Page 33 of The Facilitator: Part 3
“We’re definitely going to get a holiday home somewhere,” she said.
“Or move?”
“Or move,” she added.
I showed her the image I’d found of a house in Broadstairs. It was clifftop, modern architecture, just built, in fact, and one of two on a large plot.
“Not sure about having neighbors,” she said. It looked to be a shared garden.
“We’d buy them both,” I replied, thinking one could be for Gabriella and Alex when they returned.
“Wouldn’t that be a waste of money?” she asked.
“Property investment is never a waste of money and I want to fuck you on that clifftop and not have the neighbors watching,” I said.
I didn’t have a problem with controlled viewings at the club, but anyone could buy that house and I didn’t want some sleazeball getting off while I fucked my wife. I chuckled; we hadn’t even really looked at the house. I smiled and made a call.
“Hi, I’m in the area and I want to look at the clifftop property,” I said. Lauren shook my arm and smiled,nodding. “Now, if possible. As I said, I’m in the area,” I added when asked when I’d like to view.
Each property was a little over five million and, from what I could see of the listing, had been on the market a while. Of course, the agent jumped at the chance, even though I suspected he’d be heading home. He wanted a ton of details before we could meet, including my financial position.
“If my wife likes them, I’d want to buy them both,” I said, not giving him a breakdown of what was in my bank accounts. More so, because unless I spoke to my accountants I didn’t know. It changed every day with interest and investment movements.
I guess it satisfied him and we agreed to meet in a half hour.
“Let’s have a drive around the area,” Lauren said.
We found the golf course, not that I would be interested in that, some really nice residential areas and restaurants. There were good train links, not that I traveled on public transport but Lauren suggested we should train into London. I shook my head at that. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than a packed commuter train in the height of summer, or winter even. In fairness, to get to Canary Wharf from outside London would take the same time as getting to it from just the other side. Since we were driven, the journey wasn’t of consequence to me.
We pulled through an electric gate and took the left drive as instructed. We pulled up outside a white, with gray steel windows, framed building. An agent stepped out of his car and I caught the look of admiration for mine.
“That’s the new model, isn’t it?” he asked and I nodded. “I didn’t think it was out yet.”
He obviously knew his vehicles. “Technically, it’s released for sale tomorrow, but I was fortunate to get mine early,” I said. “Now, how do we get in?” I asked.
The agent led us around the side of the building and in through the largest front door I’d ever seen. Not just in height, but width, and I wondered how easy that would be to push closed.
We stepped into a bright and airy hallway, one side lined with glass and through to a staircase that wrapped around an elevator.
“We’ll start upstairs,” he said.
All the living space was on the second of four floors, open plan and with a large balcony. The view was stunning, sea for miles and miles on either side. Lauren ignored his call to look at the kitchen, instead I walked over to it. There’d be some things I’d want to change but it was brand-new and fully functioning.
“The development was completed a year ago,” he told us.
“Why haven’t they sold?” I asked.
He sighed. “The market is just slow at the moment, particularly for such high-end in this area,” he said.
I pulled a card from my wallet and handed it to him. He read. “Why hasn’t it sold?” I asked, again and he chuckled.
“There was an issue in planning, hence the reason there is a no divide between the gardens. That had to be resolved and, for this money, a shared garden isn’t attractive unless you’re buying them both,” he said.
As a venture capitalist, someone who invested money in property as well as businesses, I knew he’d given me a standard realtor answer and I’d wanted the truth.
“Can we access the planning portal still?” I asked, wanting to know the clause that forbade two gardens. It was an odd one, for sure. “And I’d want all the plans and permits,” I added.
“I don’t know about the portal. I’m not sure how long details stay on there once completed, but I have all the planning permission and original drawings,” he said.
