The Open House

‘It was Facebook, not a dating site – although that’s the way a lot of people meet and fall in love these days anyway, Mum. Amber’s not stupid, she’d have been careful; wouldn’t have let it get this far if she wasn’t sure about him.’

‘Facebook is on the internet – so, same difference in my eyes. People do strange things when they think they’re in love, Nick. Act out of character, rush into things. Ignore warning signs, brushing away niggles and papering over the person’s bad characteristics thinking they can “change them”. This Richard could be a paedophile for all we know.’

‘Seriously, you don’t think I’ve had a colleague check him out? Come on, Mum.’

‘Hmm … well. If he hasn’t been caught doing anything untoward, then his name won’t have flagged up any alarm bells, now would it?’

‘I trust Amber’s judgement. And I’m sure they’ll all be very happy. That’s good enough for me.’

I stare out of the window.

It isn’t good enough for me, though.

Chapter Eight

Amber

‘You kept that quiet!’ Jo leans against the doorframe, waving a piece of paper in her hand.

‘What’s that?’ I say.

She steps inside the hallway and unfolds the paper, holding it up in front of my face.

OPEN HOUSE is printed on the top with a photo of my house underneath.

‘Ahh, no. I forgot.’ I usher Jo into the lounge. ‘The boys’ abduction took precedence,’ I say jokingly – which is easier to do now the situation has blown over. Carl certainly didn’t hang around, making up leaflets and distributing them so quickly. I’d only agreed to it on Friday morning.

‘I hope it works. As much as I will hate for you not to be around the corner from me – and hate even more that you’re moving to where we came from – I can’t wait to know you’re happily getting on with your life post-Nick.’

‘Thank you, Jo. I hope that too. Ironic, isn’t it? We’ll have literally swapped locations!’

‘I certainly didn’t see that coming,’ Jo says, giving a shrug. ‘Perhaps we’ll move back, too – follow you around the country.’ Her expression is solemn. I feel bad leaving my friend behind.

‘Maybe one day, eh?’

‘We’ll have to make sure we visit loads,’ she says, brightening. ‘And as I say, I am happy for you. Really. Still, I’m surprised you agreed to this, even if you are desperate.’

‘Well, if I’m honest, I wasn’t keen on the idea and I categorically told Carl I wouldn’t be here while it went on – I couldn’t bear it. But if I get some interest, it’ll be worth it. If you ask me, it’s been ridiculously slow so far.’

‘If nothing else, this’ – Jo flutters the paper in the air again – ‘will at the very least ensure your neighbours get to have a good look inside your house.’

‘What? I hope not! Surely they won’t be interested? None of their houses are on the market – the Sampsons from next door have already sold up and moved out. The house is empty.’

‘But now they’re invited.’ Jo laughs.

‘What are you talking about?’ I stand up and launch forwards, grabbing the paper from Jo’s hand. ‘What the hell …’

There, in capitals, are the words: PLEASE FEEL FREE TO COME ON IN.

‘I like the added touch of “apologies for the likely increase of cars in the road”, as if he’s expecting droves of people to attend. Talk about bigging up your house,’ Jo says. Then she must clock my horrified expression and adds, ‘At least he’s trying to hype it up a bit, create a buzz?’

‘Oh, God.’ I slump back onto the sofa. ‘Why invite the bloody neighbours? It makes zero sense. What a waste of time.’

‘I suppose they might tell others about it. Word of mouth can be a good form of advertising.’

‘Really? You and I know all that’ll happen is people will come for a nose about and nothing more.’ Then the thought hits me. ‘Fantastic.’ I fling my arms up. ‘What a great opportunity for Davina to finally get inside my home!’

Jo tries and fails to hide a snigger. ‘Bless her. You’d best lock away anything you don’t want her to see.’

‘It’s not funny, Jo. The nosy bag has been desperate to come in for years. She’ll jump at the chance to walk around my bedroom, see if she can deduce if I’ve had another bloke here since Nick.’

‘Yes, she will be in her element. Remember when me and Keeley moved here? She was particularly keen to find out all about us and kept stopping one or other of us to ask how we were “fitting in”? I don’t think she knew many lesbians … We were the only gays in the village.’

I shake my head, but can’t help smiling at Jo’s joke and the memory. ‘Maybe I should cancel it, tell Carl it’s a bad idea.’

‘Don’t be daft, Amber. Any buyer coming into your home is already an invasion of your privacy, a few more people won’t hurt – even if one of them is Davina.’

I groan. The thought of her poking around, touching my things is enough to make my skin prickle.

‘Maybe I’ll set my phone up to record. Then I can see who’s coming in and out and if they touch my stuff.’

‘Yep. That’s not paranoid behaviour at all.’

‘Well. What would you do?’

‘Let Carl get on with his job? He’s done these things before you know. People have open houses all the time these days. Just go with it. Relax.’

She has a point. ‘Yeah, I’ll try.’

‘As it’s on Sunday, why don’t you and the boys come over to us? Keeley will leap at the chance to play with them for the afternoon, and I’ll cook us a roast. It’ll take your mind off the viewing.’

‘Thanks.’ I nod. ‘That would be lovely. It’s not just because I don’t want to be here – I think it would be really unsettling for the boys. At least by the time we get home it’ll all be over. And with luck, I might even have a buyer.’

‘That’s the way. Positive thinking.’ Jo grins.

I try to match her enthusiasm, but deep down, I can’t let go of the uneasy feeling I have about this open-house event.

Chapter Nine

Barb

I can’t help but stop and stare in through the window every time I pass it.

Move Horizon is where the butcher’s used to be back in the Nineties. I’m sure Howard wouldn’t have wanted his son to become an estate agent, much less take over the business premises of the family butcher. Carl had never been interested in following in his father’s footsteps, and his grandfather’s before him. But still, Carl did at least have the decency to wait until Howard was cold and buried before putting the final nail in the coffin of Anderson’s Butchers.

I scan the window for the house. I still can’t believe it’s up for sale – it breaks my heart to imagine it belonging to someone other than my family. Resentment courses through me. I should never have had to hand it over the way I did. If I’d had more money, things would’ve been different: I’d be living in the place I’d made a home. It wasn’t to be, though. Bern made sure of that; I was left with nothing but debt and worry.

I make a quick sign of the cross on my chest. Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.

Finally, I see it. The photos and details have moved from the prominent middle position to bottom right. Much less noticeable.

That’s good. She listened to me, then. Now, if I could get her to take it out of the window altogether …

The itch needs scratching.

I can’t walk on past today; I have to go in. Suzanne will give me an update.

Chapter Ten

Amber

I’ve hoovered three times, washed down all the surfaces in the kitchen even though I’d done it already, bleached the spotlessly clean toilet and put fresh linen on all the beds. I’ve dusted, tidied every single toy away, stored all my crap in bags or boxes and stuffed them under the bed as well as in the space under the stairs – the house is presentable. Yet I’m still faffing about, moving things to a better position, checking each room from differing angles – I’m stressed beyond belief. I can’t wait for this to be over.

‘Can we go, now, pleeeaase?’ Leo says.

‘I need to do one more sweep,’ I tell him.

‘But, Mum! You’ve been doing this ALL MORNING. I’m bored because you won’t let me play with anything.’

‘Okay, okay.’ Poor boy, I have been rather bossy today. I wouldn’t even let either of them on the trampoline. It’s right at the end of the long garden and usually it’s great as I don’t mind them making as much noise as they like because it’s a good distance from ours and the neighbouring houses. The gardens back onto the fields, so their noise doesn’t bother anyone. But it’s been raining, and that end of the garden is also “unloved” as Nick often put it, so tends to get muddy. I couldn’t risk them traipsing mud through the place. ‘Let’s go, then.’ I ruffle his hair and back up towards the front door. ‘Have you used the bathroom since—’

‘No! And Finley hasn’t either. Come on.’

Leo takes my hand and begins pulling it.

‘Where’s Fin?’ I ask.

‘I’m outside!’ I hear him call. ‘I’m too scared to be in there.’

I smile. ‘Sorry, my darlings. It’ll be over soon.’ I really hope this open-house event is a one-off. I realise that until the house is sold, I’m always going to be more jittery about the state of it, but this time it feels a million times worse. Knowing groups of people, rather than just one person, or a couple, will be viewing it, has added an extra level of pressure.

After locking up and walking briefly around the front garden checking for any litter that may have been blown in, we head for Jo and Keeley’s. I turn back a few times before the house disappears from view. God, I hope Davina doesn’t really accept the invitation to go. Despite knowing I’ve tidied within an inch of my life and made sure nothing too personal is on show, I still have a bad feeling she’ll snoop. Carl had better keep a close eye on whoever comes into my home. Do people take these opportunities to steal things? Look at computers?

‘Hello, my little terrors – come on in,’ Keeley says, beaming as she opens the door to us. Despite wanting to appear more grown-up lately, even Finley grins and rushes inside at Keeley’s invite. The smell of roast beef wafts out to greet me, and I immediately relax as I cross the threshold.

Lunch was fabulous – and it always tastes so much better when someone else has cooked it. Keeley disappears with the boys after they’ve helped clear the table, leaving Jo to chat with me. I hear them excitedly rummaging through one of the huge boxes of Lego they keep for their nieces and nephews when they visit from Kent.

‘Hope Barb hasn’t got wind of this open house,’ Jo says. ‘She’ll probably turn up and try to put people off.’ Her eyebrows rise impossibly high, making her bluey-green eyes wide and comical. She’s joking, I think, but the comment catches me off-guard. I hadn’t thought of that – my concern up until this point has been Davina.

‘Do you think she would?’

‘I really wouldn’t put it past her, Amber. You said yourself she doesn’t want you to leave – or the boys, at any rate – I’m sure she could come up with a way to warn off prospective buyers.’

I consider this for a minute. Barb can be a bit underhand sometimes; she likes to be in control – she was certainly infamous in her role as a local councillor during the Nineties. But I can’t see how she could possibly cause people to be put off.

‘What’s she going to do? Stand outside with a placard saying: “Don’t live here, it’s a terrible area”? No one would believe anything like that. And people would do their homework on the area prior to viewing, surely?’

‘Yeah. I was kidding really. Well – maybe I wasn’t, I don’t know. Sorry, I don’t mean to make you feel more uptight than you already are.’

‘It’s fine.’ My mind drifts. The house has been on the market for two months and there’s not been a jot of interest, yet other houses in the area have been sold during that time. Granted, two of those have been to the developers, but I’ve seen other sold signs too. Has Barb somehow been putting people off viewing my house? I mean, it’s not even like she’d have to do something herself; she could get someone else to cause issues. She knows almost the entire population of Stockwood by name, having spent her whole life in the village and making it her business to know any newcomers. Even though she’s moved to the complex, she still spends a fair amount of time in the village attending WI meetings, going to coffee mornings at the community hub and visiting her cronies. ‘Has she got someone on the inside?’

‘Like one of the other estate agents you mean?’ Jo says, suddenly.

‘Eh?’ For a split second I’m confused but realise I must’ve asked that question out loud. I’d assumed it had been just a thought in my own head.

‘You think Barb has what, paid someone off from the agency?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘No, I don’t think she has the funds for that, but she does have some sway in this village. I guess she might be able to convince one of them to sabotage the viewings – cancel them, say the property is under offer or something? Might explain why there’s been no interest.’

‘Let’s say she does have someone on the inside, she’d definitely know about this event today then, wouldn’t she? If no one turns up, then there must be a problem. But will Carl be honest enough to tell you no one showed?’

‘I’m sure Davina will be watching proceedings. She’ll tell me.’

‘True. She’s likely to be in there, getting first-hand info!’

We laugh for a moment. But then I have an idea.

‘Actually, why wait?’ I get my phone from my handbag. ‘I can see for myself.’ I grin as I brandish my mobile.

It’s a few minutes until the start time to the open house. Using my SmartRing app I can see who’s going in my home. ‘Here, look.’ I pop the phone on the table and open the app.

My slate-grey front doorstep appears on the screen.

Carl comes into view, a large book – probably his diary – clutched to his chest.

‘Ta-da!’ I smile. ‘Right, let’s see if nosy Davina or meddling Barb make an appearance, shall we?’

Chapter Eleven

Amber

Carl appears stressed. He’s pacing back and forth like a caged lion, his movements interspersed with an exaggerated checking of his mobile, presumably for the time. Why doesn’t he just go on in and wait? Acting like this, he’ll put people off without any help from Barb. We watch his continued pacing for the next five minutes.

‘Christ! Is no one going to show for this either?’ I look to Jo, whose expression is one of awkwardness. I can tell she wishes she’d not said anything and I’d not looked on the SmartRing app.

‘It’s early days?’ she offers.

‘What do you mean? It’s past the time on that bloody flyer. I mean, no shows? Not even Davina? I’m screwed.’ I slump back against the chair, my arms covering my face. This is disheartening; I have a tingling sensation in my eyes. I don’t want to cry.

‘Oh, hang on,’ Jo says. ‘Look … people!’

I sit upright and propel my face towards the phone screen. Yes, she’s right; there’s a small group of people congregating on the step. Carl is now unlocking the door.

‘Thank God. That’s a relief.’ Jo gives me an enthusiastic pat on the back as she gets up. ‘I’ll make us a coffee. You can relax now – a little, anyway.’

‘That’s four people gone in. Although, they may have all been together – just one family.’

‘Possibly. But at least it isn’t a complete waste of time. And Carl has escaped the heart attack he looked as though he was heading for a moment ago. Poor bloke. Can you imagine if no one turned up? You’d kill him,’ she says, laughing as she clangs mugs and rattles jars.

I don’t disagree. ‘Ooh, more. Another couple just went in.’ My voice rises with excitement. ‘He must’ve left the door open, though, as no one’s ringing the bell.’

I can’t peel my eyes away from the app – it feels a little like spying. But it is my house. I just wish I could see inside.

‘No sign of Davina yet then?’ Jo places my mug of coffee to the side of me.

‘Don’t think so, but it’s not easy to tell – I can’t make out any detail because they’re walking past the camera so quickly and not even glancing in its direction. If they had to stop on the step and wait for the door to be opened, I’d have time to take in their faces. I’m sure I’d recognise Davina or Barb, though.’

‘Unless they sneak in with other people, of course.’ Jo is standing behind me, leaning on the back of my chair, watching the small screen, too.

‘I doubt there’ll be big groups, Jo,’ I say, turning to grin at her. ‘Sadly.’

‘Well, there seem a fair few there,’ she says pointing.

I look back and do a quick count. Seven people step up and into my home. ‘Yay! Okay, well, I make that thirteen people.’

‘Unlucky for some,’ Jo says.

I narrow my eyes. ‘Fourteen with Carl – we’re good.’

I am relieved, yet anxious, that the open event seems to be fairly well attended. Better than I’d imagined, anyway. I say a silent prayer that at least one of those thirteen people will put in an offer afterwards.

‘Shall we go and join Keeley and the boys now you know it’s all okay, then?’ Jo walks towards the lounge.

‘In a sec. I want to keep watching for a while. See how long people stay for. Might be a good measure of their interest.’

Jo shakes her head, mockingly. ‘And you call Davina nosy?’ She goes off, giggling. I return my attention to my mobile, and sit, coffee in hand, waiting.

After fifteen or so minutes, there’s movement. I rub my eyes – I’ve had them trained for so long on the small screen that my vision is blurry and unfocused. Eight people leave, one after the other. It’s as though they’ve been queuing to get out. Maybe Carl has had them signing something before they go. It’s another five minutes before anyone else leaves. I watch the back of another three people as they walk away. That leaves two people. My pulse picks up as I imagine the remaining couple talking about where their furniture will fit in, telling Carl how they can imagine themselves living in my house. Am I being too optimistic? My fingers drum nervously on the table.

Come on, people. Want my house. Want it, want it.

A full seven minutes later I see a figure on the step. A man. He ambles down the step and to the left of the property. He’s checking out the garden, I assume. His partner must still be looking inside. Maybe Carl was right. He said he had a good feeling about the open house. I try not to allow my sudden optimism to outrun my usual cautiousness. It might mean nothing. Another person finally comes into view. The man turns towards the door, so his face is clear. It’s Carl. My optimism deflates as rapidly as it appeared. The other man’s wife isn’t with him. Where is she? I watch as Carl locks the front door and turns, something under his arm – seemingly his diary – and heads towards the road. No one is with him. No one else has left the house.

‘You still watching?’ Jo’s voice makes me jump.

‘That’s weird,’ I say.

‘What now?’

‘Only twelve people came out.’ I frown at the mobile app, noting the flashing battery indicator.

‘You sure? You didn’t miscount?’

‘No. A group of eight, then three, then one man. I was waiting for what I assumed to be his partner to come out, but then Carl did. Alone. And he just locked up and left too.’ I consider this again for a moment, totting the people up again. But I’m sure I’m right. ‘Not everyone came back out, Jo.’

Chapter Twelve

If I’m careful, I could come out of it with what I want. Which is to be forgiven for my part in all this.

It’s a bit like Jenga, though. Remove the wrong block and the carefully constructed tower will come tumbling down.

Things must be played in a certain order – the right people have to be in the right place before another move can be made. It’s complicated. It could be a lengthy game.

Worth it, though.

It has to be worth it in the end.

Because in the end, this storm should have passed me by, and I can relax, spend the rest of my days as though none of it ever happened.

Chapter Thirteen

Amber

‘The first group coming out maybe had more people than you thought?’ Jo comes to my side and leans over me, twisting the phone screen towards her. There’s nothing left to see now, though, just an empty step.

‘They came out slowly, not in a big huddle or anything. But yeah, I guess I must’ve.’ I frown, then let out a big sigh. ‘God. I got my hopes up at the end there, thinking the last couple were The Ones.’

‘Nothing to say The Ones weren’t there somewhere today, Amber. It was a pretty good turn-out.’

‘If they weren’t all my friggin’ neighbours, yeah.’

‘I’m sure Carl will give you the lowdown soon. Keep positive.’

I want to call Carl right now. But as I’ve just seen him drive away, I’ll give him ten minutes or so to get back to the office, or home – if that’s where he’s heading – before quizzing him.

The question of how many people turned up is the one upmost in my mind.

‘Right, I’d best get out of your hair,’ I say, finally getting up from the chair I’ve been practically glued to for the past hour. ‘Thanks for lunch, Jo. I really appreciate you having us over this afternoon.’

‘Anytime. You know that.’

I tear Leo and Finley away from the Lego – and Keeley – and we say our goodbyes then walk back home.

‘What’s the matter, Mum?’ Finley asks me as I hesitate on the front step, my hand poised with the key an inch from the lock.

‘Nothing,’ I say, pushing it firmly into place and twisting it. My gut also twists with an uncomfortable sensation. Thirteen strangers have just been inside. It feels weird. But I know it’s not just that fact that is bothering me. The cause of my nervous discomfort is more to do with the horrible thought that someone is still in there, waiting for me to get home.

And then what? They’re going to attack me? Us? Is that really what I think will happen?

With a rush of annoyance at my irrationality, I push the door open. But my boldness vanishes instantly.

‘Wait a second,’ I say to the boys, throwing my arm to the side to prevent them stepping inside. ‘Let me quickly check …’ I don’t know what to tell them I’m checking for; I’m suddenly at a loss for words. ‘Er … I need to make sure the estate agent has finished.’ It’s a feeble, paper-thin reason to give – even if he hadn’t finished, I wouldn’t be holding the boys back from entering their own house. They probably know this and that’s why they’re looking at me with large, concerned eyes. I don’t want to frighten them by saying I don’t think everyone left.

‘Just call out,’ Leo says, simply.

‘Wait a minute.’ I ignore his suggestion and go inside, leaving them standing on the step. I quickly sweep through the kitchen and lounge. No one. I drop my handbag on the hallway floor, then run upstairs. I’m not sure what I’d do if I was to find someone there. A stranger sitting on my bed, or something. My mind hasn’t come up with any answers. Which turns out is fine, because none are needed.

The rooms are empty.

I let out a long stream of air from my lungs.

I simply miscounted – as Jo suggested.

‘Okay, boys – come on in,’ I shout down.

I hear them clamber inside and slam the door. Now the immediate alarm is over, I find myself thinking about who was in here an hour ago. Whether they liked what they saw, whether they were imagining themselves living in this space. Wondering if they touched my things. I inspect the items in my bedroom to make sure all is in its place. As I left it. Everything appears as it should. And as far as I can tell, nothing is missing. But then, I have too much stuff, so wouldn’t immediately notice if it were. I’m about to go into Finley’s room to do the same when Leo hollers.