‘You do that. Tell him I can offer mate’s rates.’
‘I think I’m getting a stye,’ Graham says in the boardroom, shoving his face too close to mine. I peer into his eye. ‘Can’t see anything.’
Lucie tuts. ‘Because there’s nothing to see.’
Ward strides into the room, and sits down at the table. Nadine mentioned he’d been here since seven and has been leaving the office late most nights; there have been empty takeaway cartons left on his desk.
Halfway through the meeting Ward fills us in on the new houses we have recently been instructed on before we move on to other properties. ‘Clayhurst?’
‘In theory we should exchange next Monday,’ Graham replies.
‘Keep on it, Graham. The Farmhouse?’
‘She thanked us for the flowers,’ I report. ‘Said her husband tried to take the credit.’
Graham laughs as he clicks his thumbs back, they crack like splintered wood. ‘Arthritis.’ He pulls a pained face.
‘I’m surprised you’re still alive, Graham,’ Ward says. ‘Mrs Roberts?’
‘Advert was inCountry Life,’I say. ‘Lots of viewings. Someone’s going round for the second time.’
‘When? Today, tomorrow, next year?’
‘This afternoon,’ I reply.
‘Good. If they offer let’s close it fast because at the rate we’re going we soon won’t have an office in Mayfair. No news yet on Sittingbourne Park, the one Spencer pitched for too?’
‘She’s taking her time,’ says Lucie.
Ward writes a note in his diary. ‘It’s beautiful: Queen Anne.’
‘I know the house,’ I say. ‘I took—’
‘I don’t want Andersons,’ Ward cuts me off, ‘and I definitely do not want B & G to get this one. This place could attract a bidding war. It’s got the right proportions, nice lake, fifty acres – I’d live there if I could.’
I agree. ‘She has created this incredible wild meadow and—’
‘This is ours, OK?’ Ward interrupts me again. ‘Mr Callaghan, Toad Hall?’ This is the house practically on the M25.
‘You’ll never guess,’ exclaims Lucie. ‘I’ve found someonepotentially interested.’
‘I don’t believe it.’ Graham hits the table. ‘You’ve done some work.’
‘Sod off, Graham.’
There’s that glimmer of a smile from Ward. He gives them out sparingly, teases us with them.
Lucie continues, ‘The M25 traffic doesn’t bother him. He’s obsessed with lorries.’
Ward gets straight to the point. ‘Is he going to offer?’
She crosses her fingers. ‘I should hear today.’
‘How did you find him?’
Lucie looks delighted to be asked, as if she’s been hoping for that question from Ward all morning. ‘Let’s just say I thought about the kind of person who might want to live by a motorway and then became a member of one of the most elite lorry-spotting clubs in the world.’
‘That’s genius,’ Ward says, much to Lucie’s delight, just as Nadine enters the boardroom. ‘Lucie, it’s the lorry man on the phone.’
