A visit from a stranger forces a lonely woman to confront the debris of her life.
The ringing of the doorbell startled Judith Hallam out of her reverie. Sitting in the winter sunshine slanting through the large bay-window, gazing distractedly at the faded wallpaper, she had drifted into thinking about the telephone call from the estate agent that morning.
“Mrs. Hallam, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that we have a viewer for you. It’s very short notice, I know, but he’s only in the area for today, so would this afternoon be convenient…?”
Naturally, she had jumped at the chance, but how curious it was that, as she roused herself with an effort and rose stiffly from her favourite overstuffed armchair, she could no longer recall the name of the man who was coming to view her property.
Her large Victorian semi-detached had been on the market for two years. There had been a handful of viewings, but no offers, and no interest at all in the last six months, despite the low asking price. Judith wasn’t really surprised. She had to admit that the place no longer offered much by way of warmth or homeliness. It lacked… what do they call it?… kerb appeal. It was too neglected for that. Perhaps today’s caller might be a property developer; she had to admit that surely no-one else would want to buy the house.
Judith shuffled along the hall to the front door, wondering how long she had been sitting in her chair, lost in thought. She seemed to do a lot of that these days...
The ringing of the doorbell startled Judith Hallam out of her reverie. Sitting in the winter sunshine slanting through the large bay-window, gazing distractedly at the faded wallpaper, she had drifted into thinking about the telephone call from the estate agent that morning.
“Mrs. Hallam, I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that we have a viewer for you. It’s very short notice, I know, but he’s only in the area for today, so would this afternoon be convenient…?”
Naturally, she had jumped at the chance, but how curious it was that, as she roused herself with an effort and rose stiffly from her favourite overstuffed armchair, she could no longer recall the name of the man who was coming to view her property.
Her large Victorian semi-detached had been on the market for two years. There had been a handful of viewings, but no offers, and no interest at all in the last six months, despite the low asking price. Judith wasn’t really surprised. She had to admit that the place no longer offered much by way of warmth or homeliness. It lacked… what do they call it?… kerb appeal. It was too neglected for that. Perhaps today’s caller might be a property developer; she had to admit that surely no-one else would want to buy the house.
Judith shuffled along the hall to the front door, wondering how long she had been sitting in her chair, lost in thought. She seemed to do a lot of that these days...