“It must be here somewhere,” Rachel muttered to herself as she pulled the car into the side of the road. She’d driven round the block and up and down Cavendish Road several times but still couldn’t find ‘Cavendish House’ a new block of apartments.
The pictures in the ad looked really nice. A modern one-bedroomed flat in a good part of town. Quiet, leafy streets, well-kept gardens, no traffic. Much better than the place she had now above a shop in the crowded, noisy town centre. But if only she could find it. She was going to miss the appointment with the agent. Foolishly her mobile phone was back at the office on her desk instead of in her bag where it should have been.
She’d looked at the map and checked she had the right post code for the satnav but still no luck. She would have to find someone to ask. Out of the car and on the street there was no-one in sight. She walked to the corner. Still no-one. Nobody in their gardens, no dog walkers, no postman delivering letters, no corner shop, no pub.
“Never mind” she thought, “I’ll just have to knock on a door and ask.”
She opened the nearest garden gate, walked up the path and rang the doorbell. She waited. No reply. She rang again, still no reply. They were probably out at work. She would try the block of flats next door. Looking at the gate she saw it was locked but there was an intercom. She jabbed at the top bell. No answer. She tried the next one.
‘Hello’, a crackly voice replied. ‘Who is it?’
‘Hello,’ said Rachel, ‘I’m lost can you help me?’
‘Click’, the intercom went dead. Whoever was there had gone.
As she walked back to her car the sunny, tree lined street was still deserted, lifeless but now silently unwelcoming. Maybe this wasn’t the place for her after all.