I should be taking notes on determination here. If she pulls this off today, I’ll definitely ask her about those affirmations she does. As I lean across and give her a squeeze, there’s a waft of berries and when I get my hand back from her arm it’s so sticky I have to dive into Maisie’s changing bag for a wet wipe. When I rejoin the group, Charlie’s talking them through it.
‘So they’ll start very soon; the auctioneer is the blonde woman in the black suit and fishnets holding the hammer. She’s very good at spotting bids, and very clear at checking if you’re in or out.’ If all the auctioneers are this racy, maybe this explains Charlie’s interest in speculating.
As the room fills up, Joe and Plum slide in a few yards away, and Joe grins at Nate. ‘Good luck, let’s hope one of us wins this.’
The auctioneer clears her throat. She’s so businesslike and focussed she’s making Sophie look like a light-weight. ‘Hello and welcome, ladies and gentlemen, today we are selling one lot, a delightful castellated and turreted dwelling with lots of potential, known locally as Siren House. Just to let you know we have some proxy bids and some telephone bidders too.’ Beside her there’s a cluster of staff all holding their mobiles to their ears. ‘So I’d like to outline a few conditions …’
As she goes through her preamble, Charlie’s feeding instructions into Nate’s ear. ‘Don’t worry about the phone bidders. Your tactic is to hang right back, let the others bid it up, and only go in when everyone else is finished.’
Sophie’s the colour of the clean parts of her T-shirt and her heart is banging so hard I can hear it from two feet away.
‘Who’ll start me at five hundred thousand … do I have four hundred and fifty anywhere?’ The auctioneer’s looking around the room, and Joe’s card flashes up. ‘Thank you, number twenty-two at the back there, do I have four hundred and sixty anywhere? Thank you, number eighteen at the side. Do I hear four hundred and seventy …?’
I’m staring at Nell, open-mouthed as the bids jump backwards and forwards across the room. ‘Oh my, it’s so fast.’ The price has jumped up by two hundred thousand in a matter of seconds. It goes up and up, Joe’s still in there, then it stalls at just under seven hundred and thirty.
As the silence is broken by a loud snore from Maisie in her pushchair, the auctioneer says, ‘We won’t take that as a bid,’ and everyone laughs.
Then Charlie gives Nate a nudge. ‘Okay, in you go.’
Nate sticks his card up, and the auctioneer says, ‘I’ll take seven hundred and thirty from number twenty-four.’ And off they go again.
As they nod backwards and forwards between Joe and Nate, it’s intense. I desperately want Sophie to win, but at the same time now I know him more I hate the idea of Joe being disappointed.
Then at eight hundred thousand to Nate, Joe shakes his head. ‘No, I’m out.’
Sophie’s eyes are shining and her fists are clenched as she nods at me and hisses, ‘Yes.’
The auctioneer then says, ‘And we have a phone bid at eight hundred and ten thousand.’ She looks at Nate. ‘Will you go to eight twenty?’
Nate nods.
The auctioneer’s cutting in again. ‘I have eight thirty on the phone.’ She goes back to Nate. ‘Will you go to eight forty?’
Nate hesitates. Then shakes his head, and hisses at Charlie. ‘Eight thirty’s our absolute max.’ He looks at the auctioneer. ‘Sorry, no. We’re done.’
‘And I have a second phone bidder, in at eight forty. Do I have eight fifty on the first phone? Eight sixty on phone two?’
Nate and Sophie have visibly flopped, and Joe creeps over and gives Nate a silent punch on the chest and mouths, ‘Bad luck for both of us, it wasn’t meant to be.’
We’re all standing and the auctioneer is winding it up. ‘Okay, so I’m at eight hundred and sixty-five thousand pounds now, for the first time, for the second time …’
Charlie’s voice is low. ‘This is it, it’s selling now.’
It’s totally silent, then as the auctioneer raises her hammer high and starts to sweep it down there’s a sudden flurry. Sophie dives in, grabs the card from Nate, and the second before the hammer hits the table she jumps in the air and shouts, ‘Eight hundred and seventy …’
Nate’s hissing, ‘No, Sophie, stop, we agreed we wouldn’t, we can’t …’
The auctioneer nods and gives a smug smile. ‘And we have eight hundred and seventy in the room. Eight hundred and seventy-five on phone two. Eight hundred and eighty back in the room?’
Sophie stares straight ahead and shouts, ‘Yes!’ She turns to Nate and hisses. ‘I’ll use the cash from the company, I’m not stopping until I get it.’
My eyes are open so wide they could be about to pop out, and shit knows where Sophie’s getting her oxygen from, because I haven’t taken a breath since my gasp when she started bidding.
There’s more to-ing and fro-ing as they check if there are any more bids, then the auctioneer’s calling. ‘For the first time … for the second time … for the last time, at eight hundred and eighty thousand pounds.’ She lifts her hammer, and then it slams down on the table. ‘Sold to number twenty-four, the lady at the back in the – er – Chainsaw Massacre T-shirt.’ She rushes across to Sophie and snatches her hand first, then Nate’s. ‘Congratulations, you’ll soon be the proud owners of St Aidan’s most unusual home.’
‘Yes! It’s ours!’ Sophie throws back her head, punches the air and lets out an ear-splitting scream.
George is standing, blinking, then he turns to Charlie. ‘Which means you will soon be the proud owner of Hawthorne Farm. Congratulations for that.’
