‘Not at all. Come in.’ Jess invited him inside, thankful she had just tidied up.
Declan followed her into the white painted hall, the walls adorned with black and white photos of her and Maisie, before entering the lounge that was neat and stylish, with grey painted walls, a large burnt-orange sofa and plants dotted about. The room felt minimalist but made cosy with cushions and throws. Overlooking the window was a small light-wood dining table with two chairs, where Jess invited him to sit down.
‘I’ll be back in a tick,’ she said, before returning with her make-up bag.
‘This should do it.’ She shook a bottle of concealer and searched in her bag for a make-up brush.
As Jess leant in close, dabbing at his eye, he could smell her perfume and feel the warmth of her body. He closed his eyes as she dabbed with a sponge, losing himself in a daydream where she was in his arms and he was about to kiss her. She took her time, with small strokes and finally a dab with a make-up sponge. He was disappointed when she had finished, and he opened his eyes.
‘That should do it.’ She handed him a small mirror, and to Declan’s astonishment, the bruising was invisible.
‘Wow, that’s impressive. You should be a make-up artist,’ he commented, examining his reflection in the mirror.
‘I did actually do a course,’ Jess told him as she put away her things. ‘But things don’t always work out the way we expect them to, do they?’
‘You can say that again,’ agreed Declan, thinking of his life and the unexpected direction it had taken. ‘But it’s never too late. Surely there are part-time courses?’ he asked.
‘Maybe when Maisie is a little older.’ She put her make-up things away, before offering him a drink.
‘No, thanks, I’d better be off. And thanks for this.’ He pointed to his cheek before taking a deep breath. ‘Maybe we could grab a coffee another time, though?’
‘I’d like that.’ Jess smiled and Declan felt like punching the air. He thought of how he almost took a tenancy on a building a few streets away, and how he might never have met Jess. Maybe everything really did happen for a reason.
TWENTY-ONE
JESS
Jess felt sick to her stomach when she read the letter that had just arrived by recorded delivery. No one ever sent her mail this way, and she felt an unexplained feeling of dread in her stomach. She briefly wondered if it was something official from a solicitor, informing her that Maisie’s dad could no longer afford child maintenance. She hoped not. Things were just about ticking over as they were.
As she ripped the envelope open and read the words inside, she felt her heart sink.
She had barely had time to digest the words when there was a knock at her front door.
‘Have you had one of these?’ asked Mark, waving the official-looking envelope. He was quickly joined by Declan.
‘I have. I assume Alice will have received one too,’ he said with a sigh.
Normally post was deposited into the communal box downstairs, although any important mail was posted directly to the tenants through their front door.
‘Can you believe this?’ said Declan, shaking his head. ‘The building is up for sale.’
‘And we have been given two months’ notice to get out once a sale has been agreed,’ said Mark, feeling suddenly stressed.
‘It isn’t long, is it?’ said Jess, fear gripping her. Especially as her mum no longer had her house. She thought of her and Maisie staying in some temporary accommodation somewhere, although hopefully it would not come to that. ‘I simply don’t know where Maisie and I will go.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Declan.
‘But I imagine you could move back in with your mum,’ said Jess.
‘Maybe in an emergency.’ He shrugged. ‘But I can’t see that happening. It’s Alice I am really worried about, though.’ He sighed. ‘She is too old and frail to be making another house move so soon. We need to speak to her.’
‘It isn’t uncommon for landlords to sell a property, especially one of this quality,’ Alice told her friends calmly as she poured them tea from a china pot. ‘They make very desirable purchases, especially one that has been divided up into apartments.’
‘But don’t we have rights as tenants?’ asked Mark anxiously.
He cursed his foolishness in not buying an apartment when he and Diane had downsized. Instead, they chose to rent and spend the proceeds of the house travelling the world. And then he bought a bloody boat. Maybe he could live on it, short-term at least, but he feared for his friends.
‘Unfortunately, as we don’t have fixed-term contracts, but rather periodic ones, I am rather afraid the owner can do as he likes,’ Alice told them. ‘But I will have a solicitor friend of mine look over the contract. At least the two months’ notice will only start after the agreed sale, which should give us longer here. Especially as the housing market is a little uncertain at the moment.’
