The Housemate

by Pattison C. L.

  ‘You can have the bigger bedroom, if you like,’ I said, taking in the view of the back garden from the sash window. ‘I much prefer this one.’

  ‘You’ve decided you want to move in already?’ Megan said, her voice swerving upwards in surprise. ‘Don’t you need some time to think about it?’

  I shook my head emphatically. ‘What’s there to think about? We won’t find anything better than this. OK, the furniture’s not what we would’ve chosen and the location’s a bit further out than we wanted, but it’s still the best thing we’ve seen by a mile.’

  ‘Yessss!’ Megan said, punching the air triumphantly. ‘I just knew Bellevue Rise was going to be the one.’

  I couldn’t help smiling. Megan was right to have a good feeling about this place; I often think she’s more intuitive than she gives herself credit for. I tilted my head towards the door. ‘Let’s have a quick look at the bathroom, shall we? Then we can go downstairs and start turning the thumbscrews on the landlord.’

  The bathroom held few surprises. There was a modern over-bath shower, but everything else was old and tired. A tarnished mirror hung above the watermarked sink and the black and white lino floor was curling at the edges.

  ‘At least it’s got an upstairs bathroom,’ I remarked as we went back out on to the landing. ‘So many of these Victorian houses don’t.’

  Just then, I spotted a stripped pine door to my left that I hadn’t noticed before. It didn’t match the other doors and it was set at an unusual angle, as though it wasn’t an original feature, but merely an afterthought. ‘I wonder what’s in here,’ I murmured.

  ‘Probably just the airing cupboard,’ said Megan, who was already halfway down the stairs, keen to kick-start negotiations.

  Curious, I twisted the ceramic doorknob. The door opened with a loud creak. ‘Wow,’ I said, exhaling a loud breath when I saw what lay on the other side. ‘I wasn’t expecting this.’

  Megan stopped and looked over her shoulder. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Come and see for yourself.’ I took a couple of steps into the room. It was small, little more than a box room, and contained an old-fashioned bureau with a drop-down leaf lined in green leather, a battered Lloyd Loom chair and a single low bookcase. The walls were tongue-and-groove beneath a low dado rail and painted a soothing shade of green.

  Megan appeared at my side. ‘I don’t remember it saying anything about a study in the advert,’ she said, looking around the room in wonderment.

  ‘No, but what a fantastic bonus,’ I said, imagining the possibilities. ‘Just think, we’ll be able to use this when we’re working from home, instead of cluttering up the kitchen table with our laptops.’

  ‘But I never work from home,’ Megan pointed out, not unreasonably.

  ‘Oh well, you can always come in here when you’re doing your online dating. I’m sure you could use some privacy while you’re sending your topless selfies,’ I said, nudging her playfully in the ribs.

  ‘Cheeky mare,’ she retorted.

  ‘Only teasing, hon,’ I said, hooking an arm around her neck. ’You know I love you really.’ I dropped my voice to a whisper. ‘Seriously, Meg, we have to knock the landlord down on the rent; I think I’ll die if we don’t get this house.’

  Megan nodded in agreement. ‘Leave it to me.’

  We found the landlord still in the kitchen, fiddling with something under the sink.

  ‘Had a good look, have you?’ he said, pushing down hard on his thighs as he eased himself up.

  ‘Yes,’ Megan said. ‘And we’d like to make an offer.’

  The landlord held up his hands like a policeman directing traffic. ‘Oh no, I’m not accepting any offers. I’ve done my research, I know what places go for round here and I think the rent is more than reasonable.’

  I felt a childish stab of disappointment.

  ‘Um, OK,’ said Megan, her confidence clearly wavering. ‘The rent might be reasonable, but unfortunately we just can’t afford it. Surely there’s a little bit of wiggle room?’

  The landlord sighed wearily. ‘Sorry, the answer’s still no. You’re not the only people interested. I’ve got two more viewings booked for tomorrow.’

  I gave an audible groan. ‘But we’d be model tenants. We’ve both got good jobs and can provide you with excellent references.’

  ‘That’s all very well, but references aren’t going to pay the mortgage.’

  I caught my bottom lip in my teeth and flashed a panicky look at Megan.

  ‘Please,’ said Megan. ‘We really love this place.’

  We stood in silence, nobody willing to break the deadlock. Then the landlord tucked his chin in to his neck, as if he was gathering his thoughts. ‘There is another option,’ he said.

  I looked at him expectantly. ‘Yes?’

  ‘The study,’ he went on. ‘I know it’s small – most of it was sacrificed when my sister put in the upstairs bathroom – but it could be converted to a third bedroom. I’d be happy to remove the existing furniture and put in a single bed and a chest of drawers. I might even be able to squeeze in a wardrobe.’

  Megan frowned, as if she didn’t understand where he was going with this. ‘And then what?’

  He threw his hands in the air in an impatient gesture. ‘And then you’d have to find a third person to share with you. Given the size of the room, they’d have to pay less rent than you two, that’s only fair.’

  Relief surfed through me but then, to my dismay, Megan started shaking her head.

  ‘I’m sorry, but that’s not going to work,’ she said. ‘We’ve both had a gut full of sharing with other people. We want—’

  She stopped mid-sentence, silenced by the arm I’d just flung across her sternum.

  ‘I think that sounds like an excellent idea,’ I said smartly. Ignoring Megan’s sharp intake of breath, I offered my hand to the landlord. ‘We’ve got a deal; when can we sign the contract?’

  3

  Megan

  It was two weeks since we’d moved in to Bellevue Rise and the place was already beginning to feel like home. Before we turned our attention to looking for a housemate, we decided to spend a little time getting Number 46 just the way we wanted it, even if it did mean we had to cover the entire rent in the meantime. The gloomy hallway was practically unrecognisable. The botanical prints had been replaced by a series of cheerful abstracts that Chloe had liberated from the theatre’s props room, along with an Oriental carpet runner and a pair of matching Art Deco-style lampshades. The sitting room had been brought to life with brand-new cushions, over-sized table lamps and my beautiful Moroccan throws, and upstairs, the dreary brocade curtains in the bedrooms had been swapped for pretty voiles we bought at a knockdown price in the market down the road. True to his word, the landlord had remodelled the old study and, while there was no escaping its challenging dimensions, it was now a neat and functional single bedroom with a modicum of storage.

  A few days ago we’d posted an advert on a ‘spare room’ website. Thanks to the comparatively low rent we were asking, we’d received a healthy number of enquiries – which, after much animated discussion, Chloe and I had whittled down to a shortlist of six. We interviewed the first candidate yesterday and I can sum up the experience in one word: awkward. She wasn’t unpleasant exactly; it’s just that we had absolutely nothing in common. Chloe and I aren’t fussy; we’re not expecting to find a friend for life. We just want someone with similar interests, someone who’s sociable and easy to live with. Someone normal. Needless to say, both of us were hoping today’s candidate would be an improvement.

  ‘What’s her name again?’ Chloe asked as we tidied up the sitting room in advance of her arrival.

  I refolded a throw and draped it over the arm of the sofa. ‘Samantha Charlesworth; she’s thirty-two and self-employed. Her email didn’t give much else away.’

  Chloe glanced at the grandfather clock. ‘She’s due in fifteen minutes, just time to stick the kettle on.’

  I winced,
recalling yesterday’s torturous encounter. ‘Is it too early for something stronger?’

  Chloe gave a mild shrug. ‘Quarter to six; nearly G and T time.’

  ‘Perfect,’ I said. ‘Make mine a large one. Plenty of ice, please.’

  *

  I was surprised when, a mere five minutes later, the doorbell’s weedy chimes sounded. Tossing down the cushion I was plumping, I hurried out into the hall. When I opened the front door, standing on the doorstep was a tall, slender woman with a strong nose and a big mouth that was slightly parted to reveal an attractive overbite. She was stylishly dressed in black cigarette trousers, skyscraper wedges and a coral-coloured poncho.

  ‘Sorry, I know I’m early,’ the woman said, running a hand through her hair, causing the eclectic row of silver bracelets on her wrist to jangle. ‘I had no idea the trains south of the river were so efficient; I thought it would take me a lot longer to get here.’

  ‘Hi,’ I said, stepping back from the door. ‘I’m Megan and I guess you must be Samantha.’

  ‘Yes,’ the woman replied with a smile. ‘But everyone calls me Sammi.’

  I heard Chloe’s footsteps behind me. ‘Hi, Sammi, I’m Chloe, come on in,’ she called out over my shoulder.

  As Sammi stepped over the threshold, Chloe gestured to the bottle of Hendrick’s in her hand. ‘Meg and I were just about to have a drink. Care to join us?’

  Sammi gave the faintest incline of her head. ‘Thank you, that would be lovely; it’s been a very long day at the office.’ She was well spoken enough, but I thought I detected a faint Estuary twang.

  ‘What is it you do exactly?’ I enquired as I closed the door behind her.

  Sammi’s hazel eyes flickered over my body briefly, before her gaze returned to my face. ‘I’m a freelance fashion journalist. I mainly work from home, but I’m doing some shifts at Marie Claire this week.’

  I must admit I was impressed. So, apparently, was Chloe. ‘Wow, that must be amazing. Do you get to go to all the shows?’ she asked eagerly.

  ‘Some of them; I covered Milan last year and I’m in the process of setting up some post-show interviews with up-and-coming designers at London Fashion Week.’

  Even more impressive. ‘Sounds like a fun way to earn a living,’ I remarked.

  ‘I know,’ she replied, putting her hands to her cheeks coquettishly. ‘I’ve been doing this job for more than ten years and I’m still pinching myself. What do you do, Megan?’

  ‘I’m a pharmacist; I work in a hospital.’

  ‘How wonderful; I imagine a job like that gives you a lot of satisfaction,’ she said silkily. ‘And I bet you meet all sorts of interesting people.’

  I threw a hand in the air in a polite display of modesty. ‘It has its rewards.’

  ‘Right then, Sammi, why don’t I show you round while Megan pours the drinks?’ Chloe said, thrusting the Hendrick’s into my hands. ‘Her gin and tonics are way better than mine.’

  Sammi’s face split in a wide smile. ‘Sounds like a plan.’

  4

  Chloe

  The tour of the house took longer than I expected. Our guest was enthusiastic and talkative, full of compliments about the quirky furniture, the clever styling, the period features. As I took her from room to room, I found myself warming to her more and more. Despite her confident manner and well-groomed appearance, it seemed to me that there was something wild and elemental lurking just below Sammi’s glossy exterior. Her whole being seemed to bristle with energy as if she might glow with the force of her own coiled energy if we turned off the lights.

  ‘I was just about to send out a search party,’ Megan said wryly as we concluded our tour in the sitting room.

  ‘Sorry, it’s totally my fault,’ said Sammi. ‘I just can’t get enough of this place. I made Chloe show me every last nook and cranny.’ She made an expressive gesture with her French-manicured hands. ‘But I see you saved the best till last. This room is absolutely stunning. I love the bay window and that fireplace is to die for.’

  ‘You approve of our humble abode then?’ Megan asked.

  ‘I love it,’ Sammi said, as her restless eyes continued to roam the room. ‘You two are so lucky to live here.’

  Megan scooped up a bulbous gin glass from the nearest side table and handed it to Sammi. ‘What about the room, though? It’s pretty small; I know I wouldn’t be able to fit all my stuff in there.’

  Sammi shrugged. ‘Honestly, it’s not a problem; I travel pretty light.’

  ‘I bet you’ve got heaps of clothes, though,’ I said.

  ‘Not really,’ Sammi murmured, taking a sip of her drink.

  ‘So where are you living at the moment?’ Megan asked.

  ‘A flat share on the District Line,’ she replied, rather vaguely. ‘But I’m ready for a change of scene. I don’t want to sound harsh, but the people I live with are starting to get on my nerves.’

  I nodded in empathy. ‘Megan and I have had our share of irritating housemates over the past few years.’ I sat down on the sofa and gestured for Sammi to do likewise. ‘Please, make yourself comfortable. We’ve got a few questions to ask you, if that’s OK.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, sinking elegantly into the nearest chair. ‘Ask me anything you like.’

  ‘We’ll start with an easy one,’ said Megan as she joined me on the sofa. ‘What do you like to do in your spare time?’

  Sammi crossed one leg over the other and laced her fingers around her knee. If she was nervous, it didn’t show. ‘Let’s see now . . . I go to the gym a couple of times a week and I enjoy reading – nothing very highbrow, just whatever’s in the bestseller lists. But my big passion is cooking. A few years ago, I spent the summer in Tuscany and learned how to make authentic Italian food – not the fancy stuff, just honest, rustic home cooking, the sort of food real Italians eat.’

  I smacked my lips together. ‘I love Italian. Unfortunately, it doesn’t love my waistline quite so much.’

  Sammi’s eyelashes fluttered. ‘I know the feeling.’

  I found that hard to believe; Sammi didn’t look as if she had an ounce of spare flesh on her.

  ‘OK, question number two – and sorry if this sounds a bit nosey – but do you have a partner? It doesn’t matter either way, it’s just so we know if we should expect any overnight guests.’

  Sammi shook her head. ‘My last serious relationship ended last year. How about you two?’

  ‘I’m single,’ said Megan glumly. ‘But not for the want of trying.’

  Sammi raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Online dating?’

  ‘Guilty as charged.’

  ‘In that case you’ll have to give me some tips. I must admit I’ve only dipped my toe in the water, but so far all I’ve caught are sharks and tiddlers. Honestly, I sometimes wonder where all the decent men in London are hiding.’

  Megan made a sympathetic moue. ‘I keep asking Chloe’s boyfriend to fix me up with one of his friends, but he claims they’re all gay or married.’

  ‘How long have you and your boyfriend been together?’ Sammi asked me.

  ‘Not long; we’re just coming up to our six-month anniversary,’ I replied, feeling myself smile, the way I always did whenever I talked about Tom.

  ‘How did you guys meet?’

  ‘At work. I’m a stage designer at a theatre in Pimlico and Tom’s a freelance sound engineer. He worked on one of our productions at the beginning of the year, but now he’s got a contract with a film company in Soho.’

  ‘You two sound like a real pair of high fliers.’

  I swirled the ice cubes around my glass. ‘We just love what we do, I think that’s the most important thing.’

  ‘Tom’s such a sweetheart,’ Megan said. ‘I reckon he’s the best thing that ever happened to Chloe – apart from me, of course.’

  Sammi smiled. ‘Are you two super close then?’

  ‘Yeah, Chloe knows me inside out and back to front.’

  I nodded vigorously. ‘We’re mo
re like sisters than friends.’

  ‘How lovely,’ Sammi said, brushing a stray hair from her poncho. ‘Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?’

  I let out a long sigh. I wasn’t sure these questions served any useful purpose; either you gelled with someone or you didn’t. ‘I don’t know about anyone else, but I’ve had enough of this stupid interrogation,’ I said. ‘Personally, I’d rather hear some gossip from the catwalks.’

  Sammi’s tawny eyes glowed like copper. ‘So where would you like me to start?’

  Darkness was falling by the time Sammi departed. My inhibitions loosened after a couple of gin and tonics, I hugged her on the doorstep and promised to be in touch soon. I stood in the doorway and watched her as she walked to the end of the road, her sheet of chocolate hair shining under the street lights.

  ‘I think that went really well, don’t you?’ I said, as I returned to the sitting room.

  Megan nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yeah, she’s all right, and I think she was quite taken with the house.’

  I sat down on the sofa and hugged a cushion to my chest. ‘I think Sammi would make a great housemate; in fact, I reckon we’d be hard pushed to find anyone better.’

  Megan looked at me strangely. ‘How can you say that when we’ve only interviewed two people so far?’

  ‘I don’t know, there’s something about her . . . it’s hard to put into words; it just seems like she’d be a good fit.’

  ‘I don’t think we should make any hasty decisions,’ said Megan, practical as ever. ‘Perhaps Sammi only looks good in comparison to yesterday’s candidate – and the only way we can eliminate that bias is to meet the other four contenders.’

  I shook my head in amusement. ‘You always analyse things in such a scientific way, Meg.’

  ‘Do I?’ she said, frowning.

  ‘Yes – you think with your head, I think with my heart. That’s why we make a good team.’

  Megan went quiet and began pulling at her bottom lip, the way she always did when she was thinking. ‘Don’t you think Sammi’s rather polished?’ she said at length.