them.’
‘Bastard,’ snarled Theresa, pronouncing it ‘bahhh-sted’ and making it sound a classy, desirable thing to be.
‘He is that,’ agreed Jonty. ‘What a chuffing nightmare for you, love. We’ll get you sorted though, don’t worry.’
‘Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to fight?’ asked Theresa. As a red-head, she hated to think of battle not being raised.
‘Yes,’ said Carla. ‘Really.’
Theresa heard the weariness in her friend’s voice and she bit her lip to stop herself from trying to discourage her from walking away. She had to recognise that Carla was a very different
animal to her and it wasn’t fair to make her do what was not in her nature, especially as Jonty had more or less told her that the chances were that Carla would end up with very little and
possibly, a large legal bill to boot. Any victory would more than likely be a Pyrrhic one.
‘Then I’ll help you pack up,’ she said.
‘Thank you but no, I’m going to do it alone,’ replied Carla. ‘I want to go through every single thing myself.’ Theresa opened her mouth to insist, then shut it
again when Jonty gave her a look of admonishment. ‘You’re very sweet, Tez, and thank you and I hope you understand.’
‘Yes, of course I do,’ nodded Theresa. And she did.
‘Well, there is some good news,’ began Jonty, forking up some noodles from a carton. ‘Exquisite timing on Martin’s part for dying and opening up this opportunity for
you.’
‘Jonty, please,’ exclaimed Theresa.
‘Shhh, my love. Now, Carla, one of my clients has to get rid of a property very quickly. Nice little house, albeit rather an odd design. Architect must have been pissed when he designed
it. Could deffo do with a lick of paint and some cosmetic changes, mind. He converted one side of the house to a granny flat for his mother, who sadly never got the chance to live in it. It’s
cheap and if you bought it, you could rent out the separate flat and earn some revenue to live off.’
‘A separate flat? It sounds expensive.’
‘You’d be surprised.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Little Kipping. Maltstone way.’
‘I know it. It’s nice there.’ It was near to that lovely little teashop she had been to today.
‘Bit far out of town but he wants it sold quick. You, as a potential cash buyer, are all his dreams come true.’
‘Cash buyer?’ Carla laughed.
‘Your insurance policy on Martin’s life would more than cover the cost of buying this house. It would also leave you with, perhaps, ten thousand spare,’ said Jonty.
‘Sounds a lot, although that sort of money doesn’t go far these days. But you would own a house outright.’
Carla’s hand froze on a prawn toast. ‘What?’
‘It’s true. I’ve checked all the figures through with Freddy. It would be far better for you in the long run than renting and you certainly won’t get a mortgage being
unemployed. The banks aren’t loaning anything at the moment. The good old days of easy lending are well and truly gone.’
Carla sat in silent shock for a few moments, then rotated her finger in the air.
‘I’m sorry, Jonty. Can you run that past me again?’
‘In layman’s terms,’ said Jonty in his gruff but patient voice, ‘you took out an insurance policy on Martin’s life, and whoever sold it to you should have had a
slap. Had Martin stayed alive until he was sixty-five, the policy would have ended and you’d have got nowt. And you’ve been paying far too much every month for it. Very badly advised.
However,’ he paused to make sure she was with him so far, ‘Martin died whilst the policy was still in effect, which means that you are due a cheque for about two hundred thousand
pounds.’
All Carla could manage by way of reply was ‘Jesus Christ.’
‘Now, I’m not telling you what to do with that money. What I am saying is that you can rent a house and throw your money away, or you can buy one and have some security. And I happen
to have one
‘Bastard,’ snarled Theresa, pronouncing it ‘bahhh-sted’ and making it sound a classy, desirable thing to be.
‘He is that,’ agreed Jonty. ‘What a chuffing nightmare for you, love. We’ll get you sorted though, don’t worry.’
‘Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to fight?’ asked Theresa. As a red-head, she hated to think of battle not being raised.
‘Yes,’ said Carla. ‘Really.’
Theresa heard the weariness in her friend’s voice and she bit her lip to stop herself from trying to discourage her from walking away. She had to recognise that Carla was a very different
animal to her and it wasn’t fair to make her do what was not in her nature, especially as Jonty had more or less told her that the chances were that Carla would end up with very little and
possibly, a large legal bill to boot. Any victory would more than likely be a Pyrrhic one.
‘Then I’ll help you pack up,’ she said.
‘Thank you but no, I’m going to do it alone,’ replied Carla. ‘I want to go through every single thing myself.’ Theresa opened her mouth to insist, then shut it
again when Jonty gave her a look of admonishment. ‘You’re very sweet, Tez, and thank you and I hope you understand.’
‘Yes, of course I do,’ nodded Theresa. And she did.
‘Well, there is some good news,’ began Jonty, forking up some noodles from a carton. ‘Exquisite timing on Martin’s part for dying and opening up this opportunity for
you.’
‘Jonty, please,’ exclaimed Theresa.
‘Shhh, my love. Now, Carla, one of my clients has to get rid of a property very quickly. Nice little house, albeit rather an odd design. Architect must have been pissed when he designed
it. Could deffo do with a lick of paint and some cosmetic changes, mind. He converted one side of the house to a granny flat for his mother, who sadly never got the chance to live in it. It’s
cheap and if you bought it, you could rent out the separate flat and earn some revenue to live off.’
‘A separate flat? It sounds expensive.’
‘You’d be surprised.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Little Kipping. Maltstone way.’
‘I know it. It’s nice there.’ It was near to that lovely little teashop she had been to today.
‘Bit far out of town but he wants it sold quick. You, as a potential cash buyer, are all his dreams come true.’
‘Cash buyer?’ Carla laughed.
‘Your insurance policy on Martin’s life would more than cover the cost of buying this house. It would also leave you with, perhaps, ten thousand spare,’ said Jonty.
‘Sounds a lot, although that sort of money doesn’t go far these days. But you would own a house outright.’
Carla’s hand froze on a prawn toast. ‘What?’
‘It’s true. I’ve checked all the figures through with Freddy. It would be far better for you in the long run than renting and you certainly won’t get a mortgage being
unemployed. The banks aren’t loaning anything at the moment. The good old days of easy lending are well and truly gone.’
Carla sat in silent shock for a few moments, then rotated her finger in the air.
‘I’m sorry, Jonty. Can you run that past me again?’
‘In layman’s terms,’ said Jonty in his gruff but patient voice, ‘you took out an insurance policy on Martin’s life, and whoever sold it to you should have had a
slap. Had Martin stayed alive until he was sixty-five, the policy would have ended and you’d have got nowt. And you’ve been paying far too much every month for it. Very badly advised.
However,’ he paused to make sure she was with him so far, ‘Martin died whilst the policy was still in effect, which means that you are due a cheque for about two hundred thousand
pounds.’
All Carla could manage by way of reply was ‘Jesus Christ.’
‘Now, I’m not telling you what to do with that money. What I am saying is that you can rent a house and throw your money away, or you can buy one and have some security. And I happen
to have one
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