Chapter 15
15
If I wasn’t having a breakdown after I left Morton Lansdowne, I’m surely having one now. That’s the only logical explanation, I think to myself as I sign the paperwork authorising an ecstatic Oily Pete to sell my house. Not only has Rebecca’s enthusiasm for property development infected me, but my whole family think it’s a brilliant idea too. The plan, as much as there is one, is that we sell up and move into Mum and Phil’s in the short-term while we look for a suitable property near them to renovate. We’ve decided to focus on Kent, partly because it gives us cheap accommodation while we’re looking, but also because that will enable Rebecca to enrol Rollo in a school knowing that we’re going to be staying in the area. Rebecca, who Mum has practically adopted, will go in Saffy’s old room and she’s clearing out the spare room, which has become a bit of a dumping ground for things that don’t have a home anywhere else, for Rollo.
‘I think what I’m going to do,’ Oily Pete tells me conspiratorially as he stuffs the signed paperwork into his document holder, ‘is hold an open house for both yours and Rebecca’s properties simultaneously. It’s a psychological trick, but it works pretty well.’
‘What kind of trick?’ I ask.
‘Nothing sinister. But, if people see that there’s a lot of interest, which I’m sure there will be, it encourages them to put in a higher offer to have a better chance of securing the property. It sifts out the low ballers who just want to waste everyone’s time in search of a bargain. To be honest with you, it wouldn’t surprise me if we sell both of them on the day, and get a premium on the asking price as well. How does a week on Saturday sound? Gives me a bit of a chance to get the word out.’
‘What do I have to do?’
‘Nothing, if you don’t want to. I’ll bring one of my colleagues along so there’s someone in each property. You can go out for the day, or you can be here to answer questions. Whatever suits.’
That’s an easy decision. I wouldn’t trust Oily Pete not to go upstairs and start rifling through my drawers if he’s unsupervised. I’m sure he’s good at what he does, but he’s the kind of person who makes you want to wipe down every surface he’s touched afterwards. His shiny grey suit doesn’t fit him very well, has a few suspicious-looking stains, and looks like it might have come from a market stall. On top of that, he leaves a lingering aroma of cigarette smoke and cheap aftershave wherever he goes.
‘I’ll be here, Pete,’ I tell him.
‘Great. You might want to have some biscuits or something in the oven. The smell of baking makes a place feel homely – encourages the punters to think positively about it, know what I mean?’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Perfect. I’ll be in touch after I’ve checked that day suits Rebecca as well, yeah?’
As soon as he’s gone, I open all the windows and spray air freshener in all the rooms to get rid of the scent of Oily Pete, before calling Rebecca myself.
‘How did you get on?’ she asks the moment she picks up the phone.
‘I can see why you gave him the nickname,’ I tell her.
‘Yeah. He’s a bit creepy, but apparently he gets results. He’s lived around here all his life and knows the place like the back of his hand.’
‘How do you know him?’
‘He was the agent John bought my house through. He described him as “a slippery bastard, but he gets the job done”. So, are you all set?’
‘Yes. Are you sure we’re doing the right thing though?’
‘I know I’m doing the right thing,’ she says, laughing. ‘I don’t really have any other options, do I? You can still pull out if you’re not sure.’
‘What, and leave you living with my mum without me there? Can you imagine what that would be like? She’d probably disown me in favour of you and Rollo. I’m sure she already sees him as a surrogate grandchild.’
‘Nonsense. Your mum adores you, she just didn’t really understand your old job. I’ll let you into a secret if you like.’
‘What?’
‘Nobody outside a law firm understands your old job. John used to try to explain it to me, back in the days when I actually gave a damn about anything he said, but it used to send me straight to sleep.’
‘Thinking of my old job, I’ve started work on the contract between you and me. I’m going to get it all finalised and then, when we find somewhere to buy, we just need to fill in the amounts we’re each putting in and sign it.’
‘Don’t we need to get it notarised or something?’
‘Nope. As long as all the necessary legal elements are there, it’s binding. It doesn’t even have to be a document. Did you know that you could legally enter into a contract using Morse code or semaphore? Even nodding your head could enter you into a contract in some instances. We studied it when I was training.’
‘Bloody hell, I’d better be careful not to nod at anyone then. I think I’m pretty safe on the Morse code and semaphore. I’m so excited. I’ve been scouring the online auction sites to see what’s coming up in central and East Kent, and there’s loads.’
‘Anything promising?’
‘Nothing has grabbed me so far, but the fact that there are so many has to be encouraging, I reckon. I’m trying to be as hard headed as possible. We’re looking for something to make a profit, not something to love.’
‘You sound like a consummate professional already. Homes Under the Hammer would be proud of you.’
‘Ha. I’m doing my best. Did I tell you that I’ve also found a school for Rollo near your parents’ house? We’re going down to visit on Friday.’
‘It’s not St Justin’s, is it?’
‘It is, actually. Why, is there something I should know? Is it dodgy?’
‘It’s fine,’ I reassure her. ‘It just happens to be the school that Saffy and I went to when we were kids.’
‘You could come with us if you like. Unless you have a better offer, of course.’
‘Oh, yeah. I’m flooded with social engagements. Sure, why not? It’ll be a chance to exorcise some old ghosts.’
‘Is that the school you were at when your dad…?’ she asks tentatively.
‘Yup.’
We’ve shared pretty much our entire life stories with each other, so I wasn’t surprised by the question. I’ve told her about Dad, and in return she’s been candid about her difficult relationship with her now estranged mother, and how that made her vulnerable when John Curbishley turned on the charm. I still struggle to grasp the concept of John being at all charming, but she’s assured me he could bring it when he needed to. To be honest, the idea still makes me feel a little queasy.
Oily Pete evidently does know his stuff, if the stream of people who are traipsing through my house is anything to go by. I did a bit of research and, in the end, I decided to have coffee on the go as well as the biscuits. I’ve also cleaned from top to bottom so the house is looking its very best. Oily Pete is so confident that he’s decided to take sealed bids, and I notice he’s collected a fair number of envelopes already, so I’m optimistic as I take advantage of a brief lull to call Rebecca.
‘How’s it going?’ I ask when she picks up.
‘Bedlam,’ she tells me. ‘There’s one couple that must have been round five times, and I’ve had to bribe Rollo with biscuits to stop him trying to “help”. At one point, I caught him telling someone that they could only buy the house if they kept his room exactly as it is now.’
I laugh. ‘I guess seven-year-olds have different views of how to sell a house.’
‘Rollo certainly does. Anyway, we’ve got a decent pile of envelopes building up despite that. You?’
‘Yeah, looking good.’
‘I’ve been doing the maths,’ Rebecca tells me the following Friday as the three of us head towards Maidstone in her SUV. ‘Assuming the sale goes through in Oily Pete’s predicted two months, and nothing comes up in the survey to make the buyer try to force the price down, I’m going to walk away with just over ￡300,000 once I’ve paid Alice back. That’s even better than I’d hoped.’
‘What are you paying Alice back for?’ I ask her.
‘She’s covering the mortgage on condition that I repay her when I sell the house.’
‘Blimey. For someone who seemed so nice, she sure knows how to play hardball.’
‘Comes of being married to John all those years, I expect. It’s fine. I’m still getting a third of a million quid out of the deal so I don’t really have anything to complain about. Anyway, tell me about this school of yours.’
‘There’s not much to tell. I doubt that any of the people who taught me are still there. It’s a good school, or at least it was. They were really supportive of Saffy and me when Dad left. The head did a whole assembly on how children weren’t to blame for their parents’ mistakes, and I think we actually ended up with more friends than we’d had before. If I had to criticise them for anything, it would be that they were perhaps a little heavy on the religion stuff.’
‘I did wonder why the head teacher asked me if Rollo had been baptised. She said it wasn’t an entry criterion, but they did strongly encourage it. She also wanted to know about Rollo’s father.’
‘What did you tell her?’
She glances in the rearview mirror to check that Rollo isn’t listening in before lowering her voice conspiratorially. ‘I led her to believe that I was a widow.’
‘You what?’
‘It’s not a complete lie. John’s dead, after all. She assumed that I was married to him and I didn’t see any reason to correct her. It’s not as if he’s going to be coming to any parents’ evenings and contradicting me, is it?’
‘And what about the baptism thing?’
‘I fudged that. I told her that I’d always been keen but Rollo’s father wasn’t a believer.’
‘Nice.’
‘I thought so. Ah, here we are. Rollo, darling, best behaviour for Mummy, OK? If this goes well, I’ll treat you to McDonald’s for lunch.’
That seems to have the desired effect, as Rollo is all smiles as he climbs down from the back seat. The receptionist informs us that the head teacher is in an overrunning call, but will be with us as soon as she’s finished.
‘It still smells the same,’ I murmur to Rebecca after a few moments. ‘Sweaty feet and cabbage. How is that possible?’
She doesn’t get a chance to answer, as we’re joined at that moment by a formidable-looking woman who I’d guess is in her mid-fifties.
‘I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting,’ she begins. ‘I’m Margaret Steadman, the head teacher of St Justin’s. Which one of you is Mrs Kennet?’
‘That’s me,’ Rebecca replies.
‘Lovely. And this must be Rollo. Pleased to meet you, young man.’ She looks at me quizzically. ‘And you are?’
‘Thea Rogers,’ I tell her.
‘And I gather you’re moving down from London?’ she asks, turning her attention back to Rebecca.
‘That’s right. We’re moving in with Thea’s parents to start with, until we find a property of our own.’
‘I see.’ She glances at me again uncertainly. ‘Well, we might not be as, aah, modern as some of the London schools, but I’m sure Rollo will thrive with us nonetheless. Let’s start the tour with the hall.’
I follow mutely as Mrs Steadman walks us round the school, showing us classrooms full of happy-looking boys and girls engaged in various tasks, while making sure we’re in no doubt as to the school’s outstanding OFSTED results. It’s familiar, yet different. The institutional green paint of the main corridor has been replaced with a much cheerier pale yellow, and the classrooms all sport an impressive array of technology, although I note that imposing crucifixes still dominate every one. The playground, which I remember as being huge, seems comparatively small to my adult eyes, which automatically seek out the corner where Reuben and I shared a French kiss in year five. We did it for a dare, and it wasn’t very pleasant, but I remember feeling terribly grown-up afterwards.
‘Your application has come at a very opportune moment, Mrs Kennet,’ the head teacher tells us when we’re settled in her office at the end of the tour. ‘We’re normally heavily oversubscribed, but it just so happens that the family of one of the children in Rollo’s year is moving abroad, so we have a vacancy.’
‘I’m sure Rollo will be very happy here, won’t you, darling?’ Rebecca says, earning an enthusiastic nod from Rollo who, I suspect, has his mind firmly on the promised McDonald’s.
‘Great,’ Mrs Steadman says with a smile. ‘Now, you’ll have to forgive me as I’m not as experienced in these matters as I should be, but how does Rollo refer to you?’
Rebecca looks perplexed. ‘He calls me Mum,’ she says warily.
‘OK, and Miss Rogers?’
‘He calls me Thea, but I don’t really understand why that’s relevant.’
‘I just like to get these things right. We do have a couple of other children from blended families here, and it’s a bit of a minefield. I didn’t know if you were both Mum, or?—’
‘Mrs Steadman, we’re not in a relationship,’ I interrupt as I realise the assumption she’s made. ‘We’re just friends.’
Now it’s Mrs Steadman’s turn to look perplexed. ‘I’m sorry, I thought you said you were moving in together?’
‘Yes, but as friends. Separate bedrooms. I only came with Rebecca on the tour because this is my old school.’
Mrs Steadman’s face turns puce with embarrassment. ‘I’m so sorry. I will confess I was a little confused because of Mrs Kennet’s previous marital status, although I have heard of people who are surprisingly flexible in matters of the heart. I can only apologise.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I tell her, trying desperately not to catch Rebecca’s eye. ‘I should have been more clear.’
‘Some people are surprisingly flexible in matters of the heart,’ Rebecca says through tears of laughter as we pull out of the school gates and onto the road. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love you to bits, but not like that.’
‘Why not?’ I ask, trying to stifle my own laughter and sound mock-affronted. ‘What’s the matter with me? I think you’re being surprisingly inflexible in matters of the heart, frankly. After all, we know you have a thing for corporate lawyers, and I tick that box. Plus, not to blow my own trumpet, but I’d like to think I’m a rather more attractive prospect than John Curbishley. What else do you need?’
‘Stop, I’m begging you!’ she howls.
‘I don’t understand what’s so funny,’ Rollo complains from the back.
‘It’s OK, darling,’ Rebecca tells him, still snorting with laughter. ‘Mrs Steadman just got the wrong end of the stick, that’s all.’
We’re still breaking out into occasional fits of giggles when we pull onto Mum and Phil’s driveway after lunch. As soon as he climbs out of the car, Rollo makes a beeline for Mum, who wraps him in a hug.
‘How did you get on at the school?’ she asks Rebecca once Rollo is ensconced in front of the TV and she’s put the kettle on. ‘I don’t know what it’s like now, but both Thea and Saffy thrived there.’
‘Yeah, good,’ Rebecca tells her as we both start laughing again.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘The head teacher thought Rebecca and I were a couple,’ I explain.
To my surprise, Mum doesn’t join in the laughter. ‘It’s not an unreasonable assumption,’ she remarks. ‘You two are very close. I’ve known Thea all her life and I’ve never seen her bond with someone the way she has with you, Rebecca. In fact, Phil and I were also wondering whether it was more than just friendship. It wouldn’t matter, of course. We just want you both to be happy.’
‘Mum!’ I exclaim in horror.
‘What? You’d make a lovely couple, and you’ve been single for so long I can’t remember whether you’re attracted to boys or girls.’
‘We’re just friends,’ I tell her strenuously. Of course, she never met Alasdair, as our relationship wasn’t really the ‘come and meet my parents’ type, and I don’t think she’d have approved of how casual it was.
‘Have it your way,’ she sighs. ‘I quite liked the idea, actually. It’d be one in the eye for Bridget down the road. She thinks she’s so modern because her son’s in a civil partnership, but I reckon an unemployed lesbian daughter going out with an equally unemployed single mother trumps that any day of the week.’
‘I’m so sorry to disappoint you yet again,’ I reply sarcastically.
‘Oh, you’ve never disappointed me,’ she says with a smile. ‘You’re just a bit of a mystery sometimes, that’s all.’