‘Oh, Lilly! Thank you for taking him, you’re a lifesaver – how did he go in?’ Clodagh folded the apron for the coffee shop into her tote and pulled her hair into its pineapple on top of her head.
‘He was great, no crowbar needed. There was lots of dinosaur chatter and he asked me to keep this stick safe.’ She held the thing aloft.
‘God, not another stick! We have quite the collection already. Feel free to accidentally lose it.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it! A promise is a promise.’
‘So, you’re seeing the developer guy again today?’ Clodagh sighed, clearly aware that it was a delicate topic.
‘Yes. Later this morning. I’m conflicted. I want to get it over and done with and let him say his piece, keen to say mine, too, but I’d rather not have to see him at all.’
‘I understand that.’ Clodagh reached out and placed her hand on the arm of Lilly’s floral kimono, the belt of which she had wound around her head and wore as a kind of turban to keep her grey locks at bay.
‘I’m also going to write again to our useless MP, Mr Passmore, if nothing else to keep in his conscience, to let him know I’m not just going to roll over.’
‘Good for you, Lilly.’ The girl hesitated, as if nervous to speak openly. ‘They’ve offered us a flat in Kennington. I have thirty days to decide.’
‘Kennington? Not too far away,’ Lilly added with optimism, knowing that a twenty-minute walk might as well be another country when it came to daily habits and routine. Wherever they went, it would never be as good as hearing them laugh on the stairs, having Clodagh pop in, or the sound of her knock on the door when she was in search of tea and sympathy.
‘I guess not. But if I say yes, it means Apollo can stay at his school.’ The young woman spoke with a certain reticence, as if she might be letting the side down. Not that Lilly viewed it in this way, not at all.
‘Well, that’s a good thing.’ Lilly hated the thought of everyone moving on and moving out. Not that she had any intention of doing either. Equally, she knew that a lack of housing security for Clodagh and Apollo meant it was probably smart to take what was on offer and make it permanent. The best thing to allow them to settle.
Mrs Veerswamy had, unsurprisingly, already accepted a move to Bromley to be nearer her son and his wife. And Mr Chaplin in flat four was apparently being moved into residential care at a place in Walworth. Not that she saw much of him any more. Various carers popping in and out gave her updates. He was the second-longest resident of Waide House after herself. She remembered with fondness his late wife, Alma, who used to smoke out of the window, and their daughter, Judy, who moved to Canada decades ago. Alma had bought Lilly a paperweight for her birthday one year. She still had it somewhere. And the kindness of the Chaplins on that day when she had almost fallen apart ...
‘Do you want me to change my shift at work? I can try and wangle it so I’m here for the meeting?’ Clodagh’s offer was touching. She wished Glenda could have heard it.
‘Goodness, no! I can handle Mr Vaughan. Off you pop. Come in for a cuppa later and I’ll fill you in.’
‘Yes, I will. I’ll bring unsold cake!’ Clodagh called as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
Lilly placed the stick in the corner of the hallway, propped behind the door. The brochure forThe Fortescuewas on the table. It was impossible to imagine: the shiny kitchens, fancy bathrooms, spacious open-plan living rooms, floor-to-ceiling windows, communal spaces with velvet sofas, the vast chandeliers, and a bloody rooftop swimming pool! All on the footprint of this little development. Were it not her home that was at risk, it would have been nothing but impressive. She put the kettle on to boil, then was drawn by a knock at the door.
‘Hello, Mrs Cooper?’ a voice she recognised called through the letterbox.
‘Mr Vaughan!’ She stared at the little metal flap, now raised and through which he spoke.
‘Yes.’ He seemed a little out of puff. ‘I’m aware I’m horribly early.’
‘Two hours early,’ she pointed out.
‘Yes, I know. Thing is, I now have to be in Romford this afternoon and wondered if it might be possible for us to chat now, so I can fit it all in.’
‘You see, that bothers me, Mr Vaughan. The assumption that I am simply at home waiting for you to turn up. I might have plans, places to be, people to meet!’
‘Do you – have places to be, people to meet?’
‘That’s not the point!’ she snapped. ‘I don’t have to let you in!’
Lilly Cooper knew her rights.
He stood his ground. ‘I am not asking to come in, Mrs Cooper—’
‘For the umpteenth time, it’sMiss!’ she interrupted him, riled by so much more than his inability to address her properly and the fact he was in her space, upsetting her morning, bringing this horrible, horrible possibility of having to move out to her front door.
‘My apologies,MissCooper,’ he enunciated. ‘What I’m proposing is that you let me in so we can talk face to face. Things are tricky enough without us having to converse through the letterbox.’
‘I agree, so let’s not converse at all!’ she suggested, pulling her kimono close around her body, leaning on the wall of the hallway, feeling the bite of the defunct storage heater against the back of her legs. It happened this way sometimes, when she got up too quickly or hadn’t eaten; she felt a little light-headed, a bit chilly in her bones. Her eyes sought out the dent in the wainscot where her dad had once chased a visiting mouse with a hockey stick.
