Mr Saye inclined his head. ‘It’s hard to say, really.’
‘The thing is, my sister, being separated from Xander at the moment, is particularly anxious. I’m sure if I could tell her that he’s getting extra support from someone – you, for example – she’d feel a whole lot happier. She’d pay you for your time, of course.’ She smiled, she hoped, endearingly.
‘I don’t know if things really require—’
‘Please, Mr Saye. My sister wants what’s best for Xander more than anything. I’m sure a few extra lessons from you could really help.’
‘But why me?’ Mr Saye was looking kind but confused.
‘Because Xander really likes you. He mentions you when he’s at home. And he’s not a talkative boy – at home, anyway.’ Hattie hated lying, but all she wanted was Mr Saye’s contact details, then she could work something out. Maybe she could persuade Sheila to organise another quiz.
Still Mr Saye hesitated. Hattie produced a business card. ‘Do you have a card, Mr Saye?’
‘Er – no…’
‘Write your contact details on the back of mine. I know you’d be really helping Xander if you’d give him one session, even.’ Hattie smiled admiringly, entreatingly, sending out waves of charm towards this innocent man. She didn’t want it to look as if she was flirting with him, that would be quite inappropriate, but she did want his telephone number.
‘OK.’ Mr Saye took Hattie’s card. ‘Talk to Xander’s mother and I’ll see what I can do.’
Hattie walked away from the interview feeling sick. She needed to sit down for a few minutes to recover both from the vision and the subsequent manipulationof poor Mr Saye. Then she’d buy pizza to take back to Xander.
She had woken the following morning feeling out of sorts. The previous evening had been lovely, eating takeaway pizza with Xander, but now she felt a bit unsettled. She put it down to tiredness, and the new problem she faced with trying to get her sister and Mr Saye together. Still, she had his phone number, although sadly not his given name.
After a fruitless viewing which caused her to wonder if her new client, Mrs Conway – a charming woman – had any idea at all of the cost of a grand period property. Or if she realised she might have to have her own pond put in and plant a few roses in order to call a place perfect, Hattie found herself near Sheila’s house. She decided to call her to see if she was up for a visit.
‘Hattie!’ said Sheila, delighted. ‘I was just about to ring you. I’ve got some gorgeous pictures of Fiona and Nick.’
‘Oh! I had a text from Fiona a little while ago, but no photos. She said she was very happy.’
‘I think she is. They’ve decided they will extend their holiday for a bit so she can really recover from everything Lance put her through.’ She paused. ‘I could send these pictures, but I’d love to see you.’
‘Well, I do happen to be very near your house if you were up for a visit.’
‘Lovely! We can have lunch. Malcolm’s playing golf.’
Feeling cheery, Hattie drove to Sheila’s house.
After showing to Hattie several photos of a very relaxed Fiona, in shorts and T-shirt, looking very happy, with Nick’s protective arm around her, Sheila turned her mind to lunch.
‘I’ve only got soup, bread and cheese and a bit of cold meat,’ Sheila said. ‘And I think I know I can’t press you to a glass of wine, but it’s sourdough bread from the van, and the cheese is local too.’
‘That sounds delicious,’ said Hattie, accepting the offered place at Sheila’s big kitchen table. ‘I’ve got a client – a really nice woman – but her wish list is a yard long and her budget isn’t nearly big enough and tactfully pointing all that out is tiring.’
‘How do you cope with that?’
‘I try to find out which of her list is really essential, and if her budget could be stretched if we found the perfect house. Every viewing is a learning opportunity. Eventually we’ll find a way to compromise but it can feel like doing things the hard way.’
‘That does sound exhausting,’ said Sheila. ‘Let me show you more photos while the soup warms.’
Hattie flicked through the photos on Sheila’s phone. There were a fair amount of city views, a couple of Nick holding different wine glasses in different bars and restaurants, but what made her really smile were the ones of Fiona.
‘Look at her there,’ said Sheila, looking over her shoulder. ‘Eating ice cream, not a scrap of make-up, looking as happy as a clam.’
‘She is so lovely, she really is. She doesn’t need make-up,’ said Hattie.
Sheila sighed. ‘I can’t wait to hear all about it. I told you, didn’t I, that they’ve decided to extend their trip?Nick is a “digital nomad” apparently, so can work from anywhere.’
Hattie laughed. ‘Convenient, in the circs!’ She paused and then went on. ‘Erm – have you heard anything from Lance?’
