To the Moon and Back

Chapter 4




‘Jesus,’ said Tony. ‘So this is why you didn’t want me here.’

‘Yes, well. Now you know.’ There was nothing like a fresh pair of eyes—and ears—to remind you of what a dump you were living in. Mortified and ashamed of herself for having put up with it for so long, and most of the time not even realizing how bad things had got, Ellie watched him pace around the living room. A year ago, her lovely, gentle landlady, Moira, had died of a heart attack, leaving her son to take over the property portfolio. Less than lovely Ron had wasted no time at all filling the flats with dubious characters. It had been a while before Ellie had discovered that the council were paying him over the odds to take on families who were well known to them, chiefly because they’d caused so much havoc they’d been evicted from their previous homes. This, now, was their last resort but rather than calm down they seemed to want to vie for the honor of becoming the noisiest and most disruptive tenants in Hammersmith, if not the whole of London.

As if to prove it, what sounded like a rugby scrum was currently taking place in the flat upstairs. On bare floorboards, because their putrid carpet was currently occupying the table-sized front garden. Josh Groban was belting out something heartfelt at maximum volume. The two dogs were going mad. The matriarch of the family, a fifty-something woman with a face like a bulldog and a voice like a cement mixer, was roaring, ‘If you two fookers don’t fookin’ stop that, I’ll chuck youse through the fookin’ window.’

‘Is she talking to the dogs?’ said Tony.

‘Maybe. Or her sons. There are four of them.’

‘And get out the way of the TV, ya fookin’ junkies!’

‘That’ll be the two youngest boys,’ Ellie explained.

‘This is diabolical.’ Tony was outraged.

‘You get used to it.’ Most of the time she managed to tune the worst of the noise out.

‘And what happened there?’ He pointed to the badly stained ceiling.

‘Someone left the bath running.’

‘As if the place isn’t damp enough already.’ Breathing in the musty odor that Febreze hadn’t managed to dispel, Tony surveyed the bare wall she’d been working on last night. ‘If you managed to put wallpaper over that mold it’d fall down again in no time. For crying out loud, this place is a health hazard. Haven’t you asked the landlord to get it sorted out?’

Only about a million times. But why would he bother? Ellie knew Ron wanted her out; packing another family in here would allow him to crank the rent right up. She shrugged and said, ‘I have asked, but—’

‘Fook off yourself, ya fat cow!’ bellowed a male voice, followed by a door slamming and the sound of footsteps thudding down the stairs. Then the front door slammed too. Tony watched from the living-room window as the boy, scrawny and blue-white in color, stood hunched on the pavement and made a phone call. Within seconds a gleaming BMW with blacked-out windows screeched to a halt. A window slid down, money was exchanged for a small package, and the car sped away.

‘Don’t let him see you,’ Ellie said hurriedly.

Too late of course. The boy had already swung round. Spotting Tony at the window he grinned nastily, stuck his middle finger in the air, and spat on the ground before letting himself back in the house. As he passed her door on the first floor, he yelled, ‘Nosy fookers around ’ere, i’nt there?’

Peering down at the tiny front garden, most of which was taken up with spilled-open bin bags and stained carpet, Tony said in disbelief, ‘There are syringes lying in the mud.’

‘I know.’ Ellie’s neck prickled again, as ashamed as if she’d thrown them there herself. How must this compare with his multimillion dollar palace in the Hollywood Hills?

‘Ellie.’ His tone changed. ‘In God’s name, why didn’t you tell me it was like this?’

She shrugged, unable to explain. On the scale of misery, losing Jamie had been a ten. Compared with that, having to tolerate undesirable neighbors had barely scraped a two. And if that made her sound ridiculous, well, too bad. ‘You get used to it. It’s just noise.’ To distract herself, she had got into the habit of conjuring up Jamie and having a chat with him instead. It was just a question of tuning out the rest, the yelling, the door-slamming, the incessant Celine Dion.

‘There are used syringes in your front garden. This flat should carry a government health warning. You can’t stay here.’

‘Fook off, ya gobshite, that’s me last can!’

Ellie pressed her lips together. She knew he was right. And if she was a friend she’d be telling herself exactly the same thing. But what Tony didn’t understand was that this was where she and Jamie had lived together. They had found the flat, moved into it as ridiculously happy newlyweds, loved and laughed, and had the best time here for over three years. The rooms were filled with memories and she didn’t know if she could bear to leave them behind…

‘OK, I’m not completely stupid.’ Tony’s voice softened as her eyes filled with tears. ‘This is about Jamie, isn’t it?’

Her throat had constricted. ‘Yes.’ Embarrassingly it came out as a high-pitched squeak.

‘So the flat didn’t used to be like this. But it is now.’

She nodded.

‘You know what I’m going to say next, don’t you?’

Wearily, she nodded again. ‘Probably.’

‘If Jamie could see this place now, he’d be horrified.’ Tony’s manner was gentle but firm. ‘He’d want you out of here.’

‘Owwwww, ya bastard, I’ll fookin’ get you for that!’ There was a roar, a crash, and a shower of glass rained past the window, along with a spraying, somersaulting can of lager.

‘He’d want you safe,’ said Tony. Tilting his face up to the ceiling he added drily, ‘Although your neighbors have timing, I’ll give them that.’

***

Was this another reason she’d done her best to hide the situation from Jamie’s father?

Three days after their lunch at the Ivy, Ellie found herself standing outside an imposing Victorian end-of-terrace property on Nevis Street, just off Regents Park Road, in the heart of Primrose Hill village. The outside of the house was painted palest yellow, the sash windows were framed in white gloss, and the front garden was small but well-tended, without a manky discarded carpet in sight.

This was what you called a Seriously Nice Area.

‘Well?’ Tony stood next to her. ‘What do you think?’

‘Honestly? I feel sick. I can’t believe you’re doing this.’

‘Listen, I’m not doing it for you. It’s a sound financial investment. Every time I come over to the UK, I stay in a hotel. It’s a very nice hotel, but it isn’t home.’ Indicating the building in front of them, he said, ‘I need a pied-à-terre, and this looks pretty good to me. But if it’s going to be standing empty most of the time, my insurance premiums will shoot up. And I’ll spend all my time worrying about squatters. Whereas if I have someone living in the place, keeping an eye on things, I won’t have anything to worry about. Makes sense to me.’

The estate agent arrived and let them into the flat, situated on the first floor like the one Ellie had lived in for the last four years but otherwise different in every conceivable way. There were two good-sized bedrooms, each with a bathroom en suite. There was also a small third bathroom, a huge airy living room, and an ultra-modern kitchen. It was like something out of a glossy magazine. Everything was clean and dry, freshly painted, and sweet-smelling. Immaculate.

‘No mold,’ Tony pointed out. ‘No damp. No Celine Dion.’

‘Just as she was starting to grow on me,’ said Ellie.

‘Do you like it?’

‘Of course I like it.’ What was there to dislike? She shoved her hands into the pockets of her red jacket to hide the fact that they were trembling.

‘Could we have a moment?’ Tony waited until the estate agent had left them alone. ‘Sweetheart, now listen to me. I can afford it. We’d be doing each other a favor.’ He paused. ‘James was my only child. What else am I supposed to do with my money?’

Ellie nodded. ‘I know, and I’m grateful. But… it just feels like too much.’

‘OK, how about this then? Say I buy the flat anyway. And you don’t move in, and squatters take over the place, and they wreck it and cause all kinds of trouble and end up bringing down the whole neighborhood.’ He shrugged. ‘If that happens, it’ll be all your fault. Everyone in Primrose Hill will hate you.’

She smiled. ‘No pressure, then. Um, can I meet you downstairs in a couple of minutes? I’d just like to… have another look around on my own.’

Tony followed the estate agent down the stairs. She knew she was being ridiculous, but it was something she just needed to double-check. Ellie closed her eyes, concentrated hard, then opened them again.

‘Oh ye of little faith,’ said an amused voice behind her.

Turning, she saw Jamie leaning against the closed living-room door. White shirt, clean jeans, arms crossed, head shaking in good-natured disbelief.

Oh, thank God.

‘Did you seriously think I wouldn’t turn up?’

She exhaled with relief. ‘I just wanted to make sure.’

‘Well, I’m here.’ He spread his arms. ‘Ta-daaa!’

‘Your dad’s been amazing.’

‘I know. He gets it from me.’

Ellie searched his face. ‘So what do you think?’

‘About this place? It’s fantastic.’

‘Should I say yes, then?’

‘I think you’d be stupid to say no,’ said Jamie.

Which was cheating really, because the words were coming from her brain. She was making him say them.

Oh well. He didn’t seem to mind.

‘Right then.’ She nodded. ‘I’m going to do it.’

Jamie winked and gave her the kind of encouraging smile she missed the most. ‘Good.’