Chapter Text
I was lunching one day at The Princess Louise,
When I passed some remark to a man in white spats
Who had ordered a plate of fried gammon and peas,
So we soon fell to talking of thisses and thats—
“May I ask why you’re searching for a new flat?”
Mr. Faber sets down his fork and knife onto his plate, and dabs the napkin onto his mouth. Once his face is clean, Mr. Faber picks up his glass of port wine, swirls it around, and takes a small sip. He then gives out a refreshing sigh, and set his glass down.
“Not at all,” replies Thomas, picking up his own gin and tonic from the coaster. He takes a long slip before continuing. “Something you need to know right away is that I quite like my flat mate. I’m not searching for a new flat because I despise him. We knew each other since our university days, and we remained friends since graduation. But we never lived together until six years back. We weren’t in relationships at the time, and two people paying rent makes thing easier, you know? 50/50 split payment of everything.”
“Completely understandable of an arrangement.”
“A year ago, my friend met someone. The girl of his dreams, if I have to describe her. Even the way they met came can be describe as love at first sight. But I digress. A few weeks back, he proposed to her. I even help set up the proposal.”
“Sounds like you are a candidate on being the best man.”
Thomas laughs, and sets his gin and tonic down back on the coaster. “Very likely candidate. Now, even though she spent a night or two at the flat —and vice versa with him at her place— the idea of them living together never crossed their minds until recently. It’s a good thing that our flat has two bedrooms, and not one.”
“But you have your own bedroom, and your friend and his fiancée have theirs. What is the problem?” Mr. Faber leans back against his chair, his curled-up hand underneath his chin.
“The problem is that I’m a third wheel,” says Thomas. “They don’t want to admit it, especially my flat mate, but I know that they know that I’m disrupting their new lifestyle. I freshen up at times when she needs to freshen up, or I accidentally use the food they bought to make my meals. I won’t even start on the time I barge into my flat mate’s room and interrupt…activities.”
Thomas gives a sigh, and places his elbow on the table. He then rests his head onto his hand. “Pardon my impolite table manners, but my search for a flat within my price range is worser than it was six years ago. And I can’t ask my sister to let me live with her. Her flat is big enough only for herself and her pet cat. If it was bigger, I would consider her as a potential option.”
“Your sister having a cat is not an issue to your dilemma?” Mr. Faber raises an eyebrow.
“No issue at all. I quite like cats.”
Mr. Faber doesn’t say anything. Instead, the old man drops his hand, and smiles. Thomas can see a twinkle in Mr. Faber’s eyes.
Thomas isn’t sure how he should interpret it.
“Well Mr. Stephens,” says Mr. Faber as he smiles, and it’s very feline of a smile, “I confide right now to being a jack of all trades, but I am at present an agent for small furnished flats. And I do think I can help you out, in fact…”