Page 52 of Christmas Every Day
I started to grow a little suspicious.
And when Fisher turned up uninvited for dinner at the Camerons’ on Thursday, asking how things were going with my ‘nightmare renovation’, my suspicions swivelled over in his direction.
‘I heard you’ve not found a roofer. I expect most reputable tradesmen consider it more hassle than it’s worth.’ He stuffed a roast potato in his mouth. ‘Let’s be honest, those piles of rubbish are probably the only thing keeping it upright.’ He broke out into enormous guffaws.
‘Grandpa Fisher, it’s not allowed showing chewed-up food. Mum says its disgustering,’ Billy pronounced.
Fisher was laughing too loud to hear him.
But he wasn’t laughing when he followed me out into the hallway after the meal. Instead, he leant in close and murmured, ‘It’s a good offer I’ve made. But I’m a businessman. The market’s dropping and my offer will reflect that. You could hand over all the worry and hassle and be in a brand-new luxury apartment by June. Think about it.’
I backed away out of the door, droplets of his greasy breath lingering on the back of my neck all the way home.
19
Friday, I popped into the café and asked Sarah if she could search for roofers on her phone. By that evening I had a decent quote from a family firm in Nottingham, a cheerful assurance that the job was straightforward and a promise that it would be done by the end of the following week.
Did Fisher think I was a fool?
Or did he want me to know he was making things difficult?
I called round to Mack’s to let him know about the roofer. He welcomed me in as far as his kitchen. ‘Did you use the builders in the village? Parsons?’
‘Parsons wouldn’t do it.’
‘Why not?’
‘I think Fisher convinced them, and every other tradesman round here, not to.’
‘Why would he do that? Don’t you work for his daughter?’
‘He wants to buy the house. I can’t guess why. Maybe there’s some buried treasure hidden in there somewhere,’ I said.
Mack looked thoughtful. ‘He was sniffing around this one a few months back, wouldn’t let it go. Tried swinging his weight around. But I made it clear I wasn’t interested. I thought he’d got the message but then he pushed a card through my door a few weeks ago. Even if Iwasselling I wouldn’t let him have it on principle. Not until I knew what he was up to, anyway.’
‘Perhaps he wants to convert them into a holiday let.’
‘But there’s plenty of other places he could buy that need a lot less work. Whyhere?’
I shrugged. ‘Hopefully he’ll give up when he realises I’m here to stay.’
Mack raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re staying?’
‘Yes, neighbour, I am. So you’d better get used to me.’
‘Now, that,neighbour,will not be an easy thing to do.’
He caught my eye. The smile there sent a roll of delicious warmth through my insides. Was that smile flirting, or friendly? And how could someone like me, friendless (and flirtless) for so long, tell the difference?
How about the fact that he’s married?I scolded myself later, when his comment pushed its way back into my head for the third time that minute.
* * *
Sunday morning, Sarah pulled up just before six in her rickety old MPV. After jamming everything we could into the boot and back seat, we headed off to a local car boot sale and spent the rest of the morning trying to look as if we were seasoned hagglers who couldn’t be taken for a ride.
‘Remember,’ Sarah said, ‘these people are vultures. They’ll try every trick in the book. Everyone will coincidentally have a few quid less than we want for the item. Hold the line. And some of these guys are like Yoda. Don’t look ’em in the eye.’
‘Have you done this before?’
