‘An outsider who is cool, capable and, critically, female,’ Arthur said. ‘One who can get us back up to standard, as it were. Whip us into shape. Teach us where we’re going wrong…’
‘Get Elsa to change her mind and go grave hunting with Arthur, and Connie to give Isaac a chance,’ Elliot clarified.
‘What on earth are you talking about?’ I was incredulous.
‘Oh I don’t know,’ Isaac mumbled, hunching over his drink. ‘Show us some skills. How to cook a nice meal. Help us decorate the games room. Find a social life outside of the Cup.’
‘Stop calling it the games room, for a start.’
‘Excellent tip, thanks Jessie!’ Arthur said. ‘Isaac and I would also like some help with conversational techniques, style and things to do on a first date. Oh, and Isaac would like to know how to stop acting like an arse in front of Connie.’
‘And Arthur would like to know how to stop acting like a freak in front of everyone,’ Isaac snarked back.
‘You’re talking to the wrong person. Have you tried watchingQueer Eye?’
‘I did tell them,’ Elliot sighed.
‘And where do you come into all this?’ I asked, daring to flick my eyes in Elliot’s direction because he seemed like the sanest person there.
‘Elliot also needs help with cooking, conversational skills and broadening his interests,’ Arthur said. ‘He hasn’t had a date in a very long time.’
‘Because I haven’t wanted a date!’ Elliot said, his cheeks reddening. ‘I don’t want any help with anything to do with women. But, well, if you are up for this then I could do with some practical support if I oust Simonson from the Harriers and take over as manager.’
‘Dude!’ Isaac exclaimed, offering Elliot a high-five which he sheepishly accepted. ‘About time!’
‘This is all well and good,’ I interrupted. ‘But what does it have to do with my financial situation? You can’t possibly be talking about paying me to be some sort of relationship coach.’
‘How does a 50 per cent rent decrease sound?’ Isaac said, quickly.
Oh my goodness. They can’t be serious?
I took a long, slow look at my housemates and concluded that they were deadly serious.
I thought about it.
Took a few sips of tea. Noted that Elliot had added a blob of honey, how I used to drink it before.
Thought about it some more.
Weighed up my horrific financial situation against, what, teaching them a couple of easy recipes, a shopping trip and redoing the living room so that I actually enjoyed living in it?
I steeled my shoulders, banged my mug on the table a bit too hard and made up my mind.
‘Go on then. What’s the worst that can happen?’
‘Yes!’ Arthur stood up and started doing some sort of celebration dance, with thrusting hips and arms pumping either side of his chest.
‘Okay, so far that dance is the worst thing. And I’m not formally agreeing unless we establish some ground rules… the first of which is no twerking.’
* * *
A couple of hours later, aided by various carbohydrate-laden leftovers from lunch, we’d scrubbed the past two years’ Chimney Cup results off one half of the living room whiteboard and replaced it with a draft contract. This included firm boundaries about what I would, and more importantly would not, be required to do. I insisted upon a list of clear, specified tasks, and an end date of three months from now (by which point I would have almost paid off the energy bill and hopefully whittled away some of my debt, too). There was also an opt-out clause in case Seb arrived back before then, or the whole thing simply proved to be a disaster.
Arthur wanted to include a guarantee that he’d have a date by the end of it. I reminded him that since Elsa had free-will, that wouldn’t be possible.
He also insisted on giving it a name. ‘How about “Get the Guys a Girl”?’
‘The Re-Entry Project?’ Isaac suggested.
