A Second Chance Ch. 01

"Just get them out," said the man starting to anger, "my wife loves our place," he nodded to the one two doors down, "But all this shit is doing my head in, I'm this far from putting mine on the market, but who'd buy it with that shit down the road."

Oh fuck.

I emailed Megan, the excellent solicitor I'd inherited from Di and asked that she call me as soon as possible.

She did the next morning, and I explained the problem and my lack of confidence in David Gregg Property Services, and by implication Petra Parsons Ltd.

"They came terribly well recommended," she said.

"I'll send you the photographs I've taken and the diary from the first house, and the statement that the second tenant has sent me about the problems he's had, and the photographs of the taxi company running out of the third."

"Please do," she said, "I'll make some enquiries myself."

I made a second call to the council and got through to the same call centre but rather than make a complaint about the taxi company working out of my house, I turned it around, instead asking about any liability to me if there turned out to be a problem with planning permission. I said I was recording the phone call so I could play it back to the council if they tried to prosecute me.

That was enough and this time, I was put straight through to the planning enquiries desk.

"Hello there, my name is Douglas, I'm calling about a property in Cromwell Road, Number 5, it's the current home of AaaDeeGee cars."

"Right," said the lady on the other end.

"I ow..." I stopped myself, didn't want to give too much away, "I work for the owner of the property," I said with a hint of chuckle, "and the lessee insists that he doesn't need planning permission to run his taxi company from it!" I gave a slightly nervous laugh, "only I was there this afternoon and... well, there were bloody taxis everywhere and the neighbour tore into me about the state of the place, the noise, the smell and the general disruption. I just want to make sure I don't end up in front of the magistrates in three months' time when your environmental health people rip into me or my Boss about all of that!"

"Mr Douglas you say?"

"Yes."

"Hold the line one moment."

There was that 'phwoof' sound you get when someone puts their hand over the receiver on a phone and I could make out faint dialogue.

"Yeah... Cromwell Road... THAT house..." that was followed by a very definite 'give it here'.

"Mr Douglas?" said the male voice, "John Trant here, planning team, yes we're aware of various complaints about the property, but all the time the business is run from within the bounds of the property, the current guidance says we can't insist you get planning permission..."

"I counted about twenty cars around the place."

"Are they taxed, MoT'd and insured?"

"I guess so."

"My current advice would be that you don't need planning permission. That's Mr Gregg's company isn't it," he said, he knew very well that it was, I could tell.

"Yes."

"He doesn't have to apply for planning permission at the moment Mr Douglas. Is there anything else we can help you with today?"

"Yes," I said, and thinking on my feet, asked, "I'm having some grant work done on another one of our properties, you couldn't put me through to the Disabled facilities team, could you? I think his name was Roy?"

That was of course complete rubbish, but I just wanted to speak to someone in housing, and on this line, I was obviously in the building and not in some call centre two hundred miles away as I'd been that morning.

"I'll put you through to housing," he said, "one moment," sounding glad to be rid of me.

As the line purred, I remembered when Diana and I had arranged for Mum to have a downstairs toilet fitted at her house with a grant and it had been through the housing department. It was some years before but...

"Housing and Grants Team, Good afternoon?"

I came back to myself.

"Good afternoon, my name is Douglas, I called and spoke with someone this morning regarding a property in Cairngorm Avenue, could I speak to an officer about it please?"

"What's the address?"

"3 Cairngorm Avenue." There was a 'tap-tap-tap' of a keyboard in the background.

"We don't have a complaint in your name Mr Douglas?"

"I rang this morning."

"Might not have been put through yet," she said.

"Is there someone I can talk to?"

"One moment..."

I took a deep breath as the line beeped.

"Mr Douglas?" I confirmed that was me, "We haven't got any complaints from you on that property Mr Douglas," he said.

"I made one this morning."

Pause...

Deep breath of municipal frustration...

"It's been NFA'd I'm afraid."

"What?"

"NFA, No Further..."

"I know what NFA means mate, why's it been NFA'd? I asked that someone get back to me."

"Don't raise your voice with me Mr Douglas," he said.

"Sorry, may I ask why my complaint has been NFA'd please."

There was a deep 'Why me?' sigh from the other end of the line.

"We've received a lot of vexatious complaints about that property Mr Douglas, and we've been told not to undertake any further investigations there. if you wish to take it further, you'll need to write to the head of service."

"Write? Doesn't the council do email?"

"Mr Douglas, I'm telling you the rules, please don't..."

"OK, OK, tell me who I need to write to please."

"Mrs Penny Gabriel, Head of Environment and Regeneration," he gave me the address of the town hall, which I knew anyway bar the postcode. I started to write the letter in my head.

I went home and sat on my driveway, thinking on what David Gregg had said to me, and what Callie has said about contacting the council.

My phone rang, the number withheld,

"Hello?"

"Is that Mr Douglas?"

"It is," I said.

"I'm not going to tell you my name Mr Douglas, but I have some advice for you."

"Oooohkay," I said, reaching in my coat pocket for my voice recorder again, just in case it was a threat.

"Your complaint, it isn't going to go anywhere. That part of the system is temporarily bent, don't bother with the council, get legal advice and go the long way; involve the police, involve the taxman, involve the Immigration service, involve the press-LOTS of press, don't dick around with social media, I'm talking broadsheets and tabloids, it's the only way."

"OK, thank you..." I said, just as the number disconnected.

I went into my house, gave a cursory wave to Callie in the kitchen before heading into my office, and my laptop, I wrote my letter about Cairngorm Avenue, printed and signed it, and stuck it in a stamped envelope. Then emailed a copy of it and that day's experiences to Meghan the solicitor.

She rang me back the next lunchtime,

"Hi Craig, it's Meghan, not good news I'm afraid, can you come in and see me this afternoon?"

I certainly could, and I did, there was a pot of coffee on the table and two mugs, I guessed this might be a long meeting.

"Craig," she said, sitting back in her chair, "it seems that the contract for Cromwell Road hasn't been renewed, Petra Parsons Management is covering the £300 un-let fee they're contracted to, but the £1700-1800 a month it should be bringing in, is somehow absent, and has been for almost a year."

"And you never noticed?"

"Your sister ran that bit herself; it was part of a larger portfolio of things, and it may not have been that obvious to her initially. She received the full rent up until the end of that letting period, but on closer inspection it's been going down gradually. By the look of it, it went on to the £300 'un-let' fee just before Anna's illness kicked in," she took a deep breath, "in Anna's world of finance, the rental income wasn't that high on her income sheets!"

"Un-let?" I gasped, "But... there's about twenty people living there, and it's been turned into a business premises without planning permission. A company called AaaDeeGee Cars."

"Yes, we know that NOW. This altogether ups the ante from a 'breach of contract' perspective Craig."

She went on to explain that she had been in contact with a few friends and while important people such as senior council managers, district councillors etc. spoke very highly of 'our Mr Gregg', at least two housing officers, three environmental health officers, one litigation solicitor and a couple of policemen had spoken extremely badly about him.

"OK," I said, "I'm guessing this arsehole and Petra Parsons are on a contract?"

"Oh yes."

"Complicated?"

"Not quite so much now," she said, "seeing as Petra Parsons is letting her friend run his business from your house without paying you any rent. The police are already quite interested in the taxi company, and the EHO wouldn't be drawn. Worse case I'll dig out Diana's contracts and crawl all over them for any more breaches, over the fifteen hundred quid a month Petra Parsons has been conning you out of for the last four or five months. That should be enough to suspend then cancel them, see if I can't get the repairs to Cairngorm Avenue paid for by him."

"Thanks Meghan, let me know what you want me to do."

"Will do," she said, "I'll speak soon... Craig, I'd quite like to hand this over to the police, they are very interested in the whole thing."

"Meghan, last Thursday afternoon, Mr Gregg actually threatened me and I'd very much like to play the recording back to him once you've told him he's sacked."

"Leave that with me as well Craig!" she said with a giggle. She stood and offered her hand, and we shook.

I noticed the very slim solicitor was another very pretty girl and perhaps a few years older than me. Her dark suit looked like she worked in it rather than the dozens of immaculate short mini-dresses and LBD's that Anna had worn to work.

Her smile was very nice though, and I thought seriously about asking her out to dinner once this was all sorted.

I told Callie the news that evening, again asking if there was anything in the house she wanted out, as Mr Gregg or his two cohorts had a key and I feared would nick anything valuable and trash the rest once it hit the fan.

"No," she said, "only cheap furniture, most of which belongs to you actually."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"I'll take the chance." I looked into the living room where Emmie was quite comfortable in front of the huge TV again, "Look Callie, you're OK here aren't you," I said, "I really don't want you to feel that..."

"Craig," she said, "I was cross when I first spoke to you but..." she looked around, "how can I complain about this!" she waved a hand around her.

"Is Emmie OK?"

"Emmie thinks this is all brilliant, your TV is like a bloody cinema screen, and you have Disney, I think she'll only be happy to move out once she's seen all of the cartoons!"

"I'm pleased Callie," I said, "I'll get your place done, NOT by Mr Gregg I might add, and you can move back again."

Callie leaned on the living room doorway as Emmie rolled back on the sofa in fits of giggles as Kermit and Fozzie did the 'Good grief, the comedian's a bear' skit.

"No rush Craig!" she turned and displayed her fine arse to me in the black jeans she was wearing and wandered in with her mug of tea and sat down next to her daughter.

Next she pulled out a couple of hairpins and some bands and shook that great mane of dark brown hair loose again, running her fingers through it. I went up to my room to get changed out of my work gear, and thought of that pretty girl on my sofa; that body, that hair!

A couple of evenings later, I was loading the dishwasher when I heard another female voice sounding quite high spirited, and the term 'Darling' being used loudly and regularly.

I stepped out into the hallway and smiled, seeing Callie hugging another pretty girl her age, and of a similar curvy shape.

"Another Coffee?" I called.

"Oh Craig!" called out Callie, "this is my very best friend Nicki; Nick?" she stepped to one side, "THIS is my landlord, and right now knight in shining armour Craig, this is his amazing house!"

"Pleased to meet you Nicki," I said, "Can I get you a coffee?"

I made a jug of Diana's best and poured out three mugs. I was thanked profusely, and after a second refill, arm in arm they walked off and up the stairs to Callie's room. I heard the clunk of her bedroom door and later I heard high feminine giggles, the kind I used to hear from Anna and her mates.

It went quiet for a while, and I could only guess what was going on. I reminded myself that much as Callie and her daughter were just the most amazing house guests, she still had a private life, and what she got up to in the comfort of her own bedroom was absolutely none of my bloody business.

Emmie was watching 'Frozen' on the advice of her absolute best friend Bonnie and sang 'Let it snow' just the tiniest bit off key, but it was unmistakably charming.

I had started to get my head around Callie and Emma's schedule. Callie liked to eat main meals at home but her occasional late duty meant that Emmie would have her main meal of the day at school, and today had been one of those.

I'd bought myself a lunch out, so as I was making myself a sandwich and a coffee, so made one for Emmie, throwing in a bag of crisps, that she ate on the sofa glued to the last exciting bit of the film, telling me all about it as I ate mine.

I sipped my coffee and smiled, asking her questions about the snowman.

Moments later I heard the thump of footsteps and there was Callie, in her PJ's and changed out of her usual work scrubs.

"Emmie," she said in a hurry, "what would you like... oh!" she burst out in surprise, "You've already made her some tea!"

"Of course," I said, "It's no problem, I was doing some for me! You were having fun chatting with your mate, sorry I should have texted you to tell you it was sorted."

"No, it's no problem, thank you!" She narrowed her eyes and looked at me.

"Is everything OK?" I said, I knew she wasn't a vegetarian, having seen both of them hacking through a large meaty pizza.

"Yes," she snapped out of it, "absolutely!"

She wandered into the kitchen and poured more coffee, having taken my empty mug as well

I stood, just before Frozen came to end.

"Can I watch another one Craig!" Emmie burst out, picking up the remote control and bouncing on her knees in her excitement, getting closer and closer to me.

"No, it'll finish past your bedtime, and you've got school tomorrow! Your Mum will tell me off." I whispered.

There was a chuckle from the doorway again, there was Callie with my mug, I walked over to her to take it.

Callie had that look again.

"Callie..." I began.

"I'm fine honest," she said, "I'm just not used to all this," I took my freshly filled coffee mug from her, and she continued, "My little Emmie there is my pride and my joy; you've known her a fortnight, and you've already done more with her than her own father has, and he lived with us for almost two years... thank you!"

She put down her two mugs on a side table and gave me a hug.

"You're welcome, and Callie? It's his loss!"

"Thank you! Look, I'm just going to carry on catching up with Nicki, I'll be down in a while and I'll put Emmie to bed," she paused, "Is it OK if Nicki stays tonight? She'll be fine in my room; you won't know she's here..." I thought on what the single Mum might be getting up to with the hot, best mate in bed all night.

Was she?

Did she?

Whatever the situation and circumstance, the sexy physio was a guest/tenant, and it was none of my fucking business.

"Did she stay over at your house?" She nodded, "Then she can stay over here!" I said grandly.

What a thoroughly decent fucking bloke I was, shit but I was a real star.

"Thanks Craig, we've not had a get-together in ages!" she pecked a kiss on my cheek, picked up her two cups and disappeared back upstairs. I watched that really fit arse of hers in the soft cotton as it swayed from side to side; she was wearing a string, obviously.

Both women appeared in similar PJ's, two Muppet Show episodes later, and Emmie leapt down from the sofa and ran across to the other woman, shouting a delighted 'Aun'ie Nick!' as the other girl bent down and hugged her tight. Her body was just as pleasant as her best mate's and Callie's PJ's were perhaps a little tight on her fuller figure.

In the downstairs hallway, it was 'goodnights' before they headed back upstairs to their floor.

"I'll wish you all a very goodnight then," I said, "Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, Callie knows where everything is."

Nicki looked across at her best friend with a bit of a look in her eye. I hoped I hadn't come across in any kind of rude way, or perhaps Callie's 'friend' was just choosing to interpret it that way.

None of my business.

"Thanks Craig," said Callie with a soft look, "perhaps some more coffee, de-caf probably," she smiled at her mate again, and I really thought I was getting signalled now.

"No problem," I said.

"Night Craig!" Emmie ran across and I bent down so she could give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

OK, I'd invited them to stay at my place while I arranged repairs to the death-trap house that I owned and she lived in, not to adopt them, or start to get real feelings for Callie...

Was that it?

I had some real feelings for both of them, but there was just something about the gorgeous Callie...

The three of them left and I heard them chatting their way up the stairs. I changed over the TV channel and found the BBC iPlayer and binge-watched season one of 'Gavin and Stacey', really funny stuff and easy to watch, without requiring too much thought.

I paused the player for a moment when I headed for the downstairs Loo. It was very quiet in the rest of the house but for a very rude laugh. I guessed it was Nicki, never having heard Callie make such a noise before.

My mind really started to play tricks on me now.

Callie had lived on her own in my other house for almost eighteen months, there was a very good chance that the giggling in the room directly above the one I was in, then going very quiet, could have something to do with her and the other girl she was so pleased to see.

And what if she did, it really was none of my bloody business, and I set to with a mug of decaf tea, and the Christmas special.

I'd lived here on my own for nearly three months and rarely felt lonely. I'd go out and visit mates, especially the ones that I won in the breakup with Anna. I had a huge, three storey house to mooch around, a library of books AND DVDs and my sister's accounts I could monitor to see how much money they'd made.

But I'd never really felt lonely. At first, I was dealing with Di's illness and then her funeral and Anna not being in my life kind of slipped into the background, but I'd had this pretty girl and her cute daughter living with me and using my living room, and when they weren't in it, it went from 'comfortable' to 'sepulchral'.

Just the sound of giggles from Emmie as she discovered Disney cartoons, chatting with Callie about 'stuff', it had brought my big house to life; but now, it just seemed empty.

At a little after nine I headed up to my room, and my other TV where I could continue to watch the last of the TV programme.

I heard feet going down the stairs, and more giggly chatter. Nothing wrong with that; they were probably having a bit of a laugh and the last thing they wanted to do was meet the landlord and explain.

There was a clunk from the front door, probably something from one of their cars, and I kind of wanted to go and look but that would be waaaaaay to creepy.

Fuck it, I rolled over and went to sleep.

I was up and showered and thought about Di's small dressing room and making it into an ensuite, then dressed and in the kitchen ready for my workday. I had already made tea, some toast for me, with more in the toaster for the next visitor, as I listened to 'Today' on the radio.