A Second Chance Ch. 01

We sat down and had a restorative coffee and a cake, by which time my guest, no my TENANT had stopped shaking.

We finished our snack and walked to the school to collect her most delightful daughter, a tiny little cutie called Emma, who did have a nasty cough and bit of a rattle when she breathed.

For that reason alone, I popped her up on my shoulders and carried her back to their house... no MY HOUSE! She didn't object.

"Pack everything you want to take away," I said, "if we have to do a couple of trips, so be it."

While Callie packed, I walked around followed by little Emma, taking photographs of the damage and the repairs that needed doing. Being a contract engineer I was well used to this kind of thing and talked into my voice recorder, listing the work that needed doing, just as I would if it was a commercial jet airliner or cargo plane.

Leaving virtually nothing but beaten-up furniture, fitted appliances and damp mattresses, we managed to squeeze everything else into my car and hers, and just as it started to get dark, we left having set the direction to get to my place in her phone.

She followed me pretty much all the way, and I could see her craning her neck as she drove through the high gateway and onto the drive of the big house, I parked up and she parked next to me on the gravel drive, her dropped jaw most evident.

"Come on in," I said, "let's get young Emma there warmed up, and perhaps we can order something nice in for tea." I looked at my watch, it was approaching seven.

"That... that would be nice," she said, "How much..."

"Don't worry about it," I said with a grin, "Emma!" I called to the tiny little girl staring up at the high windows and exposed beams of my house.

"Yes?"

"Wanna look inside?" She nodded with the biggest heart-warming smile. "Come on then!" I opened the porch doors then took my key for the front door, switching on the lights as I went in.

"Please, Callie and Emma, come in and make yourselves at home."

"WOW!" said the tiny Emma.

"I'll show you around," I said, "here's the kitchen, I'll have to get some more stuff in but most of the essentials are there." Callie looked around at a kitchen, with a big kitchen table and six chairs, it was pretty much the same amount of room as her entire ground floor.

"Craig..." she said looking slightly stunned, "are you... SURE!?"

"Of course," I said with a smile, "I have a responsibility, I couldn't let you sit in the electrified Niagara Falls could I."

"Thank you!" she said with just the prettiest smile ever. Obviously seeing her Mum smile had a similar effect on tiny young Emma, and I though her face would crease up she looked so happy.

"Hey Emma, how about you and Mummy come upstairs and pick a bedroom each?"

"Do I get my own bedroom?" she said sweetly, "I used to have one before the rain came in."

"Of course!" I said, "but if you want to share with Mummy, I'm sure you can do that, if you want to?"

We walked up the wide staircase and came to the first floor. My room, the master bedroom, was the biggest with a wide bay window that looked out over the front and side gardens. Next to that was the big bathroom with both bath and walk-in shower. Across from that were another couple of rooms, the first with a large double bed, the second with an antique double and wardrobes, chests of drawers and bedside tables, it even had an old roll-top desk, my sister loved to collect furniture having started at Cairngorm Avenue, and I guessed this was designed to be a child's room.

I had walked around the house of the preceding few months and while I'd checked out these rooms and had kept them aired but the beds unmade but covered. There was even an antique cot in one of the second-floor rooms, a bittersweet memento of Diana. I guessed that once she knew she would need it, she would have brought it down to her room, then into this lovely child's room.

I shook off that thought and looked down at the little girl that could be its first young resident.

"Now you have a choice, how about this one Emma?" I said, "A room for Mummy is just through here," I stepped out and pointed into the other double room. Emma looked mightily impressed but her Mum not so.

I stepped to the staircase that went up to the second floor. "OR," I added looking to Callie, "if you want some more space, you can have a whole floor to yourself. There's no bathroom but we can run a pretty efficient rota system so you can have your privacy." She looked interested so I walked upstairs indicating they should follow me. At the top I stopped and turned in the small hallway, "Bedroom four, five and six," I spun and pointed at each, "we can turn one of these bedrooms into a sitting room and put your TV and stuff in there."

"That would nice," said Callie actually looking relieved, "the last thing I want to do is be in your way."

"No problem," I said, "you let me know what time you get Emma ready for school and when you're working, and we'll sort everything out."

"That should be fine, Thanks again Craig."

"Excellent; so Emma, shall we order pizza?"

"What kind?" she said.

"The biggest they do, OK?"

After a big pizza dinner, I made the single bed in the top floor bedroom while Callie and her daughter brought stuff in and filled their wardrobes and drawers.

I came down the first floor, to find both of my new guests giggling and lugging bags and small boxes.

"I hope you don't mind Callie, but I've made your beds, just until you get your linen washed and dried. The utility room is just down there," I gave her a smile.

"No! It's fine, thank you!" She smiled back at me with one of those big smiles again, "can I give Emma a shower? She hasn't had a proper one in weeks."

"Of course!" I said, then a better idea came to me, "Oh Callie!" I said, stepping into the huge bathroom and taking the lid off a tall glass jar and the pungent smells released. Callie looked at me quizzically, "Bath bombs, my sister loved them, they make the water fizz for a few minutes, turn it a pretty colour and give off a nice smell. Di loved them, I was going to throw them out, but if Emma likes them then help yourself."

"Thank you," she said with another almost disbelieving look.

"Don't worry," I said, "honest."

At gone eight she'd bathed little Emma and the bomb had gone down a storm, and she carried the almost sleeping girl up the stairs and put her to bed.

Ten minutes later she came back down and into the kitchen, where I handed her a coffee.

"Decaf," I said, "My sisters finest," I opened a cupboard, "All in here look."

"Thanks Craig, seriously." She pointed to a mess of bags on the floor, "let me know which cupboard you want me to use..."

"Don't worry mate," I said, "you're my guest, unload it into the appropriate cupboard and we'll share, I insist."

"Craig..." I could see she was getting a bit emotional, "Thank you, I really was starting to worry about everything, I normally manage to make ends meet-just. My ex... Emmie's Dad, is a bit unpredictable with his money each month," she took a sip of her coffee, smiled then looked back up at me, with a giggle, "this is really nice!"

"I'll show you how the machine works, and give you a run down on the blends, all my late sisters work; she was a connoisseur, whereas I just drink coffee."

Callie giggled again, her face finally lighting up as I guessed she realised the pressure was off at last.

"Thank you," she hid her blushing face behind her mug for a moment.

"When I'm at work tomorrow I'll be looking up Mr Gregg, then I'll take another afternoon off work and go and check on my other two houses, see if they're falling to bits and have got his crappy trucks on the drives."

"Want me to come with you?" she said genuinely, "Just in case?"

"Nah, I'm not necessarily brave, but definitely not that stupid either. Whatever Mr Gregg may threaten me with, he manages and allegedly maintains my three houses, I'll have my very nice solicitor look over whatever kind of agreement we have going on, have a quick look at what I'm paying him for and what he should have been doing to the house you rent from me." I leant back on the counter, "Then I'll have a word with the council, and find out what he'd been telling them about you and my sister."

"He used to blame her for everything," said Callie, sipping at her coffee.

"Well, I'll be pleased to know what that was."

Callie smiled and reached into the back pocket of the tight blue jeans she was wearing.

"Here," she said removing her phone, "I'll mail you my house diary since August last year, everything is on it, who I spoke to, the phone number I called and roughly what was said to me."

"Excellent," I said, "I'm going to enjoy this, especially when I contact him and ask him to come to the solicitor's office with all my accounts, perhaps he'll try and threaten me again, that'll be a laugh."

She laughed at that,

"Will you be dispensing with his services?" she said, with some seriousness.

"Hell, yeah," I said, "that bastard has been taking your money, and probably lots of mine, and slagging my late sister off, not having that."

She raised her coffee mug in salute.

Everything went well, and we arranged a morning routine; I'd head into the bathroom and shower first thing, and shout up the stairs, hearing her radio alarm and the 'Today' programme playing just audibly. I'd go back into my room and dress, while I could hear Callie and Emma in the bathroom.

Much as I might not have wanted to admit it, I loved the life and happy noise they had brought into my big empty house; after a few days Callie looked at me strangely.

"What's up?" I said with a smile.

"Craig, I..." she put a had to her face, "you've already been so kind, but..."

"Spit it out mate," I said.

"I'm being dragged in to work Saturday overtime on a ward, sickness cover," she was a physiotherapist, and looked rather splendid, not to say hot, in her scrubs, "a local girl used to pop in and babysit for me, obviously that's out of the question at the moment... I might be able to pay her taxi..."

"I'm here all-day Saturday; if you're OK, she can stay with me," I thought about something, "follow me," I said, and led her into the office. I opened the antique-looking filing cabinet and pulled out all my DBS checks I had done each year when we had our visits from groups of secondary school STEM students (much like I had been twelve years before) that would come to our offices and units for work experience.

And so it was agreed, and just so we could all get to know each other a bit more, I prepared soft-boiled eggs with toast for everyone for tea and we ate it in the kitchen.

On the Saturday I was up early, and both of my guests arrived in the kitchen where toast and tea had already been prepared. Callie looked charmed and thanked me again, looking pleased that Emma was taken care of. Kissing a jam-splodged but smiling face of her daughter, she bounced out of the kitchen door and to her days work.

Emma and I ate breakfast together and chatted about things. She asked me about my Mummy, and I explained. I explained about my sister, and Emma said that she 'sort of had a sister', seeing as her Daddy lived with another lady in town. Her Grandma Sinclair lived in France, but she hadn't seen her Daddy or other Grandma Baker in ages.

That kind of made sense as to why it was just Mum and daughter. I thought about the tight blue jeans and fitted tops that Callie wore, why the fuck would someone walk away from a woman as hot as that.

Unless she'd been screwing other blokes of course, that might have happened.

I shook my head and Emma stepped up on the stool in front of the sink and washed her hands. I'd hoped to let her play and explore my huge garden, but the weather was against that one. So, it was into my front room and the vast 60-inch widescreen TV that sat in a fireplace alcove. I went with Disney+ and settled on the first season of the Muppet Show; it went down extremely well, and while they had been on TV before I was born, the comedy was so good, and so simple, that she loved it.

After a simple lunch in the huge kitchen, Emma decided she wanted to bake some cakes for Mummy, seeing as her best friend Bonnie baked cakes for HER Mummy.

I found a recipe book on Diana's shelves and there was a recipe. Thanks heavens, all the necessary ingredients were spread around the cupboards, and I was quite happy for Emma to scurry around the kitchen looking for them.

Standing her on a chair, we made a very simple Victoria sponge which tasted really nice. When Callie came home from work, looking even hotter in her health service light blue scrubs, she was very pleased to come through to my sitting room to be served a hot mug of tea by me and a large slice of sponge cake by her beaming daughter.

"Oh WOW!" she said, "Did you cook this, Emmie?"

"Yes!" she said proudly.

"I opened and closed oven doors, mixed some of the heavier stuff, other than that, all her own work!" I threw in quietly.

By now Emma had gotten her very clever little head around the remote control for my huge Smart TV and Disney+, and Robin Williams rapid-fire genius genie was on the TV looking after Aladdin, we all sat and watched.

The big three-seater sofa had me at one end, Callie at the other and a very cute Emma sat in the middle, a perfect family moment, only we weren't a family. It just developed from there.

I walked through to the kitchen and dug through the cupboard and freezers for something healthy, reasonably nutritious, and nice looking that my youngest guest wouldn't turn her nose up at.

There were chicken breasts, some veggies and several bottles of my favourite Korma sauce and while I set it to cook, Callie went upstairs to change out of her work gear, showering, then returning in some very smart and tight-fitting PJ's, nice. I laid the kitchen table and we all ate there.

Anna had a way with underwear and sometimes wouldn't wear any at all, But Callie now; she was beautifully shaped, appeared to be comfortable with it, and dressed accordingly.

Her dark brown hair was no longer tied up in a ponytail or in buns, it was loose and hanging gently down and framing her very pretty face and complementing those dark brown eyes that would occasionally peak out at me under those long lashes.

Over that weekend I gave Callie all the space she could possibly want, not wanting to creep anyone out with my attention.

The days moved on, and I would come home from work some days to find Emmie (Yes, I'd taken to calling her that too) sat in the main lounge watching her favourite TV programmes, including all five seasons of the original Muppet Show.

I'd let Callie know that I really didn't have a problem with it, in fact we all three seemed to enjoy the Muppet Show.

That afternoon I had finished early and telephoned the council to speak with someone about a house that was unfit. Despite my initial hope, I was of course through to a call centre a hundred miles away from my battered rental house and no way was I going to get to speak to a professional that day.

I gave my details, insisted that someone call me back and they said they would pass it all on.

"Who too?"

"To the department that deals with housing," said the voice.

"Can you give me a name?"

"Sorry..."

Shit, a further nail in the coffin of good customer service, at least if you wanted to get your aircraft mended you got straight through to me.

No one had called back, so still angry at having been pissed about, I decided I would go to the other two houses I owned on my way home and see how good or bad they were.

I drove straight to the first, a large three bed that I'd helped Di move her furniture into. I knocked the door and introduced myself to the occupier.

The house was reasonably sound, but the man that lived there with his family did all the maintenance himself. Both him and his wife had very little good to say about Mr David Gregg and his professional property services.

He complained to me about access to the shed and garage.

I was confused; he told me about the detached garage and large garden shed that he had no access to, even though they had been on the original notes and part of the lease and, the tenant complained, he was paying for and apparently it was because his landlord stored stuff there.

"Nothing to do with me or my sister," I said, "honest, but Mr Gregg does have a habit of blaming my late sister for things he should have been doing."

He told me that his complaint to the council was bounced back with a 'that's a civil matter between you and your landlord, and it'll be really expensive to resolve, is it worth it for a shed?'

Mr Gregg or one of his lads would turn up every now and again and leave stuff or take stuff, always leaving with the assurance they had been promising him for over a year, that they would be cleared 'soon'. Any request for a reduction in rent because of it was met with a 'stony silence and threatening look'. By his description it was either from Gregg, Ronnie or Kenny.

I guessed that was a similar open-ended promise to the one that Callie had been given about her repairs seven or eight months before.

I visited my last house, not a million miles from the second and in a lovely part of the town, I'd moved Diana and her stuff in here too.

The drive and front garden, and indeed the street, was full of plated-up Skoda mini-cabs, the doors marked 'AaaDeegee Cars' and I guessed that there was a small business running from my third house.

It looked to be in reasonable condition, but it was easy to see that it was in multiple occupation, so I decided not to knock, instead having a bit a walk around and snapping a few covert shots of the place and all the cars around it. A rather ad-hoc washing line covered in white shirts and pairs of black trousers was strung backwards and forwards across the tiny bit of the garden that didn't have taxis parked on it.

"You from the council?" said a dog walker, noticing my interest.

"No," I said, "I... err... work for the company that owns the house and leases it out, it's not what I expected I must admit."

"Well, you tell whoever owns it, the fucking radio's on and turned up loud at all times of the day and night," I could hear the thing playing the same radio station I'd had on in the car, he pointed surreptitiously now "the place is lit up like fucking Blackpool every night, through the night. Those poxy car doors slamming, and coming and going 24 hours and day, and the smell; shit it takes your breath away when the windows are open in warm weather."

"I'm guessing it's AaaDeeGee cars?"

"Yep, we've complained to the council about the noise and the smell, the cars, we even asked if they needed planning permission for it in a quiet, residential road like this, but even the councillor I spoke to said it didn't need it. Dozens o'blokes living there, surely they'd need permission for that, it's only four bedrooms."

"Which councillor was that?" I might need an ally in this after all.

"Swift," he said, "Ken Swift, he's the ward councillor round here, so I s'pose he knows." He sniffed and stroked his dog's head, "Completely fucked up the area; when my children come to visit, they can't find anywhere to park, if I move my car off my drive, I come back to find a taxi parked in front of it;" he rolled his shoulders as he got into character, "no law against obstructing a driveway if there's no car on it, their boss told me. Bloody great bloke, proper thug."

"Who's the Boss?"

"Dunno, real rough looking bastard, as tall as you and twice as wide, sometimes wears paint-splattered trousers, so he's probably a fuckin' builder too."

I said I had a rough idea who that was but said that the owner had engaged solicitors to investigate what was going on and the tenancy agreements involved.