Another pause.
…
Seb stops typing.
…
He starts again.
Why would she think that?he says. Then:Don’t answer. We’re not friends enough for that kind of chat.
The woman exhales. She narrows her eyes.
We’re friends, are we?
She sends the message. For a while, nothing.
Then,…
‘What are you doing?’ her daughter says, suddenly bored of the window.
‘No one,’ her mother replies. ‘I mean, nothing.’
She slips her phone into her pocket, still hiding a smile.
another estate agent
A railway arch property in a hip inner-city location. Traditional vaulted ceilings create a varying height throughout the premises, providing plenty of unusual character.
The tall man had already been here when the estate agent had arrived, vaping on the doorstep, craning his neck up at the bare exterior. He’s got a good poker face, this guy, and he doesn’t crack the entire time he’s pacing the rooms, leaning over the bar, running one hand up the cold, slightly sweaty brick of the curving wall.
The estate agent is about to offer to turn off the lights, to show what the place might look like at night, when he’s distracted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Heavy boots on wrought-iron stairs. The viewer turns to the estate agent, arches one of those dark eyebrows.
‘One of yours?’ he says.
The estate agent begins to shake his head, but the person is already peeking around the door. Two people. A short woman with tangled blond hair and piercing eyes, and a curly-hairedginger toddler trailing after her. A train passes overhead, and the whole room shudders. The viewer’s façade has finally cracked.
‘Clara?’ he says, his voice uneasy.
‘Seb.’ The woman shakes her head. ‘I don’t believe this.’
Once-thriving basement nightclub in an east London weekend hotspot, with an established audience and a late-night licence. Perfect for a party crowd.
‘You lied to me,’ Clara is saying, as they reach the door of the second venue.
‘I didn’t lie to you,’ Seb replies, over his shoulder, as he clunks down the stairs. ‘I just didn’t tell the truth.’
They’ve been fighting ever since she arrived. The estate agent is trying to find a gap in the argument to point out some features of the property, but he’s had no luck as of yet.
‘You pretended you’d moved to New York!’ Clara says.
The estate agent raises his eyebrows. Even the woman’s daughter makes a face. From Seb’s expression, it’s clear that he doesn’t have a leg to stand on.
‘I didn’t know what to say,’ he stutters. ‘I didn’t stay because—’ He gives up. ‘Why are you here, Clara?’
‘I had to see for myself.’
‘Well, here I am.’
