Page 37 of The Do-Over

She smiles. ‘What?’ I ask.

‘We’re doing this, aren’t we?’

‘It would seem so.’ I smile back. ‘I need you to promise one thing though.’

‘What?’

‘If we bid for it, and we get it, you’ll be 100 per cent focused on the renovation, not distracted by the man who lives at the end of the drive.’

‘From nine to five, Monday to Friday, I solemnly swear I’ll be focused.’ She grins. ‘Outside those times, I’m making no guarantees. Take it or leave it.’

‘He might have a girlfriend, or a wife.’

‘No wedding ring.’

‘Men don’t always wear them.’

‘Ben would.’

‘How on earth have you figured that out?’

‘I just have a feeling about him.’

‘Is this your ovaries again? What are they singing now?’

‘Easy. Michael Bublé, “Feeling Good”.’

‘I do think he was a little blindsided by your need to clarify our relationship,’ I observe after a while. Rebecca is humming the song as she drives.

‘Yes,’ she agrees. ‘It wasn’t my finest hour, but I couldn’t risk a repeat of the school mix-up. Not when there’s so much at stake. Anyway, distract me from my pornographic thoughts. What happens now?’

‘We need to get a survey done before auction day. Let’s get that organised first.’

When we get back and study the listing again, I’m pleased to find that the mill is one of the lots in a live auction, rather than an online one. The idea of entering our maximum bid and then having to wait up to a month to learn if we’ve won doesn’t appeal to me at all. I’d rather be in the room, gauging the competition and ready to move on immediately if we’re unsuccessful. Rebecca and I have agreed that we’ll go up to £850,000 if the bidding exceeds the guide price, which gives us a buffer of £50,000 from our combined pot to spend on anything vital that a mortgage company would want fixed before lending against the mill.

‘So,’ Rebecca says on auction day once I’ve parked my car. ‘Most important rule?’

‘Don’t go above the price we’ve agreed, whatever happens.’ Although I bought my house in Walthamstow at auction, we’ve been doing lots of research online to hone our techniques, and this has become our mantra.

‘And rule number two?’

‘Don’t suddenly get tempted to bid on something else that we haven’t looked at.’

‘Absolutely. And we’ll sit tight to begin with, see who else is interested in the mill before we start bidding.’

‘Sizing up the competition.’

‘Exactly.’

I’m buzzing with adrenaline as we collect our bidding paddle and take our seats in the busy hall. I’d forgotten how exciting auctions are. It hasn’t even started yet, but there’s a real sense of anticipation in the room as people mill about, chatting to one another and finding places to sit. I’ve bought a few things on online auction sites over the years, and it is satisfying to win, especially when there’s a flurry of last-minute bidding, but you can’t beat a live auction. It’s the fast pace of the bidding, the patter of the auctioneer and the slam of the gavel to announce the winning bid. I’ve never been interested in gambling, but I reckon this must come as near as dammit to the kind of rush people get from that.

Silence falls as the auctioneer makes his way to the podium, but the first few lots attract little interest and don’t reach their reserve price. As we make our way steadily through the catalogue, my heart begins to thump hard in my chest. All these people are obviously here for something, but we don’t seem to have reached it yet. I just hope it’s not the mill.

‘Lot twenty,’ the auctioneer announces. ‘A three-bedroom end-of-terrace property in Ashford. Who’ll start me at £230,000?’

‘That’s one of the ones we looked at,’ Rebecca whispers to me, in case I’d forgotten.

No paddles go up, but the auctioneer seems unfazed. ‘Fine,’ he says. ‘Two ten. Any takers?’

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