46. The Viewing
Woof, woof, woof.
Estate agent’s just been.
She smiled a lot. Said it was a lovely space. Asked if I’d already moved out.
I said no. She looked at the deck chair in the living room. And the wine bottles. Then wandered into the kitchen. Made a note. About me?
Followed her. Tried to keep her away from the bin cupboard.
“No dishwasher?”
Told her it broke. Asked if it was important. She said most people want one. I do too, but wanted the cash more.
That’s when it started.
“Fuck!" She said. Unprofessional. “What’s that noise!?”
“Just the dog next door.”
“My god. Is it OK?”
“Think so. Don’t often hear it. Cute little thing. Has a pink bow.”
Looked like she was about to say something else.
“The balcony is out there," I pointed. “Goes all the way round to the living room.”
Took her outside.
“There’s a good view of the park. Nice in summer,” I offered.
“Hmmm."
The dog was louder out there. Think we both pretended not to hear it.
“Thank you, Mr Fairweather. I have what I need. I need to go now. I’ll email you.”
“Today?” I asked. But she’d already gone. Didn’t even get to the bedroom.
Bastard dog.