Emma's Story

by Georgia Hill

  Emma picked up a paperclip and straightened it. ‘Yup. Mum’s working all hours for that cow Sukie. Dad’s in a permanently bad mood and Stevie keeps forgetting to feed Todger and Snog. I’ve had to do it the last three times. Poor things.’

  ‘Todger and Snog?’ Tash pulled an incredulous face.

  ‘The guinea pigs. It’s what he calls them when Mum’s not around. Real names are Tina and Sammy. They must have an identity crisis. Bit like me,’ she added gloomily.

  The conversation came to an abrupt halt as the door opened, letting in a blast of hot September sunshine. Leona sashayed in. ‘You two look very cosy,’ she drawled, looking down her nose at them.

  Emma felt a pang of sympathy for Leona. It couldn’t be easy trying to slide in between her and Tash. They were such a tight little team and good friends as well. She vowed to make more of an effort with her.

  ‘Morning, Leona,’ Tash said, sliding off the edge of Emma’s desk. ‘How did the viewing go?’

  ‘Oh, it took an age. Time wasters, I think. Emma, are you heading into the kitchen? Be a sweetie and make me some mint tea, would you?’ Leona sank into the chair Emma had just vacated. ‘I see the hair hasn’t faded. If anything it’s brighter than ever. Probably the sun’s bleaching it. What did you think you were doing?’

  As Emma stomped moodily into the kitchen Tash mouthed the words, ‘Talk to Ollie.’ Emma nodded back, pulling an evil face at Leona as she went. Any promise to be friendlier to her fled.

  Chapter 11

  Later that afternoon Emma’s ears pricked up when she heard Leona gush about the Morrisons’ bungalow to the familiar-looking couple who had come in after lunch.

  ‘Of course it needs quite a lot of work,’ she was saying, ‘but that’s reflected in the price and the vendor is very motivated. I can arrange an accompanied viewing – would that suit?’

  Emma knew better than to interrupt a sales conversation but, as soon as the couple left the office, she went over to Leona’s desk and, putting her hands on her hips, glared down. ‘The Morrisons’ bungalow is sold.’

  Leona looked up. ‘Is it?’ One perfectly groomed eyebrow rose.

  ‘Yes, to Biddy and Arthur Roulestone.’

  ‘I don’t see a STC sticker on the details,’ Leona smirked.

  ‘Well, they haven’t actually made an offer yet, but they’re close. Biddy was getting a few quotes for the work needed on the conservatory.’

  ‘And until they offer, it’s still on the market,’ Leona said with infuriating logic.

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose, but it’s not how we operate here. If we know someone is interested and is a solid buyer, we back off a bit. Let the sale have a chance to develop.’

  ‘Really? What a remarkable business model. And how do you think the Morrisons feel about possible buyers being discouraged to view?’

  ‘I think they’d rather have a quick sale, which Biddy is in a position to do, than have time wasters poke around who haven’t the slightest interest in doing any work on a property and are just using it as an excuse to put in an insultingly low offer.’ Emma was aware her voice had risen.

  Leona thinned her lips. ‘And what evidence have you for suspecting that of my clients?’ Her voice was glacial.

  ‘Instinct. Experience. I can spot their sort miles off.’ Emma narrowed her eyes. ‘In fact, I remember now. I thought they looked familiar. They came in this time last year and tried the same thing on a house near the seafront. The bloke runs a property development company. Buys up stuff at the lowest price he can, does it up and then sells it on at a profit. I advised Mrs Etham not to accept the offer.’

  ‘You lost her a sale?’ Two pink spots appeared in Leona’s pale face.

  ‘I lost her that one. I thought she could get more. I found her a buyer two months later who paid what I thought the house was worth.’ Emma was getting angry. How could Leona not see the argument? ‘Mrs Etham was elderly and she was on her own. I didn’t like seeing her getting ripped off. She got near the asking price and that meant she could afford an apartment with a balcony and a view over the garden in the sheltered housing block she moved to.’

  ‘How very socially minded of you.’ Leona made it sound the worst of insults. ‘Maybe, just maybe, we should be thinking of making our company money instead of cosseting geriatrics? And, here’s an idea. Perhaps it might be better to let the vendor make the decisions?’ Leona stood up and matched Emma’s fury.

  ‘I did. I advised her what to do. Gave her all the info, gave her the options.’

  ‘And then dictated to her what she should do.’

  ‘I advised!’ Emma was shouting now.

  Tash shot through from the back office. ‘Emma. Leona! Keep your voices down. The door to the high street is open. I don’t want the whole of Berecombe hear you arguing like fishwives.’

  ‘Leona is trying to lose me a sale!’

  ‘Emma is the one risking a lost sale!’

  Emma turned to her boss. ‘Tash, I’ve got a lot of commission banking on the Morrisons’ sale.’

  Leona folded her arms and looked smug. ‘Oh, that’s what this is really all about, isn’t it? It’s not about caring for your darling clients and getting them the sale you think they deserve. It’s all about how much commission you’re promised!’

  That Leona was bracketing her in the same grasping, venal category as herself had Emma shouting again. ‘I. Am. Not. Like. That.’ The woman was evil. Pure evil.

  ‘Emma, Leona, please!’ Tash roared. ‘Sit down, Leona. If you think that couple are genuinely interested and will offer near the asking, then arrange a viewing. But go with them, please. The Morrisons are a sweet couple but they’re eccentric and very unworldly. I don’t want them taken advantage of. Emma, back office – now.’

  Emma sat on a chair in front of Tash’s desk. She fiddled with her hair and sucked her teeth mutinously. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, eventually, ‘but that woman’s really got it in for me and I don’t know why. She knew I’d lined up Biddy and Arthur for the bungalow and she should have checked with me first. She’s deliberately trying to sabotage my sale.’

  Tash sat down and placed one hand over another. ‘Or trying to get the Morrisons some more viewings?’

  ‘But I know that couple who came in. You remember how they tried to do the nasty on Mrs Etham?’

  ‘Yes. You know them. You can also recognize the sort by instinct.’ Tash shrugged. ‘And that’s what Leona has to learn. All the degrees and qualifications in the world won’t prepare her for that. She’s learning. Remember the mistakes you made when you started?’

  ‘Yeah. I made mistakes, Tash. But I didn’t try to lord it over people like little miss swanky-pants out there. I knew I didn’t know anything. And was willing to learn. That couple shouldn’t be put anywhere near the Morrisons. They’ll badger them into submission.’

  ‘Which is why I’ve insisted Leona does an accompanied viewing. And I’ll go along too, if necessary. But we can’t deliberately avoid sending viewers to a property they’ve expressed interest in.’

  Emma took her time working out what Tash meant.

  ‘Okay, I know,’ Tash admitted. ‘Clumsily put, but you understand, don’t you Emma? We have an obligation to offer viewings to anyone we feel is a genuine buyer. Leona’s couple may well make an offer that’s too low. In which case, we advise what the vendor should do. For all we know they may also be cash buyers and be able to proceed even more quickly than Biddy and Arthur can. The Morrisons may prefer to take a cut in price in order to move more quickly. We can’t make that decision for them. Only advise.’

  Emma blew out a breath. ‘I know. She’s right, I suppose,’ she admitted reluctantly. ‘It’s just that when she was all over the buyers like a nasty rash and hadn’t checked the status of the sale with me first, I saw red. She’s got it in for me and I’m—’

  ‘Letting her get to you. Which isn’t like you, Em. Look, she won’t be here for long. Berecombe’s too small for her. She’ll move on to
Exeter or Bristol. In the meantime, keep an eye on what she’s doing, let her make mistakes within reason and do your gloating in private.’ As Emma rose, Tash added, ‘Oh, and get on the phone to Biddy. Won’t do her any harm to know there’s another buyer interested. Might make her speed up a bit. We could do with a decision from her.’

  ‘Does anyone succeed in forcing Biddy to do anything?’

  ‘Point taken.’ Tash grinned. ‘Oh, Leona,’ she said as the woman put her nose around the door. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘There’s a Millie in the office. Along with the most divine-looking man who is apparently her husband. Although how she could land something as gorg as that I have no idea.’

  ‘What does she want, Leona?’ Tash asked, reining in her impatience.

  ‘They’re interested in going to see the Greys’ cottage.’ Leona put a swift glance Emma’s way and sniffed. ‘And, after the debacle earlier, I thought I’d check it was okay. Don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, do I? After all, Emma might have a buyer all lined up already.’ It had all the words of an apology but none of the sincerity.

  Chapter 12

  Tash decided Emma needed to get out of the office and she was the one who accompanied Millie and Jed to the idyllic cottage with the sea views.

  As they drew up, she heard them gasp.

  ‘Oh Jed, it’s perfect!’ Millie sighed.

  Emma hovered behind Mr and Mrs Grey as they showed the couple round. She only had to put in a quiet remark every now and again to help things along. If anything, the Greys were being a little too honest and that wasn’t always a good thing for a first viewing.

  They insisted they stay for tea and cake in the garden again and served Lapsang Souchong in cups which were so delicate they were transparent. Mrs Grey had also made a seed cake.

  ‘It won’t compare with your lemon drizzle, my dear,’ she said to Millie, ‘but it’s a good old-fashioned sort of a cake for this time of day. Not too rich and keeps well. And it’s so lovely to have visitors to make a cake for.’

  Millie bit into a piece appreciatively. ‘It’s always a treat to eat something I haven’t baked myself and this is gorgeous. Do you think I could have the recipe? I think some of my regulars might like to try it.’

  Mrs Grey looked delighted. After she’d made sure everyone had what they needed, she sat back and observed her garden. ‘We’ve had such pleasure out of this house,’ she said wistfully. Emma could hear tears in her voice. ‘It’s been the best kind of house in which to bring up a family. It’s far enough off the main road not to have to worry about dogs and children running about.’

  ‘Or the chickens,’ her husband put in. He took her hand, kissed it and smiled at her.

  ‘Or the chickens. Weren’t they good layers? Buff Orpingtons. Nothing showy but good laying chickens. We had ducks for a while but they were the very devil to get back into the duck house at night. Cheeky little things, ducks. But chickens? Nothing like sitting in the garden on a sunny afternoon with your lap full of a warm, fluffy chicken.’ Mrs Grey’s eyes misted. ‘I planted most of what you see, wanted to encourage the birds and the insects.’ A fat bee droned by, as if to underline her point.

  ‘The lavender path smells gorgeous,’ Emma said.

  ‘It does. Going over a bit now, but full of bees in July. It’s a sight to see. And hear!’

  ‘I’d like to learn how to keep bees,’ Millie said, putting her empty plate back onto the rusting white metal table and shaking her head in refusal at the offer of more cake.

  ‘Plenty of room for a few hives here,’ Mr Grey said. ‘Before you go, have a gander to the end of the garden. Ideal spot for beehives. Not too near the house. And beyond the tree line is a stream. We fenced it off when the children were small but when they were older, they spent most of the day down there with Sadie.’

  Emma, Millie and Jed looked questioningly at him.

  ‘The springer we had when the children were little.’

  ‘Oh Sadie.’ Mrs Grey smiled as she reminisced. ‘She was a horror. Never known a dog to get so wet and muddy. And the trouble was, she encouraged the children to come back just as mucky. Still, what’s a bit of dirt when they’ve been happily playing outside all day?’

  ‘You’ll be sad to go, Mrs Grey,’ Emma said, gently.

  The woman sighed enormously. ‘It’s time, my dear. They’ve cut the bus services and I don’t drive any more so it’s impossible to get into town. And I can’t keep up with all the dusting the cottage needs.’ She turned to Millie, with a chuckle. ‘You’ll find a house with beams takes some cleaning.’

  ‘And, of course, the land is too much for us now,’ her husband added.

  ‘But brilliant for a growing family,’ Emma put in, worried the conversation was getting a little negative. ‘And you’ve had the roof re-thatched recently?’

  ‘Two years ago,’ Mr Grey said. ‘Good chap he was. From over Chideock way. Got all the paperwork so you can have a look. Oh my, it was hot that week. Worked like a navvy, didn’t he, Ness?’

  ‘Angus,’ his wife chided. ‘I don’t think you’re allowed to say that these days.’

  Mr Grey blew out his reddened cheeks. ‘Don’t know what I am allowed to say any more,’ he grumbled. ‘Bloomin’ PC nonsense.’

  ‘May I ask where you’re moving to?’ Jed asked and Emma was glad the subject matter changed.

  ‘Got a little place in Colyton to go to. Shops and the doctors just around the corner. Warden controlled.’ Angus Grey huffed. ‘Not that we need one, of course. Not in our dotage quite yet, are we, Ness?’

  ‘No, Angus, of course we’re not.’

  Emma hid a smile. The Greys must be in their mid-eighties at least.

  Mrs Grey smiled at them. ‘Time to make the change. It’s time the house had another young family to love it. Lots of little children running about, making the place feel alive again.’

  Millie blushed and her hand strayed to her stomach. Emma watched with interest and wondered if she was pregnant. It would explain the need to move; the flat above the café was lovely but hardly ideal to bring up children.

  They were all reluctant to move. The cottage had cast a drowsy spell over them. As Millie and Jed drifted to the car, hand in hand, Mrs Grey stopped Emma. ‘Angus and I agreed. We’d only sell to a couple who would love the house as much as we have.’ Her voice trembled. ‘And I think young Millie and Jed are just the people. Try and get them to buy it, my dear, will you? It would make Angus and I so very happy to see the old place go to them.’

  Emma smiled. She patted the brown and wrinkled hand on her arm and bent down. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she whispered. She watched as Mrs Grey began to collect the tea things and then turned to see Jed put his arm around Millie and kiss her on the temple. The house would be perfect for them. She’d heard Jed was wealthy; he could probably buy three cottages at this price. She let a sigh escape and wondered if she and Ollie would ever get settled. People always said money didn’t make you happy but it certainly made life a little easier. She busied herself finding her car keys and when she joined them at the car, a professional smile was back in place.

  Chapter 13

  For the second evening class, Joel arrived late. He seemed flustered and blamed the traffic on the A30. In Emma’s eyes he looked even more gorgeous and a treacherous little wormy thought wished she’d put the flush into his tanned cheeks and it had been her fingers which had disordered his hair.

  Fewer students had turned up but Biddy was present, as was Millie, both clutching their Penguin Classics edition of The Canterbury Tales.

  ‘Enjoyed it so much, I read all of The Wife of Bath’s Tale. Corking, it was,’ Biddy said, as she settled Elvis down. She opened her copy and Emma saw she had scribbled notes in pencil all over the text. Thrusting the book into Emma’s face, she added, ‘And look at this bit in The Knight’s Tale.’ She read it out: ‘“His hair was crisped in ringlets, as if spun of yellow gold.” And this bit: “Aquiline nose and eyes wit
h lemon light.” And further on it says he has a voice like a trumpet.’ Biddy giggled. ‘Some might say that about me.’ She glared at Emma. ‘If they dared!’

  ‘Shall we get started?’ Joel opened his notebook. It was one of those expensive moleskin types, Emma noticed and added to his classy look. Looking down, she saw he had on matching black boots under his skinny jeans.

  ‘I’m loving this Chaucer, young Joe,’ Biddy boomed. She fluttered her eyelashes at Joel in a positively threatening manner.

  ‘Looks like Joel’s got a fan,’ Millie whispered into Emma’s ear. ‘Poor bloke.’

  Emma gave Millie a swift grin and opened her own copy, pen poised. She flushed a little. It wasn’t only Biddy who had the hots for Joel. There were quite a few women sitting and gazing adoringly at the man, herself included.

  ‘In fact,’ Biddy went on. ‘It’s given me an idea. All those husbands the Wife had. Five! She got through ‘em, didn’t she?’ She winked at Joel who recoiled. He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again. ‘I’ve been doing a bit of this writing malarkey.’ She brought out an A4 lined pad and waved it around. ‘Knew all the stories I’ve got in my head would come in handy sometime. Got lots of experiences. Me and Wifey got skills in common.’ She grinned. ‘If you know what I mean.’

  Joel cleared his throat. ‘Are you writing a memoir, Biddy?’

  ‘Memoir?’ Biddy drew herself up. ‘Not sure the world’s ready for that just yet. No, Joe, I’m writing erotica. Going to get it published. Seems to sell from what I can see.’

  Emma bit down on another giggle. She could feel Millie’s shoulder quivering next to her.

  ‘Well, it can be quite hard to get published,’ Joel said, sounding stunned. ‘I should know, I’ve been trying to place something myself.’

  Biddy preened. ‘Oh, I don’t need to worry about that, young Joe. Got an old mate at one of them big publishers. He owes me a favour.’ She sniffed disparagingly. ‘Several, if I recall rightly.’