The Night That Changed Everything by Laura Tait and Jimmy Rice

sharp, with cigarette butts jammed in the crevices. They’re not enough to put me off, though. I’m realistic about what I can get. It won’t be a showroom when I move in. But that’s fine. Original features! That’s far more my taste, and if it means I need to do it up a bit, so be it. That’ll make it so much more my own.
    â€˜This takes the piss,’ I groan, checking my phone for missed calls, and wondering how much of my annoyance is actually about the fact Ben never suggested we move in together.
    I wonder if I’m the only one assuming we’re long term. Maybe I’ve been assumptive. Ben’s passion for things tends to be short lived.
    â€˜I know,’ Ben admits. ‘It is a bit . . . Oh look, this’ll be her now.’
    A red Mini screeches to a halt at a twenty-degree angle from the kerb.
    â€˜Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ a lady cries in a heavy accent – Russian perhaps – as she jumps out of the car and hurries past us down to the front door. ‘I’m Liudvik. Hope you veren’t vaiting long?’
    â€˜Oh, don’t worry about it,’ Ben replies cheerily. ‘I’m Ben, and this is Rebecca.’
    â€˜Hallo,’ Liudvik replies, not looking our way as she tries one key after another.
    â€˜
Oh, don’t worry about it
,’ I mimic quietly in Ben’s ear.
    â€˜I feel sorry for her,’ Ben whispers back. ‘She’s a mess.’ As he says it, our estate agent drops her folder on the floor, and papers fly everywhere.
    â€˜There,’ she says with a smile as the door swings open, though her lip is trembling. ‘This is lovely flat. You vill love.’ Then she starts to pick up her notes, talking to herself.
    Never believe an estate agent who tells you,
You vill love
. I should know this. I should also know ‘charming’ is just another word for ‘little’ and ‘original features’ means ‘nothing has been updated since the building was built last century’ – and not in an adorable, shabby-chic way, but in a can’t-believe-this-hasn’t-been-condemned-yet way.
    And ‘deceptively spacious’? Well, if you believe this is spacious, you have indeed been deceived.
    â€˜It’s kot charm, yes?’ Liudvik says, stroking a wall, then examining her fingertips and wiping them on her trousers.
    â€˜If by charm you mean that you could have a shower and cook dinner at the same time, without missing the ten o’clock news, then yes, sure.’
    I’m back to the front door eight seconds after starting my tour of the place.
    â€˜Sshhh,’ Ben says with a titter. ‘Hey, do you reckon I’d be a good estate agent?’
    â€˜But I thought you loved working in HR?’
    â€˜Maybe I could be a comedian, like you.’
    Despite my teasing, I’m grateful he’s here: his presence means it’s becoming a funny story, as opposed to a tragic waste of my time, or indeed the tragic mystery of a Russian estate agent being found under the floorboards of a derelict flat in south-east London . . .
    â€˜Anyway,’ she tells Ben while I inspect the bedroom again, ‘I’d buy soon – it’s popular area and this place has lots potential.’
    â€˜Potential’ means ‘currently shite’, and it occurs to me I should probably drag Ben away from her before the impulsive spender in him says something li—
    â€˜I’ll take it,’ I hear him say.
    â€˜What the feck are you doing?’ I cry, running through. ‘I don’t want to live in this hellhole.’
    I arrive in time to see Liudvik handing Ben her pile of paperwork.
    â€˜She couldn’t get that closet open with one hand,’ Ben explains.
    I sigh, relieved.
    â€˜I just don’t understand how they can get away with charging so much for this,’ I tell him.
    Liudvik tilts her head and looks at me like I’m an idiot.
    The