Chapter Thirty-One
‘Mrs Armstrong?’ said the pleasant middle-aged man standing on my doorstep. ‘I’m Leslie from Home and Hearth.’
‘Hello, Leslie. And, please, call me Jen.’ I stepped to one side to let the estate agent in.
‘Jen it is,’ he said, shaking my hand. He put down his briefcase and made to unlace his shoes.
‘Oh, no need to take them off,’ I assured.
‘I wouldn’t dream of keeping them on,’ said Leslie.
‘Starlight Croft is a charming village, but also a rather muddy one. There are a few puddles out there today, so it must have rained in the night. I’d hate to dirty your floor.
’ He peered at the runner. ‘Your carpet is pristine. I’d like to do my bit at keeping it that way. ’
‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ I said, secretly impressed.
The tiled areas of the house weren’t so bad to keep clean as they could be wiped, but the cream carpets were entirely another matter.
Whenever Peter had entertained, I’d had to get a carpet cleaning company in the following day.
There had always been one or two guests who’d got off their tits and knocked over wine – or vomited.
‘And rest assured, Jen’ – Leslie continued, revealing large feet encased in bright red socks – ‘all potential viewers will be asked to either remove their shoes or wear protective booties. Between you and me, prospective buyers appreciate it. They know their potential future home has been treated respectfully.’ He set his polished brogues neatly to one side, then picked up his briefcase. ‘Where shall we start?’
Half an hour later, Leslie was ensconced in the snug, wiggling his stockinged toes and visibly palpitating with pleasure.
‘You’re absolutely sure you want to market with Home and Hearth?’ he asked, as I placed his coffee upon the occasional table.
‘Yes,’ I answered honestly. ‘You look surprised. Can I ask why?’
He picked up his cup and took a quick sip before replying.
‘To be candid, Jen, this is a property of considerable value. It’s way above the usual listing for a local estate agency.
When Tilly mentioned Moonlight Manor might be coming to the market, I initially presumed you’d been on the phone to one of the UK’s Top Three.
After all, one of them is in Sevenoaks. That’s only a few miles away – and I happen to know their website has almost three million visits per month. ’
‘But equally all agents upload to the largest online real estate portal,’ I pointed out. ‘So, from that perspective, potential viewers are all coming from one source, so to speak.’
‘Well, put like that, yes. However, as a smaller concern, hopefully you will find our service more personal and hands on.’
‘I’m sure I will.’
‘Are you in a hurry to sell?’
I blew out my cheeks.
‘Nope. Not really. I mean, I don’t even know where to move to. I’m quite happy to rent until I find something suitable. My kids are young adults and at university. No doubt they’ll be looking for a place of their own once they’ve graduated and got a job.’
‘You’ll be in a great position to help them get on the property ladder,’ said Leslie.
‘Well, yes, but equally they won’t be having anything handed to them on a golden plate.
They need to appreciate the value of money.
’ However, as kids went, Joy and James were very grounded.
Where money was concerned, they’d never assumed or taken it for granted.
Obviously, they’d never materially wanted for anything, but equally they hadn’t been overindulged.
‘Of course,’ Leslie concurred. ‘But when the time comes – if your children would like to stay in the area – Home and Hearth always love to reconnect with previous clients. We’d be delighted to assist with any starter properties.’
‘That’s nice,’ I said. ‘Meanwhile, as I said, I have no idea about my next move. My sister is keen for me to find a place closer to her. However’ – I waved a hand vaguely – ‘I’m not sure I want to relocate somewhere unfamiliar, or make friends all over again.’
‘Sometimes moving to where nobody knows you can be extremely liberating.’ Was it my imagination, or was Leslie giving me a meaningful look? I immediately felt defensive.
‘I suppose,’ I said cautiously. ‘Although I have nothing to hide.’
Don’t you?
‘Of course you don’t,’ said Leslie staunchly.
‘If anyone asks why you’re selling, I will tell them you’re a widowed empty-nester looking to downsize.
Although’ – he hesitated a moment while choosing his words – ‘it goes without saying that everyone in this village knows Peter died in this house. It might be prudent to be prepared for a prospective purchaser to ask questions that could be… uncomfortable.’
‘I see,’ I murmured, chewing my lip. ‘So, are you, in a roundabout way, suggesting that I tell viewers my husband demised at Moonlight Manor?’
‘In this country there is generally no legal obligation to do that. However, the situation becomes more nuanced when dealing with deaths under traumatic circumstances.’
‘Define traumatic,’ I said quietly.
‘Suicides’ – he paused briefly before adding – ‘and murders.’ My body gave an involuntary jerk. ‘Although obviously neither were the case with Peter.’
‘No,’ I whispered.
I was glad to be sitting down upon my sagging sofa, otherwise my legs might have crumpled. Leslie gave me a speculative look as my mind skittered down a dark corridor of memory. Peter’s last day on earth was one I tried not to remember.