Page 2 of What's the time, Mr. Wolfe
“Don’t sneak up on people, it’s rude. No, you can’t help, unless you’re the bloody landlord of this shitshow of a property.”
“Thisshitshow of a property?” he laughed as he spoke.
I spun on my heel. “I’m not entirely sure what you find funny, and I don’t appreciate you on my property. Youowe me dinner, that’s all you need to do. Fetch,” I said, waving my arm as if throwing a ball for a dog.
His eyes widened at my cheek and his smile slipped. For a split second a little quiver of fear slid over my skin. However, his smirk was quick to form again.
“Of course, ma’am. Your dinner is already on the way. I believe it will be here in ten minutes.”
“Yeah, sure,” I replied, turning back to the door and finally getting it unlocked. I kicked at it until it opened.
“As foryour property, I own the company that owns this house. And many others in this street. I see you’re having problems. I’ll make sure someone attends tomorrow.”
Without another word or backwards glance, he walked back down the path and slid into his car. The car pulled away from the kerb silently and carried on in the direction it had originally taken. I stood, open-mouthed, and stared after him, until, once he’d turned the corner, I raised two fingers to him.
“Is that you, Ruby?”
“It is, Grandma. I got splashed by a puddle, so I’ll just change quick. Diego sends his regards.” I raced up the stairs and into my cold bedroom. I did everything in a rush, not because I wanted to be back down in a hurry, but because the heating didn’t work, and it was bloody freezing. It was a drill now; clothes off, new ones on, with as little body exposed as possible.
AsI walked back down the stairs, there was a knock on the door. I opened it, puzzled. A restaurant courier stood holding a brown paper bag.
“Deliver For You,” he said, either announcing his courier company name or missing the ‘y’ off the word ‘deliver.’
I reached out and took the bag. “Where is this from?” I asked, looking inside to see silver tubs of diving smelling food.
“Yantze. Didn’t you order it? This is the right address,” he asked, showing me his delivery note.
Girl in the red hoodie, 78 Queen Anne Cottagesand then the rest of the address was printed. I laughed.
“Yeah, thanks.”
I kicked the door shut. So, hehadordered me food, and from a rather nice Chinese that I could never have afforded myself.
“Are you hungry, Grandma? I have food.”
Chapter Two
The following morning, as I made Grandma her breakfast and sipped a cup of tea, I pondered on the stranger. There was something compelling about him, but also scary. I shivered as I thought of him and wondered about the authenticity of his statement, unable to decide if I should write a list of faults in the property, just in case he owned it and was going to send someone. He had made good on replacing my food, so…
After I’d settled Grandma back in her bed in the living room, I sat at the kitchen table and wrote all the things wrong with the property. The leaking guttering that meant Grandma couldn’t use her bedroom upstairs because it was damp and mouldy. The heating and hot water not working full time, how the lock on the front door was sticking and that it didn’t shut withoutslamming and causing the surrounding plaster to crack. I gave good reasons why these things should be repaired. I’d never missed a rent payment in the two years Grandma and I had lived there. I nodded to myself once I’d finished. If a repairman didn’t turn up, I’d be calling at his offices, for sure.
I was about to head to college when there was a knock at the door. For the second time, I was stunned. Standing on the step was a maintenance man wearing a t-shirt with the landlord’s logo on it.
“You have problems?” he asked.
“Lots, I hope you’re here for the day,” I replied, stepping aside, and letting him in, knowing I wouldn’t make college.
While I made him a cup of tea, he read all the faults I wanted looking at.
“Okay, I was told to fix everything needed, regardless. But I’ll have to call a plumber for the boiler.” He looked around. “I can’t believe you’ve been living like this. You have complained, haven’t you?”
“Many times and have been ignored many times. I was going to withhold my rent this month if I didn’t get a response.”
I’d already spoken to the housing advice officer at my college and although they advised against withholding rent, they had said I could deduct any costs if I felt the landlord wasn’t repairing what they were legallyobliged to. Of course, they had also said I’d need to get an agreement for that, but I was pig-headed. I had planned to find a repairman, pay him, but then send the bill to the landlord for effect.
I sat with Grandma sipping tea and listening to her stories of the past, stories I’d heard thousands of times but ones that kept her alive as far as I was concerned, while the repairman did this thing. A couple of hours later, a boiler engineer joined him, along with someone in a suit.
“Ruby, this is James. He’s our surveyor. I’m not happy about the mould. It’s black mould, and that’s dangerous,” he said to us both.
