Free Out Late with Friends and Regrets by Suzanne Egerton Page B

fabrication emerging into the daylight without any forethought whatsoever. Well, it would make a reasonable excuse to justify the move.
“Oh, well done you ,” enthused Victoria, “first time, or adding to a sackful of scrolls?”
“Erm, first time, I’m afraid – left school a bit too soon...”
Then they talked business.   Victoria had expressed delight as she moved through the house with sonic tape and memo-recorder, taking numerous digital photographs and sketching the floor plan on a notepad.   She requested a mock viewing, and Fin gave a confident and relaxed performance, her sales pitch honest but with a dash of spin.   Victoria commended her technique, and added, “ That’s what I like, but so rarely get – house and owner prepared and ready!”   Marketing and price were discussed and agreed, and Victoria promised to e-mail draft details next day.   Once approved, they were off.   The cottage was for sale.
On Thursday, a sunlit pin-up of the property appeared in the agency window, which Fin examined on her way to work.
“ Utterly charming,” she cooed aloud, mimicking Victoria’s voice and reflecting that if the cottage wasn’t snapped up instantly, she would be quite amazed.   The way it looked now, behind the glass, she could almost fancy it herself.
The next task, of course, would be to talk to Margaret.   It was tempting, in Fin’s radical mood, to sell the business, too.   But she was only too aware of how her commercial endeavours had failed to fit her for a decent job.   Besides, she had built up a good little business over the years, giving her a respectable if unexciting income.   It had also provided focus and distraction when things were difficult at home; she would be loth to abandon it.  
It was not one of Margaret’s days in, but Fin had arranged to meet her for lunch.   She would hate for her to see the cottage up for sale in the agency window before she had the chance to brief her.  
Margaret was a young woman who liked certainty in her life.   She was presentable, reliable, honest and painstaking; not a saleswoman of great talent, but with a friendly and open manner that customers liked. She had been a tower of strength during Paul’s stay in hospital.   She took no part in the creative process involved with ‘specials’, but Fin was already forming the germ of a plan to try the internet as a sales medium for that side of things.    
Less positively, Fin   had taken a quick look in the property section in the county paper, and had been taken aback by Harford prices.   Also, there didn’t seem to be an abundant choice; although whether, in a university city, that would be seasonal or the norm, she couldn’t begin to guess.   She had resolved to do some serious plodding online, but so far there had been no time.   There were two viewings in place for the cottage, by clients already on Victoria’s books who were actively seeking a rural retreat.   Suddenly it seemed to Fin there were rather a lot of balls in the air.   And she had yet to hear from Ellie.
 
Lunch didn’t go well.  
“I... I don’t know, Fiona. I don’t really think I want all that responsibility...”
“You wouldn’t be doing anything you’re not doing now, Margaret.   And your money would go up, of course.   And I’m at the end of a phone if anything crops up.”
“I wasn’t actually wanting to go full time.   I like things as they are – it’s a great little part-time job for me... you’re actually going to move out of Cantlesham?”
“Yes, it’s decided.   I’ve put the house up.   Don’t you see, Margaret, I would never have offered you this if I thought you couldn’t handle it? You’re so good at your job, I trust you completely...   Will you at least think about it?”
“I suppose so...” Margaret’s expression was that of a disappointed child.   “You know, I look forward so much to the days when you’re in with me, Fiona.   It’s such fun, working