THE BUYER

new short story by Elena Lappin

It is a well-known ruse to make a house-for-sale smell delicious by filling it with the aroma of freshly baked cake or cookies, with lots of vanilla in the mix. This is supposed to seduce the buyer into feeling that this house is a home, and to overlook any obvious faults, such as bad plumbing or signs of decay. Scented candles are too obvious, but a cake in the oven blends into a visitor’s psyche like a Cupid’s arrow. If they fall in love with the house at first sight, they will forgive anything.

Lara Mann was having her monthly piano lesson at her teacher’s house on an overcast, chilly Tuesday morning. She had been pleased to see the slightly off-kilter FOR SALE sign still standing outside. In truth, she hoped her teacher Silvia would never move. As much as she sympathised when told of failed bids and broken promises, she was secretly elated to have her music haven just around the corner, for another week or month. Maybe Silvia and her husband Theo (they were both in their early sixties, like Lara) would give up on the idea of selling, after all these disappointing attempts? But with each new prospective buyer arriving for a viewing, their hopes that this one may be the one would be rekindled. Theo would throw himself into baking up a storm in the open plan kitchen. When the viewings failed to lead to results, he and Silvia consumed all the delicacies with a melancholy appetite, as if mourning a deep loss.

Their plan was to buy a certain cottage in a small, very pretty village in Dorset. A clear stream ran by its front lawn, caressing the pebbled bed with gentle eddies. They had driven through the village (not prettily named, alas: it was known as Fisherton) while on holiday and found it so different from their suburban home they decided to park by its only pub and stroll around after lunch. They strolled in every possible direction, down tree-lined country lanes bejewelled with little cottages, and each time ended up in front of that same one. Maybe it was the stream, or the wide-open windows with billowing white curtains. Silvia leaned on a nearby cherry tree and sighed: ‘I want to live here.’ Theo sighed too – not for the same reason. He sensed danger – of upheaval, of change, of complicated additions to their happiness.