I’d call round later. It would be nicer to give the great news in person, and Ellen might need help looking for her phone.
I was rereading the email for the ten-thousandth time and musing over how Mack had played down the fact that his ‘contacts’ who could help with the comic included a wife who wrote bestsellers for a giant publishing company, when two cars pulled up in the clearing. I’d done a sterling job of ignoring the slamming doors and clacking heels the night before, but this time I peeped out to see the estate agent climb out of one car. And then Ashley emerged from the other.
If her grin had been any bigger it would’ve swallowed the clearing up whole.
My heart sank even as my mouth let out a bark of nervous, guilty laughter. Ashley had been right – it was a cunning plan. Then, as I watched through the window, two more cars screeched up, doors flinging open to let half the members of the book club spill out, followed by what seemed to be an impossible number of small children.
Ellen and her youngest four, Kiko with Lily, balancing Hannah on one hip. Sarah with Edison and Lucille with her eight-year-old son, Toronto. I careened out of the back door and round to the front without even thinking about putting some shoes on first.
The adults were now assembled in front of the bewildered estate agent, while the kids clustered round the bottom of a tree, watching Toronto dangle from one of the branches.
The estate agent was protesting. ‘The appointment was made with Naomi Brook. Nobody else is allowed in. It’s policy.’
There were nudges and rolled eyes. Naomi Brook was the main character inThe Gingerbread House.
‘We are not letting her loose in that house alone,’ Ellen muttered, out of the agent’s earshot.
‘That can’t be true,’ Kiko, straightening her newfound backbone, said. ‘What if we all want to buy the house together, as a rental property?’
‘Then you should have told me in advance. The owners have asked for particular discretion in this case. And I can’t possibly allow children inside. I’m sorry.’
By this point, the owners had come to investigate. Hillary pushed her sunglasses up past her perfect fringe, frowning. ‘Is there a problem here?’
The estate agent whirled around. ‘No!’ she simpered. ‘It’s handled. I’ve explained that viewings are by named appointments only. The others will have to arrange something for another time. This isn’t an open house, after all! Now, Naomi, would you like to come this way?’
Naomi Brook appeared to be frozen to the spot. The only thing indicating she remained alive was her continuously changing complexion, like a lava lamp, fading from white to pink, through to green then back to white again.
Sarah, never one to wait and see what happened when she could instead prod someone into action, did precisely that, with a good hard poke in the ribs. ‘Urgh,’ Naomi/Ashley groaned, then sucked in an enormous, gasping breath as though she had literally forgotten to breathe for a few minutes.
She stammered. ‘I… I love you.’
‘Right.’ Hillary rolled her eyes. ‘Mack, keep an eye on her. And I don’t see why everyone can’t look round. The kids can stay outside. Julie can watch them. Maybe we’ll get a little bidding war going.’ She tossed her head at the estate agent. ‘If you’d been doing your job properly, you’d have thought of that. Now, are you showing them or do you need me to do that too?’
‘Wait,’ Mack said, sounding more than a little resigned.
‘What?’ Hillary snapped.
‘Who’s Julie?’ Kiko asked. ‘I’m not leaving my baby with a stranger.’
‘I think that would be me,’ I said. ‘Julie, Jenny… same difference.’
‘These people don’t want to buy the house.’ Mack sighed.
‘Shut up, Mack.’ Hillary spoke through gritted teeth. ‘They haven’t looked at it yet.’
‘They’re Jenny’s friends.’
‘Who’s Jenny?’
‘Julie.’
‘For the record, I’m more of an acquaintance,’ Lucille chipped in.
‘Is this true?’ Hillary whirled on me. ‘Is this another one of your attempts to sabotage my house sale? You’ve got a bloody nerve.’
‘How would this sabotage the house sale?’ I asked, hackles rising.
‘Because once this genuine buyer saw all these feral children rampaging about—’ a fair enough description, as illustrated by the triplets now charging past brandishing sticks, while Toronto waddled after them lugging a boulder ‘—they’d obviously not want to move here.’
