‘I do not wish to discuss that, Mum – ever. If you can’t make it on time to your only daughter’s wedding, then you’ve got your priorities wrong. People told me you were
drunk
!’
‘But—’
Rachel put the phone down on her.
Molly stared at it in shock. Didn’t her daughter know she’d been in an accident, injured? Surely someone had told her?
Craig obviously hadn’t, the rat.
She put the receiver down gently and went back to making the house look as beautiful as she could. She held the pain of her daughter’s rejection at a distance. She wasn’t going there yet; had done enough weeping.
So . . . she was on her own now and that was how it’d stay.
A minute later she decided she was getting maudlin. Of course she wasn’t on her own. She had good friends, a wonderful neighbour, and one or two cousins with whom she kept in touch and even caught up with occasionally.
Her cousin Helen had been talking about holding a big family reunion for the Wiltshire Peels. She’d have to find out if that was still on and if so, she’d attend it. She’d email Helen today.
The day of the auction was blustery, with heavy clouds covering the sky and a grey light that seemed to dull down the colours of the garden. Molly sighed as she got the house ready for its final viewing, keeping anything she valued in the smallest bedroom, from which she’d be watching the auction that followed the viewing. This would be taking place in the garage.
She couldn’t help looking at the sky anxiously, praying for the rain to hold off!
During the hour before the auction several couples went through the house and Molly kept out of sight in the smallest bedroom. She’d put a sign saying THIS ROOM NOT OPEN FOR VIEWING on the door, giving its measurements.
The auctioneer had wanted to wait a few weeks and put the house into an auction of several properties which was to be held at a luxury hotel, but she wanted to sell quickly and had insisted on holding the auction as soon as possible.
In the end he decided the garage was large enough to accommodate seating for twenty or more people, and others could stand along the sides, if necessary.
As the hour approached, she grew more and more nervous. She heard a noise outside and looked out of the window. To her surprise she saw a group of rough-looking youths gathering on the other side of the street, yelling, shouting and shoving one another.
The first car pulled up just then and a couple got out. The youths began to jeer and shout at them, making threatening gestures.
Molly was horrified. She’d never seen any groups of hooligans like this in the area before. What was going on?
The couple hesitated, then the woman tugged at the man’s arm, shaking her head. They got back into the car and drove away.
Five other couples were treated in similar manner and four of them drove away again without waiting for the auction. Molly stayed by the window, frozen, shocked.
When she heard a voice behind her, she turned round to see the auctioneer scowling at her.
‘I asked if this often happens, Ms Peel?’
‘It’s never happened before. Not once.’
‘Well, I’ve rung the police and they’re sending a car.’
There was a shrill whistle outside and when they looked, they saw the group of youths running away.
‘That’s got rid of them,’ he said. ‘But unfortunately they’ve already driven away several potential buyers. We should definitely have waited for a mass auction at a hotel.’
The police stayed for a while, then drove away again. Within minutes the group of youths had re-formed and the jeering and taunting had begun again.
As she watched, Craig got out of a new vehicle and stopped to watch the group drive another car away. He smiled.
Smiled!
It was the satisfied smile of a cat who had just caught a bird. She’d seen it before when he got the better of someone.
He continued to smirk as he went across to the garage, and stopped at the entrance, turning round to watch and smile even more broadly as another car stopped, then drove away.
That’s when she knew
he
had set this up. He’d boasted of other dirty tricks against rivals during the last two years of their marriage, and it’d been something they argued fiercely about, because he felt any tool was permissible as long as you won ‘the game’.
After the arbitrator awarded the house to her, Craig had told her he’d get it at his own price before they were through, but of course, he hadn’t said that in front of witnesses.
She went down to the auction, something she’d not intended to do, but she felt she had to face up to Craig, even though her stomach was churning and she felt literally sick with anxiety.
There were only six people sitting there, including him. She went to stand at the far side, arms folded across her chest, feeling numb, unable to believe this was happening.
Outside the jeering and shouts grew suddenly louder and there was the sound of another car driving away. Craig smiled at her and drew an imaginary tick in the air, confirming her suspicions.
The auctioneer fiddled with his papers.
The sale began and the first bid was made by Craig, a very low bid indeed, even less than the amount he’d offered her after their divorce.
There followed a series of increasing bids, but the buyers sounded half-hearted and nothing came even close to her reserve price. In the end, the house was turned in unsold at well below her reserve price.
As the auctioneer was clearing up his papers, speaking in a low voice to the estate agent, Molly walked to the front and told them baldly, ‘I’m not going below the reserve, so don’t waste your time trying to persuade me differently.’
‘We’ll . . . um, see what happens,’ the estate agent said.
As she walked outside, Craig stepped forward to bar the way. ‘Since when have those louts been hanging around?’
‘Since someone paid them to disrupt the auction, I suppose.’
‘You’ll never sell the house at this rate. Look, as a special favour, I’ll up my bid to what I offered you before.’
‘Do you think I don’t realize the game you’re playing?’ Suddenly her anger boiled over. ‘I’ll burn the house down myself before I accept an offer like that from you. I swear that!’ She had the satisfaction of seeing his mouth fall open in surprise.
But his scornful expression soon returned. ‘Don’t be so bloody melodramatic. You know very well you’d never do any such thing.’
It was her turn to smile. ‘Actually, I meant that quite literally. About burning it before selling to you.’
Uncertain how long this frozen feeling would allow her to control her emotions, she moved past him and went back into the house.
When she turned to close the door, she saw him striding along the path towards her and slammed the door in his face, then ran through the house to lock the back door as well. She didn’t want to speak to him again, was shaking now with reaction.
Craig rang the doorbell a couple of times, but she didn’t answer. Eventually he strolled back to the garage, whistling cheerfully.
She waited for the estate agent to come and see her, but he seemed to be taking a long time to wind up. It was a while before the auctioneer’s car drove away.
There was no sign of the youths now. How Craig must hate her to do this to her. What had she ever done to deserve it?
He
was the one who’d been unfaithful, then walked out on their marriage, not her. And the house had belonged to her family, so he had no moral right to it, whatever he might want.
Eventually Craig drove away and the estate agent came across to the house. She let him in and led the way to the kitchen. ‘I want to say again that there have never been groups of youths like that in this street before. And if you like, I’ll get you some signed statements from my neighbours to that effect.’
‘Why should the youths suddenly be here today, then?’
‘Because someone wanted to disrupt the auction and get the house for a low price, I suppose.’
‘I think you should be very careful before you make such accusations.’
‘Should I?’
‘Your husband was extremely upset on your behalf and is worried that you’re not thinking rationally.’
‘He’s not my husband. He’s my ex and he’s married to someone else. What’s more, he doesn’t give two hoots about me. Did he make you another bid?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was it anywhere near the reserve price?’
‘Well, no.’
She named the sum Craig had offered her before.
‘Yes, that’s it exactly,’ William said. ‘How did you know?’
‘It’s what he offered me when we split up – at the same time as he told me he’d get the house at that price one way or another, so I might as well give in. But he won’t get it. No one can force me to sell it to him. I’ll stay here for ever, if I have to.’
‘We might be able to persuade him to go higher.’
‘I don’t think you will, but you’re welcome to try. If he’ll meet the reserve price, I’ll sell, even to him.’
‘And as we agreed, we can list the house for sale now.’
Which was what she should have done in the first place.
She didn’t weep after he left. What good would it do?
She watched as a van turned up to remove the seats and auctioneer’s table. There was no further sign of the youths.
The following week the estate agent rang to say he was bringing a couple to view the house. Before they’d even arrived, the gang of youths was there again. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. How could anyone have got to know about this viewing?
It only took a moment’s thought for her to realize there must be someone in the office of Grayson’s passing the information on. It was the only possible explanation.
The couple looked round the house and the woman sighed. ‘It’s what we want, Ms Peel, but I don’t like the look of those yobs.’
‘I believe they’ve been sent deliberately to prevent me selling,’ Molly said grimly. ‘The only times I’ve ever seen them round here were during the auction and now.’
All three of them looked at her as if she was mad.
As William was showing the couple out, she touched his sleeve. ‘Do you have a moment?’
He nodded. ‘I’ll just let the Doonans into my car.’
When he came back, she said, ‘I think you may have someone in your office leaking information. Those youths haven’t been back here since the auction – until the very hour you came here to show someone round.’
His disbelief showed in his face.
She looked out and saw her neighbour out in the front garden, staring open-mouthed at the youths. ‘Wait.’ She ran outside. ‘Jane, could you spare me a minute?’
‘Of course, dear.’
‘Come and tell the estate agent that those youths don’t normally hang around here.’
But Jane’s assurances did no good. William listened impassively, then said he’d be in touch.
‘You’re having trouble selling,’ Jane said when they were alone. ‘I saw what happened on the day of the auction. I was watching out of the window. Nosey neighbour syndrome.’
‘A neighbour like you can be as nosey as she wants. I think someone wants to get the house very cheaply and I can guess who.’
‘Craig?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m so sorry, dear. I don’t know what the world is coming to when people act like that.’
‘I’m sorry too. But thank you for your help today, even if the estate agent didn’t believe us.’
William rang up that evening. ‘I’ve been thinking what you said, talking to my colleagues about the situation and I believe, given the circumstances, that it’d be better if you took the house off the market for a while. Or found yourself another estate agent. You clearly don’t trust us.’
‘How did he get to you so quickly?’
‘I don’t know what you mean. Or who you mean.’
She wasn’t stupid enough to accuse Craig by name, so waited for William to speak. When he didn’t, she decided he wasn’t on her side anyway in this, so said quietly, ‘Please take my house off your books, then.’
That evening Craig rang up again, increasing his offer slightly.
She put the phone down on him and got herself a glass of wine, but left most of it, because she couldn’t settle to anything, let alone enjoy a drink.
In the middle of the night someone threw a stone through her bedroom window.
She came awake with a start as glass shattered and showered across her bed. The old-fashioned window, with its single pane of glass, had broken easily. She shivered, wishing she’d not resisted having double glazing fitted.
Why would anyone do that to her?
It took her a moment or two to realize what this must be about: the house. Craig again. She’d never be able to prove it was him, but she was quite certain of it.
Breathing quietly, straining her ears to hear footsteps, she waited for another attack, but there was no sound outside and no more missiles smashed into the house.
She cried then, couldn’t help it, sitting upright in the bed, surrounded by shards of glass, not daring to move, sobbing and letting the tears run down her cheeks. On the floor a large chunk of rock sat triumphant amid the ruins.
Eventually she managed to stop weeping and shook the glass off the duvet. Leaning down for her slippers, she gave them a good shake as well, though fortunately they’d been on the other side of the bed. She risked putting them on then crunched her way to the window. Of course there was nothing to be seen, no lurking figures, no strange vehicles parked in the street, only the moonlight dappling the garden and the flowering cherry near the gate swaying in the breeze.
She moved to another bedroom for the rest of the night, taking care not to put the light on to give away where she was. She didn’t sleep much, though, and the remaining hours of darkness seemed to pass very slowly.
In the morning she got up and went to survey the damage to her bedroom: glass everywhere and a deep gouge mark on her dressing table. ‘Bad call, Craig,’ she said aloud. ‘I’m
not
giving in.’ She felt furiously angry and the incident made her feel more determined not to let him have the house, not less.