‘Do as I say, Jeremy, or else.’
‘I don’t need another bloody wife, January,’ he snaps, before finally obeying and locating the right program on his desktop. ‘Ah, there we are! Eureka!’
‘Gordon Bennett, Grandpa,’ Graham sighs.
Jeremy turns to him, saying, ‘Less of the Grandpa. Besides, you’re a fine one to talk with your orthopaedic chair.’
‘When you have severe back pain,’ Graham retaliates, ‘you’ll understand. Sitting still isn’t easy.’
‘Except when you’re watchingLes Mis,’I quip.Les Misérablesis Graham’sfavourite musical of all time. He’s seen it close to twenty times.
I snort with laughter, recalling us all singing ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ around the table.
‘Something you’d like to share with us, January?’ Ward asks me, tapping his pen against his diary and bringing me back to the moment with a bump.
‘No, no, nothing.’
‘Anyone know where Graham is?’ Ward stares at the empty chair opposite mine just as Graham flies into the room eating a muesli bar. ‘Sorry folks, on the phone to a Russian oligarch.’
‘The Clock House, Mr Sparrow,’ Ward kicks off barely giving Graham time to sit down. ‘Did that lady call back?’
‘Yes.’ I nod. ‘She left a message. Nadine’s set up a viewing for this Saturday.’
‘May I add,’ Graham says, ‘Mr Sparrow has cancer. Prostate. Strictly confidential.’
Ward clicks the top of his ballpoint pen up and down, up and down. ‘Your point?’
Jeremy had always impressed on us that if our clients were selling, it was highly likely to be because of change. ‘It’s the 3D effect: death, divorce or debt, and there is nothing funny about any of those. Often we’re moving people’s lives from one point to another. Sometimes that change is exciting; sometimes terrifying and our clients need our support.’
‘Well, I thought it worth mentioning,’ Graham says defensively, ‘because we want the sale to go through as smoothly as possible, with no added stress forMr Sparrow.’
I put my hand up, as if at school.
Ward sighs. ‘January?’
‘I agree. It’s important to be aware of what’s going on.’ I catch Graham’s eye and he mouths, ‘Thank you.’
‘We want the sale to go through smoothly, prostate cancer or not.’ Ward stops pacing the room for a second. ‘Though I get your drift,’ he concedes.
‘Take the Old Rectory off the list,’ Lucie says when Ward reaches it. ‘The clients are getting back together.’
‘Are they?’ exclaims Graham. ‘I’m amazed! They were at each other hammer and tongs when I pitched.’
‘Graham,’ Ward warns.
‘The husband thought she was having an affair with me! Can you imagine it?’
‘No,’ Ward mutters.
‘Demanded he saw my ID. You see, they weren’t communicating at all so he didn’t even know we’d made an appointment. You should have heard him charging up the stairs shouting, “Where is the bastard?” I—’
‘Enough,’ Ward interrupts, ‘great they’ve worked it out, but we’ve lost a deal,’ he says, striking the Old Rectory off the list. ‘Toad Hall?’
Graham crosses his arms. ‘No one likes the house. Can’t say I’d like to live on a main road either, with a party of gnomes, but he won’t lower the price.’
Ward runs a hand through his hair. ‘Graham, you need to be tougher with him if he wants to sell the place. Balldown Farmhouse?’
‘Under offer,’ Lucie says with another flick of the hair. ‘Survey happening today.’
