though. Seeing it from this side. How the other half lives.’
Not in the mood for chat, Dan unlocks the door. ‘Two sides to everything in life, Maya,’ he says.
‘A bit deep for you, Dan. Had a transformation overnight? You’ll be wanting something other than tuna and mayonnaise on your sandwich next.’ She follows him to the back office, watching as he disables the alarm, opens the safe and turns on the answerphone without removing his coat. ‘Everything OK at home?’ she asks over a prattling long message. ‘Geri well? Baby still cooking?’
‘Yup. Pass me that pen. Has the post arrived?’
She rolls her sable eyes. ‘I wouldn’t know, Dan. I’ve only just arrived. We walked in together a minute ago, remember?’
Ignoring her puzzled gaze, he continues to focus on the answerphone messages.
She opens his laptop, presses the start button and studies him again. ‘Your overcoat is a clue of your recent arrival.’ She cocks her head. ‘Some men get the baby wobbles. Did you know that?’
‘Been reading Cosmopolitan again, Maya?’ He looks up from his scrawl. ‘What?’ he asks, looking at her gappy grin and trying not to return it.
‘Nothing,’ she replies with a chuckle. Two telephones peal shrilly. ‘Here we go,’ she says. ‘Where the flip is Andrew? Why’s he always late on a Friday?’
Maya pops her dark head around Dan’s office door before lunchtime. ‘I thought I’d better check. You know, what with the designer stubble and all.’
He looks up from the letters and searches, the plans and paperwork spread over his desk. It’s always the same on bloody Fridays. The morning has flown; four residential completions already, another four in the pipeline.
His mind still on the files, he looks at Maya blankly.
‘Check whether it’s still a tuna and mayo sandwich for lunch?’ she explains. ‘And somebody is here about a viewing. Wants a big cheese. Us minions won’t do, which is a pity. You’ll know what I mean when you see him.’
The surge of irritation is there; why does he have to do everything? ‘Salim can see him. He’s the—’
‘Property man. I know. But he isn’t here yet. No idea where …’
The annoyance increases. ‘Tell the viewer to make an appointment.’
‘I already tried. He says that he knows you.’ Maya looks at her notepad. ‘Sebastian Taylor?’
The alarm hits immediately. What the fuck? What the fuck? He tries to think for a moment, aware of Maya’s gaze as he struggles to find an excuse. Perhaps there are two Sebastian Taylors in his phone book, but he instinctively knows there aren’t. ‘Oh right, show him in,’ he says evenly, hoping the heat hasn’t risen to his cheeks.
He clears his throat.
The door opens. Maya appears first, then gawks with obvious interest. Stepping forward as though this unexpected visit is perfectly normal, he takes Seb’s outstretched hand. Time stalls. Maya finally stops staring and speaks. ‘Anyone need a drink?’
‘Sorry,’ Seb says when the door clicks to. ‘I know what you must be thinking.’
The words take Dan aback. Why is he sorry? What the fuck does he mean? He tries to formulate a reply, but finds himself stunned as he studies Seb’s face. He’s tried to push this man from his thoughts since the wedding weekend, but finds his heart rushing.
‘Just turning up here,’ Seb continues. ‘Nothing bad has happened.’ His piercing blue eyes are on Dan’s. ‘To Penny. Nothing bad has happened to Penny. She’s fine, at home with Will; there hasn’t been another …’
Dan feels his cheeks colouring, wonders whether it’s obvious Penny was the last thing on his mind. He clears his throat again and rallies. ‘Oh, great; that’s good. So she’s OK? And Will? We’ve spoken briefly, but I didn’t like to go into detail, you know, asking questions. I guess when he’s ready, he’ll talk.’ He’s still standing and so is Seb. Business mode, that’s the thing. ‘Take a seat. So, how can I help?’
Seb looks around the office before pulling out a chair and sitting at a distance, as one might do for an audition. He’s wearing loose-fitting torn jeans, a patterned shirt and black jacket. He leans forward, his legs spread, his elbows on his thighs.
‘I don’t have your mobile number. You described where this place was at the wedding, but I didn’t remember a name.’
‘Wilmslow Property Services,’ Dan replies, as though the name wasn’t etched on the shopfront in huge letters.
Seb pulls a folded paper from his jacket pocket. ‘Yeah, so I see.’
They both turn to the door as Maya bustles in, catching her colourful hijab in the door. She puts the coffee on Dan’s desk, then peeks over Seb’s shoulder at the sales particulars he’s holding.
‘Ah, Oak House. Not far from here. Always a shame to split something so beautiful into flats but they’ve done a great job. The penthouse apartment is really fab if you like a good view of the Cheshire countryside. You’ll need to get in a viewing soon though, there’s been a lot of interest because the rental is surprisingly low. It nearly went last week but the woman had a pet, which isn’t allowed. You don’t have a pug do you?’ She stands back to study Seb’s face, then grins. ‘No, of course not. You look more like a golden retriever guy to me.’
Feeling a surge of release, Dan laughs and picks up the telephone. ‘I can give Salim a bell now if you’re really interested. He’s the property man.’ He nods at Maya. ‘Or if Andrew has got a slot this afternoon?’
‘He’s back from his viewing. I can ask him right now.’
There’s a pause for a moment; Seb’s eyes are on his. ‘What about you, Dan? Can’t you show me around?’
‘Sorry, Seb, I’m mad busy today. Friday’s are always the worst. I’ve had four completions this morning and there’s another four of the bastards before five …’ Dan knows he’s babbling and can’t quite meet Seb’s steady gaze. ‘I would if I could. I’m sure Salim will be—’
‘Let’s make it tonight then. I can buy you a pint afterwards.’
Feeling hot and stiff in his suit, Dan drives straight from the office towards the other side of Wilmslow. The afternoon lurched by with little time to think of anything other than the house completions, two of which went pear-shaped.
He feels culpable as he weaves through the heavy traffic, sorry for those families whose excitement has been crushed and replaced with anxiety. He wishes he didn’t care, wishes he could shrug it off. Like Salim or like Will. But then he remembers Will’s face at the wedding. A look of astonishment, replaced seconds later with sheer panic.
Loosening his tie at the traffic lights, he sighs, then has to brake sharply not to overshoot the gated access of Oak House. Thinking it could do with some lighting, he slowly accelerates up a sweeping driveway enveloped by stark looming trees. The red-brick property bursts out at the top. A Victorian mansion, no less. He grabbed the sales particulars before leaving the office but hasn’t had time to look. Not that he knows much about property per se. He’s the solicitor, Salim has the surveying qualification.
Dan sighs at the thought of Salim. The anxiety is there, a disquiet he’s never felt before, a need to know that everything’s fine on his side of the business. How can he be sure? Geri took voluntary redundancy from the City Council when it was on offer last year and he’s the sole earner. They have a baby on the way.
He parks his car next to a large flower bed of severely pruned roses. There is no sign of Seb or a car.
The February evening is dark and sharp, but Dan feels sweaty, no longer from the stress of appeasing angry clients, his rush from the office or his fear of being late,