Elliott stabbed a finger towards the garage. ‘They’re in a damp garage not inside the house where they should be. How is that not turfing them out?’
‘Okay, let’s look at it from a different perspective,’ said Darla. ‘Once probate and everything else that happens after someone dies is sorted out, it’s most likely The Brambles will go up for sale. At that point there will be photographs and the owners are going to want the house to look its best. Decluttered will definitely look better. Come in and see for yourself how much bigger the rooms look already.’
‘No, thank you. Have you got permission to do this?’
‘It’s not that I haven’t tried but the agency’s only contact is a solicitor who is very busy so it’s kind of a long chain to get to whoever it is we would need to ask.’
‘I think you should keep trying,’ he said.
‘I will and if it’s an issue we’ll move it all back.’ There was a groan from the other end of the settee.
‘Anyway,’ said Elliott, seeming mollified. ‘You did say you were a cleaner didn’t you?’
‘I did and I am,’ said Darla proudly.
Elliott pulled a business card from his pocket. ‘A friend of mine needs someone to clean his boat. I don’t know if you do that sort of thing but I said I’d pass on his details.’ He handed her the card.
‘I’ll take on pretty much anything. I’ll give him a call and thanks for recommending me.’
‘I didn’t exactly recommend you but anyway, I need to get off.’ Elliott made a bit of a harrumph noise before heading back to the car.
‘Hang on,’ called Ros from the other side of the sofa. Elliott turned around. ‘Any chance you could give us a hand?’ Elliott shook his head, got in the car and drove off.
‘I think that was a no,’ said Darla. ‘Never mind, we are strong independent women and we can do this ourselves.’
‘Agreed,’ said Ros.
Darla stared at the sofa stuck in the doorway. ‘Perhaps after a cup of tea?’
‘Definitely,’ agreed Ros.
Darla had climbed over the stuck sofa and while the kettle boiled she and Ros spread out the remaining furniture in the living room. Darla went to get the cushions she’d found at a charity shop in town and placed them on the remaining sofa and chair, which instantly added a shock of colour and brightened the place up.
‘It does look much better,’ said Ros as they surveyed the room. ‘I’d probably get rid of a few more things if it was me.’
‘You’ve seen the garage,’ said Darla, giving the last cushion a plump. ‘And all the bedrooms upstairs are the same. The place is overflowing with old furniture.’
‘Some of the things in here looked like antiques,’ said Ros. ‘But I don’t know anything about antiques. I like things clean and new.’
‘I like the idea of things having their own history. A story to tell.’ Darla ran a hand along an old dark wood writing bureau. ‘Take this for example. Think of all the people who have sat here and written letters or perhaps even a book. I wonder what exciting times this little thing has seen.’
‘Probably a lot of bills and not a lot else,’ said Ros.
Darla gave her a look.
‘What? I’m just being realistic. People don’t write letters anymore,’ added Ros.
‘But they used to. When this was first made, I bet it was the must-have piece of furniture. Ladies in crinolines with fountain pens—’
‘Now there’s a disastrous combination for start,’ said Ros. ‘And you’ve watched too muchBridgerton. It’s probably a good thing there’s no telly.’
‘Don’t!’ said Darla, leaving the room and going through to the kitchen with Ros following her. ‘I thought I would embrace it but it’s a lot harder than you’d think. I thought I didn’t watch much TV but it turns out I was watching it every night. And if I had a good gig I was on all the extra channels: Sky, NOW TV, Netflix. You name it. I was halfway through a number of series and now nothing. Complete cold turkey. It’s been very hard. A lot like giving up smoking.’
‘You used to smoke?’ asked Ros.
‘No. Yuk, horrid habit. But I bet it’s very similar to giving up television.’
‘Hmm.’ Ros looked doubtful. ‘So that was the infamous Elliott.’
