Chapter 19
House-hunting is not all it’s cracked up to be, thought Felicity two weeks later, as they wandered down the road after their fourth completely miserable traipse around a hovel masquerading as a place they were supposed to want to live in.
All those programmes on TV. All those times the people turn down an absolutely gorgeous house because the kitchen doesn’t have an island or the garden doesn’t face west or whatever it might be. And we can’t even find one that doesn’t have rats, she thought.
‘Well, that was the most depressing one yet,’ said James, as they got into his vintage red Mustang, which had needed a run out.
It looked ultra-cool but sounded like a jet engine and definitely wasn’t doing the environment any favours.
They had to speak really loudly to have any chance of a conversation.
‘You’re telling me. Why do people think a bath in a bedroom is ever a good idea? Who the hell wants to have a bath in an enormous airy room to start with? Brrrrrrr.’ She mimed being cold. ‘And those potty individuals seem to have actually got rid of the existing bathroom to do it. Madness.’
‘To be fair I’d happily sit and watch you in the bath all day,’ said James.
Her body flushed with heat. ‘I do wish you wouldn’t say things like that while you’re driving,’ said Felicity, running a cheeky hand along his thigh.
James let out a yelp. ‘You really don’t want to do THAT while I’m driving, that’s for sure.’
‘Spoilsport.’ Felicity’s hand stilled but she didn’t remove it. James had always been really broad and muscly but his thighs were something else entirely. One of her favourite bits of him, in fact. If she was allowed a favourite bit.
‘Anyway, it wasn’t the bath in the bedroom that bothered me. It was the bizarre 1950’s kitchen that they’ve clearly ripped out of somewhere else and tried to bodge into the space. The house was only built a few years ago, why didn’t they just leave the one they had? How bad can it have been?’
‘And it smelt of mice droppings. Did you notice that?’
‘Well yes, there was that.’
Ten minutes later they were pulling up to the final viewing of the day. A little white painted cottage on the outskirts of town. Felicity’s pick, this time. She thought it had potential. James wasn’t so sure.
Waiting for them at the front gate was an extremely dapper-looking man with a perfectly groomed handlebar moustache. He was wearing a cravat and leaning on the bonnet of a long-nosed and very expensive-looking vintage Jaguar like something out of a comedy sketch show.
‘I’m always worried when the estate agent is doing better than I am,’ whispered James as they got out of the car. Felicity snorted.
‘Hello there,’ said the man in a nasally voice, introducing himself as “Quentin” of all things. ‘Ready to take a look at this little gem?’
‘You bet,’ said Felicity. It was a sweet-looking place, right along the road from one of their favourite pubs, with a little picket fence along the front and a large garden with a pond to the rear. Felicity had been studying the photos in great detail.
The estate agent couldn’t have been less bothered about the sale.
‘Er, yes, so here you have three bedrooms and a little upstairs office,’ he was saying as they walked along the path to the front door. When they arrived he stepped to one side.
‘You can go in first,’ said Felicity politely, waving a hand.
But he shook his head. ‘It’s not huge so I’ll just wait outside and you two head on in, okay?’ said Quentin, getting out an ancient-looking mobile phone and jabbing at some numbers to make a call.
‘Um, okay,’ said Felicity, ducking her head under the lintel and walking into the hallway.
‘That’s not a great sign,’ said James, following her in and closing the door behind him. ‘But at least we can take our time.’
They were standing in a narrow hallway. Doors led off in all directions and straight ahead of them was a poky staircase leading upwards. Quite a change from what they were used to but James was being very game about it.
‘Come on then, which way are we going first?’
Felicity felt a surge of excitement and started pushing doors open, shouting out the names of the rooms as she went as if James couldn’t spot a dining room or a kitchen for himself.
‘Ah, so this must be the lounge,’ she said pointlessly as they entered a reasonably-sized room on the left side of the hallway, full of oversized sofas.
‘What gave it away?’ said James with a chuckle, but Felicity ignored him.
‘Oooh, and this is the kitchen here.’
‘I love how you’re pretending you haven’t already committed the floor plan to memory.’
‘Shush, you. I just love Rightmove all right? Nothing wrong with that.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that.’
The kitchen was at the back of the house, and was surprisingly spacious given the size of the cottage from the outside.
‘It’s got drawers and everything,’ said Felicity, opening and closing cupboards at random. The kitchen seemed reasonably new and well-fitted and had pleasing soft-close mechanisms on all the drawers and cupboards.
‘Uh-huh,’ said James. She could see he was rapidly losing the will to live.
Felicity didn’t even give him the chance to flag. ‘Come on, this way.’ She led him back across the hallway to a smallish dining room, which had a hatch through to the kitchen. It was all very 1980s. Harmless and a little bit bland.
But when they got upstairs, they were in for a shock.
‘Erm. Felicity? Can you come here for a second?’
At the top of the stairs, they had each gone the opposite way. Felicity had been admiring the small but functional bathroom, so she backtracked and peered over James’s shoulder where he was standing in the entrance to one of the bedrooms.
‘What the hell has been going on in there?’ she said.
‘I don’t know, exactly,’ said James, ‘but it’s making me feel rather uncomfortable.’
‘You and me both,’ said Felicity, scratching the back of her neck.
They stared for a while in silence. The room was a reasonable size but the carpet had been removed, revealing a blood-red floor in some kind of vinyl.
And across the vinyl around the door were a series of deep gouges as if someone had been trying desperately to get out.
The scratches went across the floor, up the door lintels, and right up to the top of the door frame.
Making matters much, much worse, the room was completely empty and full of the overwhelming stench of dog hair and urine.
James and Felicity exchanged a look and backed out of the room without another word.
Downstairs, Quentin was still on the phone. He nodded when he saw them and ended the call.
‘Ah, back already? What did you think? It’s definitely got potential, hasn’t it? Owner is open to offers.’
James didn’t muck about.
‘What on earth was going on in that top room?’ he said, a mix of humour and disgust on his handsome face.
‘Which room is that?’
‘What do you mean which room? The one that stinks of dog? The one that looks like it used to house the Hound of the Baskervilles? That one,’ said Felicity.
To his credit, Quentin didn’t waver for a second.
‘Oh yes, I should probably have mentioned that on your way in. Useful room, eh? The woman who lived here before used to breed puppies and that’s where she kept them, I believe. So you have plenty of space if you are thinking of doing the same.’
James and Felicity both replied at the same time.
‘How big were these puppies, exactly?’ said Felicity.
‘Just exactly how enormous were the puppies?’ said James.
‘Ooh, jinx,’ said Felicity, then turned to Quentin, eyebrows raised. ‘We’re more cat people,’ she said, putting her hands on her hips.
He shrugged. ‘No idea I’m afraid. Can’t stand animals of any kind. I can find out for you, if you like?’
Figures, thought Felicity.
‘No need,’ said James, already walking to the car.
It wasn’t until they were a mile down the road that they started cackling like a pair of old wives. ‘Puppies. Puppies indeed!’ said James when he was finally able to talk again.
‘It was like a horror film,’ said Felicity.
‘We didn’t even get to the basement. Has it got a basement?’
‘It has, as it goes. Goes right under the house.’
‘I knew it. That’s where the bodies are hidden.’
They both guffawed again.
‘Sorry,’ snorted Felicity. ‘It’s not funny, but seriously, why didn’t they mention it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘On the listing. Why didn’t they warn us? Everyone who’s seen it must have thought the same thing. Love that they didn’t even bother to mark the “Room of Doom” on there at all. No photos, nothing.’
‘Hah,’ said James. ‘“The Room of Doom”.’
That set them both off again. When they finally stopped giggling, James grew serious.
‘House-hunting is exhausting.’
‘You got that right.’
‘You know what we need? We need a break.’
‘What exactly did you have in mind, Mr Penguin Man?’
‘You’ll see.’