the walls, soft rugs lay on the oak floors, and everything was clean and comfortable and warm. Josh came to visit a couple of times a week, but even he didn’t make much mess. Before I married Tom I’d lived in my own apartment, a stylish minimalist place whose huge windows overlooked the skyline of Liverpool. I’d loved living there; there was a crowd of us in our twenties who had apartments in the area and there was always someone to go out for drinks or a lazy Sunday brunch with. Those friends were long gone. Some had moved abroad and it was inevitable we’d lose touch, but others had disappeared after I married Tom.
Before I went to the letting agency, I bought coffee in a small café, hoping I wouldn’t bump into anyone I knew. I was still humiliated from the conversation with Kourtney. I knew she must have had a complaint from Sheridan’s, but had they really told her about our affair?
I desperately wanted to talk to Harry, but I forced myself not to call him. He was the one person whose advice I valued, yet he had let me down so badly.
When I’d finished my coffee I checked my bank balance on my phone. I needed to know how much I could spend on rent. Without a job I’d struggle to get somewhere anyway. I was close to tears at that thought. I opened my banking app and my jaw dropped. Tom had put ￡5,000 in my account. It made me realize that I’d had no idea how much he had in savings. Was this a lot to him? It was to me; I had virtually nothing in the bank. How much did he have?
I sent Tom a message:
Thanks for putting that money in my account.
Immediately he responded.
That’s fine. Let me know if you get stuck. Come round to the house when you can; we need to talk about the sale x
I slid my phone into my pocket. I had a horrible feeling that if I had to go back to my house, I’d want to stay there.
* * *
? ? ?
I couldn’t believe how expensive it was to rent. I hadn’t rented since my early twenties and then I lived in house shares. I wasn’t going to do that now; I needed my own space.
Pretty quickly I remembered why I used to share a house; it’s so much cheaper than having your own place. The rental prices anywhere decent were high. I needed to get a job and a new home fast. I couldn’t live in the hotel for much longer. I had to get something, no matter what it was like.
For the first time in years, money was absolutely the priority. The cheaper, the better, I thought, until I saw what cheaper would get me. I flinched at the photos of some of the apartments, at the flimsy front doors; the cheap, unstable furniture; the stained and worn carpets.
I didn’t know what to do. Should I buy furniture? Surely I could have some from the house. When it was sold, Tom would move into a smaller place. He wouldn’t need all of the furniture. And some of it was mine, too. I wondered whether he’d let me have that back.
I decided to look only at furnished apartments; I needed to move in immediately. And of course, just as I expected, the issue of my not having a job came up.
“Name of employer?” Gill, the woman at the letting agency, asked. I froze. She saw me hesitate and added grimly, “So that we can write to them to ask them to confirm your employment.”
Frustrated, I said, “I’ve just finished a long-term contract. I’m looking around for work now.” I crossed my fingers. “It won’t take long.”
“I’m sorry. Most of these landlords will only let to employed tenants.”
I stared at her. “That’s disgraceful!”
“Not really. They need to be sure you can pay the rent.”
I thought of the money Tom had put into my bank. “I can pay the rent. That’s not a problem.”
“Very well,” she said coolly. “You’ll have to pay six months’ rent