Up the Creek Without a Paddle--The True Story of John and Anne Darwin by Tammy Cohen

Author:Tammy Cohen [Tammy Cohen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781786064264
Publisher: John Blake Publishing
Published: 2017-02-19T16:00:00+00:00

Selling a house is always a pain. First, you have to make it look good, then you have to scurry round cleaning it every time a potential buyer comes round, and then there are the little touches you’re forever being told make all the difference – fresh flowers in the hallway, coffee brewing in the kitchen. But if selling a normal house is bad, selling a house divided up into lots of bedsits can be a nightmare. There’s never a good time to show people round, never a time when you can be sure the hallways will be clear, the bathrooms empty.

Two thousand and six merged sluggishly into 2007 and still there was no movement. John tried to keep the momentum going from their Panamanian sojourn, but it was hard to carry on contacting estate agents and researching the price of health care and the different types of accounts and interest rates when there was no telling what time frame they might be looking at.

‘It’ll happen,’ Anne tried to be upbeat. ‘We’ve just got to be patient.’

‘Easy for you to say,’ John growled, scowling at his computer screen.

In private he was starting to wonder whether they’d ever get rid of the houses that had come to symbolise to him the shackles that were holding him back. He and Anne would talk endlessly about what they’d do if they got a low offer and what was their absolute minimum price, but the few prospective buyers who came didn’t hang around to discuss prices, perhaps put off by the uncared-for feel of the place – so many doors, so many secrets. Then, in February 2007, they had a lucky break.

Gary Hepple had spotted No. 4 The Cliff on an estate agent’s books and thought it sounded like a good investment opportunity, particularly when the agent informed him that the owners were keen to sell and would negotiate on price. But when he and his wife turned up at the appointed time to take a look round there was no sign of life. He’d later describe to a newspaper how, after waiting at the front door, they tried to peer through the window but the view inside was blocked by a set of grubby net curtains.

‘After all that, and there’s not even anyone here!’ he frowned, turning away annoyed and pulling his mobile from his pocket. But just as he was dialling the estate agent’s number the front door creaked open. From inside came a gruff male voice: ‘If it’s a delivery, leave it next door!’

Gary was getting fed up: ‘No, I’ve come to see about the house. The house that’s for sale?’

For a few moments there was no reply, and then the voice spoke again: ‘Well, I suppose you’d better come inside.’

As welcomes go, it wasn’t the most gracious, but then the Hepples had come out of their way to see this house, so they might as well go in. Gary shot his wife a questioning look. Then, shrugging, he led the way back up the path.

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