Joker in the Pack (Blackwood UK #1)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

A MONTH LATER, I stood in the kitchen, surveying the horrific mess that only a burst pipe could cause. My tears had only added to the puddles shimmering under the single light bulb, now bare because I’d sold the shade.

I’d been out job-hunting when it happened. A day of futile sales pitches to small businesses in the local area had turned into a nightmare when I’d walked in to find Niagara Falls coming through a gaping hole in the ceiling and a furious downstairs neighbour hammering on my door.

How the heck did I turn off the water? Shouldn’t there be a master tap somewhere? I panicked and called Maddie, who put me on to Dave, who told me about the stopcock in my airing cupboard. The neighbour was still yelling as I paddled through and finally stopped the torrent.

Then the neighbour called the landlord, and he came around and shouted at me too.

“Look what you’ve done.”

I squelched across the carpet behind him as he examined the damage, cringing when I realised I’d left my underwear out on the bedroom windowsill to dry.

“But how did it happen?” I asked. “How can a pipe just burst like that?”

The plumber he’d brought with him tutted. “It probably froze overnight. It’s like the bloody Arctic in here. Is the heating broken?”

The landlord obviously knew I hadn’t reported any faulty radiators, and he turned to glare at me.

“I, uh, turned it off. I can’t afford the utility bills right now.”

“So you decided to cause thousands of pounds worth of damage to my property instead?”

“It was barely freezing.”

“One degree below would have been enough. Bloody women!”

Thousands of pounds? His words echoed in my head, and I felt physically sick as I sagged against the counter.

“I can’t afford to pay for all the repairs at the moment. Maybe I could pay a bit back each month? As long as I get some more work, that is.”

“I’ve got insurance to cover the building damage. Some of us aren’t entirely stupid. Your security deposit will pay the excess, but I’m not taking any chances on something like this happening again. I want you out by the end of the month.”

“But it’s almost Christmas. How am I supposed to find a new place over the holidays? Nobody’ll want to move then.”

“Not my problem,” the landlord said over his shoulder as he stomped out.

My heart hammered as I stared after him. Obviously, the place was a mess, but surely he had to understand it was an accident? In the three years I’d lived in the flat, I’d always paid the rent on time and never asked him to fix anything, not even when a pigeon flew into the lounge window and broke it.

Worry settled in my stomach like one of the bad Chinese takeaways I used to eat with Maddie before I met Edward. Homeless as well as penniless? Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, fate drop-kicked me into a lower level of hell. Now I needed to add finding a new place to live to my list of seemingly impossible tasks.

I looked around the little flat I’d loved so much. From agonising over the colour schemes to selecting just the right vase for the sideboard, I’d put my heart and soul into it. Mother always said a tidy home meant a tidy mind, and mine both lay in tatters. Every time someone bid for one of my items on eBay, it felt as if my soul were under the hammer as well.

“But I still don’t understand why you turned the heating off,” Maddie said as she helped me to sponge the living room carpet dry.

Murky splodges covered every inch of the once-pristine cream pile.

“You know how Edward liked the place tropical? Well, the electric bill came last week, and it ran to four figures.”

“Over a grand?”

I nodded. “Almost two. So I panicked and turned everything off.”

“You should have said something, you daft mare. I’ve got a few hundred quid saved up.”

Tired of life, I went to sit down, then remembered I’d sold my table and chairs. “I can’t take your money, not with it coming up to Christmas.”

“You can’t freeze, either. What are you doing at night?”

“Wearing lots of layers, and I’ve got two duvets on the bed.”

At least I still had a bed. Apart from that and my desk and chair, the flat lay empty. The last thing to go had been the three-piece suite. My beautiful maroon leather sofa with its two matching armchairs. The guy who bought it had the cheek to try and haggle me down further when he’d come to pick it up. I’d stood my ground, but the whole experience left me drained.

“Look at it this way,” Maddie said. “At least now you can leave this place and find somewhere cheaper.”

“I won’t have a security deposit.”

“We’ll sort something out. I’ve got tomorrow off, so let’s have a look at some adverts this evening. We’ll find you a new flat in no time.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course. Things’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

Based on my newly revised budget, we found four places with the potential to be suitable. One flat, a tiny house, and two house shares. The house especially surprised me because I hadn’t thought we’d find anything that nice with my meagre finances.

As I went to sleep that night, I felt the faintest glimmer of optimism for the first time in weeks. Perhaps Maddie was right and every black cloud had a silver lining after all?

First thing in the morning, Maddie showed up with cappuccino and croissants, and we carried them with us on the bus as we travelled to viewing number one.

For the past few years, I’d lived in Clerkenwell, and before that, Notting Hill, prioritising a good area over size when it came to choosing my abode. Now I couldn’t afford either.

The closer the bus chugged to our designation, the more boarded-up properties I saw. Three in a row on one street alone.

“I’m not sure about this,” I said to Maddie.

“The listing said this area was up and coming.”

“On what? The crime-rate tables?”

Her grimace said it all.

“Be careful, ladies,” the bus driver said as we went to get out. “You don’t want to be out after dark around here.”

I clutched my handbag across the front of my body as we hurried along the road. Garden landscaping consisted of barbed wire and broken household appliances, with graffiti adding the odd splash of colour. Maddie stopped in front of me as I stepped over a pile of doggy poop, and I walked into her back.

“This is it,” she said. “Number forty-three.”

“It’s a chicken restaurant,” I hissed. Neon-yellow letters spelled out “Clive’s Chicken Coop,” and the red eye of an orange rooster blinked demonically as I tried to decide whether to laugh or cry.

Maddie’s gaze went higher. “I think the flat’s on the first floor.”

Sure enough, a flicker of light shone through one of the dingy windows above the garish facade.

“How do we get in?”

“Those stairs at the side?”

“Do you think they’re safe to stand on?”

The rusted metal creaked ominously as I put weight onto the first rung, and visions of the whole lot giving way and landing on top of me made me pause.

“Let’s go one at a time, shall we?”

At the top, Maddie knocked on the door and wrinkled her nose at the dirt on her knuckles. It swung open to reveal a man in a grease-stained “Chicken Coop” apron, and from the way his belly strained at the ties, he was a big fan of his own products.

“You ladies here to look at the flat?”

Why on earth would we be there otherwise? It wasn’t a neighbourhood one visited by choice.

Maddie answered for me. “Yes, that’s us.”

“Come in, come in.” He threw the door open. “It could do with a bit of a clean.”

No, it could have done with being napalmed. Black mould grew up the walls, and the grimy carpet was a jigsaw of dark footprints. A film of dust coated the mismatched furniture, and the couch only had one cushion, not that I’d have wanted to sit on it, anyway.

“Did you just see something move over there?” Maddie whispered.

“Where?”

“Under the pile of fast-food containers in the corner.”

Even if I scrubbed for a month, I doubted I’d make a dent in the filth, and that wasn’t the worst part. I’d held my breath in horror as we walked in, but when it came to the point where I had to inhale or faint, I almost choked. The stench of chicken fried in rancid fat permeated everything.

“It’ll be snapped up in no time,” the guy told us. “Last time it went on the market, someone rented it the same day.”

Really? Did that person have an olfactory problem?

Chicken Man grinned, revealing a row of brown teeth. “Just for you, I’ll throw in a ten percent discount downstairs.”

Vomit rose in my throat as I ran from the room and down the dodgy stairs. Air. I needed air. Maddie followed more sedately and met me on the pavement.

“I told him you ate some bad sushi last night. That was a no, I take it?”

“More than a no. An absolutely no way . How could you stay in there a second longer?”

“Oh, I’ve smelled far worse things than that at the hospital. One time this guy with a bowel problem came in, and—”

I held up a hand. “Please. Just don’t. Can we get out of here?”

“It’s like that Arnie movie— The Running Man . You’ve seen that, right? Where people have to escape from the game zone without dying.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Sorry. Let’s find a bus. And look on the bright side—the next place can’t be any worse.”