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I continue wandering around. There’s a decent-sized second bedroom; I don’t imagine I’ll be having many overnight guests, but it might make a good study, and a proper bathroom, which is also nicely fitted out. Miranda also shows me the other entrance via the communal stairwell. As she described, there’s only one other flat in this stairwell, with the front door directly opposite mine.
‘It’s really lovely,’ I say to Miranda after I’ve seen everything. ‘Can I think about it and give you a call in the week?’
‘Of course you can,’ she replies. ‘Although I have to warn you that I have three other viewings of this flat lined up today, and one of them is a second viewing, so I don’t expect it to hang around for long.’
Why does that always happen? I’m paralysed with indecision as I take another walk around. It really is lovely, and I can see myself living here, but I hate being pressured into a major decision like this. What if the neighbours are all nightmarish, or it turns out that the car park is a major drug-dealing spot? Miranda obviously senses my unease.
‘Is there anything else you need to know?’ she asks. ‘I forgot to mention that there is a dedicated car parking space, which is pretty much at the bottom of the communal stairwell, so you don’t have far to walk from your car. There are security lights as well and, from what I understand, most of the people who live here are either professionals commuting to London, or they run the businesses on the ground floor.’
I’m still undecided as Miranda locks up and we walk down the communal staircase together. I think I’d feel happier if I knew anything at all about the neighbours. God (if he exists) is obviously listening and having a laugh, because the bottom door opens just as we reach it, and the man from the train steps back to let us out. He’s obviously had time to get changed, as he’s now dressed in blue jeans under a rugby top. It’s clear that he recognises me as well, and I sense he’s feeling the awkwardness of the situation just as much as I am.
‘Excuse me,’ I say to him. ‘Is this where you live?’
‘Umm, yes,’ he replies, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘I’m in the flat opposite the one I assume you’ve just been viewing.’
‘I see. Do you like it here?’ I continue.
‘I do. The rear-facing flats like mine and the one you’ve just seen are the best ones, because they get better light and they’re away from the main road. Plus you’re only about five minutes’ walk from the station, which is convenient if you need to get to London.’ He stops himself. ‘I’m sorry,’ he continues. ‘I guess you already know that part.’
‘I do,’ I smile.
‘I’m not usually on the train on a Saturday, but I had a work thing last night.’ He stops again and blushes, obviously realising this is way too much information. ‘Is there anything else you’d like to know? There’s a really nice café on the ground floor, if that’s your thing. That’s not an invitation, by the way. Sorry, I’m not very good at this stuff.’ He’s blushing furiously and the awkwardness hangs in the air like a cloud.
‘That’s really helpful, thank you,’ I tell him, and he practically bolts upstairs, slamming the flat door behind him. Once he’s gone, I turn back to Miranda. ‘I’ll take it,’ I tell her.
‘Excellent. You won’t regret it, I’m sure,’ she replies. She gives me a lift to her office, where we fill in the mountain of paperwork that goes with these things, I pay the deposit and she promises to get in touch with a moving date as soon as she’s taken up my references. She offers to run me back to the station, but I decline. It’s a nice day, and it will give me a chance to have a look at my new home town while I walk back down the hill. On the way up in the car, it seemed that there were just two main streets, but I discover a wealth of little alleys running between them, with interesting-looking shops and cafés. It’s not London, but there’s a surprising amount here. It’ll do, I reckon, although I’m glad I bought the car. Apart from getting to the station and back, I’ve not had much need for the car as most of my work has been either in London or in places that are easy to reach by train. A bit of internet searching shows that, although there is a small supermarket around fifteen minutes’ walk from the flat, the large superstores are both a couple of miles away, so the car is going to come in handy.
I fire up Nutsy the Squirrel again once I’m back on the platform, and I finally manage to complete level two as the train pulls into London Bridge. Level three, however, looks completely impossible. As well as having to chase away the other squirrels, there are now dogs that will chase you and eat you if they get close enough. I’ve lost several Nutsys to the dogs by the time I reach Uckfield, and I’m no closer to working out what the secret of this level is.
* * *
Once I get home, I start making a list of all the things I’m going to need, and I realise I’m going to have to ask to borrow some more money from Dad, as the costs soon start to mount up beyond my means. I’ve got a little bit left from the sale of the Land Rover and the money they lent me to begin with but, until my divorce settlement comes though, it’s not even going to cover the basics such as furniture. I’m not going to actually order anything until Miranda has confirmed that everything is in place, but it’s still fun to scan the websites and see what my limited budget might get me. Whenever I see something I like, I make a note of it so I can come back to it and order later. By the time I’ve finished, the list is a quirky mix of things from Argos and IKEA, and I’ve also decided to investigate some second-hand shops when I get time, to see if I can pick up things like sofas, chairs, and tables cheaply. The only thing I can’t sort out are curtains, because I didn’t measure the windows. I drop an email to Miranda to ask if she can get the measurements for me, but it’s after closing time, so I doubt I’ll hear back until Monday.
I’m definitely feeling optimistic though, and this is reinforced when Dad agrees to lend me another couple of thousand pounds, which is more than enough for the items I’ve selected. Even the loss of another four Nutsys and my abject failure to complete level three is not enough to dent my mood. I ring Di and fill her in on the events of the day and, although she’s cautious to begin with and worried about how I’ll cope ‘so far from London’, she’s very intrigued when I tell her about the man on the train who is to be my new neighbour.
‘Is he good-looking?’ is her first question.
‘I’m going to stop you there,’ I reply. ‘I’m not even divorced yet, and I’m certainly not in any hurry to get involved with anyone. Plus, he’s super shy, I reckon.’
‘Still, no harm in a bit of window-shopping so you know what you’re looking for when you’re ready to buy,’ she laughs.
The final piece of good news is a letter from Alison, the lawyer. She tells me that James has agreed to a financial settlement of two hundred and forty thousand pounds. Despite the modest size of the financial settlement in Watson & Fletcher’s eyes, the process of reaching agreement has been surprisingly torturous. After receiving the initial demand, James’ solicitors deducted five thousand for the Land Rover, which turned out to have been sitting in a barn for years before he got Tony to fix whatever was wrong with it and gave it to me. Alison then promptly slapped on another fifteen thousand for the MX-5, as he’d obviously either pocketed the cash or given it to his father. He was predictably furious at first, apparently, but couldn’t come up with a convincing story about where the money had gone, so it stayed in. Then he tried to plead poverty, but Alison told him she knew all about the hundred-acre plot, and that seems to have finally shut him up.
The most surprising thing of all, though, given the fact that I was dating him for three years and married to him for four, is how little of my head space he occupies these days.
20
After what has felt, at times, like the longest six weeks of my life, it’s moving day tomorrow! To be fair, I’ve had the keys to the flat for a couple of weeks, but the furniture has been arriving in dribs and drabs and the curtains are finally supposed to be arriving in the morning. There was no way I could move in without curtains, but Gerald has been a star, going over regularly to receive deliveries or assemble flat-pack furniture while I’ve been at work. It’s starting to look quite homely, from the pictures he’s sent me, and I’m looking forward to getting in there and having my own space again. I loaded my clothes and things into the car as soon as I got home from work, so I’m all ready to set off in the morning. Gerald is going over first thing to be there when the curtains come and assemble the final pieces of furniture, and I’m going to do a food shop on the way and join him a bit later.
‘Are you all set for your move tomorrow?’ Dad asks.
‘I think so. Gerald has been incredibly helpful, so everything is pretty much ready to go.’
‘You’re his favourite human being at the moment, from what I’ve heard. He’s absolutely thrilled with that Land Rover. Have you seen it?’
‘No.’
‘Let’s sneak out and take a look before dinner. I have to admit that I’m a little curious myself.’
