she said knowledgeably.
“Find out exactly what your rent covers, make sure there aren’t any hidden rates to be paid later, ask how they work the food—does everyone have their own shelf in the fridge, or do they take it in turns buying basics? If you are all going to have a week each in charge of the food, get a list of what people buy and how much they spend. Stupid to have you buying gorgeous fresh-ground coffee or expensive tea, when they only get instant and tea bags.”
“And what should I ask about housework?” Pat wondered.
“Do they have a Hoover, if so who uses it and when? It would be awful if they were all manic house cleaners, washing down paintwork every day. And examine the place carefully, they might be so careless that the place is full of mice and rats.”
Privacy meant that Pat was to inquire what arrangements they had about the sitting room: Did people book it if they were going to ask anyone in, or did everyone eat, play, watch telly together, or did people entertain in their own bedrooms?
So, armed with all this intelligence, she dialled the “Third Girl wanted, lovely flat, near park, own room, friendly atmosphere” advertisement. Auntie Delia would have snorted at the ad, and said that they sounded like a bunch of dikes to her. Pat still couldn’t believe that Auntie Delia didn’t snort and say outrageous things anymore.
The girl who answered the phone sounded a little breathless.
“I can’t really talk now, the boss is like a devil today, he says I shouldn’t have given this number. Can I have your number and I’ll phone you back later when he leaves the office? It’s a super flat, we wouldn’t want to leave it in a million years, it’s just that Nadia went off to Washington and we can’t afford it just for two.”
Pat didn’t like the sound of it. It seemed a bit fast and trendy. She didn’t like people who said “super” in that upward inflection, she didn’t like the thought of people suddenly dashing off to Washington, it was too racy. And she thought the name Nadia was affected. Still, she might use them as a rehearsal. There was no law saying you had to take the first flat you saw.
The breathless girl rang back ten minutes later. “He’s gone out for an hour,” she confided. “So I’m going to make use of it, ringing all the people back. I thought I’d start with you because you work in a bank, you might get us all an overdraft.”
Pat took this little pleasantry poorly, but still you had to practise flat-getting somewhere, and she arranged to call at eight o’clock. She made a list of questions, and she promised herself that she would take everything in, so that she would go better equipped to the next and more serious interview.
It was an old building, and there were a lot of stairs but no lift. Perhaps they all became permanently breathless from climbing those stairs. Feeling foolish to be feeling nervous, Pat rang the bell. It had a strange echoing chime, not a buzz. It would have, thought Pat. Nadias, and Washingtons, and Supers, naturally they’d have to have a bell that pealed rather than one which buzzed.
Joy wasn’t at all breathless now that she was home. She wore a long housecoat, and she smelled of some very, very expensive perfume. She was welcoming, she remembered Pat’s name, she apologized for the stairs but said that you got used to them after a month or so. There were eighty-three steps, counting the flat bits between floors, and they did encourage you not to be forgetful about things like keys.
Pat stared around the hall. It was literally covered in pictures and ornaments, and there were rugs on the walls as well. At one end there were a couple of flower baskets hanging and at the other a carved hall stand full of dried flowers.
“It’s far too nice to sit inside,” said Joy, and for a wild moment Pat thought that they would have to go down all the stairs again before she had even seen the flat.
“Come into Marigold’s room,
“Find out exactly what your rent covers, make sure there aren’t any hidden rates to be paid later, ask how they work the food—does everyone have their own shelf in the fridge, or do they take it in turns buying basics? If you are all going to have a week each in charge of the food, get a list of what people buy and how much they spend. Stupid to have you buying gorgeous fresh-ground coffee or expensive tea, when they only get instant and tea bags.”
“And what should I ask about housework?” Pat wondered.
“Do they have a Hoover, if so who uses it and when? It would be awful if they were all manic house cleaners, washing down paintwork every day. And examine the place carefully, they might be so careless that the place is full of mice and rats.”
Privacy meant that Pat was to inquire what arrangements they had about the sitting room: Did people book it if they were going to ask anyone in, or did everyone eat, play, watch telly together, or did people entertain in their own bedrooms?
So, armed with all this intelligence, she dialled the “Third Girl wanted, lovely flat, near park, own room, friendly atmosphere” advertisement. Auntie Delia would have snorted at the ad, and said that they sounded like a bunch of dikes to her. Pat still couldn’t believe that Auntie Delia didn’t snort and say outrageous things anymore.
The girl who answered the phone sounded a little breathless.
“I can’t really talk now, the boss is like a devil today, he says I shouldn’t have given this number. Can I have your number and I’ll phone you back later when he leaves the office? It’s a super flat, we wouldn’t want to leave it in a million years, it’s just that Nadia went off to Washington and we can’t afford it just for two.”
Pat didn’t like the sound of it. It seemed a bit fast and trendy. She didn’t like people who said “super” in that upward inflection, she didn’t like the thought of people suddenly dashing off to Washington, it was too racy. And she thought the name Nadia was affected. Still, she might use them as a rehearsal. There was no law saying you had to take the first flat you saw.
The breathless girl rang back ten minutes later. “He’s gone out for an hour,” she confided. “So I’m going to make use of it, ringing all the people back. I thought I’d start with you because you work in a bank, you might get us all an overdraft.”
Pat took this little pleasantry poorly, but still you had to practise flat-getting somewhere, and she arranged to call at eight o’clock. She made a list of questions, and she promised herself that she would take everything in, so that she would go better equipped to the next and more serious interview.
It was an old building, and there were a lot of stairs but no lift. Perhaps they all became permanently breathless from climbing those stairs. Feeling foolish to be feeling nervous, Pat rang the bell. It had a strange echoing chime, not a buzz. It would have, thought Pat. Nadias, and Washingtons, and Supers, naturally they’d have to have a bell that pealed rather than one which buzzed.
Joy wasn’t at all breathless now that she was home. She wore a long housecoat, and she smelled of some very, very expensive perfume. She was welcoming, she remembered Pat’s name, she apologized for the stairs but said that you got used to them after a month or so. There were eighty-three steps, counting the flat bits between floors, and they did encourage you not to be forgetful about things like keys.
Pat stared around the hall. It was literally covered in pictures and ornaments, and there were rugs on the walls as well. At one end there were a couple of flower baskets hanging and at the other a carved hall stand full of dried flowers.
“It’s far too nice to sit inside,” said Joy, and for a wild moment Pat thought that they would have to go down all the stairs again before she had even seen the flat.
“Come into Marigold’s room,
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