that transformed everything into her
beatific future. She was probably already putting a cot in the spare bedroom.
'Does the pub bother you?' I asked the
woman.
'The pub?' She acted surprised, wrinkled
her brow. 'Oh, that. No. You hardly hear it. Maybe on a Saturday night. . .'
As if on cue, the first burst of music
thumped through the wall, the bass notes shaking in the air. She flushed, but
then carried on talking as if she hadn't heard anything. I glanced at my watch:
it was eleven-thirty on a Sunday morning. We did the rest of the tour anyway,
making vaguely enthusiastic remarks about the view from the bathroom window,
the wedge-shaped garden. The more you don't like a place, the more you have to
pretend you do. But I don't think the woman was fooled.
'What do you think?' asked Kerry as we
left. 'If we
'Definitely not. Not for half the price.'
'It's falling down,' I said as we left the
second house.
'But...'
'That's why it's so cheap. That's why the
sale fell through. You might be able to afford to buy it, but you'd have to
spend the same again. I'm not even sure you could get it insured.'
'It's such a nice house.'
'It's a wreck. She's got someone in to
plaster and paint over the worst bits in the hall, but there's damp everywhere,
probably subsidence. You'd need a structural engineer to check it over. The
window frames are rotting. The wiring is primeval. Do you have the capital to
do it up?'
'Maybe when Bren, you know, finds a job .
. .'
'Is he looking?'
'Oh, yes. And thinking hard about what he
really thinks is right for him. He says it's a chance to begin again and make
the life he really wants for himself.' She blushed. 'For us,' she added.
'In the meantime, he's got nowhere to
sell, and it's just what you get from your flat and your income.'
'Mum and Dad have been very generous.'
'Have they?' I tried to suppress the stab
of resentment I felt when I heard that. 'No more than you deserve. But don't
blow it on that house.'
You have to be able to imagine what isn't
there, and imagine away what is, see underneath things, impose your own taste
on top of them. The third place was filthy and smelled of cigarettes and years
of unopened windows. The walls were brown and stained, or had faded flowery
wallpaper covering them. The carpets were an unlovely purple. The living room
needed to be knocked into the kitchen-dining room, to create a huge open space
downstairs. The plasterboard needed to be ripped away from the fireplace.
'You could have a huge sunroof over the
kitchen, and maybe open it out even further into a conservatory. It'd be
fantastic'
'Do you think so?'
'With that garden, definitely. It must be
about sixty feet long.'
'It's big for London, isn't it? But it's
just nettles.'
'Think what it could be like!'
'Did you see the state of the kitchen?'
'He lived there for years without doing
anything at all to it. But that's the joy of it — it's ready for you to do
whatever you want.'
'It's more spacious than I thought we
could afford. And all the cornices and mouldings and proper sash windows
'It looks pretty solid to me, as far as I
could tell. I'll help you with it.'
'Really? You'd do that?'
'Of course.'
'And you think it's the right place for
us?'
'It's your choice. You've got to want it
and what I think doesn't matter. But you could make it really lovely.'
Kerry squeezed my arm. 'I can't wait to
tell Brendan.'
I pressed the button on the answering
machine.
'Hello, Mirrie. I hear you've just chosen our
new home for us. That's very sweet. But a bit strange as well, don't you think?
I guess we've just got to get used to that, though, haven't we?'
I pressed the erase button. My hands were
shaking.
Tony and Laura and Nick and I went to the
pub together. That was the stage we'd jumped to, going out as a. couple, in a
foursome. Everyone was very friendly to each other, wanting to get along. Nick
bought us all a round and then Laura did, and then, out of the blue,
beatific future. She was probably already putting a cot in the spare bedroom.
'Does the pub bother you?' I asked the
woman.
'The pub?' She acted surprised, wrinkled
her brow. 'Oh, that. No. You hardly hear it. Maybe on a Saturday night. . .'
As if on cue, the first burst of music
thumped through the wall, the bass notes shaking in the air. She flushed, but
then carried on talking as if she hadn't heard anything. I glanced at my watch:
it was eleven-thirty on a Sunday morning. We did the rest of the tour anyway,
making vaguely enthusiastic remarks about the view from the bathroom window,
the wedge-shaped garden. The more you don't like a place, the more you have to
pretend you do. But I don't think the woman was fooled.
'What do you think?' asked Kerry as we
left. 'If we
'Definitely not. Not for half the price.'
'It's falling down,' I said as we left the
second house.
'But...'
'That's why it's so cheap. That's why the
sale fell through. You might be able to afford to buy it, but you'd have to
spend the same again. I'm not even sure you could get it insured.'
'It's such a nice house.'
'It's a wreck. She's got someone in to
plaster and paint over the worst bits in the hall, but there's damp everywhere,
probably subsidence. You'd need a structural engineer to check it over. The
window frames are rotting. The wiring is primeval. Do you have the capital to
do it up?'
'Maybe when Bren, you know, finds a job .
. .'
'Is he looking?'
'Oh, yes. And thinking hard about what he
really thinks is right for him. He says it's a chance to begin again and make
the life he really wants for himself.' She blushed. 'For us,' she added.
'In the meantime, he's got nowhere to
sell, and it's just what you get from your flat and your income.'
'Mum and Dad have been very generous.'
'Have they?' I tried to suppress the stab
of resentment I felt when I heard that. 'No more than you deserve. But don't
blow it on that house.'
You have to be able to imagine what isn't
there, and imagine away what is, see underneath things, impose your own taste
on top of them. The third place was filthy and smelled of cigarettes and years
of unopened windows. The walls were brown and stained, or had faded flowery
wallpaper covering them. The carpets were an unlovely purple. The living room
needed to be knocked into the kitchen-dining room, to create a huge open space
downstairs. The plasterboard needed to be ripped away from the fireplace.
'You could have a huge sunroof over the
kitchen, and maybe open it out even further into a conservatory. It'd be
fantastic'
'Do you think so?'
'With that garden, definitely. It must be
about sixty feet long.'
'It's big for London, isn't it? But it's
just nettles.'
'Think what it could be like!'
'Did you see the state of the kitchen?'
'He lived there for years without doing
anything at all to it. But that's the joy of it — it's ready for you to do
whatever you want.'
'It's more spacious than I thought we
could afford. And all the cornices and mouldings and proper sash windows
'It looks pretty solid to me, as far as I
could tell. I'll help you with it.'
'Really? You'd do that?'
'Of course.'
'And you think it's the right place for
us?'
'It's your choice. You've got to want it
and what I think doesn't matter. But you could make it really lovely.'
Kerry squeezed my arm. 'I can't wait to
tell Brendan.'
I pressed the button on the answering
machine.
'Hello, Mirrie. I hear you've just chosen our
new home for us. That's very sweet. But a bit strange as well, don't you think?
I guess we've just got to get used to that, though, haven't we?'
I pressed the erase button. My hands were
shaking.
Tony and Laura and Nick and I went to the
pub together. That was the stage we'd jumped to, going out as a. couple, in a
foursome. Everyone was very friendly to each other, wanting to get along. Nick
bought us all a round and then Laura did, and then, out of the blue,
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