Page 20 of Mad About You
‘Apparently there were problems with the last one, so he booted him and wants someone in ASAP. Can’t have it empty because his mortgage is a bitch, I’m guessing.’
‘The other occupant is also the landlord?’
‘Yeah, he owns it.’
‘Why did he buy a house that’s too big for him?’
‘Harriet, I am the letting agent, not his official biographer.’
Living with her own landlord? What could be more appealing? He’d be having cold rage fits at every coffee cup ring.
Harriet thanked Roxy for her discovery, thinking it’d beeasier to deter her via messaging, and rang off. Her WhatsApp pinged with a set of photos. She leaned against the wall of the corridor and clicked through them, as the champagne-laced squawking continued in the bridal suite.
Alright, itwaslovely. Aesthetic splendour was not a thing Harriet expected or wanted in her stopgap rental, and she was surprised to be so carried away by it.
The semi was the end of a row, a handsome box in proper old Yorkshire grey stone, covered in Virginia creeper. The door was a vibrant glossy orange. The interiors were an exercise in discreet peacockery – lots of dramatic yet dusty wall colours, fashionable appliances and potted palms. Lorna would approve.
Not to stereotype, but if this was a straight man, he was one with an arty design job. Harriet had never known one who’d choose a Coca-Cola red Smeg fridge, or the star pendant light in the front room, or the sleigh bed in the master bedroom.
The garden was abundant with roses and there was a swing seat at the far end. Off to the side, a long picnic table had a canopy of fairy lights strung above it. Every setting implored you to fill it. It saidInsert Your Life Here. Not that Harriet had much of one.
Damn you, Roxy. She’d found something that was nothing like the brief and somehow exactly what Harriet wanted.
Another ping. A business card for a ‘Cal Clarke’ and a text.
Seriously H call him because I fully expect this to disappear in the blink of an eye. Check out the master suite bathroom. I want a copper bath, a chandelier and that blue-black paint
Actually that’d been the only element of the décor to give Harriet pause. It was chic but also a bit ‘sex people.’ That said, she’d not be using his quarters. As long as he didn’t have sex in it too loudly.
Sod it, she’d ring Mr Cal Clarke, she’d find out he somehow had seven informal visits lined up for Monday already and it’d not be worth being the eighth, and that’d be that. She didn’t want to ignore Roxy’s find as she could be petulant as well as impetuous – she might take it badly if Harriet didn’t follow it up.
A youthful, confident-sounding man answered after two rings.
‘Hello, this is Cal.’
‘Hi I’m Harriet Hatley. I’m interested in the room you’re letting and wonder if I could make an appointment at the start of next week to view it?’
Was there anything worse than cold calling a stranger?
‘Oh, hi. That was fast! The ad’s not even live yet, is it?’
Harriet squirmed and hummed and ahhed noncommittally. She had a very different constitution to Roxy.
‘I’m busy Monday and Tuesday with work, actually. I’ve got something on Wednesday, too. I should’ve thought of this when I chucked the listing up, shouldn’t I?’
‘Ah OK. Maybe Thursday?’
‘Thursday is … sod it, do you know, I’ve got to be honest, I hate this rigmarole. The last guy spent an hour chatting on my sofa and got through two cups of builder’s and a flapjack, and I still failed to spot the fact he was a loon. We could just do this on the phone, now?’
‘OK … I haven’t seen the house?’
‘You’ve got the link?’
‘Yep.’
‘That’s pretty much the deal. Fully furnished. There’s no rising damp or car up on bricks we manoeuvred the photos around, it’s a nice-looking place in good nick. You’ve got the second bedroom with an en suite, and I work long hours so I won’t be competing with you for the kitchen much either. Rent is bills included and that covers the cleaner too.’
Ooh. Financially, Harriet couldn’t fault it. Itwouldbe nice to have spare income …
