The Accidental Life Swap

by Jennifer Joyce

Oliver’s chest rises and falls in a huge sigh and then he’s gone, the door closing gently behind him.

  *

  I don’t sleep at all. I don’t even attempt it. I’ve betrayed two people I care about and taken a wrecking ball to Stacey’s development plans. I’ve seen first-hand how much that extra land would mean to the animal sanctuary but, because of me, it won’t happen at all.

  I need to fix this somehow, because I can’t stand the thought that Stacey’s hard work will suffer because I’m an idiot, and I need to prove to both Stacey and Oliver that I’m a good person, that I can be trusted and that our friendship means a lot to me. The hours pass agonisingly slowly, but finally morning arrives, the sun weak and ineffective as it rises above the trees. I know Vanessa won’t appreciate a phone call so early on a Sunday morning, but I can’t wait any longer and she’s brought it on herself.

  Surprisingly, Vanessa answers on the first ring, her voice groggy but urgent. ‘Ty? Where are you?’

  I’d very much like to hang up and abort the plan right now, but I throw back my shoulders and remind myself why I’m doing this. ‘It isn’t Tyler. It’s Rebecca.’

  ‘Who?’

  If I had a pillow, I’d be screaming into it right now. ‘Rebecca Riley. Your PA?’ It seems strange to be using my actual name after weeks of being Vanessa.

  ‘Becky?’ Seriously, I need a pillow-scream right now. ‘Is everything okay with the house? There isn’t going to be a delay, is there? Because most people have RSVPed.’ There’s a definite warning tone to Vanessa’s voice and I wonder why I ever wanted to be more like her.

  ‘This isn’t about the house.’ I close my eyes and try to summon strength from somewhere deep, deep down. ‘It’s about yesterday’s auction.’

  ‘What auction?’ Vanessa attempts to sound perplexed, but she isn’t fooling me.

  ‘The auction you bid at and won. For the bit of land between your holiday home and the animal sanctuary.’

  ‘Oh. That auction. What about it?’ Vanessa sounds utterly bored, and I can picture her rolling her eyes at being disturbed on a Sunday morning for something she deems trivial. If I wasn’t such a wuss and didn’t value my job, I’d give her a major ticking off. Instead, I grit my teeth and try to remain as calm as possible.

  ‘I don’t understand why you bid. You never mentioned wanting the land, and you certainly don’t need any more. What are you going to do with it?’

  ‘First of all, I’m going to erect a bloody big fence. Maybe even a wall. What do you think? Do you think a fence will be sufficient at keeping the animals on their own side?’ Vanessa is posing questions, but she doesn’t seem to require any answers as she ploughs on ahead without pausing for breath. ‘I think the wall, to be on the safe side. Really high and solid.’

  ‘But what about the land? What are you going to do with it?’

  There’s a pause on the other end of the line. It’s unlike Vanessa to keep quiet for any length of time, so I’m about to check we’re still connected when she speaks again. ‘Nothing, obviously. Like you said, I don’t need it. I’ve got more than enough land for a huge garden at the back of the house.’

  My mouth opens and closes several times before I manage to get any words out. ‘Then why did you buy the land if you don’t plan to do anything with it?’

  ‘It’s a buffer, isn’t it? A pretty expensive buffer, but worth it to keep those horrible creatures off my property. Can you imagine what they’d do to my new lawn?’

  ‘You bought the land to keep the animals from wandering over into your garden?’ My ears can’t be working properly. ‘Because there’s a new fence going up already. The work on the garden starts tomorrow.’

  ‘It isn’t just to keep them wandering over. It’s the noise and smell as well, isn’t it? Who wants a stinky farmyard on their doorstep?’

  The neighbouring land is hardly on Vanessa’s doorstep, unless it was a bloody big doorstep stretching several hundred feet. And Stacey is robust at keeping the sanctuary – and its occupants – clean and tidy. I don’t point this out to Vanessa, obviously, as my wimpish tendencies are in full force.

  ‘You should come and visit the animal sanctuary. See what amazing work they do to look after the sick and abandoned animals. Then you’ll see why that extra land is so important to them.’

  Vanessa sighs, long and hard. ‘Do you think I have time to be traipsing around a filthy yard, looking at filthier animals? I’m a very busy woman, as you know.’

  ‘But you don’t understand how vital that land is. It’s such a waste to just leave it sitting there when it could be used for something really important.’

  Vanessa sighs again. ‘Look, I have to go. Ty’s just arrived and he has some serious explaining to do.’

  ‘But the land …’ My voice is weak, the fight burning inside nothing but a whimper on the outside. I’m angry at Vanessa, but I’m absolutely livid with myself.

  ‘Fine, I’ll think about it.’

  I’m jolted by the shock of cooperation from Vanessa but I don’t get the chance to press her any further as she’s already screeching at her boyfriend, demanding to know where he’s been all night, and then the line goes dead. Still, this is a tiny victory, at least. There is hope and I will cling onto it as though my life depends on it.

  I’ve cleaned the entire guesthouse, scrubbing every nook and cranny to keep my mind occupied, but I drop the mop and dash across the room when I hear the text tone on my phone, almost slipping on the wet floor. I’m hoping the text will be from Vanessa, or even Oliver, who I haven’t heard from since my confession last night. But it’s neither. It’s Kate, inviting me for Sunday lunch, which is something she has never done before.

  Can’t. Busy with work.

  Tossing my phone on the sofa, I return to the mop, attempting to sing along to the Britney CD even as my mind drifts back to the Vanessa situation. I’m hoping I got through to her earlier, but when has she ever paid attention to me?

  My phone beeps once more, but this time I’m in no rush to read the text. As suspected, it’s Kate again, offering to pick me up and drop me off home again as soon as lunch is over. I don’t bother to reply this time. Kate’s never respected my choices in life, so it’s pointless trying to persuade her that there are more important things to me than an awkward lunch with people who don’t understand me. Ignoring her is the best course of action.

  I’ve run out of surfaces to clean and have moved on to rearranging the kitchen cupboards when Vanessa finally gets back to me with a concession over the land; she’s willing to sell the land to Stacey – for a profit.

  *

  ‘She wants an extra five grand?’

  Stacey, unsurprisingly, doesn’t take the news well. I’ve headed straight over to the animal sanctuary to pass on the sort-of good news and, after being on the receiving end of an icy glare from Mrs McColl that would have frozen Lucifer’s spuds, Stacey and Oliver have taken me upstairs for a bit of privacy.

  ‘The auction was twenty-four hours ago, and she wants to make a five-grand profit?’ Stacey leaps off the sofa and marches towards the window, glowering down at the yard below while Oliver sits in the armchair, his arms folded in front of him, face impassive.

  ‘There are fees and stuff …’ I sound so feeble, I want to slap myself, so if Stacey makes a move towards me, I’m out of here.

  ‘Are you in this together? Good cop, bad cop?’ Stacey turns towards me, but luckily she stays by the window, which keeps me safely out of slapping distance. ‘You befriend us and then talk us into accepting her crappy offer?’

  ‘Of course not.’ I’m appalled at Stacey’s suggestion, but I can hardly blame her for distrusting me. I’ve brought all of this on myself. ‘I wish you’d won the auction, honestly I do. And I’m so sorry I gave her the information about it, but I never in a million years thought she’d buy it herself.’

  Stacey shrugs and wanders towards the basket where the kittens are starting to stir after a nap. ‘It makes no difference e
ither way. The simple fact is, we haven’t got an extra five grand. We haven’t got an extra fiver, and there’s no way we can get another loan. Vanessa already outbid us – how are we supposed to match that, let alone top it up?’ Stacey reaches into the basket, scooping up Tammy. ‘You should go now, Rebecca or whatever your name is. And please don’t come back. There’s nothing more to say.’

  ‘But …’ I’m not sure what I’m going to say, but it doesn’t matter as Oliver interjects before I’ve even finished forming that one tiny word.

  ‘We trusted you. Stacey thought you were friends, and I thought …’ He shakes his head, as though he can’t bear to say the actual words. ‘But you’ve been lying to us all this time. I told you about Lottie …’ He sneaks a furtive look at Stacey and lowers his voice. ‘About what she did. How she told me nothing but lies, and you’re just the same.’

  ‘I’m not. Really.’ I move towards Oliver, but he’s already out of his seat and marching towards the door. When he yanks it open so forcefully, I’m surprised to see the hinges still attached to the frame.

  ‘I don’t know you at all. All I know is, we’ve lost the land because of you and there’s no way we can find the money to buy it now. The expansion can’t go ahead.’ He indicates the open door and steps aside. ‘Now please, I’m begging you, go away and don’t come back.’

  I do as I’m told, glancing back just as the door closes behind me to see Stacey pressing her face into the kitten’s soft fur. The guilt is overwhelming and I clutch the handrail to keep myself steady on the stairs. I’ve lost my new friends and destroyed the plans they’ve worked so hard on. There is no way I can ever make it up to Stacey and how can Oliver ever put his faith in me again?

  Trudging down the stairs, I’m met by Mrs McColl in the hallway, almost as though she’s been waiting for me. She gives a sniff and folds her arms across her chest as she looks me up and down.

  ‘I always knew I couldn’t trust you. Right from the very beginning. My instincts are never wrong.’ With one last look of distaste, she marches along the corridor and disappears into the café. I want to call after her that her instincts were wrong. That I’m a good person who can be trusted. I made a stupid mistake, and if there was anything I could do to put it right, I would. If I had five thousand pounds, I’d give it to Stacey right now. But I don’t have the money or the means to raise such a substantial amount.

  Or do I? What if I could somehow raise the money? I could finally put my skills to good use and organise a fundraising event, which would not only save the animal sanctuary development, it would showcase my skills to Vanessa in a far more practical way than project managing a house refurbishment. I could salvage my friendships, put the development firmly back on track and earn my coveted promotion all in one fell swoop!

  Chapter 35

  I’ve already started to formulate a plan as I hurry along the lane, so I’m ready to spring into action by the time I reach the guesthouse. I don’t have a lot of time to put my plan into action; I’ll be leaving Little Heaton in a week, so I have to organise and execute the fundraising event within days. It’s crazy. Probably impossible. But I have to give it everything I’ve got if I want to make up for my mistakes.

  I have such a small window of time to carry this out, but I do have one trick up my sleeve, something that will give me a major head start. Before Vanessa sent me to Little Heaton, I’d been working on some ideas for the Heron Farm Festival and while my ideas are obviously surplus to requirements for that project, I could utilise them now by putting on my own autumn festival, here in the village, with all the proceeds going to the animal sanctuary. The ideas are all there, waiting to be put into action. Unfortunately, I left the file behind – I had no idea it would come in useful during a house refurb – so I’m going to have to do the unthinkable and get in touch with Lee back at the flat.

  It’s a Sunday afternoon, so hopefully he’ll still be sprawled on the sofa, recovering from a hangover sufficiently enough for his usual back-to-work-tomorrow drinks in the pub later. The phone rings and rings and I’m about to give up when it’s finally answered.

  ‘Yo.’ I’d forgotten what a tit Lee is, but I’m reminded by his greeting, followed by a small, gassy burp.

  ‘Hi, Lee. It’s Rebecca.’ I’m expecting a cry of ‘you’re alive!’ or ‘where have you been?’ or even a confused ‘who?’, but I receive no reaction at all. I’ve been gone for three weeks and nothing. Charming. ‘I need a favour.’

  ‘From me?’

  I bite back a sarcastic retort, because I really do need his help. ‘Yes please.’

  ‘You don’t need me to go out and get milk, do you? Because I’m watching The Simpsons and it’s the Mr Plow episode. I only answered the phone because of the ads.’

  ‘No, I don’t need you to go out and get milk.’ I’m fighting a sigh so badly right now. ‘I need you to go into my room and find a file I left in there.’ The thought of Lee in my bedroom makes me shudder, but needs must.

  ‘Oh. Because we do actually need milk. There hasn’t been any in the fridge for yonks. I’ve been having to eat my Sugar Puffs dry.’

  As oppose to getting off his arse and buying more milk? Unthinkable!

  ‘Anyway, Lee. The file.’

  ‘What file?’

  I really do wish you could strangle people over the phone. ‘The file in my room. I need you to get it and courier it to me. I’ll set it all up from here, so you don’t have to do anything other than hand it over. Okay?’

  ‘It’ll have to wait until The Simpsons has finished …’

  I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep, calming breath. ‘Fine. But let me know as soon as you’ve found it so I can set up the collection. It should be on top of my chest of drawers. Or maybe on the bed.’ I packed in a bit of a rush, so I don’t actually remember what I did with it that day. ‘But it shouldn’t be too hard to find. It’s a red presentation file with a clear cover you’re looking for. It’ll say Heron Farm Festival on the front, plus my name. Got it?’

  ‘Red file. Some festival thingy. Your name. Got it.’

  I’m hardly filled with confidence, but I’ll have to put my trust in Lee. ‘Thank you. I owe you one.’

  ‘S’alright. You couldn’t pick up some milk on your way home though, could you’

  I close my eyes again. Deep, deep breath. ‘I’m in Cheshire. I won’t be home for another week. You might want to get some milk yourself in the meantime.’

  ‘What are you doing in Cheshire?’

  Deep, deep breath. ‘Working. I’ve been here for three weeks.’

  ‘Ah, I see!’ Lee sniggers. ‘That explains why there’s no food in the fridge. I thought you were on one of your pissy I’m not here to feed you campaigns again.’ It’s so nice to know I’ve been missed during my absence.

  ‘I left you a note, telling you I’d be away for a few days.’

  ‘Did you?’ There’s a silence, in which I picture Lee shrugging while he picks at his nose. ‘Anyway, The Simpsons is coming back on.’

  ‘Please don’t forget the file.’ My plea comes too late; the line is already dead. Placing the phone down on the coffee table, I drop my face into my hands, allowing myself a moment of despair as I realise my fate and that of the animal sanctuary is now firmly in my flatmate’s grubby little hands.

  *

  I can’t sit around twiddling my thumbs while I wait for Lee to finish watching cartoons so I use the time to brainstorm. The festival needs a venue and while the animal sanctuary springs immediately to mind, I soon dismiss it. The family day was a huge success, but this festival has to be on a much bigger scale to raise as much money as possible. There’s the park, where the fun run took place, but I’d need to get permission from the council and there’s no way I’d be able to get that over the next few days. There’s loads of open space around, but I’d need to find out who owned the land before I could even think about requesting permission to use it. There’s a lot of space behind Vanessa’s property, but I h
ardly think she’d appreciate me christening her newly landscaped garden with a mini festival.

  Chewing on my pen, I’m starting to get the horrible feeling that this is hopeless. I could have a million, fail-proof ideas put together, but every one of them would be useless without a venue. I need land and lots of it to house the entertainment and the food and drink facilities that will draw people in.

  Sitting upright and removing the pen from my teeth, I grab my phone and Google Durban Castle, which is just up the road from here. The castle is surrounded by acres of land, which I’m sure was a venue Vanessa has used for one of her events. Isn’t that how she discovered her holiday home in the first place?

  I find the website and punch the air when I find that the castle’s grounds can be hired. This is it! This would be the perfect venue for the autumn festival. I was momentarily derailed but I may just be back on track again.

  A quick phone call later and my hopes are not only dashed, they’re completely obliterated. Not only is the castle booked for a wedding next weekend, the cost of hiring the grounds is eye-watering. I’m going to have to organise this festival on the tiniest budget from my savings, so the castle is firmly out.

  And the bad news keeps on coming when Lee phones to say my file is nowhere to be found (and he looked everywhere, he told me with extra emphasis, which leads me to believe he’s found a little battery-operated friend of mine in the bedside drawer. I’m now moving out whether I get the promotion or not). I have the file saved on my laptop, so I can print out a new copy, but the original holds so much more, with added snippets from newspapers and magazines, and contact information I’d gathered while researching venues and facilities. I must have left the original file at the office, as I definitely took it with me that morning, so I could ask Emma to look for it tomorrow, but is there any point when I don’t have a venue?

  *

  Sitting in the guesthouse and chewing on my nails as I try to come up with an alternative plan is doing my head in (plus, I’ve chomped almost down to the knuckles, which isn’t a good look) so I decide to go for a walk. Perhaps the fresh air will get the creative cogs turning again. Or maybe I’ll just freeze in the biting wind. It’s worth the gamble, at least.