Christmas Project, The Read online

  ‘I have moved on. Weren’t you listening to the last bit?’

  ‘Having sex with strangers and moving on are two very different things. Now, your family’s been behind you throughout all of this, despite how difficult it was at times, but it’s time to get on with your life. And Katie’s going to help you make that start.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘She’s your chance at finding a way to be happy again Mikey.’

  ‘Oh. Great. No pressure,’ I mumbled.

  For a split second I thought I saw the corner of his mouth twitch into the hint of a smile but when I looked again it was set back in a grim line as he stared at his feet.

  ‘Tonnes of pressure, Katie. Sorry darling!’ Janey’s voice came from the speaker. ‘But he really does need to get his arse in gear and I know you won’t take any shit off him, so it’s perfect.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Michael repeated, flatly. He lifted his gaze. ‘Don’t worry about it, my sister’s just being dramatic. It’s a habit.’

  ‘Knock it off Mikey,’ Janey snapped. ‘You need to start taking this seriously. Your life is a mess since Angeline left and you’re a grouchy workaholic. It’s about time that you got your shit together and found happiness again, and Katie there’s your best chance. So stop being an arse, listen to what she says, and do what she tells you because if you don’t, so help me God – ’

  ‘Fine! Yes. All right,’ he cut across her.

  ‘I love you, you know. We all do,’ Janey’s voice was softer now and it was clear to hear the love contained within her words, ‘that’s why we’re doing this.’

  ‘Yep. I know. I love you too.’

  I looked away and found an intense interest in the junk mail teetering on the phone table.

  ‘Better not get all soppy. It looks like you’re embarrassing your friend.’ Michael’s deep voice held a hint of amusement.

  ‘Oh, Katie’s all right, aren’t you?’ Janey’s voice assured.

  ‘Umm, yes. Fine.’

  My client’s vivid gaze fixed on me and he shook his head, that hint of smile back flickering around the full mouth.

  ‘I’ll behave for Kate, Janey. I promise.’

  ‘Good. Because she has my full permission to kick you in the nuts if you don’t.’

  Michael burst out laughing and his whole face changed. The spiky demeanour transformed into something much closer to the warm, welcoming air that Janey always gave off. For the first time since I’d met him, I could finally see him as being related to my friend.

  ‘I’m countering that permission and as they’re my nuts, I have final say.’

  ‘Just be good,’ Janey said.

  ‘I’ve said I will. So I will. Now, can I go?’

  ‘Yes, all right. Bye, Kate. Thanks so much for this. Talk to you tomorrow.’

  ‘Bye Janey,’ I called.

  ‘Bye sis,’ Michael added, before pressing ‘End’ on the screen.

  Silence fell over us.

  ‘So. I guess it looks like you’re stuck with me then.’

  ‘Yes, it does rather.’

  More silence.

  ‘When she said about you being my chance at…you know…she didn’t mean…’

  ‘No. I know.’

  ‘OK. Good.’

  ‘It’s a bit of a cliché but I don’t believe in mixing business with pleasure anyway.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘And I’m already seeing someone. Janey knows that.’ Why on earth was I going into all of this?

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And you’re definitely not my type anyway. Janey knows that too.’

  Michael rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his feet. ‘I’m beginning to wish I’d never opened my mouth.’

  ‘Not at all. It’s always good to be absolutely clear on things.’ For the love of God, Kate. Shut up!

  After a beat, Michael spoke. ‘So, what happens now?’

  I mentally squared my shoulders and shook my uncharacteristic babbling moment off. Focusing on what I knew best, I was back on firm ground.

  ‘Generally, I assess the project, then I look at my schedule and you look at yours and we see when we can fit in some sessions that work for both of us.’

  ‘Right.’ He moved away from me, his back turned.

  ‘But as I said earlier, I can only help someone if they want to be helped and are prepared to put in effort themselves. I realise that Janey is keen for you to do this, and that you clearly wish to please her, but if you’re really not invested in this, then it’s just a waste of time for both of us. It’s a very busy time, and as such, I have plenty of other people who would benefit from my services far more.’

  As Janey had warned, I didn’t pull punches. I wanted her brother to know exactly what I expected from him.

  ‘Oh, well, I wouldn’t want to keep Little Miss Popular from doling out her beneficial services.’

  I rolled my tense neck, sore from huddling against the cold earlier, and counted to ten. Ten wasn’t nearly enough.

  ‘Are you always this much of an arsehole?’

  Michel didn’t say anything but I was almost sure I saw his lips quirk briefly in amusement at my outburst.

  I took a deep breath. ‘I apologise. I shouldn’t have spoken like that. It’s been a very long day. Perhaps it’s best if I leave and you take the night to decide as to whether you wish to proceed.’

  ‘It’s fine. I probably deserved it.’

  Probably?!

  ‘And in answer to your question, depending on who you ask, yes, I am always this much of an arsehole. And I don’t need the night to think about it. If I don’t do this then I’m in the shit with my family, which I know you probably couldn’t give a toss about but I do. They’ve done a lot for me and I need to do this for them. Unfortunately, I can’t do it without you.’

  I raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I promise I will take it seriously and do what I need to do to make them happy.’

  ‘It’s supposed to be about making you happier too.’

  He shrugged. ‘If that happens too, then it’s a bonus, but don’t get your hopes up.’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. I won’t.’

  Chapter Two

  Michael gave me an even look, assessing. We were sat in his kitchen. It was light, modern, spacious and absolutely crammed full of stuff, just like the rest of the place. It didn’t look like he’d put anything away for years.

  ‘So, explain again what it is that you do, as it’s obviously not “faffing” or “poking about”.’ The even look remained. I knew he was testing me, seeing if I’d crack again. And although I was desperate to tell him exactly what I thought of him – again – I refrained. Not because of anything I felt for him but because of something I’d heard in Janey’s voice on the phone. Getting this arrogant man’s home, and life, better organised clearly meant a lot to her. That was the only reason I was still here.

  ‘I run an organisation consultancy. I help people to declutter and organise their living spaces which in turn makes their home a nicer, more inspiring and serene place to be. And that in turn, is good for everyone who lives there. Being surrounded by clutter can be stressful for the mind, not just because it’s hard to find things, but because it doesn’t instil the peace and calm we crave as human beings in the sanctuary of our home. When a person’s house is in order, it generally has positive benefits to other aspects of their life.’

  Michael took a sip of the coffee he’d made. ‘Right.’

  The word ‘sceptical’ sprang to mind.

  ‘But as I said, I can’t do this alone, I need – ’

  ‘Me to get on board. Blah Blah. I know. I get it. I just don’t really buy it.’

  I shifted in my seat.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ve done plenty in my life that I didn’t really buy into either and I got by. Just ask my ex-wife. So we’ll get it done. You do your thing, I’ll make the effort and then it’s done.’

  ‘Great,’ I said, feeling pretty unconvinced m
yself now, which was the complete opposite to how I normally felt at this stage in the process. Not a great sign.

  I pushed my coffee mug to the side and pulled out a folder from my bag, clearing a little space on the breakfast bar to lay it on. Michael took the mugs off the counter, rinsed them and then came and stood behind me, peering over my shoulder at the forms I had just begun filling in. As he did so, I got a subtle waft of aftershave. It was light and citrusy and, oddly, not what I would have expected from him.

  ‘What’s this then? Do you give out grades for first impressions?’

  I shoved my stool backwards, causing him to move, as I then dismounted. Tilting my head back to meet the intense green gaze, I answered him.

  ‘Perhaps it’s just as well that I don’t Mr O’Farrell.’

  ‘Oh. I guess, in the interest of fairness then, I should take that Yelp review down that I did when I nipped up to change my clothes?’

  I turned quickly. ‘What did you say on it?’

  He shrugged. ‘Just that I thought it was a novel approach for a business owner who comes into peoples’ houses to call her client an arsehole within minutes of meeting him.’

  My mouth dropped open and I felt my face drain of colour.

  ‘That was entirely unfair of you! I apologised immediately! I know that’s no excuse, but you were late, rude and disrespectful of what I’ve been hired to do!’ A stray tendril of hair had come loose from my bun and I pushed it back from my face distractedly. ‘This is my livelihood! How could you – ’

  He snagged his phone from the shelf and shoved it in the back pocket of his jeans as he threw me an amused look.

  ‘Calm down. I didn’t do anything of the sort.’

  I felt the colour return to my cheeks.

  ‘Oh. Right. Well, good. Thank you. And just so you know I’ve never, ever done that before and have no intention of doing it again.’

  He shook his head. ‘Forget it. Believe me, if I Yelped everyone who thought I was an arsehole I’d be on the site all day.’

  I didn’t say a word but his mouth did that quirk thing again.

  ‘It’s all right, you can say it.’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘You can say you aren’t in the least bit surprised.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of saying that.’

  ‘Nothing to stop you thinking it though, eh?’

  ‘Shall we make a start?’ I said, uncomfortable at being quite so transparent.

  His lips gave a little tug to the side. ‘Absolutely. Tell me what you need me to do.’

  ‘So, is there anything you’re specifically hoping for with this process?’ I asked, glancing at my notes.

  When he didn’t answer, I looked up to find him studying me.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. Just seems an odd question, bearing in mind you already know the only reason you’re even here is because my sister cajoled you and my family forced me. If I wasn’t looking for the process to happen in the first place, I can’t see how I could be hoping for anything from it.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘It’s fair to say that my clients are normally a little more pleased to see me than you are.’

  ‘I can see that,’ he said, leaning against the door jamb and crossing his ankles.

  ‘But that doesn’t mean, now that you’re committed to the process, that you won’t gain anything from it just because you came to it from a more unconventional angle.’

  A grin flickered on his face, as fleeting as a guttering candle. ‘Unconventional. That’s one way of putting it.’

  ‘So, having heard what I do, is there anything you can think of that you would specifically want to gain from all this?’

  He straightened from the doorway and looked at me. I tilted my head back to meet his eyes. Now I’d taken my sodden shoes off, I had to look up even further.

  ‘I’m not exactly sure what you want me to say Kate, but if you’re hoping for some sort of emotional blather about me wanting to find myself amongst all the clutter, then I’m sadly going to have to disappoint you. The only thing I’m looking for with this process is to turn my house into a place that’s fit for a family Christmas. At the moment, with all this stuff everywhere, it’s not. I’m just wanting a tidy house, Kate. Not therapy.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ I scribbled a note and made to move on.

  ‘It would seem your clientele are generally a lot deeper than I am.’

  ‘Not at all. Everyone’s different. I just want to make sure that I do the best job I can for each client, and that means finding out what it is they really want.’

  ‘Don’t they all just want less crap kicking around? Isn’t that the whole point of your business?’

  ‘Yes and no. That’s usually what it starts off as them thinking they want, but quite often there’s a deeper issue that they don’t even realise is driving them until part way through the process.’

  He gave a quick raise of his eyebrows. ‘Right. Well, as you heard, the only thing driving me is a sister half my size.’

  I felt the smile slide onto my face and for a moment he returned it.

  ‘So, let’s just accept that I’m shallow and move on. Where do you want to see first?’

  He leant on the newel post and I watched the corded muscles on his forearm flex as his hand rested on the bannister.

  Was that true? Was he really that shallow, or was he, in fact, one of my most complicated clients? Usually about this time, I had a pretty good idea of who my client was, but with Michael O’Farrell, I still didn’t have a clue.

  ‘Shall we do bottom to top?’

  He gave me a quick nod and led the way down the stairs to the basement level of the four-storey Georgian. Here the space had been given over to a large open-plan living area that had bi-folding doors leading out onto a garden. There was a small counter/kitchen area for preparing snacks and cups of tea, to save having to traipse up and down the stairs when time was being spent in here. A flat-screen TV collected dust against the wall and a couple of couches and beanbags sat unused underneath some appliance boxes and other discarded items. Looking out onto the garden, it could be a great space for entertaining, or just relaxing, but right now it was uninviting and cold. From my time studying the outside, and now here, there already seemed to be a theme emerging.

  Next I followed my client back up the stairs to the ground floor where he stopped outside a room opposite the kitchen we’d sat in earlier. As I caught up to him, he opened the door. Inside was an architect’s easel, a work station with a large flat-screen computer on it and a bookcase stuffed with books, papers and all sorts of other random items. Under another pile of papers a small two-seater sofa lounged against the wall. Michael walked over and flicked on the lamp over the easel. There was no window dressing of any kind and streetlight shadows from the trees outside danced on the stripped wooden floor. At least, what you could see of it.

  ‘My office.’

  ‘You work from home?’

  ‘I do.’

  I glanced around. ‘And do you always know where everything is in here?’

  He followed my gaze and I saw something cross his face. I wasn’t sure if he thought I was being sarcastic so I clarified my question.

  ‘It’s just that sometimes, especially in work areas, what looks like a mess to an outsider is actually a very specific way of working for the person whose space it is. People find their own way of working and obviously I don’t want to do anything to upset your working methods.’

  He picked up a mechanical pencil from the desk and fiddled with it.

  ‘As much as it pains me to tell you this, I can’t actually find a bloody thing most of the time.’

  ‘OK. We can fix that and find a much better system for you, which will make for a more pleasant and efficient working environment.’

  ‘Just because it looks a tip doesn’t mean I’m not “efficient” at my job. People might think I’m an arsehole but they still know I’m a damn good architect.’


  I tried not to look surprised at his defensiveness. Time to employ some professional soothing. ‘I never meant to suggest that you weren’t. I’m sorry if it came across that way.’

  He fiddled with the pencil a little more, then nodded, seemingly accepting my apology. ‘But you are saying my office isn’t pleasant?’

  ‘I’m just saying that we can make it more pleasant.’

  He gave a little shake of his head, that almost-smile flashing briefly. ‘Very tactful.’

  I looked up from my notes. ‘So, what’s next?’

  Staying on the same level, he pointed to a door behind which was apparently a downstairs loo, before moving on to show me the living and dining rooms. Both were gorgeous spaces, not that it was easy to see that at the moment. But they could be.

  ‘You play the piano?’ I asked, seeing an upright groaning under another pile of magazines and general ‘stuff’.

  He shrugged. ‘Used to. Haven’t played for ages.’

  ‘Why not?’

  He gave the shrug again and then set off for the next floor. Here there were four spare bedrooms, two with small en suites, and one main bathroom. One of the bedrooms had been converted into a mini home gym which, unlike many I’d seen in my time, was clearly being put to good use. I made a note to suggest moving this equipment down to the basement level. There was plenty of space down there and it could always be screened off with a room divider. That would free up the bedroom, which, from what Janey had told me about the size of their family, could be useful. Plus it might be more inspiring for my client to work out looking onto the garden rather than staring at a blank wall as he clearly was at the moment. I snuck a glance at him. Admittedly, from what I could see under the slightly misshapen clothes, he didn’t seem to be lacking in motivation to work out.

  As we moved around, it seemed that most of the rooms had generally turned into a dumping ground for random items, boxes for appliances, motorbike parts and goodness knows what else.

  ‘The master bedroom is on the top floor but you’ve pretty much got the idea as to what it’s like from these.’ He waved a hand at the rooms we’d already seen.

  ‘It would still be very helpful for me to see it, if possible. So that I have all the information as to what we are dealing with. It’s especially helpful in this case as we’re on quite a short deadline.’