‘No. I can’t press it. It’s too nerve-wracking.’
‘But what’s the worst that can happen?’ Dina did a big hands-raised gesture, palms upwards. She had a very good point. The worst that could happen was that no-one wanted to swap with Cassie.
‘Doit,doit.’ Dina liked a chant when she’d had a bit too much wine.
‘Okay. Doing it.’ Cassie pressed Submit, and discovered that the Wi-Fi was still working, just as if they were on the mainland. She was ‘live’. ‘Quick, let’s log in from our phones and view me.’
They had the website up on their phones within seconds.
They both stared at Cassie’s house’s web entry. For ages.
‘Well,’ said Cassie eventually, ‘I kind of thought that something would happen immediately.’
‘Honey, think about it. We’re being stupid. It’s the middle of the night here and still early morning in Europe,’ Dina said. ‘Things will definitely happen when they all get out of bed. By midday tomorrow you’ll have so many wonderful offers you won’t know which one to choose.’
Three
James
Ten o’clock on Saturday morning and James was barricaded, literally, in his apartment, screening his calls, with one eye on the angry emails piling up in his inbox and the other on the lucky, carefree joggers out in the park below. Probably on their way to get morning cappuccinos and brunches with friends.
It was looking like his breakfast might have to be the remains of Thursday’s Deliveroo beef and shiitake mushroom in oyster sauce, which had been moderately nice at the time but probably wouldn’t be that great this morning. If he went out now to buy food, though, there was the risk that Emily would be waiting for him outside the building or might even have got back inside again. He’d had the lock changed on Thursday but he wasn’t fully convinced that that was enough to stop her.
He looked round his kitchen-living room. It was an estate agent’s fantasy. Shiny appliances, greige paint, walnut floors, floor-to-ceiling windows with uber desirable views of Holland Park. And then there was the view he had through to the hall, of the armchair he’d wedged against the front door and the spaghetti ladle that he’d pushed through the key chain to stop Emily getting in.
Living the bloody dream.
Good to have finally found a use for the spaghetti ladle, though.
His phone was going nuts. So many messages.
They weren’tallfrom people who wanted to kill him. For example, there was one from his sister Ella, and she was never anything but polite to him. He didn’t feel like talking to her right now, though. Truth be told, since Leonie, his other sister, had died, heneverfelt like talking to Ella. Hearing her voice, so like Leonie’s, stirred up too many emotions, plus there was the worry that she’d want to talk about Leonie. He didn’t want to upset Ella, so normally he’d call her back and have a politely distant conversation; today, however, he couldn’t face a duty chat. He’d speak to her in the next few days.
Another text landed. Matt. Yes. James hadn’t told him about Wednesday evening yet but he did now feel like talking to his best friend.
Mate. I hear you ruined Emily’s entire decade if not her life by not proposing the other night. Also hear she lost it. How’s your face?
What? Unbelievable how news travelled. Surely Matt didn’t know anyone who’d been at the party. Probably some Facebook thing. Matt was big on social media. James wasn’t.
He took his phone into his bedroom and closed the door. He was pretty sure that the front door was soundproof, but just in case. If Emily was outside, he didn’t want to make her even more homicidal. If she damaged his front door he could obviously ask Dee to find someone to fix it, but there was every chance it would involve a lot of hassle. He’d thought that Emily was done after Wednesday night, and she hadn’t been back on Thursday, but yesterday evening there she’d been again, and she’d also knocked twice this morning. The building security guys were great for banter and taking deliveries and letting tradespeople in but not so hot on actual security.
Emily had sounded so out of control last night that he’d genuinely wondered if she’d be coming back with some kind of weapon or tool to get inside. Fortunate that your average Londoner would probably struggle to lay their hands on a gun or chainsaw first thing on a Saturday morning.
Matt answered on the first ring. ‘So what happened at the party?’
‘Basically, she thought we were in a serious relationship and I didn’t realise. And also, she’s a little unhinged it turns out.’
‘Yeah. I’ve seen the video on Facebook. Did she draw blood?’ Video. Marvellous.
‘Yep. She has very strong nails.’
‘You going to have a permanent scar?’
‘Yep, think so.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Yeah. Then she turned up here after I got home and let herself in with a key that I didn’t know she had.’
