Page 13 of The Wedding Pact
The man just nodded, seeming distracted and flustered, and said, ‘Jolly good, nice to meet you. I’m Abe. I’m not the landlord though, that’s my mum, Mrs Haverley, so you might as well save your gushing for her.’
Yeah, Flynn, save your gushing, August thought, raising her eyebrows in smugness at Flynn as they followed Abe in through the door.
It was just as August had remembered it, that time she’d come over here as a child. The staircase with the sweeping bannister, and how the sun streamed against it causing those pillars of light to dance their way up the wall. The chandelier glittered overhead, as ornate yet understated as it ever was. August gazed up into it, remembering how her younger self had felt as if it was an ice castle she could climb up and get lost in.
Halfway up the stairs the doorbell rang again, echoey and mellow from inside the walls of the house. Abe sighed and turned around. ‘The apartment that’s available is just at the top of this staircase, on the first floor. You can’t miss it.’ Abe disappeared down the staircase, muttering away to himself, and August and Flynn approached the door of the flat.
Ofmyflat, August thought.
A woman of about August’s age, early thirties, stomped out from within the apartment, pushing past them on the landing. ‘Waste of time,’ she was mumbling, clearly irritated. She stopped short after she passed the two of them, looked right at them in a way that August couldn’t tell if she was being scrutinised, or if the woman was lost in thought about what to say, and then she stated, ‘But I’m sureyou twowould be just right for this place.’ The woman flounced off down the stairs, her red hair flying behind her.
August was lost for words for a moment – something that very rarely happened.
‘What was that about?’ Flynn asked no one in particular.
‘What did she mean by “you two”?’
They shrugged at each other. Whatever, there were more important things at play.
The door was partially open, and when Flynn pushed it, they were greeted with a sight August hadn’t fully anticipated. August and Flynn weren’t just competing against each other for this place, oh no, the flat was teeming with potential residents. Way more than August had expected there would be. The crowd shuffled through the living room, pottered in and out of the bedrooms, opened the kitchen cupboards, gazed out the windows, touched the lampshades, caressed the sofa cushions, leant against doorframes and sniffed at the potpourri like it was a tray of freshly baked cookies. They did all the things August wanted to do.
‘That must be the landlady,’ Flynn said, tilting his head towards the one woman in the room who didn’t seem to be in raptures about her surroundings. Instead, she stared out of the window glumly.
August was going to approach her, but saw her sigh as a man in his fifties loomed, talking at her before he’d even come to a stop, waving his arms and saying loudly how he’d ‘love to discuss numbers’.
Instead she turned to Flynn. ‘Well, I’m going to start looking around, so I guess this is … goodbye?’
‘I guess so.’
‘You sure you don’t want to just give up and go home now?’
‘I can’t, remember … I have no home.’ He replied, but with a smile.
Dammit. ‘You’ll find one,’ she sang and turned away.
‘Thanks for keeping me company this morning,’ Flynn added to her as they began to go their separate ways.
‘You too,’ she smiled, and felt a pang of sadness at the broken connection. But she pushed it aside. He was her competition. So she added loudly, ‘Excuse me sir, you seem to have a large stain on your shirt,’ before throwing him a wicked grin and scuttling into the nearest room.
Inside, August took a deep breath, remembering where she was. She was inside her dream home. It was just as lovely as she had hoped. The living room, the main hub when you walked in the front door, was large and bright thanks to the long Georgian windows with the view that flowed down the hill. The ceilings were high. Two bedrooms, beside each other, led off from the living room, though one was used as a snug in the current set-up, with a sofa bed billowing with cushions beside a bookshelf, and French doors acting as windows that led to a small balcony overlooking a private park behind the house. The other bedroom was larger, definitely the master, and it had the same lookout as the living room, which would be quite the thing to wake up to every day.
August couldn’t decide which of the two rooms she’d actually rather sleep in when she moved in.
Oh, she could see it now, sort of, if she blocked out all of the other people milling around.
Would August be heartbroken if she didn’t get the flat? Probably. And she knew it was her own fault for getting so caught up in the fantasy as soon as she heard about one of the apartments becoming available. She’d poured way too much hope into something that now seemed far more out of her control than she imagined. Sure, she could try and dazzle the landlady. She could even offer to pay over the monthly rental asking price. Well, she couldn’t really afford that at all, but she would find a way, temp more hours, sell online acting workshops on the side. She could even ask a higher price from whoever she sublet the spare room to, perhaps, if she added some extras on the side, such as housekeeping being included. They could even have the master bedroom.
Her thoughts were running away with her and she knew she needed to centre herself and come up with ideas to stand out from the crowd before it was too late, so she moved back towards the front door of the flat, imagining herself walking in again for the first time, and all the excitement and motivation she’d felt.
Standing in front of the partially open door and trying to block out the noise, as if she were about to enter from stage left to a crowd of adoring fans, August heard hushed voices outside. She moved over a little in case the door was about to swing open into her back, and in doing so glimpsed the landlady, huddled on the landing with her son, Abe, the grumpy greeter.
August tried not to listen. She really did. But in the same way as trying not to think about laughing can cause you to laugh, her attempt at not listening meant her ears became hyper-sensitive.
Could she have moved away? Yes. Should she have moved away? Of course. Did she move away?As if. You see, she’d just overheard something that rooted her to the spot.
‘So whatwouldmake you happy, Mum? What kind of personwouldyou be willing to have live here?’ Abe asked, exasperation apparent even in his low voice.
‘I just want a nice, dependable couple. Married. And young.’ Her voice was stubborn and firm. August raised her eyebrows.
