The Apartment - K. L. Slater Page 0,4

gasp. ‘I mean, I haven’t even stepped inside a property like this before.’ Never mind lived in one, the cynical voice in my head adds.

He smiles. ‘Let’s go upstairs. Unfortunately, Adder House doesn’t have a lift. There aren’t many downsides to this property, but I suppose for some people, that might be one of them.’

It crosses my mind that without a gym membership these days, I’ll need to learn to make friends with the stairs. With the park and gardens only yards away – I’d already spotted a row of Boris Bikes at the entrance when the cab turned – I think that, finally, I might actually be in a position to shift the extra weight that has crept on with all the stress of the past eighteen months.

Sadly, I’m not the kind of person who loses interest in eating when my mood plummets. I take solace in food and treat it like an old friend, particularly bread, cheese, and anything creamy and calorie laden. Eating is one of the rare times I actually feel secure again.

We follow Dr Marsden upstairs – Skye effortlessly negotiating the steep climb while I take it a little steadier – until we emerge on a wide, spacious landing with the same polished wooden floor as downstairs and a rather attractive red-and-gold-patterned Persian rug.

Two solid, wide panelled wooden doors with shiny brass numbers and knockers lead off the landing, one at each end.

‘Mr and Mrs Woodings are in number three.’ Dr Marsden points out the door. Without delay, he begins to climb the next flight of stairs up to the second floor.

Again, two impressive wooden doors stand off the main landing.

‘Miss Brockley is at number four,’ he murmurs. ‘The residents who live at two and five are away at the moment. The third and final flight of stairs is coming up, you might be pleased to know.’ Dr Marsden smiles.

He seems fit and isn’t out of breath at all despite, I’m guessing, being in his mid-sixties. I hope he doesn’t notice my own laboured breathing; not very impressive for a thirty-two-year-old.

The landing up here on the third floor looks a little different. It has a smaller floor area but is also a much lighter space, thanks to a larger window at the front that overlooks the road.

‘Mummy, look!’

Skye is standing at the glass looking out with delight at a neat Juliet balcony filled with groomed topiary trees and other greenery. The smaller top windows are slightly ajar, and I can hear birds whistling from the nearby trees.

There are two doors up here, too. One big one without a number on the front and then towards the corner, a narrower door with a brass number six.

Dr Marsden walks towards the smaller door and waves a key card in front of the brass handle.

‘You two will be the first tenants in this apartment.’ He opens the door and signals for me to enter first. ‘See what you think.’

Holding Skye’s hand, I walk through a tiny entrance hall and into a large, spacious area that clearly serves as both a lounge and a kitchenette. Light floods in through a floor-to-ceiling window which overlooks the back of the property and the small, sheltered garden.

Skye pulls away from me and runs to the window. ‘There’s a swing down there!’ she exclaims.

‘It’s a small backyard but, I like to think, perfectly formed,’ Dr Marsden remarks, opening a door to the right. ‘And here we have the master bedroom.’

A modestly sized room but with the same lovely view. I spot built-in wardrobes and a fitted dressing table and stool. I can visualise myself in here, taking pleasure in having an early night with a good book again like I used to before my life fell to pieces.

‘It’s perfect.’ I breathe out.

We move on to the second bedroom. It’s smaller but more than adequate and again there’s a built-in wardrobe.

‘This will be the young lady’s room, I’d imagine.’ Dr Marsden smiles.

Skye skips past us to the window and beams at one of the blossoming cherry trees she likes to call confetti trees.

‘I love it here, Mummy!’ she declares, her face open and flushed with joy. I feel my eyes prickling. Moments of unbridled joy for Skye used to be second nature, but for the last year and a half, they’ve been few and far between.

I reach for my daughter and squeeze her hand, smiling.

‘And finally, we have the bathroom.’ Dr Marsden opens the door to an ivory-tiled room with a sparkling white bathroom