Michael took a sip of the coffee he’d made. ‘Right.’
The word ‘sceptical’ sprang to mind.
‘But as I said, I can’t do this alone, I need – ’
‘Me to get on board. Blah Blah. I know. I get it. I just don’t really buy it.’
I shifted in my seat.
‘Don’t worry. I’ve done plenty in my life that I didn’t really buy into either and I got by. Just ask my ex-wife. So we’ll get it done. You do your thing, I’ll make the effort and then it’s done.’
‘Great,’ I said, feeling pretty unconvinced myself now, which was the complete opposite to how I normally felt at this stage in the process. Not a great sign.
I pushed my coffee mug to the side and pulled out a folder from my bag, clearing a little space on the breakfast bar to lay it on. Michael took the mugs off the counter, rinsed them and then came and stood behind me, peering over my shoulder at the forms I had just begun filling in. As he did so, I got a subtle waft of aftershave. It was light and citrusy and, oddly, not what I would have expected from him.
‘What’s this then? Do you give out grades for first impressions?’
I shoved my stool backwards, causing him to move, as I then dismounted. Tilting my head back to meet the intense green gaze, I answered him.
‘Perhaps it’s just as well that I don’t Mr O’Farrell.’
‘Oh. I guess, in the interest of fairness then, I should take that Yelp review down that I did when I nipped up to change my clothes?’
I turned quickly. ‘What did you say on it?’
He shrugged. ‘Just that I thought it was a novel approach for a business owner who comes into peoples’ houses to call her client an arsehole within minutes of meeting him.’
My mouth dropped open and I felt my face drain of colour.
‘That was entirely unfair of you! I apologised immediately! I know that’s no excuse, but you were late, rude and disrespectful of what I’ve been hired to do!’ A stray tendril of hair had come loose from my bun and I pushed it back from my face distractedly. ‘This is my livelihood! How could you – ’
He snagged his phone from the shelf and shoved it in the back pocket of his jeans as he threw me an amused look.
‘Calm down. I didn’t do anything of the sort.’
I felt the colour return to my cheeks.
‘Oh. Right. Well, good. Thank you. And just so you know I’ve never, ever done that before and have no intention of doing it again.’
He shook his head. ‘Forget it. Believe me, if I Yelped everyone who thought I was an arsehole I’d be on the site all day.’
I didn’t say a word but his mouth did that quirk thing again.
‘It’s all right, you can say it.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You can say you aren’t in the least bit surprised.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of saying that.’
‘Nothing to stop you thinking it though, eh?’
‘Shall we make a start?’ I said, uncomfortable at being quite so transparent.
His lips gave a little tug to the side. ‘Absolutely. Tell me what you need me to do.’
‘So, is there anything you’re specifically hoping for with this process?’ I asked, glancing at my notes.
When he didn’t answer, I looked up to find him studying me.
‘What?’
‘Nothing. Just seems an odd question, bearing in mind you already know the only reason you’re even here is because my sister cajoled you and my family forced me. If I wasn’t looking for the process to happen in the first place, I can’t see how I could be hoping for anything from it.’
I took a deep breath. ‘It’s fair to say that my clients are normally a little more pleased to see me than you are.’
‘I can see that,’ he said, leaning against the door jamb and crossing his ankles.
‘But that doesn’t mean, now that you’re committed to the process, that you won’t gain anything from it just because you came to it from a more unconventional angle.’
A grin flickered on his face, as fleeting as a guttering candle. ‘Unconventional. That’s one way of putting it.’
‘So, having heard what I do, is there anything you can think of that you would specifically want to gain from all this?’
He straightened from the doorway and looked at me. I tilted my head back to meet his eyes. Now I’d taken my sodden shoes off, I had to look up even further.
‘I’m not exactly sure what you want me to say Kate, but if you’re hoping for some sort of emotional blather about me wanting to find myself amongst all the clutter, then I’m sadly going to have to disappoint you. The only thing I’m looking for with this process is to turn my house into a place that’s fit for a family Christmas. At the moment, with all this stuff everywhere, it’s not. I’m just wanting a tidy house, Kate. Not therapy.’
‘Fair enough.’ I scribbled a note and made to move on.
‘It would seem your clientele are generally a lot deeper than I am.’
‘Not at all. Everyone’s different. I just want to make sure that I do the best job I can for each client, and that means finding out what it is they really want.’
‘Don’t they all just want less crap kicking around? Isn’t that the whole point of your business?’
‘Yes and no. That’s usually what it starts off as them thinking they want, but quite often there’s a deeper issue that they don’t even realise is driving them until part way through the process.’
He gave a quick raise of his eyebrows. ‘Right. Well, as you heard, the only thing driving me is a sister half my size.’
I felt the smile slide onto my face and for a moment he returned it.
‘So, let’s just accept that I’m shallow and move on. Where do you want to see first?’
He leant on the newel post and I watched the corded muscles on his forearm flex as his hand rested on the bannister.
Was that true? Was he really that shallow, or was he, in fact, one of my most complicated clients? Usually about this time, I had a pretty good idea of who my client was, but with Michael O’Farrell, I still didn’t have a clue.
‘Shall we do bottom to top?’
He gave me a quick nod and led the way down the stairs to the basement level of the four-storey Georgian. Here the space had been given over to a large open-plan living area that had bi-folding doors leading out onto a garden. There was a small counter/kitchen area for preparing snacks and cups of tea, to save having to traipse up and down the stairs when time was being spent in here. A flat-screen TV collected dust against the wall and a couple of couches and beanbags sat unused underneath some appliance boxes and other discarded items. Looking out onto the garden, it could be a great space for entertaining, or just relaxing, but right now it was uninviting and cold. From my time studying the outside, and now here, there already seemed to be a theme emerging.
Next I followed my client back up the stairs to the ground floor where he stopped outside a room opposite the kitchen we’d sat in earlier. As I caught up to him, he opened the door. Inside was an architect’s