When Graham arrives on time, Lucie, Ward and I sit poised with our mugs of coffee, waiting to hear his latest trial on the train or how his tinnitus had kept him awake last night. Fresh-faced, he glances at us. ‘Problem?’
‘No,’ we all say in unison.
Yet I sense Lucie, and even Ward, miss Graham’s dramas almost as much as I do.
‘You lot really shouldn’t take life too seriously,’ he says, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Let’s face it, none of us are going to get out of it alive.’
Ward coughs. ‘Right, let’s crack on. Sittingbourne Park. Lucie?’
‘Text done.’
‘Photographer?’
‘This morning.’
‘Perfect. Her bee orchids will look lovely.’ Lucie notices him winking at me.‘Country Life?’
I nod. ‘As soon as I get the photos.’
‘Toad Hall?’ Ward’s eyes remain on mine.
‘Sales memo done. Paperwork with solicitors.’
‘Good, we want to exchange in the next few weeks.’ I see the competitiveness in Ward’s eyes and body language when we go through the next five properties on the spreadsheet. Working with Jeremy during his last year was like lying in a soft comfy chair in the sunshine, listening toThe Archers. With Ward, it’s like being in a racing car, tearing round bends and hoping the car doesn’t burst into flames.
We hear Nadine letting someone in and Spud barking downstairs. It’s probably the postman.
‘Graham: Broadhurst, Hants?’
‘They’re going through a divorce. Owner didn’t want to let on, you know what clients are like, they reckon we’ll think they’re desperate to sell.’
‘Which they are,’ Lucie says.
‘Her husband lost all their money gambling on the horses. We had a good old chat about it over scones and—’
Ward interrupts, ‘What did you value it at?’
‘Two million. I’m being optimistic and taking your advice.’
‘The most sensible thing you’ve said since I arrived, Graham.’
‘The letters are on my desk, one each for him and her; they’re incommunicado.’
Ward asks, ‘Anyone else pitching?’
‘B & G, Andersons, Dunn & Cox, but I think she’ll instruct us. We really bonded, poor love, she’s hitting the menopause—’
‘Keep me posted, Graham,’ Ward says, nipping that conversation in the bud. ‘Mrs Roberts, St Albans?’ Mrs Roberts is the greenhouse lover.
‘We’ve had an offer, but she’s dithering.’ I think of the woman with the dolphin tattoo again. ‘I’ll talk to her.’
Ward accepts this, and we exchange a look of understanding. ‘OK, we’re done. Good work, guys.’
‘Was that a compliment from Ward?’ Graham whispers when we’re the only two left in the boardroom. ‘And if I’m not mistaken, I think our boss has a little crush on a certain person.’
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘You can be married but still have crushes, Jan.’
