Page 6 of The Temp

‘They’re a gorgeous couple.’ Come on, I’m not going to tell her that her son is no oil painting, am I? Mrs Anderson nods proudly as I snap away, tells me they’ve got three children now, aged eight to thirteen, and a crippling mortgage. She hopes to help them once this place is sold. ‘Life does throw you a lifeline sometimes, doesn’t it?’

‘It sure does, Tina.’ If only it would send me one right now and wipe Frank Hardy off the face of the universe.

Chapter 5

‘Did you take a photo of the guest bathroom?’ Mrs Anderson asks, ten minutes later as I complete the sketch of the floor-plan in the hallway. ‘It’s just here.’

I shake my head. ‘Guest cloakrooms are a bit small. I won’t be able to get a good angle.’

‘Are you saying I cleaned it for nothing?’

‘Afraid so.’ I grin, and we both laugh. ‘I’m just going to take a few measurements, then I’ll get out of your hair.’

‘I must say, you’ve got a fascinating job. Have you been a property photographer for long?’

‘Ten years. My best friend, Linda, is an estate agent, gives me lots of leads. Diary’s full for the next six weeks.’ I point the measuring device across the room and Mrs Anderson ducks out of the way, even though I told her she doesn’t have to. I think it’s a reflex reaction. ‘I was a shop assistant before that, did weddings and christenings at weekends, the odd family portrait.’

‘So, you’ve always been an artist. My son works in publishing. I’ve got an English degree, must run in the family, eh?’

‘Funny you should say that. My mum’s an artist.’ I jot down a few notes on my iPad. ‘Perhaps there is a creative gene in there somewhere. My ambition is to set up my own estate agency. I love bricks and mortar. Maybe one day.’ My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket. I pull it out. It’s Tom:

Running a bit late. Last minute eye examination. one of the golf lads got red eye. Can meet u at Theo and Linda’s instead. I’ll jump on a train straight to Southgate. Might be easier.

I harrumph as I quickly type out my reply, offering my apologies to Mrs Anderson.

‘Not bad news, I hope,’ Mrs Anderson says, sensing my frustration.

‘Friends have invited us round for dinner tonight, but my other half is running late.’

‘Oh, that’s a bummer. Is your hubby in the same line of work?’ I snort at that, tell her he’s an optometrist. ‘How wonderful! Must be useful for your family members.’

‘Yeah.’ I scratch my eyebrow. ‘Tom looks after us all.’

‘Well, at least you’re earning too and not relying on his salary.’ I give her a minuscule frown. ‘What I mean is.’ She’s gone a bit red now. ‘If you ever find yourself in my shoes.’ She thrusts a tanned bony hand out quickly, sapphire ring gleaming on her finger. ‘You won’t have to sell your house to survive. Like I am.’

I raise my eyebrows. Oh, I will if Tom finds out about Frank and Liam. ‘I don’t think that’ll happen,’ I reply a little briskly, and she looks as if I’ve punched her. I hope I haven’t hurt her feelings. ‘But then you never know, Tina, do you?’ I add politely, ‘anything is possible.’ Mrs Anderson smiles, face softening. If she knew I signed a prenuptial before we got married, she’d probably put me through that lounge bay window.

The prenup was set up to protect Tom’s family inheritance if we divorce. It wasn’t Tom’s idea. It was Gary’s, his father, a consultant ophthalmologist and also penny-wise. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I must admit, I get on a lot better with Wendy, Tom’s mother. Gary’s a nice enough man, but he’s worse than Tom when it comes to money, and let’s just say that he wasn’t best pleased when he found out his only child was going to marry his pregnant shop assistant girlfriend of six months.

Mrs Anderson shakes her head slowly, back against the wall, arms folded. ‘Husbands, hey? We give them the best years of our lives and then, puff, it’s all over. Ben spends more time at the golf club than with me, and I’m not even joking. I just feel.’ She stares at her bare feet. ‘Invisible sometimes,’ she whispers, then looks up at me, her stoic persona returning. ‘So, one night I just said to him, in jest, of course, it’s me or the golf clubs, and he chose the clubs.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I offer, and then. ‘He sounds like a moron.’ Mrs Anderson’s eyes twinkle, likes it that I’m on her side.

‘There was a third party involved. Hence the sale of this place.’ She gazes around the lounge dreamily, and I can tell that she’s in love with her home, and possibly still in love with her husband – because you can’t just stop loving someone, can you? ‘Cost us a fortune to do it all up. We’ll never get our money back. We knew that from the onset but it was supposed to be our forever home.’ Her eyes flick to the ground. ‘Now I can’t wait to get rid of it.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs…um…Tina.’

‘It’s fine.’ Mrs Anderson wipes her face with both hands as if she’s been crying but there are no tears. ‘Anyway, you must have quite a lot on your plate, what with a husband and a job, and giving folk like me free counselling sessions. How do you manage? Is Mum around to help out?’

‘Nah, she’s away most of the time,’ I say, gathering my stuff to leave. ‘On an artist’s retreat in Portugal as we speak, painting the sun setting against the sea.’

‘Oh, how lovely. Is she a local artist? I might know her.’ I nod, tell her she doesn’t live too far from me. ‘Really? I’d love to see her work. I’m a bit of a collector. Perhaps, when she’s back from Portugal, you could…’

‘No can do, I’m afraid. Zelda and I keep telling her to exhibit but she always refuses.’ Mum made a lot of money from commissions, enough to buy her lovely home in Oakwood. But she just wants a quiet life now, without the stress. ‘She just loves painting.’

‘I see. Okay. Is Zelda your daughter?’ Tina asks, and I shake my head, tell her she’s my sister. ‘I wish I had a sister. I’ve got a brother, Simon, lives in South London. Is it just the two of you?’

‘Yes,’ I admit. ‘We’re very close. Love her to bits. Zelda’s only just set up her own bakery business, actually. Zee Bakes.’ I add, not allowing the shameless namedrop opportunity to go amiss. ‘She does free local deliveries if the order is over twenty-five pounds.’

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