The Debt & the Doormat(58)

‘It's only minutes away from The Broadway with many shops, bars and restaurants,’ the estate agent continues. ‘The closest station is Cricklewood National Rail.’

‘Yes thank you,’ I cut her off. ‘I’d like to talk over an offer with Miss Green.’

‘Of course,’ the estate agents bows, as if to a queen, slowly backing out of the sitting room.

‘So, you want me to put a fake offer in?’ Jazz asks, her bottom lip sulking from boredom.

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, fine.’ She falls back onto the sofa with her arms out dramatically.

I see something colourful flash through the corner of my eyes and then an almighty crashing noise. Jazz and I stare at each other, our eyes wide, neither of us knowing what just happened.

‘Please don't tell me you just broke something,’ I say, my voice strained.

‘OK.’ She looks onto the floor. ‘Then I definitely won't tell you I just smashed a vase in half.’

I look down and sure enough there is a red and black vase in two on the floor.

‘Shit.’

‘Don't worry!’ she shouts. ‘I have some nail glue in my bag.’ She runs over to her silver and gold bag and pulls out a little tube.

‘Are you OK in there ladies?’ Julie the estate agent’s voice says through the door.

Shit.

‘Stop her!’ I hiss at Jazz. Jazz runs to the door.

‘We’d just like a few more minutes,’ she shouts, holding onto the door knob.

I quickly pull the glue out and dab it along the edges. Thank God it's a clean break. I fuse the edges together and push tightly together. I blow my hair out of my face, my forehead sticky.

‘Miss Green,’ Julie shouts. ‘The owners are here now and they’re keen to talk to you.’

Jazz looks back at me in panic. ‘Is it dry yet?’ she whispers.

‘I don't know,’ I say, my throat tight.

Jazz suddenly falls back, Julie barging through the door, her face red and flustered.

‘It seems we were having a bit of trouble with the door there,’ Julie says, looking at us suspiciously. ‘Not that there’s any problem with the door of course,’ she corrects herself.

A couple in their sixties walk in. The woman is tall, slim and has long blonde hair. Her face is full of Botox and her teeth are clearly veneers, but you can still see her true age. She’s dressed in a flowery maxi dress with sparkly flip flops. The man has grey hair and a massive nose. He’s short and a bit rough around the edges.

‘This is Mr and Mrs Clennel,’ Julie presents proudly.

They smile politely, their gaze eventually dropping to my hands, still holding the vase. Jazz turns to look at me and looks at me as if to say ‘put the vase down’.

I smile nervously. ‘Beautiful vase you have here. I was just examining it.’ I walk over to the table and place it down, feeling everyone’s eyes on me. They obviously think I’m a freak or something. I try to leave it there, but it keeps getting attached to me. I shake my hands a bit more violently but the vase is still attached to me. Have I really managed to glue myself to it? Of course I have.

I pick it up again and stand tall. ‘Actually it's so beautiful I’d like to take a closer look.’ I pull it closer to my face while everyone looks on in horror.

‘I’d like to make an offer,’ Jazz says loudly, seeming to be trying to be taking attention away from me.

‘Excellent!’ Julie beams.

‘Yes,’ Jazz agrees. She keeps looking at me in confusion, her eyes shooting daggers. ‘Put down the vase,’ she’s desperately trying to communicate.

‘How much would you like to offer?’ Mr Clennel asks, clearing his throat.

What the hell am I going to do? How am I going to get this vase off my hands? I start discreetly shaking my hands, then trying to pull them with all of my force off them. How the hell can nail glue be so strong?

‘Um...’ Jazz says. ‘I’d like to offer a million.’

Three stunned faces look back at her.

‘You...you want to offer a million?’ Julie asks, her face pale. She looks like she’s about to pass out. ‘You do realise that the current offer is only at £200,000?’

For God’s sake Jazz.

‘Oh, really?’ Jazz shrieks. ‘Did I say a million? I meant....half a million....well, actually half of half a million,’ she smiles nervously, glancing from me back to Julie. ‘I meant £250,000. Yes, that's right. £250,000.’

Mr Clennel eyes her suspiciously. ‘And this is a genuine offer?’

‘Of course!’ I shout before I can stop myself.

He narrows his eyes on me. ‘Can I have my vase back please?’

‘No!’

‘No?’ he asks, his voice as deep as a headmasters.

‘I mean....I love it so much....um, I’d like to buy it! Yes, Jazz would like to buy it from you.’

‘Yes!’ Jazz shouts, shuffling in her bag. She pulls out a cheque book and a pen. ‘How much? Name your price.’

‘Oh, I’m afraid it's not for sale,’ Mrs Clennel says with a girlish laugh. Mr and Mrs Clennel and exchange smiles. ‘You see, that vase was given to us on our wedding day from my Mother, God rest her soul.’

What? Is she for real? We’ve broken a priceless vase.

‘A million!’ Jazz shouts. ‘A million for the vase! Surely you can't say no to a million?’ Her forehead is sticky and she’s biting her nails.

Mr Clennel scratches his head, clearly wondering if this is a dream. He glances at Mrs Clennel and she shakes her head.

‘No, I’m afraid it's not for sale,’ he says sternly, while his eyes seem to be wondering what he’d do with a million.

Jazz looks at me in horror. What the hell am I going to do? Jazz raises her eyebrows as if a sudden genius idea has come to her.

‘Run!’ she screams, running into the hallway.

I stand there frozen, them all looking at me in disbelief. Oh sod it. I run out into the hallway, pushing Mr Clennel out of the way. Jazz is at the front door struggling with the lock.

‘They must have locked us in!’ she shouts. ‘Help me!’

‘I’ve kind of got my hands full at the moment!’

Three sets of footsteps slowly follow us out into the hallway, their bewildered faces staring. They stare at us, still unable to speak as I feel my cheeks getting redder and redder. I actually want to die. This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me. Much worse than that time I pissed myself laughing in secondary school. That seems tame compared to this, and that's saying something. I was called Poppy Pissy Pants until I left.

‘Tah dah!’ Jazz exclaims, shoving jazz hands in the air.

‘Sorry?’ Mr Clennel says. Julie’s face is getting redder by the second.

‘That was a little performance we’ve been working on,’ Jazz explains. ‘We’re playing at the local theatre next Saturday and you’ve been lucky enough to witness a scene from it.’

‘Really?’ Julie asks carefully. ‘What's it called?’

I look at Jazz hoping she can pull this off.

‘Oh, it's...the best title ever. It’s called ‘The Stolen Vase of Dreams.’

They stare back at us and this time I think they’re considering calling the police.

‘My hands are glued to the vase,’ I say, admitting defeat.

Jazz looks at me hysterically. ‘Ha ha! How funny! Another part of the play. Ok, now cut Poppy. We don't want to give the whole play away!’

‘No Jazz, I mean it. We’re not getting out of this. I’m so sorry, but I broke your vase.’

* * *





I really do think calling the police was a tad dramatic. I mean, it was clearly an accident. Although, it didn’t look too good when the policeman said we’d just received a caution a couple of weeks ago. Mr and Mrs Clennel thought we were some kind of criminals that stole vases from unsuspecting couples. Even when I explained that it had been a fire, not a robbery, they didn’t seem to relent. God I hate the middle class. Although I suppose in hindsight, Jazz shouting ‘I’m not going back to that place!’ hysterically didn’t look good. Anyway, thankfully the policeman saw that it was all a bit of an embarrassing situation and let us go. Well, after we’d soaked my hands in hot water with fairy liquid for half an hour. I think I even saw him giggle. It’ll probably be a great story at the station by tonight.





As I put the key in the lock I’m pleased to hear no noise. Thank God, they must all be out. I walk towards the kitchen and dump my bag down, flipping the kettle to boil.

‘Hey Pops. I’ll have a tea thanks,’ Ryan shouts from the sofa. Shit.

‘OK,’ I say in a strangled voice.

I make the tea, finding a china cup with a scary looking clown on the side for myself, my hands now shaking and carry them in towards him. My hands are shaking so much I struggle not to spill it on the carpet. Get a hold of yourself, Poppy. It's only Ryan. Delicious Ryan. I hope Izzy and Grace are in there with him but have decided to take a pledge of silence. The awkwardness is killing me. When I turn the corner, I nearly drop it. He’s just so pretty. He literally takes my breath away every single time I see him. It's like I’ve been deprived of him and that first glimpse is how I imagine a heroin addict is when they get their next hit.