by Karen Klyne
Simone was talking on her mobile. She acknowledged Phil, pointed to the phone, and walked out of the front door. Phil stepped through the open patio doors. The garden was mostly set to lawns, and in the centre was the apple tree, the one the woman had embraced. It seemed like any regular tree, but maybe it held memories for her. Where was she? Had she left? She wanted to meet her. She saw a movement at the bottom of the garden and slowly made her way down. She coughed, and the woman turned around. Phil spoke quietly, not wishing to alarm her. “Hello there, I’m sorry to disturb you. Is it okay if I walk around the garden?”
The woman seemed to freeze to the spot, and her shoulders looked rigid. Her brow furrowed, but then she glanced at the clipboard Phil was holding.
“Are you from Farrells? I thought Alan would be coming.”
Phil stepped forward and offered her hand. “I’m Philippa Young, Alan’s business partner.”
She shook it. “Oh. I didn’t know Alan had a partner. I’m Kim Besson. I’m sorry. I’m not usually that rude. I was just a bit shocked.”
She quickly covered her puffy blue eyes with a pair of sunglasses and ran her hand through her short hair, as though trying to tidy it. Phil smiled. “I’m sorry I startled you. Unfortunately, Alan had a little accident.”
Kim jerked back and put a hand to her mouth. “God, is he all right?”
“Yes, not too bad. Possibly a broken leg.”
“How?”
“Um…he collided with a rabbit. The rabbit came off better.”
A small smile played on Kim’s face, and almost seemed to turn to a grin. Phil found herself staring. That smile almost made Phil sigh with contentment. If she laughed Phil was sure she’d laugh with her. If she wept, the world would want to comfort her. Just like Phil had. Such beautiful hair too, a rich-reddish brown colour like mahogany. It seemed to adorn her porcelain-like skin. She pulled herself back into the moment, reached into her top pocket for a pen and began to scribble something indecipherable, just so she didn’t look foolish.
Much as she’d liked to stay, she couldn’t think of a good enough reason to prolong her visit. She’d come and take some pictures another time. Kim seemed too heartbroken to have a dry conversation about business options right now. “I’ve intruded long enough, and I can see the gardens look great, so I’ll leave you in peace. I’m sure Alan will call you, and then perhaps we can get together and discuss the property in more detail. Unless you’d like to do it now?”
Kim shook her head. “Would you mind if we leave it for another day? I’m sorry, I just can’t take anything in at the moment.”
“Not at all.” She’d be more than happy to see Kim another time. She offered her hand again, wanting to feel the warmth of Kim’s skin on hers. Kim responded, and a pleasurable tingling sensation shot up Phil’s arm.
She walked up the garden and couldn’t resist turning around. Kim gave a small wave, and she returned it. She went back through the patio door, and on her way out she pulled the front door shut. Simone was leaning against the wall, still talking on her mobile. Phil waved and blew her a kiss. She blew a kiss back, and her face turned a deep crimson. Phil laughed. She must stop doing these childish things.
On Monday morning she rang Alan, and he answered immediately, as if he’d been waiting anxiously.
“Hi, Philippa. Did everything go all right?”
“Of course. Everything went fine. I met Kim briefly, but she was too distressed to discuss anything. I said we could meet another time. How are you, though?”
“That blasted rabbit did a good job. Broken in two places. It’s so depressing. I’m relying on you, Philippa. You’ll have to run the show for a while until I get my head around the situation. And until these pain meds aren’t necessary.”
Damaged your head too? “No problem. As regards the Chase, I’ve given it some thought. It’s a lovely house, but it needs a lot of money spending on the interior. I’ve come up with a guide price of two-hundred and fifty thousand. I think it’ll fetch more, but that’s a starting point.”
“Whatever you think. Would you mind handling it?”
“Of course I don’t mind.” As if. Working with Kim, even from a distance, would be a pleasure.
“Kim’s staying with Jan and Dave Wilkes at The Pheasant. I’m sure she wants to sell with us, so you should get an agreement signed. Tell her the guide price, and how we go about it, as with the viewings, etcetera. Don’t forget to tell her the merits of selling by auction compared to selling privately, given her circumstances.”
Phil gave a mock yawn. “Earth to Alan. I’ve done this before, you know.” She’d cut him some slack, as she was sure he was well medicated.
“Sorry. I’m certain you’re mindful to all of this, and I’m beginning to ramble. Must be the tramadol. I’m not used to pills and potions.” He sighed. “Oh dear, I’m sorry to drop this in your lap.”
“Listen, darling, I love a challenge. Isn’t that why you seduced me to this land of milk and honey?”
Alan didn’t reply immediately. She was sure he’d detected the irony in her voice.
“Thank you, my dear.”
When Phil arrived at the office, Carole and Abby, her assistant, both shot up off their chairs with anxious expressions. News travelled fast in Cauthwell, particularly bad news.
Carole toyed with a piece of hair which had escaped her ponytail. “You’re not going to desert us, are you?”
Phil spread her arms wide. “Of course not. I’m Alan’s partner. Why would I?”
“Well, you’ve taken so much on recently. And now, there’ll be so much more to do.”
Phil smiled. “Look, ladies, it won’t be easy, but we’ll cope. You continue running the show, and I’ll just assist you.” They seemed to relax a little. “I’m sure in a couple of days, Alan will be back running the office, as much as he ever did, and I’ll do the valuations. Apart from the conventional property sales, we’ll also have to do viewings of the houses up for auction, because I don’t think Alan’s going to be mobile for quite a while.”
Carole squared her shoulders. “Of course, we’ll back you a hundred percent.”
No more gallivanting for me. She closed the door to her office, along with the one to her personal life.
Chapter Two
Kim closed her eyes, emotions weighing her down. A year had passed, and now she had to face reality and sell the family home. Her dad’s friend, Alan, had advised her to wait until the housing market picked up and now considered it a good time to sell. However, being in the house was another matter, and she’d relived all the pain. Then the woman had arrived and caught her off guard. Instead of Alan she’d met Philippa, a lady who looked like she’d stepped off the front page of Vogue. An estate agent? She’d never seen one like her before, and she certainly didn’t look like someone Alan would choose as a partner. Maybe in his dreams, and she doubted if he had those dreams anymore.
Now she was about to meet her again. She’d decided to clean herself up a bit and put on some decent clothes. And for God’s sake, brush your hair. After doing some minimal ablutions, she glanced in the mirror before going downstairs. Better.
Jan and Dave, the tenants of the Pheasant, stood behind the bar washing glasses from the lunchtime punters.
Jan wiped her hands on a towel and walked around the bar to greet Kim. “Sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk. How did it go, darling? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine now. There were a few tears…well, more of a waterfall really, but I think it was just the initial shock of seeing the house again. Thank God I’ve got you two for support,” she said, winking at Dave and placing a hand on Jan’s arm.
“You’ll always have us.” Jan pulled Kim into a warm hug. “Your dad was my closest friend and––”
“Don’t you mean our friend?” Dave put a glass down heavily on the bar.
Jan glared at him. “Yes, of course. Anyway, we’ve known you since you were knee-high.” Jan laughed. “Can you remember when
you pulled your first pint?”
“How could I forget? More beer went on the floor than it did in the glass. No wonder you didn’t give me a permanent job.”
Jan laughed. “So, did you see Alan?”
“No. Didn’t you hear? He fell off his bike and broke his leg. His partner, Philippa, came instead.”
Dave rubbed his hands together. “Now, she’s tasty. You can put her in a pie and serve her to me any day. Come to think of it, every day.”
Kim and Jan raised their eyebrows and laughed.
“You might have to settle for making her coffee. She’s coming over in about half an hour.”
Dave whistled. “I might bring out the bourbons too.” His smile turned serious. “I reckon you should think twice about this auction lark, Kim. I’m not sure it’s the right way to go. When I see them on the TV, it seems like they’re for desperate people who want to get shot of their property without giving much thought to the value.”
Kim pursed her lips. “Dad always said it was perfect for auction.”
“I’m only saying, don’t rush into it. Listen to other options.”
“Thanks. I promise I’ll keep an open mind.”
Dave tapped his fingers on the bar. “Best get this coffee ready for the gorgeous lady auctioneer.” He lifted his arm and sniffed his pit. “Do you think I’ve got time for a quick shower?”
“Only a cold one,” Jan muttered. “Anyway, don’t forget, you’re the wrong––”
Dave coughed.
Kim looked at Jan. “Wrong what?”
“Wrong age, of course.”
It was a quick response from Jan. Judging by the looks that passed between them, they seemed eager to conceal something from her. What didn’t they want her to know? Whatever, it was a bit unnerving. She hoped they weren’t going to go all protective with her and treat her like a china doll. Maybe she looked like one at the moment, but she was quite capable of handling her life…most of the time.
When Philippa arrived, Jan took her over to Kim’s table. Philippa greeted her and sat opposite, and Kim tried not to focus on just how beautiful she was. “I’m really sorry for my bad manners the other day. It was my first visit to the house in almost a year, and everything came flooding back, along with the tears. I should have been there to walk the property with you.”
Philippa touched Kim’s hand gently. “Please don’t apologise. I completely understand. It must have been a shock seeing a stranger walking around instead of Alan.”
“It was. I’m fine now, though.”
Philippa smiled. “Good.” She opened her briefcase, took some notes out and placed them on the seat beside her.
Dave brought the coffee over and placed it on the table. Philippa looked up. “Thank you, Dave.”
She picked up one of the bourbons and dunked it into the cup. Dunking? She was shocked that this sophisticated lady would do such a thing, albeit that she was doing it gracefully. The creamy centre melted in the hot liquid, and some of it escaped from the corner of her mouth. Philippa licked her lips then wiped her mouth with a napkin. She didn’t seem at all embarrassed, though Kim certainly was when Philippa caught her staring and gave her a small grin.
“Firstly, Kim, I have to ask you if you’re happy to let Alan and I handle the house sale?”
Kim sat upright, glad for the directed conversation. “I wouldn’t want anyone else.”
“Thanks for your trust. Are you happy selling it by auction? If you want, you could sell it in the conventional fashion. We’d give you our opinion as valuers on how much we think it’s worth. Then we’d market the house, do all the necessary advertising, along with the viewings. When someone takes a fancy and makes an offer, you decide whether or not to accept.”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure. My father and Alan discussed this, and both agreed it was more suitable for auction. It needs to be brought into the twenty-first century, and maybe that’s better left to the buyer. Just out of curiosity, how much do you think it would make if I sold it conventionally?”
“I’d be inclined to put it on at three hundred thousand, but I think someone would come along and make a lower offer. The good thing about auctions is that bidding can mean we start at a certain price, and it can only go up from there, not down.”
Kim nodded. “Thanks.”
Philippa tilted her head. “First of all, I’ll tell you a little about myself and my responsibilities. I have good credentials from my past employers in London. I’m an auctioneer as well as an estate agent. I advise both buyers and sellers about the property in question. I gather as much information as possible about the property, so I can advise our clients how best to proceed. We’ve already assembled all the information on your house. We’ve measured, inspected, and assessed. We’ll produce an accurate report on the property, which is similar to a set of particulars we’d produce as estate agents, but with a different audience in mind. We pass all the information on to potential buyers. As an auctioneer, I’ll give you a valuation to help guide you with the price it’ll reach. We’ll do all the advertising to give its fullest publicity possible. The live auction is then run by myself at the village hall. The Chase will be one of maybe ten other properties for auction that day. I manage the bidding process and hopefully keep the atmosphere lively and entertaining. My job is to reach the required target, or higher. Hopefully, higher.”
Kim chewed a nail. “Thanks for explaining it. I think I’m happy to go down the auction road. I don’t want to get tied up making too many decisions.”
“Wonderful. I think the property has great potential. I’ll do the show days myself and set the guide price at two hundred and fifty thousand. That might sound low, but I’m pretty sure we can achieve nearer three hundred thousand. Our next auction is the beginning of May, so there’ll be plenty of time to get it rolling. If all goes well, the completion date will be one month after. We’ll need to meet up three or four days before the auction to set a reserve price. By that time, we’ll know how many interested parties there are, and we’ll use that to decide what the reserve will be. Lots of interest means a higher reserve.”
Kim was already a little lost. She hated numbers. She’d heard the figures and details, and for some unknown reason she trusted this woman to be the right person for the job. She was also mesmerised by her. She was an enigma, and she felt slightly drawn to her. “So, where do I sign?”
Philippa pushed some forms over. “I’ll need a copy of your passport and proof of ownership, like a utility or council tax bill. You can pop them into the office sometime.”
Kim signed and slid them back. “I’ll drop them in. I have to go back to Manchester, so I’ll give you my mobile number. I’ll be back a week before the sale. We could arrange a date to meet, and I can put it in my diary.” She paused. “Alan’s a lucky guy.”
Philippa laughed. “Thanks. Actually, I’m a lucky girl, too.” She stood and shook Kim’s hand.
It was a firm handshake. A prickling sensation surged through her arm, giving her goose pimples. She shuddered and forced herself to focus. Then she watched Philippa walk away, all elegance and confidence. She’s a classy lady. She looked down at herself. Kim didn’t possess any of those traits. Even if she had elegant clothes, she’d never be able to carry them off. She wasn’t assertive, sophisticated, or graceful enough. She never had been.
Chapter Three
Weeks passed by, and Phil was almost dead on her feet. The show days, the general viewings, the valuations, the reports, and the assessments had all taken their toll. An eleven-hour day did nothing for her complexion, and the circles beneath her eyes darkened with each night she stayed up into the small hours. Fortunately, Alan was now back running the office. His wife, Grace, dropped him off and picked him up. Carole was assisting her with the show days, and Abby ran the office.
It had fallen into place, but right now she needed a break. She couldn’t wait any longer, and first thing on Monday morning she burst into Alan’s office. “I’m shattered
, Alan. I need some time off.” She hoped he’d take one look at her and see it for himself.
Alan’s shoulders slumped, and he ran his hands over his face. “Oh God, Philippa. I’m so sorry. Of course you do.” He rummaged around on his desk and eventually found his diary. “What about this coming Friday? Carole can take on the show days at the weekend, and anyway, it’s mostly sorted now, thanks to you.”
She smiled. That was easy. “Terrific. I’ll be back on Monday, refreshed and raring to go.”
That was that. Now all she had to do was call her best friend, Cass. She’d known her for years when she’d worked in London, but some distance had been put between them since she’d left. In the meantime, Cass had met her girlfriend, Rebecca. She suspected Rebecca didn’t particularly like her. Phil was single and posed a threat. A bad influence. Tough! She grabbed her phone and dialled.
“Good evening. Is this the hot weekend date agency?”
Cass laughed. “Sure is, ma’am. To which weekend are we referring?”