‘Let’s find out what it costs to live in a building with a historic hoofprint,’ I said, choosing Price Ranges from the menu options. I was silent for a while. Then I said, ‘The one-bedders won’t do, of course. And did you look at the penthouse? Price on enquiry.’
‘Obviously the penthouse is above our price point. And we don’t want anything on the lower floors.’
‘Definitely not! There are home invasions all the time in the north.’
‘That’s the west. Anyway, read the bit about state-of-the-art security. The perimeter fence is electrified, and the guards will carry tasers. Not that it’s relevant. We’re looking at mid-level.’
I was running numbers in my head. ‘We’re still paying off this place,’ I pointed out. ‘Even if we get a way, way better result than Bonny and Evan at auction, I don’t see how we can make it work.’
‘We’re not going to sell,’ said Chanel. ‘This is Mel and Sydney’s childhood home. I get that property around here’s depressed right now, but over time bricks and mortar can’t fail. This house is an investment in the children’s future. We’ll rent it out. There’ll be a clause about maintenance of the nature strip in the rental agreement.’
‘But how do we finance our new place? Just look what they’re asking for two bedrooms plus a study.’
‘It’s called downsizing,’ said Chanel. ‘The clue is in the name. We won’t need a study. A two-bedder will do fine. That’ll come with two bathrooms as well as a powder room for guests. If Mel and Sydney happen to visit at the same time, Sydney won’t mind the couch.’
‘Yes, but …’ I cleared my throat. Ivy had gone to bed, and the door to the hallway was closed. In spite of that, I lowered my voice: ‘What about Ivy?’
Chanel placed her hand over mine. ‘I know it’s a change of perspective,’ she told me. ‘But we’re talking about the future. This is post-Ivy.’
Post-Ivy! It sounded like something growing on a paling. Chanel squeezed my fingers. ‘We’ve got enough equity in this place to remortgage. That’ll take care of the down payment on our forever home. I’ll contact the bank on Monday.’
‘The down payment’s one thing. What about the rest? Even if your promotion comes through —’
‘We sell the house.’
‘You just said we’d rent it out.’
‘Not this house. Ivy’s house back home. Property prices are through the roof there, and our dollar’s rubbish. It’s the ideal time to sell that place. Have you thought about the land value alone? You’re going to inherit a packet when Ivy goes.’
Post-Ivy. The pebble between my ribs was thickening into a stone. I could see myself: a defenceless orphan, trying to combat grief on a terrace with an unimpeded view of a ringroad. I also saw that Chanel’s calculation was flawed. ‘You’re forgetting what it’s like back there,’ I told her. ‘Winding up an estate, getting rid of tenants, selling a house – any of it can spin out into lawsuits. The whole thing will take a year at best, realistically longer.’