The Wanderlust Lady and the Door to Door Salesman -new 40

March 12, 2013

 

It was pretty late when I finally got up. I don't suppose I got to sleep much before 5,
so not surprising that I slept until nearly noon. I got up and had breakfast, and then heard the post.

The cheque from the gold merchants had finally arrived. It was bigger than I expected,
made out to cash like the last one. I suppose that was because each time there were the same number of coins, and they were going by scrap value, rather than the age or condition of the coins. I got out my calculations from a few days before and made the necessary alterations.

My income from this month was:

Painting for Fred £125

Painting for Mrs. Reynolds £175 (50 spent on paint) £125

Painting for Mrs. Mills £1250 (250 spent on paint) £1000

Cut for selling pictures £110

Cut for selling silver 100 plus 80 plus 35 £215

Cut for selling gold 0 0

Money for bits and pieces £50

Total £1625

 

Money that belonged to Mrs. Mills, but not yet given to her

Paintings, after cut ` £440

Silver, after cut 400 plus 320 plus 130 £850

Gold cheque £4000

Money for selling trunk and bookcase £130

Total £5420

Here I was thinking that my life had turned around – that I had a career, some money in the bank, some friends, a location to stick with – and I find that I am almost as broke as I was when I first moved here.

The thought of absconding with the £4000 made out to cash from the gold people was
really tempting. I had only a few days left to live in this house – with no other obvious source of income. That money would have been mine – had things worked out differently. But now all I have to look forward to was getting a tongue bashing from Mrs. Mills and then having to beg my mum to take me back again – yet again a failure. But realistically I know that I can't take the money and run. And a part of me doesn't even want to do that. It's been almost a year now since I first looked into getting the job with Sadie as a door to
door salesman, and all this drama came from that. Sadie is to blame for it – and Minnie. If I hadn't been involved with those two women, I wouldn't be feeling so let down right now.

There was a knock on the door. I wondered who it could possibly be. But as I went to
answer it, I remembered. Some people coming to see the house today. I hadn't made my bed, washed dishes – nothing. The place was pretty much in a tip. Well, who cares, I thought. Why should I make any effort to help the Mills sell this house. I hope the people are put off by the mess.

But I had to answer the door. The woman from the estate agent, came in first .

“Hello, Mr. Barber. I did call you to say we were coming today, didn't I”

“Yes, I forgot. Sorry.”

“Well, never mind. We're here now. This is Mrs. Cook.”

“Hi,” I said in her direction. “If you start in the living room, I'll get the
bedroom tidied up a bit.”

So I threw the bed together, dumped my dirty clothes in a drawer, and generally made
things look a bit tidier. Just in time. They came in and had a quick look around.

They spent maybe another five minutes looking here and there – the lady wasn't
interested in the loft space, so no need to get the ladder down. I thought this was a waste of time, as the agent ushered her out the door, with them both calling their thanks to me.

“No thanks to me, really,” I thought. “What would serve those Mills people would be
if I really messed up this place before I get out – ruin the paint job – maybe even do some graffiti on the walls.”

The phone rang. I almost didn't answer it. My level of depression was so bad, that I
didn't want to talk to anybody. No doubt it was the estate agent telling me off for not having the house tidy for the potential buyers.

“Hello.”

“Hello. Is that Stan?”

“Yes.”

“It's Mrs. Reynolds. You know. From the church – the lady who hired you to do the painting?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Well, the committee have finally met, and they thought you did a splendid job.
They'd like you to quote for doing the rest of the house.”

“Well, it's a bit awkward. I might not be living around here after the weekend.”

“Oh. I thought you wanted more local work.” She really sounded disappointed.

“I did, but stuff has happened since then which means I have to move, and I don't know
where I'll be living.”

“But you might still be living locally. You just don't know for sure – is that
it?”

“I know for sure that I have to move, but I have no idea of where to move to, and I
have no money to rent any place. So probably I'll be back in Hyde with my mum, and that's a heck of a long way to come for a painting job. “

“Well, I guess that's up to you Stan. You could store your stuff at the house, you
know, if you got the job. So it would only be getting a bus or train to worry about.”

“Well, I suppose I could come and measure up, and give you a quote. I don't have
anything else on. When should I come?”

“How about tomorrow, about 10?”

“Sure, that's fine. I'll see you there.”

Having nothing much to do, I wandered the streets of Marple – finding that the park was the place I was drawn to – just like Minnie had been. I watched some people messing around on the bowling green. It seemed early for it, but the weather had been pretty good.

There were some kids in the skate board area. I wondered if schools were out - surely it
wasn't Easter break time already. I didn't seem much time since Christmas. I could understand why Minnie liked this place. Something was always going on – people walking their dogs – mothers pushing prams, all the little kids in the play park area.

I stopped and read all the names at the war memorial. I walked along the canal for
awhile. Before long it was getting dark, and I turned again for home. No, not home. Never again home.

 

 

March 13, 2013

 

Wednesday I met up with Mrs. Reynolds. She sort of reminded me a bit of Miinnie –
although she was younger and less of a loner. She seemed keen for me to do the job so I put some enthusiasm into getting the measurements.

“What colours do you want for the other rooms?” I asked, just out of curiosity.

“Pale pink for one bedroom, pale blue for another, the other two in pale green,” she
said. The kitchen probably in a pale yellow, and the bathroom in pale green too.”

“All the colours of the rainbow,” I said. “Is that what the people who are going
to live here have chosen?”

“Yes, they had the colour charts and gave me a list of what they wanted. Nothing too
bright – and all more or less shades of white, if you come down to it.”

“But it doesn't make for saving money on getting bigger pots of paint.”

“Well, if that costs a bit more, we'll just have to go with it. We have to do what they chose.”

After we discussed the likely time involved, and preparation, and so on, Mrs. Reynolds
said, “I wonder why you're so down, Stan. I could tell by your voice that something was wrong. Is it just that you have to get out of the house you're in at the end of the week?”

“Mostly that. I was just starting to feel at home there, but I knew it had to come at some time. It just came a couple of months or so earlier than I expected. I thought I could live there until the house was sold.”

“Why did they change their minds?”

“Oh, it's a long story. Just call it a difference of opinion.”

“Oh, and that's what's upsetting you. Maybe you can talk it over with them and sort
it out.”

“No, that isn't likely. You see I'd had a spot of bother earlier in the year, and they helped me out, and sort of felt like they were do-gooders and I should be full of thanks for all they did for me. And when they found out something that I'd done – which I'd made good – that happened long before I met them – well, they got mad about it, and just decided to cut all ties with me just like that.”

“Oh, that's so unfortunate. I can see why you're feeling down. That so often happens
when people get too involved in something – they try to take over and think they can call the shots for the person they've helped.”

“Well, it wasn't that really. They did do a lot for me – giving me a job, letting me
live rent free in their house while I painted it, and stuff like that.”

“Oh, that was very generous of them.”

“But now that this thing that I did before came to light, now they have just dumped me
back. And they went back on a promise of some money I was counting on. I just feel like it isn't worth making any effort. Why try, when nothing ever works out in the end.”

“Well, don't get so depressed. I'm sure something will turn up. After all there's this
job now. So you have something to do – to earn some more money. And you might well get other jobs and another place to live. You have to look on the bright side.”

“I suppose you're right. I'll do the quote for you for tomorrow.”

“Why don't you drop it off at my house. I live at  Church Lane House. Do you know where that is?”

“Oh, yes. I've walked that way over the Ridge a few times now.”

“Well, do your calculations and then come around for tea tonight. I expect you could
do with a good home cooked meal.”

“I'll say. I haven't had one for a long time now – months.”

“And I like having somebody to cook for. So shall we say about 6?”

“Thank you Mrs. Reynolds. I'll do my calculations, and see you at 6.”

“Oh, why don't you call me Liz,” she said. “All my friends do.”

So going back to my house, I did the rough calculations. It took me two days to do the
room I'd done before, but now I had six and a half rooms – to do. Some were smaller, but the kitchen was more awkward. I did all the measurements and priced for the paint and a ladder – as I couldn't borrow from Fred anymore if I wasn't living nearby. I decided it
would take me two weeks of working eight hours a day, and at £10 an hour, that would be £400. I'd add on an extra £100 which would buy me a ladder and help with transportation costs from Hyde.