The Property Manager: You'll never rent again... Read Free

not all.
    Anyway, you’ll be sleeping in that lovely big, blue room tonight with the sound of alpacas grunting next door. They are very strange creatures and spit, so don’t stand too close. 
    I’ll be sleeping in my bed with the sound of a wind-chime, tinkling annoyingly from the back door. My mother insisted I put there as it was my fortieth wedding present from her. That and a set of golf clubs – both ridiculous presents as I am a light sleeper as it is and I don’t play golf. Mothers. I used to take the damn silly thing down whenever she left and hang it back up for the next visit. But then I got sick of doing that and now just embrace my insomnia and listen to the bloody thing.
    Sweet dreams, my sweet little tenant.
     

    22/05/05 Sunday
     
    Market day. The streets are full of cars and there’s a vibrant atmosphere in town. The fourth Sunday of every month. Today I walked down there with an air of expectancy. I just KNEW I would see you there. And, as you know, I did. You looked stunning. The green blouse you had on, perfectly offset your eyes. You actually looked pleased to see me and you spoke warmly, introducing me to your youngest son, Harry. A good strong name for the little fellow. He’s a good looking boy. I remember our entire conversation, word for word.
    “Are you all settled in?”
    “We are actually. I’m one of those nutcases that stays up all night on the first night to unpack absolutely everything. If you were to walk in my front door, you’d swear I’d lived there for years.”
    “When do you start at the surgery?”
    “Monday. Tomorrow.  Are you a patient there?”
    “Not generally speaking. But if you wear a little nurse’s outfit, I might be tempted.”
    The second the words came out of my mouth, I regretted them. I wanted to pay you a compliment and instead I just came off sounding sleazy. I stared numbly into your eyes to gauge a reaction, thinking I’d offended you but you smiled and took it in good humour.
    “Not likely, Jack.”
    I felt a shiver as you said my name. You said it so tenderly without so much as a raised eyebrow.
    “Well, enjoy the markets,” I kind of mumbled and hurried away, as your voice was arousing me and my face was beginning to flush.   
    After buying a bottle of water, I wandered around the markets. It’s always the same overpriced rubbish really. Hippy-looking hats and more of those ludicrous wind-chimes.
    I picked up a second-hand copy of George Orwell’s “1984.”  I read it years ago and remembered liking it. Do you read much, Grace? And what do you read? Patricia Cornwall or John Grisham? Perhaps a bit main-stream for you. I’d pick you for more of a Tom Robbins girl. There’s so much about you that I have to discover. I’m loving the journey. As I left the town hall behind and headed to the café, I saw you talking to another woman with little children and Harry waved at me. I gave him a little wave back. Did he tell you?
    I sat inside, taking a window seat and ordered a Latte. I watched you talking and laughing. I tried unsuccessfully to lip-read. I think I know that woman you were talking to. Hey, it’s a very small town so I know just about everyone. I can’t remember her name but I do know she’s a recently divorced single mother. She bought a house from us last year but I keep my nose out of that side of the office.
    Did you know her before you moved here or is she a new acquaintance? I guess it’s only natural for single mothers to gravitate toward each other. Comrades in arms, so to speak. I think couples, particularly the wives, feel threatened and insecure around an available woman, who has a job vacancy. Lover. Husband. And instant step-daddy. I’m afraid there’s not much in the way of eligible bachelors in town. I think -  there’s me, a couple of gay men and the rest are geriatric widowers. There may be others but they are keeping a low profile. I think you would go for ‘quality’ in a man. I don’t think you