Practically Perfect (2 page)

Anna blew out the candle and then reversed carefully down the ladder that was currently her staircase. Sometimes she let herself fantasise about meeting his mother, or running into Max while he was visiting her. She always chuckled at this dream in spite of herself. If he did run into her, she’d more than likely be wearing dungarees and builder’s boots, and while she had always been a jeans and sweater girl, her clothes were even more utilitarian now than they had been when she was a student.

Still, she’d carried the torch for a very long time and it still burned as brightly as when Max had been the guest lecturer at college.

He’d been the hot young architect, coming in to talk to them, and she’d just been one of the students, taking notes. She was willing to bet she wasn’t the only one who’d fallen in love with him, either. He’d been so dynamic and vital. Not really handsome, but with such a massive
personality
that his looks didn’t matter. But she’d never talked about him to anyone else and, thank God, this included her sister. She hadn’t wanted to find out that he’d slept his way through half the class but passed over her. Then, at their Graduation Ball, he had picked her out and danced with her. It was right at the end, and Anna had had to leave because there was a whole group of them sharing a minicab home. There’d just been time for Max to write his number on a bit of cigarette packet. ‘Call me,’ he’d said, his voice a husky whisper.

Anna had fully intended to call him, even though the thought was more scary than finals had been, but some hideous bug had laid her low for days. The first day she felt well enough to go out she had been on her way to the chemist when she saw him – with a woman. She had rushed home and torn up the bit of cigarette packet and then burnt the pieces. It was only a couple of days later, when the last remnants of the bug had left her and she felt less wobbly, that she realised she’d been incredibly stupid. The woman could have been just a friend: his sister, a colleague, anyone. She’d regretted her folly ever since.

Anna went to the place where the electric kettle and the toaster were plugged into the only part of the house where they could be. There was also a small wash-hand basin there, so it counted as a kitchen. To satisfy the demands of the building-society-turned-bank, she had left the slightly rusty cooker and cracked sink in place until after she’d been given a mortgage. Luckily for her, the address, and the relatively small amount she needed to borrow, meant the valuer didn’t actually need to go into the property. She had secured her money on a ‘walk by’ – which normally would have been a drive by, had it been possible to drive past the cottages – and it was hers.

Of course the mortgage didn’t seem small to her, it seemed enormous, but from the building society’s point of view, it was fairly insignificant.

While she made herself a cup of tea, using the last of the milk, she forced herself to stop thinking about the man she hadn’t seen for three years and calculated how long it would be before Laura could stay away no longer and would descend, handyman husband in tow, to ‘sort her out’.

Anna loved her sister dearly, and when they’d lived together they’d got on fine. But since Laura was no longer able to supervise her dates, steer her wardrobe in the right direction, and generally mother her, the word ‘bossy’ was becoming more and more appropriate. If she’d known where Anna intended to spend her first night in her very own home – investment project, she corrected herself hurriedly – she’d have had a blue fit. She would not consider a sleeping bag and a camping mat a suitable resting place, even if Anna did have a couple of blankets she could pull over herself. But without Laura adding her capital to hers, her mortgage would have been much larger.

And surely Laura wouldn’t blame Anna for falling in love with the cottage, at least a little bit. It was heavenly! Or it would be when it had floors, a staircase, a proper kitchen and a bathroom. The previous owners had ripped all these things out and then either run out of money or interest. The estate agent was rather cagey about it.

Anna had tossed and turned her way through a week of sleepless nights while she waited for the surveyor’s report. She was certain he’d discover some major problem: the reason why the previous owners had abandoned something with ‘such terrific letting potential’ as the estate agent put it. When no such reasons were revealed, Anna felt it was probably because there was so little left in which to
discover
death-watch beetle, dry rot or perished timbers. The ground floor had been stripped of almost everything, including most of the floorboards. There was no staircase, so the only way to the first floor was via a ladder. Here there was at least a floor to walk about on, but there was no bathroom. And the very top floor, the attic, which in Anna’s mind’s eye was already the most wonderful bedroom-bathroom-dressing-room suite, was very much as it had been hundreds of years ago. Anna planned to sleep up there when everything was straighter downstairs, but at the moment she felt she needed to be nearer things. Up in the attic, the rest of the house could burst into flames and she would be unaware of it until it was too late. She’d bought and installed a smoke alarm, even without her sister’s prompting.

Its lack of amenities had made the house very cheap, considering its position, both in the country as a whole and in Amberford in particular.

It was part of a row of cottages at right angles to the road. A path led between the houses and the gardens which overlooked the village. When the houses were built, the gardens would all have produced vegetables and not been used for leisure purposes. Even now, there was no space wasted in high hedges or fences. It gave the area an open-plan, allotment-like feel, that Anna loved. Laura would say that having the garden open plan would detract from the value. But there was a smaller, enclosed garden at the back, and if your children needed lots of playing space (and Laura’s two boys definitely did) there was an attractive bit of common land not far away. A church, a school and a pub, and an easy journey to a mainline station, made it a very desirable spot. There was even a shop and a post office and, not too far away, a Chinese takeaway.

Of course it only had two bedrooms, and Laura would say that cut Anna’s target market down considerably. Anna had already prepared her speech saying it made it an ideal second home, although she didn’t like the idea of second homes making once-thriving villages barren and empty during the week.

She had yet to meet her neighbours, and because it was beginning to get dark and people would be putting their lights on, a walk along the row would tell her which cottages were occupied permanently, and which were not. She needed a few things from the shop anyway; now would be a good time to investigate discreetly.

It seemed strange walking so close to people’s windows and although she couldn’t quite resist looking inside, she made her glances oblique and fleeting. She was grateful that she was the end cottage (she would tell her sister that ‘end of terrace’ was better than ‘mid’) so no one could look in at the building site she currently called home.

Her immediate neighbour was definitely a permanent resident. Anna could hear children and there were lights on everywhere. A sideways glance through the kitchen window as she passed showed a reassuring amount of mess. Anna’s sister was terribly organised and it was what they argued about more than anything else. Anna didn’t want to find herself living next door to another neatnik.

The next house was either a holiday home or belonged to someone not yet home from work: a commuter, possibly. The curtains were open but no light showed. Anna could see hints of a very stylish, modern kitchen, full of expensive appliances.

The house next to that was clearly occupied by an elderly lady. Her windowsill was covered with china ornaments, visible in front of the curtain that was already drawn. A
cat
sat on the porch, evidently dismissing Anna as a blow-in, and refusing her offers of friendship.

The first cottage in the row, and the last one Anna passed before she reached the main road, was definitely a holiday cottage. The Christmas decorations were still up, even though it was mid-March. Going by the quality of the decorations, which were of the tasteful corn-dolly and red-ribbon type, she judged the house was not owned by disorganised people who just didn’t get round to taking them down. More likely they were spending the winter somewhere warm.

Out of the five cottages, three – possibly four – including her own, seemed occupied which, considering how small they were, was not a bad ratio.

The shop bell jangled in a friendly way. It was a small supermarket, with a couple of short rows of goods and a counter for bacon and cheese. The man who stood at the counter, doing the crossword, looked up when she entered and smiled. ‘Evening.’

‘Evening.’

‘Can I help you?’

‘I think I can probably manage,’ said Anna, feeling a little shy. She was used to the anonymity of London shops, where only the proprietors of shops you used very frequently ever spoke to you.

‘Well, let me know if there’s anything you can’t find. Just moved in, have you?’ he added later, when Anna had put a few things into her basket.

‘That’s it. I just need some basic provisions.’

‘So you’ve moved into Brick Row?’

‘Yes. How did you know?’ This omniscience took some getting used to.

The shopkeeper smiled. ‘It didn’t take much detective work. We knew the house had been bought by a young
woman
; you’re obviously dressed for work; and who else would come in here just before closing, at this time of year, who I don’t know?’

Anna smiled. ‘I suppose it does make sense.’

‘Don’t worry, we’re not all nosy round here, and those of us that are are well meaning on the whole.’

Anna placed her basket of goods on to the counter so he could ring them up. ‘I’m sure you are.’

She walked home feeling very satisfied. The shop didn’t sell fresh meat or fish but otherwise it seemed to have everything else Anna might need and the town of Stroud was only a short bike ride away. Amberford was perfect, well worthy of being fallen in love with, and if being there without a car caused a few problems, well, she’d deal with them as they came up.

As Anna walked back along the lane she saw a young woman standing by the front door next to hers, looking out anxiously. Anna was pleased to see her as she’d been intrigued by the row of three small pairs of wellington boots, arranged in size order, on the windowsill of the porch. She overcame her shyness and smiled. The young woman smiled back, still preoccupied.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘You’ve moved into number five? You’re very brave! It hasn’t even got floors, has it? I was going to invite you round for a bath, but just now we can’t even have one ourselves. I’m waiting for a plumber. He promised he’d be here before two, but I don’t suppose he’ll come now.’

‘Oh dear, what’s the problem?’ Anna asked.

Presumably hearing her voice, three small boys abandoned their toys of mass destruction and clustered round their mother, eager to see whom she was talking to.

‘Blocked drain,’ the woman said with a grimace. ‘I’ve pulled out the plug and nothing happens. It’s full of cold
soapy
water. If these three don’t have a bath at night, they take ages to settle. And it’s beginning to smell.’

‘Well, I might be able to help,’ said Anna.

The woman’s face lit up. ‘Really? How?’

‘I have a few building skills, which is just as well given the state of my house, but, more to the point, I have a tool that unblocks drains. I’ll just pop home and get it,’ Anna offered, ‘if you’d like me to.’

‘I’d love you to! I’ll put the kettle on. Or open some wine?’

Anna grinned back at her. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

It took Anna a little longer than that to find the tool that she and her sister had had cause to use so often in the Spitalfields flat. When she knocked on the door of her neighbour’s house and was let in, she found an agreeable amount of chaos.

‘I’m Chloe,’ said the woman.

‘Anna.’

‘And these are Bruno, Tom and Harry. Two, four and six, only in reverse order.’

‘Hello,’ said Anna, suddenly shy in front of three pairs of inquisitive eyes. ‘I’ve got my gadget, if you’d like to show me upstairs.’

They all went up the steep and very winding staircase to the second floor, where the bathroom and the boys’ bedroom was. The boys grabbed hold of her and towed her towards it.

‘We haven’t had a bath for two days!’ said the eldest, who was probably Bruno, but might have been Harry.

‘My husband’s away,’ said his mother. ‘He would be, just when there’s an emergency.’

Anna didn’t think a blocked bath plug quite qualified as an emergency, but accepted that Chloe obviously did. She rolled up her sleeve as far as it would go, which was not far enough.

‘I don’t suppose you’d all like to go downstairs while I do this?’ she suggested. ‘I want to take my jumpers off.’

‘We want to watch,’ announced one of the boys.

‘Yes, we do,’ said another.

Anna sighed. ‘OK.’ She undid her bib and peeled off the two jumpers that covered a long-sleeved T-shirt. Fortunately that sleeve rolled up obligingly high. She plunged her arm into the cold, scummy water. ‘Right, pass me my plunger, would you?’

‘This is so cool,’ murmured Bruno.

‘You’re right there,’ said Anna, shivering. ‘Very cool indeed.’

Chapter Two