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 myself 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