Speaking of Willie, he’ll be here soon. I check the time on my phone – it’s 1:05 pm. He’s a creature of habit. Every day he leaves the house punctually to meditate in the park, and I know he takes the exact same route because I’ve followed him here multiple times and he’s never strayed from it. Last night a neighbour tried to have some small talk with him, and he didn’t stop, just shouted, ‘I’ve places to be,’ and kept going. Begrudgingly, I find his dedication to his meditation admirable. If only he offered the same level of care to his tenants. My plan for what I’m going to do to Willie has all been finalised; I’m quite pleased with what I have in store for him. First, though, I have to consider if this is a choice I really want to make. What I need ideally is for him to do something shitty where I have a witness. Confirmation that the bad things I think about him are true and not my biased perception because he’s chosen to be a landlord.
Gavin sheds their jacket to feel the rays of the burning sun on their skin. My gaze is on the bridge where Willie will appear, as Gavin tells me the storyline of a TV show they’ve been bingeing about lesbian nuns. I’m making the noises of listening but nothing is landing in my consciousness. Once they’ve concluded, they ask me if I’ve been watching anything good recently. I’m not really thinking about my words, only Willie’s actions, which is why the truth slips out – ‘Willie.’
‘What?’
I thank God and all the other spiritual entities I do not believe in that Willie is bang on schedule as I point in his direction. ‘Isn’t that Willie McAllister?’ I make sure to sound uncertain, test out the capabilities of my acting.
As well as being a huge area of interest for me outside of work, there’s been a lot of chat about Willie inside of it too. Despite intense discussion, utilising the Battle and Backdown Negotiation System Brian outlines in great detail on his YouTube channel as a ‘never fail technique’, Willie has started the process of leaving Perfect Property Solutions. He invited Brian out for lunch, came and collected him from the office like they were embarking on a fledgling romance, ordered the most expensive food and drink on the menu for the pair of them and then, once the food had arrived, Willie repeatedly called Brian names as he dumped him, my favourite being that he was a ‘clueless, perma-tanned prick’. When the table was cleared, Willie refused to pay for his share.
Brian has not taken this turn of events well. He’s made a habit of leaving his phone in the office overnight and telling Leanne he’s not to be disturbed as he’s formulating the next incarnation of the business. That’s not what he’s doing, unless business planning is why he rolls into the office ages after I’ve got there, looking shagged out.
Gavin looks over their shoulder. ‘Shit, yeah, I think it is Willie.’ Without debate, they put their jacket back on and press the lid onto their half-eaten lunch, preparing to leave.
‘Where are you going? Is he the landlord of the park, too? Now he’s chucked us are we not allowed to sit here?’ My use of ‘us’ hangs heavy in the air. I view myself as part of Perfect Property Solutions. It feels wrong but – this is the troubling bit – it’s not inaccurate.
Gavin reopens their lunch. ‘No, I mean of course not. It’s just, I don’t really want to see him or be seen by him.’ They prod at olives with their fork, failing to spear any onto it. See, Willie needs to be shown the world is not all his for the taking.
‘Do you feel this way about all the landlords you deal with? That you would rather vacate the space they’re in than be in their orbit?’ I’m sick of my rank sandwiches, I can’t face another bite. I crumple what remains in the square of tinfoil I wrapped them in and mush it together into a soft, jagged ball of metal, bread and meat.
‘A lot of them are pretty demanding customers but I wouldn’t avoid them. Although I wouldn’t want to socialise with them either.’
‘Why are they so unpleasant to their letting agency, then? The very people who make it easy for them to collect their rent and make their profit?’
Gavin straightens their back as if this answer is in a formal setting. ‘Well, we’re there to provide a service for which we take a cut, so they have high expectations. Investing in property is a gamble. They’ve put a lot of money into an enterprise they’re hoping will continue to give them an income they can’t really control, so that comes with a lot of stress and we bear a bit of the brunt of that.’ Happy with what they’ve said, they reward themself with a cherry tomato. I hear it pop in their mouth when they bite down.
‘Their stress isn’t real. If it all goes wrong, they still own a property that has value to sell and no doubt make profit on.’ Gavin looks like they’re considering adding in their tuppence but I don’t give them space to. ‘I read an article the other day where loads of landlords were moaning about having to sell their properties because the buy-to-let market isn’t as profitable as it used to be. So off they’ll go and sell their properties and make their money and then there’ll be fewer places to rent and rent will get pushed up for everyone else. Renters are the ones taking on the bigger burden existing in this system, paying for their landlord’s mortgage, which makes them unable to save up to get their own. Landlords are leeches. Society would be much better off if they didn’t exist.’
‘Oh, come on, that’s a bit harsh. Some are fine. Probably most are fine. I mean, if I were a landlord…’
The very thought of socialising with such a person makes me stick out my tongue and go, ‘Eurgh,’ on impulse.
Gavin persists. ‘Obviously the system needs to change a bit so the horrible ones get weeded out more efficiently because they ruin it for everyone.’ Gavin’s red in the face, either from the unseasonal heat or from strong disagreement with my central argument that all landlords are bastards. I can’t tell which.
The conversation has waylaid me from paying attention to Willie. When I locate him, he’s not in his usual spot. The good weather means it’s occupied for a change. He’s prowling for a space to chill out, stomping on the path towards me and Gavin. As if to prove a point about the kindness of landlords, Gavin says to Willie as he passes, ‘Hi, William.’
‘Fuck off.’
Gavin whispers, even though Willie is already a good distance away from us and has his earbuds in. ‘OK, society would be better off without Willie McAllister.’
I agree.
12
My alarm goes off at 5:15 am. I don’t need it to wake me, I’ve lain awake all night waiting for morning. This is my last chance to choose to sleep for another two hours, get up for work and continue to be the person I have always been, one who has accepted life is shite and hard, could see no way of changing it. Or I could carry out my plan, become a woman of action, killing the useless inactive self I have been until today. The answer is clear: old me is sentenced to death. I’m excited about who I will be reincarnated as.
I don’t shower or wash, there’ll be lots of time for that when I get home.IfI get home. There is always the chance I might fail, be caught in the act. What have the last thirty-two years of life shown me if not that I am set up to fail. Yet, I am certain I will succeed. I’ve never had this drive or determination for any other project. I’ve heard sportspeople and actors and such being interviewed referring to their jobs as their ‘calling’. This always smelt of bullshit to me, but since I started planning justice for Willie, I understand. As I move about my bedroom, Willie’s episode ofFixer Uppersplaying in the background to remind me why I am doing this, my bones sparkle underneath my skin, imbued with the magic of being in a body that’s finally found its purpose. I put my nightgown – a huge T-shirt with Britney Spears on I stopped wearing until recently as Nicol told me repeatedly it looked like lost property – in the laundry basket then change into my running outfit. This is what I’ve worn each morning and evening to jog and stalk Willie: black trainers, black jogging bottoms, black T-shirt covered by a black hoodie, my hair in a low ponytail and hidden under a black beanie, gloves, with the additional props I’ll need today in my pocket. My phone stays where it is, charging on my bedside table.
It was a toss-up between Willie’s early walk and the later one for today’s events, as both of them offer the cover of darkness and quieter streets. The 6:00 am walk won because of a book Brian made me read to ‘up my business skills’ calledEat That Frog, which had many, many pages dedicated to a simple idea: the toughest, worst thing you have on your to-do list should be the first thing you do in the day, because then it’s done and everything else will seem easier in comparison. A lesson I believe applies to both office-based tasks and terrorising landlords. The book has proven so helpful I haven’t given it back to Brian, despite reading it in one sitting days ago.
My speed this morning is slower than usual; I want to reserve my energy for the task ahead. I follow the same route Willie will in a few minutes’ time: in through the silver gates at Kwik Fit, down the dark tree-lined path, stopping at the corner where he presses Play on the app. There are dense woods next to the bench, which I disappear into. Willie hasn’t noticed me testing out this hiding spot on the last few mornings. Under the cover of the bushes and branches, I take off my black woollen gloves to reveal the latex ones underneath, to be extra careful. The police probably don’t have the funding to DNA test people who were given a fright by aggressive strangers – an outrage really, but working in my favour in this instance.
The adrenaline of what I am about to do is making my heart race, my breaths shallow, as I hear the smack of Willie’s feet on the tarmac of the path.
It’s time.
As I action the plan I’ve made, there’s a poignancy to everything I hadn’t anticipated. When Willie presses Play on his app, he doesn’t realise this is the last time he will associate this place with peace.
My cue for action is when Willie walks onto the bridge. I jog towards him. I’m not hiding. If Willie didn’t believe his maleness and size made him safe, he would know not to have the volume so high in a deserted place and he would have a chance to save himself from what’s to come. Being a tall able-bodied white man is going to be his downfall.
