always an air of…
understatement about her, as if she’d never quite settled.
It didn’t surprise me when I got the call about her moving on.
’ He sighed. ‘Sorry to see her go, though. Carrie’s been great.
Because of… the unusual circumstances in that you’re taking over her whole life, I’ve not been able to do the usual deep clean that is necessary in between new contracts. ’
‘Please, don’t worry.’
‘You should see Carrie’s array of cleaning products under the sink, though.
Always a good sign, and she’s left the bathroom spotless.
We did give the place a check over. Everything appears in order in terms of the basic utilities and security.
Nothing’s broken. I’ve taken a gander in the loft too – nothing much there beyond Uncle Reg’s stuff that I store there, apart from a box containing lighting equipment and a green screen. ’
Carrie had mentioned that she’d stored them up there. She must have been into photography.
‘If you ever want a nosy, give me a shout and I’ll get them down.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Right, let me give you a tour. The lounge first.’
They entered the room on the left. Goodness.
What a feast for the eyes. Small but cosy, with fern-green-patterned wallpaper, and a beech mantelpiece above an old-fashioned fireplace, with two half-used candles on it.
A three-piece suite dominated the room, chintz with a large avocado plushie on a sofa that had seen better days, but a throw would solve that.
The carpet was dark green and matched the curtains at the front.
Several house plants stood on the windowsill, and there was a nest of beech coffee tables with a green lamp on top, along with a pile of books.
A jumbled pile of magazines lay underneath.
Across the walls hung flower power prints.
At the end of the room, opposite the window, behind ajar sliding doors, was a small dining room area, with coral carpet and turquoise walls, and a round table surrounded by four smoked Perspex chairs.
They stood on a geometrically patterned rug.
Geoff grinned at Eliza.
They came back into the hallway, and the kitchen, straight ahead, behind the staircase, didn’t disappoint either, with the burnt-orange wall tiles, butter-yellow cabinets and pine wood fixtures.
A big, gold, star-shaped clock hung on the wall and through the window, Eliza gazed at a small garden, more like a backyard with a couple of roses in pots.
If this house were a person, it would be a sixties rock star, grooving, high on life, fun, fun, fun – the opposite of her strait-laced husband.
Where could Boo, the pirate cat, be? When Geoff led her upstairs, she soon found out – in the bedroom with its tallboy chest of drawers and big retro brass and dark red floral mirror, and the acoustic guitar hanging on the wall.
The cat, a male as she now knew, lay stretched out on the bed that sported a surprisingly minimalist duvet cover.
Carrie had left in the early hours but had said she’d put out plenty of food for him.
Geoff’s phone rang and he went onto the landing to answer it.
Eliza stared at Boo. Boo stared back, then she went over to the bed and sat on it.
‘It’s me again. Eliza. We’ve already met.
Ahoy there, Boo.’ She reached out her hand and he sniffed it.
Nose in the air, he turned away. Perhaps he could smell what a poor cat owner she’d been.
Geoff appeared in the doorway and beckoned to her.
She followed him into the bathroom, blue and bold.
Downstairs again, he showed Eliza how to work the heating, pointed out the stopcock, handed over the keys, and told her to ring him with the slightest problem.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m going to be quite at home here.’
‘Must feel very much your era and bring back happy memories,’ he said. ‘So, what are your plans for this evening? Unpacking? A big day like this, you should take it easy.’
‘Carrie’s friends are coming around. One called Ariana contacted me and said they’d like to take me out for a drink.’
‘Oh yes, Carrie told me that your contract included an introduction to her friends.’ He shook his head. ‘A whole life for sale. Whatever next! You won’t be wanting her job, though, what with being retired.’ He burst out laughing.
What could be funny about working on reception, sitting down all day, answering calls and checking in diners?
‘Despite the traffic, this street is quiet in its own way,’ he continued.
‘Two doors up lives Joan. You should introduce yourself. She goes to a bingo club in town and gets a free pensioner’s lunch at the church.
They do jigsaw puzzles. I’m sure she’d take you along.
She’s a friendly sort and often pops around to say hello if I’m visiting the place.
A massive fan of The Antiques Roadshow – you could watch it together! Right. Goodbye, Eliza!’
Before she could reply, or ask why he’d laughed about Carrie’s hospitality job, Geoff’s phone rang again.
He answered, apologised to someone for being late, then he waved one hand at her and left.
She closed the door and her eyes. Deep breath.
Then she went upstairs. Geoff had insisted on carrying her luggage up there.
She began to set out her clothes in the wardrobe, under the suspicious gaze of Boo, pushing across a selection of jumpers and coats that Carrie had left hanging up.
Eliza’s clothes were colourful but not as fitted as Carrie’s, which had more style.
She picked out a jumper and held it in the air.
It could be fun to try Carrie’s stuff on.
Especially the pile of pieces in the corner, in a box.
Eliza had taken a peek and they looked designer.
When she’d nearly finished unpacking, Boo jumped off the bed and his tail swished upright in the air, telling her, in the only way cats could, that he expected her to follow him down and fill his food bowls.
Eliza obliged, finding the food in the cupboard.
She opened the fridge and her cheeks warmed.
Carrie was so thoughtful. Inside was a pint of milk, cheese, eggs, a carton of juice and even a small bar of chocolate.
She was about to send Carrie a thank you email and ask for more details about her reception work when the doorbell rang.
Eliza looked at her watch. She went into the hallway, brushed down her comfortable green slacks and matching baggy jumper, picked up her jacket and handbag, and opened the door to face two young women.
Eliza adjusted her uncomfortable, subtle gold-rimmed glasses, a cheap spare pair she was wearing whilst her favourites were being mended.
‘Oh. Hello,’ said the woman in oversized jeans and a cropped top under a leather jacket.
‘I’m Ariana. We’ve come for Eliza. We’re Carrie’s friends and have arranged to go down to the pub – The Plough and Bell, not far from here.
In her email to Carrie, Eliza said how much she liked dancing.
’ She turned to her friend, a striking woman with short hair coloured at the front.
‘I’m Rae,’ she said. ‘We’re taking her to a cheap cocktail night.’
‘If you’re staying over for a few days, I guess to help Eliza settle in, there’s a murder mystery on the TV later,’ said Ariana. ‘My gran loves a good whodunit. Oh, and if you get cold, and haven’t found it yet, I think Carrie’s got a throw in the drawer under her bed.’
‘We’ll be quiet coming back. No doubt you’ll want an early night; today must have been tiring for you,’ said Rae.
Eliza stood speechless. She and Carrie had both been desperate to move and the turnaround had been fast. Eliza hadn’t thought to mention that she was seventy-five next month.
‘Lovely to meet you both. But an early night isn’t on the cards – because it’s me.’
Eyebrows knotted together, Rae tilted her head.
‘Pleased to meet you, Ariana, Rae. I’m Eliza.’