The House Swap: An absolutely hilarious feel-good romance

by Jo Lovett

  A few weeks later, back from lunch upstairs, Cassie flopped down into the one comfortable armchair in James’s flat. She’d only been in London for a couple of months, but it was definitely beginning to feel like she belonged a little.

  Her phone buzzed. James.

  ‘Hello?’ Cassie no longer expected an argument when he called. He hadn’t been grumpy with her at all since the marquee conversation. She was fairly sure that it was because he was taking a long view on the ecotourism thing and trying to butter her up over an extended period, but she was still pleased to be on friendly terms with him.

  ‘Hi, Cassie. Is this a good time?’

  ‘Yep, I’m in the flat feeling fat after a large and long Sunday lunch with your neighbours.’ Jack and Chloe had made a lot of delicious veggie sushi for Cassie, Juliet and Anthony, and it had been accompanied by a lot of great wine and great chat. Juliet and Anthony had definitely been flirting. Jack and Chloe were fully paid-up members of Cassie’s ‘Get Juliet and Anthony together’ project – which was more in Cassie’s head than an actual reality because they seemed to be getting themselves together pretty well and she’d done nothing to help, but she had plans to if necessary – and Chloe had sent Cassie a Get in WhatsApp before Cassie was even back in her flat. Chloe was definitely going to have a hangover before she went to bed this evening unless she was a stronger woman than Cassie. Cassie had only had two glasses of wine and wasn’t going to be drinking even a tiny amount from now on because she was starting her first IVF cycle a week tomorrow.

  ‘Sounds good. I should probably feel bad about the fact that I’ve never met my neighbours, but that’s London for you.’ James might have stopped the grumpiness but from what Cassie knew of him it was a stretch to imagine him actually feeling bad about stuff. ‘I do now know your neighbours.’

  ‘I know you do. You’re the island hero now you’ve got the Wi-Fi sorted.’

  ‘Yep. I am. I’ve been given more blueberry pies than any one person could ever eat. No-one seems to realise that it wasn’t exactly altruistic, because, as you know, it was driving me insane. My next job’s trying to get better phone reception. I’m guessing that you heard that the engineers spent days and days trying to work out why the Wi-Fi was so slow and then tracked the problem down to Laura’s old TV that she had on all day every day. Even when she was out. It was emitting a signal that interfered with the entire island’s broadband.’

  ‘Yes. Unbelievable.’ Cassie had also heard that James had bought Laura a new TV to replace the old one. She’d wondered if he was sucking up to Laura, too, for business reasons. Laura’s house stood in the middle of a very large plot that ran down to the sea. ‘You know occasionally she switched it off if she knew she was going to be spending several hours out, which was usually dinner or something at someone else’s house, and Dina and I used to joke that she was our mascot because the Wi-Fi worked better when she was with us.’

  ‘Ouch – so near and yet so far.’

  ‘I know. So how is Laura?’

  ‘She’s good. One of the alpacas isn’t, though, which is why I’m calling. Donna’s been behaving oddly.’ James had a lot to say about Donna’s symptoms. By the time he’d finished, Cassie was struggling not to laugh. ‘Did you just snigger?’

  ‘Yep. You’ve changed a lot since you arrived.’ And it was hilarious that in order to suck up to Cassie because of her land, which she would never allow to be developed, he was going to all this trouble. ‘In terms of animal interaction.’

  ‘Needs must. So what do you think’s wrong with her? You don’t sound that worried?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure that she just has a cold but, yes, definitely a good idea to get the vet out. I have insurance. Her details are in my notes.’

  ‘Okay, great, I’ll do that. There’s something else that I wanted to speak to you about. I know that I’m being a little unfair putting you on the spot and asking you in person, so if you want to think about it, or just say no straight out, please do just say no, because I know it might feel a bit odd.’ So he had just been sucking up to her again. Cassie felt her face drop. Stupid of her; she shouldn’t find it disappointing. She should have known.

  ‘Right,’ she said.

  ‘I’m going to be over in London next weekend for a christening. There are a couple of documents in the flat that I’d like to pick up and I’d like to come over to get them while I’m in town, if that’s alright.’ Oh.

  ‘Yep, no problem.’ She’d have to make sure the place looked immaculate before he arrived. ‘If you could just let me know when you’re coming, just in case?’

  ‘So that you can clear away all the evidence of the debauched parties, marijuana-farming and illegal pet breeding that you have going on?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Yes, of course. And thank you so much.’

  ‘Really, in no way a problem. A christening sounds nice.’

  ‘Yes, it is. My best friend and his wife – their first baby. I’m going to be the proud godfather.’

  ‘Well, congratulations.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Cassie should probably finish the conversation and try to get another chapter of the first book in her series drafted, but weirdly she was enjoying their chat. They ended up sharing their top christening anecdotes and then the conversation turned to the animals.

  ‘What inspired you to get them?’ James asked.

  ‘They both kind of felt like no-brainers. My mother’s from Jordan and as a child I adored visiting her family there. They had chickens, so I’d always wanted some and it was the first time I’d had outside space as an adult. I lived in a flat in Glasgow. And I happened to read about alpacas and one thing led to another.’

  ‘So it was a hankering after the outdoors that led you to move to the island?’

  ‘Kind of. I mean, yes. Basically, I used to be a lawyer, and then I got my first book deal just as I had a bit of a difficult break-up, so I could work anywhere, and it just felt like the right time to move.’ Woah. Why was she giving him so many details about her life? She never talked about leaving Glasgow. ‘What about you? Have you always lived in London?’

  ‘Yep. Boring.’

  ‘Always in the same area?’

  ‘Similar. Quite close by. Anyway, I’d better get on. Call the vet.’ Apparently he had as little desire as she did to talk about his past life. ‘Thank you for your alpaca knowledge. I’ll let you know how Donna gets on and I’ll message you during the week to agree a time to come over to the flat at the weekend.’

  ‘Great.’

  Cassie straightened up. Her back was killing her. Ralitza came three times a week and kept the flat spotless, but Cassie had been up at the crack of dawn today making sure that it was even more spotless than usual before James came round. She’d also put away every single thing that could possibly be put away and had, no joke – she couldn’t even believe in her own head that she’d done this – warmed up some shop-bought bread in the oven just so that the kitchen would smell inviting. Like she was a desperate home-seller when in actual fact her effective landlord was just popping in for a couple of minutes and would then leave.

  Should she stay and say hi, have a chat? Would that feel awkward because it was his flat but currently her flat? And because they’d initially argued but were now getting on well? In a distrustful way, because there was a good chance that he was only being polite because he wanted something from her. Would it be better if she went out? And if she did go out should she leave him a note? Would it look weird if she did go out? And was she in a state of gibbering internal indecision about a really small issue because it actually seemed like quite a big issue, and why even was that?

  Maybe it would be a good idea to get out of her shorts and uber-baggy T-shirt and into a dress. Just in case she did see him. James had looked great – as in outrageously sexy, despite being cross and unfriendly – when she’d met him. And he looked good in each one of the steady stream of photos that Dina supplied in which he just
happened to feature.

  Dress on, she arranged herself nonchalantly on a bar stool.

  Nope. She was going out. He’d been very frosty when she’d stayed to meet him when he’d arrived on the island, and there was every chance that he’d be unimpressed if she were here when he came today. He’d probably only been friendly to her recently because he wanted to develop her land.

  She’d better get her skates on, otherwise she’d bump into him on her way out.

  Thirteen

  James

  Notting Hill Gate Tube station. The traffic. The heat rising off the pavement. The smell of petrol fumes. The sound of engines, car horns, sirens. People jostling, bumping into you, but minding their own business. And the relative peace of the side roads. Fantastic. God, James had missed London.

  Good to know that the concrete jungle existence really was for him.

  Great to have experimented with living somewhere else, but he’d be pleased when he came home for good.

  Although, to be fair, the island had grown on him somewhat. You had to love the beach and ocean. He’d learned some new skills. Like totally pointless alpaca husbandry. And much less pointless cooking. He was fairly sure he’d continue with that at least a couple of evenings a week when he got home.

  He rounded the corner into his road.

  Would Cassie be in the flat? Did he want her to be? There was something odd about being in your own city, your own street, and about to go into your own home, when it was not in fact currently your home. It would feel even odder if she were there, underlining the fact that it was currently her home. He wouldn’t mind meeting her, though. Since he’d started talking to her on the phone, he’d begun to enjoy their conversations. She’d grown on him. The way she lived – the way she seemed to be, the mad colour, the animals, the friendliness – had really annoyed him initially, but now he wasn’t sure why.

  A movement along the road caught his eye. A woman, hurrying away in the opposite direction. She had a lot of dark-brown curly hair and beautiful light-brown skin and was wearing an orange sleeveless dress. Was that… Cassie? When they’d met outside her house, her face had been largely obscured by her hood, so he didn’t know exactly what she looked like. He’d seen her ID photos, but would you ever recognise someone from those?

  It wouldn’t be surprising if it was her. A woman with a house and garden furniture like hers would definitely wear orange.

  He was genuinely going to be slightly disappointed if he didn’t get to meet her properly today. Odd.

  Right. Time to go inside.

  He rang the doorbell first, just in case the woman in the orange dress hadn’t been Cassie and she was in the flat. He should have just asked her earlier in the week if she thought she’d be home.

  Once he was up there, he knocked and waited, but there was no sound, so he put his key in the lock and opened the door.

  If he was being fanciful, he’d have to liken being inside the flat to walking through a child’s nightmare. Everything was exactly as he knew it, except it wasn’t; it was like a distorted view of his own home. It was immaculate, but with little Cassie touches around the place. He could see that she used the kitchen regularly: not a surprise. It contained coloured tea towels and bright flowers and a large bowl of fruit, and smelled of bread baking. There were books in the lounge area, of course.

  He should stop looking around. It felt intrusive. This was Cassie’s home for now. He should get his papers and go.

  His study had had the full Cassie treatment. She’d added a bright-pink geometric velvet cushion to the chair. She had photos dotted around, including one of the bloody alpacas. There were a couple of jam jars containing flowers. Objectively speaking, it looked nice; but he didn’t like being here. It was unsettling. Time to leave.

  On his way out, he saw an elderly man wearing a pale blue V-necked sweater going into the flat next door. He must be his neighbour. How come it felt like he’d never seen him before? He must have done. He must just have been paying zero attention.

  ‘Anthony?’ James asked on impulse. During one of their phone conversations, Cassie had told him about the neighbours. He should probably talk to them sometimes.

  ‘Yes? You must be a friend of Cassie’s?’ Yeah, objectively, London life could feel a little ridiculous. James had lived here for three years and Cassie had said Anthony had been here for decades. And yet, complete strangers.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Well, no. I own the flat. We swapped.’

  ‘Oh.’ Anthony lowered the shopping bags he’d been carrying to the floor and walked down the corridor towards James. He held his hand out. James transferred his document wallet to his left hand and shook Anthony’s hand. ‘Hello, James. Cassie’s mentioned you. Good to meet you.’

  ‘Good to meet you too,’ James said, not sure where he wanted to go with this. It was one thing saying hi to a neighbour; his London existence didn’t allow time for full-on friendship.

  Anthony smiled at him. ‘Cassie’s wonderful,’ he said. And then he turned round and went back to his flat. Okay. Fine. That was an acceptable level of interaction.

  James had some time to kill now. He had several godchildren – nothing like a well-paid job to make you an attractive godparent prospect – and was going to Bedfordshire this afternoon for the fifth birthday party of one of his god-daughters, but it wasn’t starting until three, and it was still only eleven. Probably best to have a walk in the park and then grab a coffee and brunch at Luigi’s.

  He had one foot over the café’s threshold when he realised that the woman in the orange dress was in there, sitting at a table in the window, his table, the table that he always sat at when he went there if it was free. She had to be Cassie. Her hair had been tied back in her passport and driving licence photos, and now it was down, but facially she bore a reasonable resemblance to her passport photo.

  She seemed to register him at the same time that he saw her. She glanced up, did a somewhat comedy double take and then smiled at him. Wow. She had a great smile; it totally transformed her face. And of course she’d recognise him because he hadn’t been wearing a shapeless raincoat with an enormous hood when they met, and his passport photo looked like him because he didn’t have gigantic amounts of hair to do in different styles.

  He smiled back.

  So what now? Obviously she’d chosen to go out this morning and hadn’t planned to speak to him. But since they were both here, it would be odd not to say hi.

  He really couldn’t join her at her table, though, in case she didn’t want to chat.

  Ridiculous: he was behaving like some kind of uncertain teenager.

  Snap decision. He’d go and say hi first and then the ball would be in her court as to whether she wanted to leave.

  And then Luigi shouted, ‘James, ciao,’ from behind the counter, squeezed himself out with difficulty and came towards James for some serious handshaking and man hugging.

  When they’d finished catching up, James ordered brunch and turned to go and speak to Cassie while he was waiting for his food.

  And she’d left the table and was standing only a few feet behind him.

  ‘Hi.’ She hoiked her large bag up onto her shoulder. ‘I was just going. I thought I’d say hello first.’ Bizarre how disappointed he was. Island living had clearly made him oddly needy.

  ‘Hello. I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure that you were you. Passport photos are never that reliable and I couldn’t see your face at all when we met in the rain.’

  Cassie laughed. ‘Oh, yes, my hood. I love that coat. How was your flight?’

  ‘Yeah, not bad, thanks. I watched some old episodes of The Office and managed to nod off for a couple of hours between meals.’

  ‘Sounds like a pretty good red-eye. I always slightly envy and slightly hate the people who can sleep the whole time.’

  ‘I know,’ James said. ‘Actual robots.’

  They smiled at each other. James couldn’t believe he hadn’t realised before how stunning she
was. Completely different from every woman he’d ever gone for in his entire life but beautiful.

  What had they been talking about?

  Luigi clapped him on the shoulder. ‘You want your usual table?’ No. He wanted to stay here and talk to Cassie. But she was clearly ready to leave.

  ‘Yep, great, thank you,’ he told Luigi.

  ‘I’m going to get going. Lovely to see you. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.’ She shot him another one of those gorgeous smiles and left.

  James sat down at the table that Cassie had just vacated. He suddenly felt a little bit bereft. Ridiculous.

  James shook his head slightly and tried really hard to concentrate on what the vicar was saying. He should be focusing on the service. That was the least he could do as godfather. It was hard, though. Matt had been right when he said the baby wasn’t sleeping well at the moment. How the hell were he and Becca surviving this torture? There’d been screaming, loud screaming, almost every hour through the night. James should have stayed in a hotel instead of in Matt’s spare room. He couldn’t remember being this tired for a long time. And Matt did this every night. Wow. James didn’t remember Leonie being like this when she was a baby but he’d been a teenager then and could have slept through anything. Or maybe his mother had just added a touch of vodka to her bottles. It really wouldn’t have been surprising if she had.

  The baby, of course, was now sound asleep in his mother’s arms.

  The vicar’s voice was monotonous and it was hot in here. James closed his eyes for just a second and felt himself sway on his feet.

  ‘James.’ One of the godmothers, who’d been at Matt and Becca’s wedding, a nice woman in blue called Anna, or maybe Emma – James had been too tired to concentrate when they’d been re-introduced – nudged him.