She felt so strongly that she belonged in this lovely house, so would it open up its secrets to her?
It was a case of love at first sight. “But I can’t buy the first house I like,” Janine told herself. Or could she? The verandah was crying out for hanging baskets of red and white geraniums. As she walked inside, the rooms seemed to speak to her, wanting colourful throws, plump cushions and fancy curtains.
She was lost in a vision of how this house could look, when a loud voice behind her caused her to start.
“Just look at this place,” a woman said. She didn’t need to elaborate. The tone of her voice conveyed strong disapproval. “There isn’t a single room that’s presentable. And have you seen the garden? If you could call that wilderness a garden.”
A man with her murmured his agreement. As they brushed past her to the hall, he was looking down. Soon after, Janine heard a car driving off.
Now she was the only person here, other than the dark-haired estate agent. The house inspection was due to end in five minutes, but she didn’t feel he was rushing her.
He walked over to join her.
“Not everyone can see the potential here,” he said.
So, he’d overheard the woman, too?
Janine always kept a low profile on occasions like this. She hated sales talk. That feeling of being propelled towards a hasty decision which she would probably come to regret. Especially now that she was on her own.
But this man seemed different, as though he was more interested in the house getting the right owner than in simply selling it. Happy to stand back and watch as potential buyers inspected it without interference.
Or was she simply being fanciful? She was often accused of having her head in the clouds.
She found herself glancing at his name tag. Jim Anderson.
A good name. A trustworthy name. And she liked his voice, too.
“Is there time for me to look at the back garden?” she asked, emboldened.
She’d been late leaving the university, due to an unexpected meeting. But she’d come anyway. It didn’t really take a long time to get the feel of a place.
When she’d gone through the photos on the website, this house seemed to speak to her. It seemed to need her, just as she seemed to need it.
“I don’t see why not,” Jim replied. “Take as long as you want.”
A generous offer, she thought.
She walked through to the admittedly shabby kitchen and opened the back door. The photos on the website hadn’t captured the full extent of the
