Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland

To

Frankie Fyfield,

with love

ONE

‘My mother’s going to kill herself,’ announced Alexandra Richards on Littlehampton Beach.

I was quite taken aback. I knew that Ingrid Richards had a problem – otherwise her daughter would not have been consulting me – but I didn’t realize it was that serious.

‘That is,’ Alexandra went on, ‘if I don’t kill her first.’

This somehow made things better. Just standard-issue mother/daughter conflict …?

Perhaps I should explain the basics. My name’s Ellen Curtis. I run a company called SpaceWoman. No, nothing to do with astronauts. My job description, printed on my cards, invoices and the Skoda Yeti which is my work vehicle, reads: ‘Decluttering and Interior Restyling’. I help people when they’ve got too much stuff … or when the stuff they’ve got gets too much for them.

Alexandra Richards was a typical client. I don’t know how she heard about my services, but she contacted me through the SpaceWoman website and asked to meet. Her mother lived alone in a situation of ‘increasing chaos’ and Alexandra was ‘worried about the Health and Safety issues, apart from anything else.’

I don’t have an office where clients can visit me. Very few have ever come to my home, only when it’s been an emergency. I live in a three-bedroom house on the northern outskirts of Chichester, and I try to keep my personal and work lives separate. Though I can’t compartmentalize my brain quite so easily – I’m always thinking about my clients – I do try to keep the house as my own space. My two grown-up children are, of course, always welcome there. My daughter Jools, busy working in London, rarely visits. But my son Ben, studying graphic design at Nottingham Trent University, often comes to Chichester during vacations or in times of need.

Normally, I’d visit a new client at their home, but Alexandra Richards lived in Hastings, way off my regular patch. That patch, incidentally, goes along the south coast from Portsmouth to Brighton and to the north as far as Petersfield or Horsham. So, Alexandra and I had to fix somewhere to meet. I first suggested her mother’s flat, the scene of the crime, as it were, but she was adamantly against that. No surprise to me. In a lot of cases, the hoarder is totally unaware of the enquiries being made on their behalf – and would indeed be deeply affronted to know there were any such enquiries. One of the common qualities of hoarders is complete unawareness that they have any kind of problem.

Obviously, a lot of my work is highly confidential and over time I have compiled a list of suitable venues for private meetings. Depending on the season, I’ll suggest a coffee shop one can sit outside or a pub. A busy pub is often an ideal place for an intimate discussion. Everyone’s too preoccupied with themselves to consider eavesdropping.

If the weather’s good, I prefer to suggest meeting outside. There are all kinds of quiet places in the Sussex countryside. Private places to sit and talk. Even better, private places to walk and talk. Best of all from my point of view, private places to walk and talk by the sea.