Not According to Plan

The Plan

CHAPTER 1

Katie

"Should we wait?" the estate agent asks. 

I can barely meet her eye which says a lot because I'm not that type of girl. I can stare down the next person in any business deal. But this is different.  This feels personal. The estate agent, Silvia has a funny expression on her face.  

"I haven't made him up."

"Of course not," Silvia says, scrunching her face which means she thinks I have. 

Instead, I walk inside the Victorian house but instead of taking in the hardwood timber floors, I'm seething inside. What type of person does three property inspections, of the same property and makes up a boyfriend, just so Silvia, from R&R Wharf Property, doesn't think poorly of me? I'm not pathetic. I've just been stood up...three times. 

Silvia holds a tight fake smile and folds her arms as I open the kitchen cupboards and check out the pantry space.  This time I have my measuring tape and I check the cavity for a fridge. "That will fit almost anything," I say.

Silvia nods her head while looking down at me over her perfect estate agent nose. You know how all estate agents are just so glamorous and beautiful. Well, they are in Canary Wharf. Probably because the clients are mostly like me, living, breathing and working in Canary Wharf - one of the banking districts in London. Everyone is always beautifully dressed in designer wear.  

I brush down some imaginary fluff off my immaculate dress. I look the part because I am the part, I've not made up my hot-shot legal career or my hot-shot banker boyfriend. He's real. He's just not here. He's a banker for God's sake. He's never around because he gets caught up in large transactions where he's dealing with hundreds of millions of pounds. Should I have expected any more from him? 

I don't answer that question because I have an immediate answer. I know what's on my calendar, so I organise myself and I turn up. Besides,  if I were contemplating buying half a house, I'd be looking at the property and that's why I turned up to the inspection. You think that if he was on the same page, he'd make, one out of three, viewings. If I was another woman, maybe I wouldn't feel so, rattled. What if this is a sign of things to come, a sign that I'd be making all major decisions, on my own? I mean, buying a house with someone is a joint decision - isn't it?

But then I think about Mark, how considerate he can be. How if he comes home really late after work, say eleven, he sleeps in my spare bedroom so he doesn't wake me up. Yet, somehow he wakes earlier, and leaves me a boiled egg and some bacon for breakfast. I guess, buying a house is just a big decision and I just didn't want to get it wrong. He's not the type with slopey shoulders who'd shift all the responsibility onto me. He must be seriously held up.  

"I just really wanted Mark to see it." 

"To be honest with you, I've got a couple coming in for their second viewing in a few hours," Silvia eventually says.

"They're serious?" I don't know why I even ask the question. I'm smart enough to know that this property is gorgeous and someone else might snap it up.  

"They're talking about putting in an offer."

That grinding thing happens in my stomach. It's such a big decision. I try to ignore the feeling and focus instead on the business rather than the emotion. "The owner's getting divorced?"

"Yes."

"I imagine they don't want to muck about."

"Honestly Katie, the first person who puts an offer, close to the asking price, will get it."