The Exodus (Part 3)

The Holley family endured the next few days of their busman’s holiday much in the same vein that they had survived the first day. They viewed another three houses and ruled out another two houses due them being situated in the completely wrong places, and by the end of this they had finally come to a conclusion. The Victorian-semi that they had viewed on the first day was the choice that they had opted for and they made their way to the estate agents in Newport to sign the necessary paperwork and make it official.

They had heard in the week of another family that were relocating from Jersey, and had proved to be their nemesis on another property, and they were concerned that this could happen again if they didn’t act quickly. So, this was seen to be very much the final act.

“What’s this admin charge for?” asked Mike, dressed in a casual yet smart shirt and jeans combo, the type that he assumed yachters and entrepreneurs would carry off.

“That’s for us to complete any contracts, and file documents, and liaise between yourselves and the landlord etcetera,” replied the estate agent quickly.

“What, £200?”

“Yes, Mr Holley, it’s quite a normal rate.”

“Oh, just seems a little high that’s all,” resigns Mike raising his eyebrows and looking across at his wife, who reciprocates the look with a bit more anger included.

Claire was an estate agent for what seems like about three years, I am sure that the said good lady will confirm that this is incorrect, but for the sake of this journal and my recollection of my past, three years seems about right. Throughout this period Claire would single-handedly dispel any myth that estate agents were money grabbing, lying, vindictive, double faced arseholes, and actually carried through a crusade of honesty, integrity and reason. This was still her assumption of this profession as she ventured in to the house selling and renting process.

This is why every act that an estate agent completed that was against this moral code went like an arrow straight to her conscience. At the beginning this was met by confusion and disorientation, but as the process wore on the arrows seared through her soul, so that every lie crippled her roots and every made up statement was like an earthquake to her foundations. This was just the first of these statements in the next couple of days.

As Mike, Claire and the kids arrived back at the holiday chalet, where they were residing for the week, they were in high spirits and jubilant. Mike even found time to play football outside with Dylan and some neighbouring children. Everyone was having a blast and the scene of family bliss had been restored. This lasted an hour, and like a cloud sailing across the sun on a summer’s day, Claire received an email from the estate agent that was handling the sale of their house in Stockport.

“The absolute wannnnnnnnnnners,” was the first Mike heard of it, as Claire shouted and then supressed a certain swear word.

“What’s up my beautiful princess? What could possibly have spoilt your pleasant mood as we sit in the metaphorical rose garden?” asked Mike curiously.

“That t%@t of a damp specialist has filed his report and stated that the whole house is damp and it’ll cost two grand to sort it out.”

“What?”

“I went round the house with Steve and his damp meter and the only bits were in two alcoves and Steve had quoted a few hundred quid. I never liked that bloke when he came round, he had a shifty look. And he was the one that when asked what it was like, he didn’t tell me because ‘I wasn’t his client’.”

“Right, well, all we have to do is get Steve’s quote and counter it with that. Have we got Steve’s yet?”

“No, but we should. He’s hopeless with getting paperwork in.”

“Let’s tell our estate agent that we’ve got another report that is more realistic before we let the vendors know.”

“Too late, they’ve already sent this to the vendors and now nobhead wants two grand off the price.”

“Well, he’s not having it.”

“Let’s just tell them we’re taking it off the market and see what they do.”

“But, we can’t afford to do that. If we lose this buyer we’ll never get another one in time for when we move, and the amount of money that it’ll cost us if we end up renting ours up north will be worse than just making sure that this sale goes through. Ring the estate agent back and tell him that we’re going to submit another report because we don’t believe this one.”

Half an hour later once Claire’s face had returned to a normal shade for the second time, the new villain was the estate agent rather than the damp specialist. It had turned out that the estate agent was a friend of the damp specialist, and an argument had ensued where Claire’s stance that the damp guy was full of shit had been countered by the estate agent defending an upstanding member of his profession. A conclusion to this was that the estate agent was all for knocking two grand off the price because his motive of shifting our house off his books sooner rather than later was much more attractive than a long drawn out sale where he would actually have to earn his commission by doing something.  Obviously Claire disagreed with this and made sure that he knew that.

As the evening came around all they could do was wait for their builder to send in the report and see how that would influence things. This would unlikely happen until the week after, and so the attention came back on to the present location.

Mike began to look at Rightmove to remind himself of the property that they had just committed to for the next six months of their life. As he was scrolling through the properties in the relevant category, he suddenly noticed a house that he had not seen before. It was exactly in the area that he wanted to be in, with the right number of bedrooms and a bathroom downstairs. After raising his surprise to Claire they then deduced that this had been added today.

What was more surprising to the honest duo was the realisation that the letting agent concerned had confirmed that very day that there were no new properties to view. This conundrum then led to speculation through the night regarding the Machiavellian schemes of the said agents.

The morning brought with it a new day and a new hope. The sun came up to greet them over the wooden chalet balcony as it blasted through the missing balustrade. The warmth met their faces and the confidence surged back in to Mike’s veins.

“Hello, is Sam there?” Mike said as he rang the letting agent that they had committed the next six months to the day before. 

“Sam speaking, can I help?”

“Oh, hi Sam, just want to let you know that we may have possibly found a new property to view this morning, and I just wanted to ask you to put our contract on ice for a few hours, and then I’ll ring you to let you know one way or another. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, that’s absolutely fine, but you will still be liable for the admin charge.”

“What do you mean I’ll still be liable? We left your office at 4:30 yesterday afternoon and it’s now 8:30 the next morning. You can’t have processed anything yet?”

“I’m afraid it’s written in the contract that you are liable for this sum if you pull out of the agreement.”

“Well, that’s fair, isn’t it?” said Mike with the largest amount of sarcasm he could muster.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, right. Well I’ll ring you later this morning,” and Mike pressed the ‘End Call’ button, disgruntled.

But, not a man that is easily perturbed by one phone call on such a glorious morning, the family all piled into the Holley-mobile and sped off in search of the other letting agent before anyone else could nip in beforehand. The car screeched to a halt outside the office at 8:58am and Claire went up to the door that was locked, and was then kindly opened by an office incumbent.

The next minute Claire was back in the car and the red faced warrior was back. It had turned out that the property had been let already, but they were given the number of the owner of the property next door to the one they had seen. Information had been exchanged that divulged that the two properties had indeed been built by the same person but now one of them was owned by another party. This other party had let his out, whereas the initial owner was still holding on for a sale. It was worth a shot.

Unfortunately, the other property owner still wanted to sell his outright, so he rejected their offer, but was also surprised to hear that the other property had already been let, as the new owner of this property did not know yet. This again led to their suspicions of the letting agent and a conspiracy of an inside job, but surely life was too short for all of this doubt. Claire and Mike agreed that they were better out of this system as early as possible and went back to the original letting agent and confirmed that the Victorian-semi was still the choice of champions, and that they very much still wanted to live there for the next six months of their life, which could actually prove to be their last days.

The Holley-trolley then rolled out into the distance in search of a park and a beach, and a few hours to enjoy as a family before having to get back on the ferry and return to the North of England, for the last time in a long time.