by Isla Gordon
Flynn didn’t know if pretending to be a couple would even work. He wasn’t about to lie in any documentation, but then equally the landlady shouldn’t be discriminating against non-marrieds, so the whole thing was just an ethical mess. But, was there really any harm in trying? August was right, they would be good tenants. They seemed to get along, for the most part, and they both really wanted to live here. He needed to live somewhere.
Flynn took a deep breath, and, with Yui’s face in his mind, asked, ‘The bigger room would be mine?’
She snapped her head back around to look at him, her eyes wide. ‘Yes, yes, it could be all yours.’
‘All right, then.’
‘All right? All right you’ll do this?’
‘Yes, let’s give it a shot.’
August threw her arms around his neck and hugged him so hard the heels of her feet lifted off the ground. With her lips beside his ear and his arms around her back she asked, ‘Are you sure? Are you really sure?’
‘Yes. I’m not making any promises though, we don’t know if she’ll even like us. And if it involves anything illegal with the paperwork I’m out.’
‘Of course, of course,’ she agreed, that would indeed be stepping too far. ‘Thank you, Flynn, you don’t know what this means to me.’
Actually, he thought he did.
To anybody watching August and Flynn embracing on the balcony, framed by tall French doors, they would have seen a couple of people who, right now, looked very much in love.
Chapter 13
Flynn
Stepping back inside, Flynn and August walked hand in hand through the apartment, making their way towards Mrs Haverley, who was just finishing talking with another couple before they walked away looking pleased with themselves.
Mrs Haverley however turned and muttered, ‘Bloody hippies.’
Flynn glanced toward the couple, who were smiling, arm in arm and taking one last look before exiting the property. Apart from her nose stud, and the shell necklace he was wearing, they didn’t look very hippy-like to him.
‘Mrs Haverley?’ August spoke first, dropping Flynn’s hand to reach out and shake the landlady’s. August’s voice had dropped a touch, like when somebody has a posh ‘phone voice’, only this silky, confident tone was like the room had been silenced and a pleasant audiobook had been started.
‘Hello,’ Mrs Haverley said with suspicion, looking between them.
‘Mrs Haverley, thank you for giving up your morning to allow us – to allow us all – to have a look around your beautiful home. It must be a great pain to have all these people traipsing through, and on your Sunday, no less.’
Mrs Haverley tilted her head. ‘Well, it is a little, yes,’ she said. ‘But no matter, it has to be done.’
Flynn was impressed. August seemed to know exactly what to say. He wondered if she’d taken improv classes in her past, or whether she just had a natural ability for reading people and reacting to them.
August continued, reaching a hand to Flynn’s arm, sliding it down in an oh-so-familiar way. Comfortable and close without being too intimate or showy. ‘May I introduce myself and my husband, Flynn. My name’s August.’
‘Hello,’ Mrs Haverley said again, with a respectful nod.
‘I’ll cut to the chase, if I may, because I’m sure you’ve had quite enough waffle from people extolling the virtues of this place: the views, and the space, and the ceiling height,’ August hesitated. This was a tightrope she was walking on. Perhaps Mrs Haverley did want to hear those things, after all, who doesn’t like flattery? But if Flynn had to guess, which August also appeared to be doing, he’d place his bets on the landlady being a factual, rather than emotional, person.
A small smile played on Mrs Haverley’s lips, and Flynn noticed August let out a tiny exhale of relief. ‘My husband and I would like to move in, as soon as possible. We are dependable, we are extremely self-sufficient and we would be fantastic tenants for you.’
‘Is that so?’ Mrs Haverley asked.
Flynn felt he better jump in quick before she labelled him a doormat or some such thing. ‘That’s right, Mrs Haverley. We would be honoured to start our married life in this very apartment.’
‘And what do you both do?’ Mrs Haverley asked.
Relieved she hadn’t pressed on the marriage issue, Flynn said. ‘I work in law. International law.’
To which August added, ‘He works for one of the top law firms in Bath. I am employed within Bath tourism and also do theatrical work.’
‘Theatrical work?’ Mrs Haverley asked.
Flynn stiffened and he felt August tense against his arm. Was that the right or wrong thing to say? Was August about to be labelled a hippy?
But Mrs Haverley smiled again, one of her small, tight smiles. ‘I do enjoy the theatre.’
‘Oh, I’m so glad,’ August said. ‘Did you catch The Mousetrap when it came to the Theatre Royal last autumn?’
‘I didn’t – were you in it?’ Mrs Haverley’s interest had clearly been piqued.
August laughed, pleasantly, bashfully, and said, ‘Sadly not.’
‘I don’t actually get to the theatre that often,’ Mrs Haverley added. ‘Not as often as I’d like.’
‘Well, perhaps we’ll have to change that.’
Flynn watched as August went from another-prospective-tenant to Mrs Haverley’s companion in a matter of breaths. Is this how she’d talked him around too? It was quite something to watch. But it didn’t seem fake. It didn’t seem as though she was acting. This appeared to be August’s genuinely warm personality, embellished and adapted to suit the current company. That’s not a bad way to get by in life, Flynn thought.
Mrs Haverley looked from August to Flynn and back again for a moment, seeming to think things through, and then said. ‘You say you could move in right away?’
‘As soon as you would like,’ answered Flynn.
‘Would two weeks be suitable? There’s a little maintenance to be done, unfortunately.’
‘Two weeks would be perfect,’ August nodded. ‘Wouldn’t it, darling? Just enough time to get our other affairs in order.’
‘And you’re certain this is the apartment for you?’ Mrs Haverley confirmed. ‘Not looking to buy a semi-detached out in the countryside?’ She asked this with a curl of her lip, as if she couldn’t imagine anything worse than suburban life.
‘Oh no,’ August answered. ‘We’re far too committed to living here in the city, and on this street in particular. My grandmother lived not too far away, so I know the roads around here well. I’m actually rather fond of this house.’
‘Do you sometimes sit on the wall out there, eating ice cream?’ Mrs Haverley asked, all of a sudden.
Flynn saw August stumble for words for a millisecond, and was about to jump in when she regained her composure. ‘Um, well, yes, actually. Often in my lunch breaks I walk up here. I mean I don’t always have ice cream for lunch, but you know, once in a while, or once a week, doesn’t do much harm … ’
Mrs Haverley just nodded. ‘I’d like to speak to my son now, if you’ll excuse me. Perhaps you could stay around for a while longer, or leave your telephone number somewhere I might find it. What were your names again?’
‘Flynn and August,’ Flynn said, feeling August’s hand lace with his and squeeze tightly.
‘Flynn and August. Unusual names.’ Mrs Haverley nodded to herself. ‘Memorable though, and not as unusual as some names people are giving their children now.’ And with that, she’d walked away.
‘Do you think we’re getting the apartment?’ August asked in a whisper, her voice shaking a little, her hand sweating against Flynn’s.
‘It sounds like we might be,’ he replied. ‘What do you reckon our chances are with the son?’
August pondered. ‘Not bad. He seems like a bit of a grouch, but also like he just wants his mum to get on and pick someone to live here. That might work in our favour if she’s been hard to please up until now.’
‘You might be right.’
They waited for a bit, looking out the window, both trying not to let their hopes get too high. He could sense, though, that August’s hopes were practically clawing their way through the roof, and up into the atmosphere, until she asked, ‘Is this idea a bit bonkers?’
‘Yep,’ answered Flynn.
‘Are you annoyed at me?’ she asked, quite serious.
‘Not at all. You didn’t force me.’
‘I forced you a little bit.’
‘It takes more than a pretty face and some skilled persuasion to force me to do anything.’
August shrugged. ‘Well, that’s all it takes for me, so luckily we won’t have a problem,’ she joked.
Abe walked into the living room, clapped his hands together and the gathering stopped whatever corner of wallpaper they were admiring to face him.
‘Thank you for coming, everybody,’ he said, with all the sincerity of a tanked lobster inside the entranceway of a restaurant. ‘I have an announcement to make.’
Chapter 14
August
‘Mrs Haverley has now settled upon tenants, pending paperwork,’ Abe said to the room. ‘If any of you would still, truly, be interested should this arrangement fall through, please take an application form on your way out and return it promptly so we may keep it on file.’
August and Flynn held their breath, and their hands, not that they strictly needed to still be holding hands at this point, but it felt like moral support.
And then it happened. Abe’s gaze swept the room and landed on their faces. He walked over, all immaculate and handsome and formal, and asked, ‘Remind me. You are … ?’
‘Flynn Miyoshi, and this is August … my wife.’
‘August Anderson. I kept my name.’ She held her hand out to shake, but instead Abe placed an application form into it.
‘Abe Haverley. You two are the “winners”, as it were; my mother has deemed you suitable to rent this apartment from her.’
‘That’s very kind,’ August squeaked, really trying to keep her cool.
‘Fantastic news,’ Flynn said a little too loud, causing a few sneers from the other hopefuls, now exiting the flat.
‘Yes,’ said Abe. ‘Would you mind completing this application form so we can make it official? I’ll also need to see some documentation to prove your right to rent in the UK, that could be a passport—’
Before he’d even finished his sentence, both Flynn and August had whipped their passports out of their pockets.
‘Right, thank you.’ He took the passports and used an app on his phone to take a digital scan of both passports. Afterwards, he pulled two contracts out of his briefcase and handed them over, along with their returned passports. ‘Here’s the contract. If you could have a read through and sign them – you can either both sign one or sign one each, it doesn’t really matter. Could you return both the contracts and application form within an hour or two, please, as I need to head back to London late this afternoon.’
‘Of course,’ said August, taking the items from his hands. ‘Are you just here for the weekend?’
Abe smiled for what seemed the first time. ‘Just this weekend, and the last, and the one before that. But I think we’re finally there.’
‘Well, we’ll go and get a coffee nearby right now, go over these, and then drop them back over.’
‘Thank you,’ Abe said, back to formalities. ‘I’ll then have my mother look through everything and counter-sign before I leave, and I’ll make copies of the contracts and get them in the post to you, first class.’
Better use my address on the application form, August thought.
With Abe leading the way, August and Flynn left the apartment that would soon be theirs, and as the three of them descended the staircase August ran her hand on the bannister, saying a silent hello and asking it, remember me?
At the bottom of the stairs, as he opened the door, Abe said, ‘Just to be clear, Mrs Haverley, my mother, will be your landlady. This house belongs to her. She is who you go to for any questions before and after you move in. However,’ he lowered his voice a little. ‘Here is my card, please store my number. She won’t like to think you’re coming to me behind her back, but if you need to, this is how you reach me.’ He paused, fiddling with the card before handing it over, a small wash of sadness seeming to drift past his eyes. ‘She’s … well … we’re all getting older I suppose. I really don’t mind, please do let me know if you need anything.’
With that, Abe seemed to pull himself together, right as August was about to reach her hand out to touch his, probably very expensive, suit arm. ‘Right, so you’ll be dropping the contracts back around in an hour or so?’
‘We will,’ answered Flynn. ‘Thank you,’ he said.
‘Yes, thank you,’ August said, genuinely.
‘And thank you,’ said Abe. ‘I’m glad my mother has found some very nice new people to share her home. People that she’s actually happy with.’
He closed the door with a nod, and August watched his face disappear from view, hoping that she really would live up to expectations.
August waited. She waited until the two of them were out of the house and curling their way down Elizabeth Street’s hill before she let herself breathe and happy tears spilled over. She dropped Flynn’s hand and covered her mouth.
She looked up at him with soggy eyelashes and a pink face, unable to speak any words.
August was going to live there. Finally. Finally, her dreams were coming true. ‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ she managed to choke out.
‘It’s happening,’ he laughed. ‘And there’s nothing on this application form about marriage, or proving we are married.’ He was flicking through the document on the street. ‘We need to give a deposit, which will be put into a tenancy deposit protection scheme, but if you want you can transfer me some money and I’ll do that. Or the other way around. And we need to give an address for at least one of us, so we’d better put yours if that’s okay?’
‘Yes, that’s okay. Flynn?’
He looked up. ‘Yep?’
‘We’re going to live together!’
And luckily, instead of this realisation dawning on him and him running for the hills, he just let a huge grin cross his face. ‘I don’t know anybody else in Bath I’d rather live with.’
August was happy. ‘Come on, let’s go and get that paperwork out the way, and then tonight I’m taking you out for dinner. Pizza?’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ he said.
‘Oh, do you have big plans with room service in front of terrestrial TV?’
‘Good point, pizza would be great.’
She nodded, satisfied. ‘Back to the coffee shop at the bottom of the hill? I hope you liked it, because it’s soon going to be our local.’
Chapter 15
August
August floated about the rest of the day, making imaginary plans about how she’d spend her days on Elizabeth Street, drafting an email notice to her landlord about leaving her current flat, lapsing into long daydreams where she remembered visiting the house with her grandma.
This really felt like the start of something. A new beginning. The first, and longest, dream coming true and paving the way for her other goals to follow suit. She knew she’d returned to Bath at the right time, and that the temporary flat she was in now, and the temporary James whose heart hadn’t aligned with hers, were just fillers, warm-ups for the bigger acts of her life.
When the time came to head out for dinner, August was still on cloud nine.
She walked down the narrow street towards the pizza restaurant, and paused on the corner, seeing Flynn already inside, seated by the window. He’d changed out of his suit jacket and into a blue sweatshirt, and seemed to keep pushing the sleeves up, then pulling them down, then pushing them up again. His dark hair flopped on his forehead as he looked down, and his strong, open face was framed by the window pane. He was quite a pretty picture really, Aug
ust observed.
Her circumstances were very different from his, but there was something soothing about the knowledge things were slotting into place. He was a nice guy. I’m glad I met you today, she told him, silently.
She opened the door of the restaurant with a tinkle, and Flynn looked up, beaming when he saw her. She was the only person he knew in the city, and although he’d only met her this morning, to her it seemed that he relaxed with happy familiarity that fizzed through seeing her again.
He grinned as she came towards him, and she kept her smile as bright as the colours of her outfit, which bounced against the cool, dark tones of the pizzeria, and seemed to contrast against the cool, dark tones of him.
‘Hello, again,’ she said.
‘Hello, again to you,’ he replied, and stood up.
There was a moment when they weren’t sure how to greet each other. They’d gone from strangers to sharing a home together in less than a day. A wave? A handshake? A hug? A kiss on the cheek? All of the above?
They wavered, both let out a nervous laugh, and made the joint decision at the last minute to go in for a hands-on-arms, quick-peck-on-the-cheek hello. For a tiny fraction of a second when the skin of their cheeks touched, a breath of August’s perfume and Flynn’s aftershave fused together in the air between them.
Chapter 16
Flynn
Sitting in the window of the pizzeria, Flynn couldn’t quite believe how much his fortunes had changed in twenty-four hours. This time last night he was eating instant noodles courtesy of his hotel kettle, nursing his blistered feet and desperately re-scouring the property websites for anything he’d missed. He’d widened his searches to nearby villages, upped his budget as much as he could possibly stretch it, and then spilled tea on what had been (until now) his last remaining sweatshirt.
