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Then She Fell…
Philippa Danks
Isobelle Carmody Award
for Creative Writing
Runner-Up
Winter, 1999
‘Hubert, I’m getting sick of this shower plug getting blocked! And
this toilet! I hate this house!’ shouted Fanny from the bathroom that
adjoined the bedroom where Hubert, her beloved husband was
getting dressed for work. Fanny walked into the bedroom, lay down
on the bed and said in a calmer manner, ‘Hubert, are you sure you
don’t want to move, to an apartment or something closer to your
work? Imean, we could spendmore time together, or sleep in longer?’
Fanny finally persuaded Hubert to move to an apartment and
was busy, searching through magazines and newspapers, websites
and real estate agencies, trying to find somewhere suitable. Late at
night, after hours and hours of tiresome work, she came across one
advertisement with a number highlighted in a massive font. These
numbers were the price of the apartment and were the thing that
convinced Fanny completely. The pictures shown were of an old,
rundown room with cupboards and carpet both faded in colour. But
this did not stop her. There was also one very strange, suspicious
shadow lurking in the corner of the room. It was quite small and
round in shape with a spiky object poking out of its main body. But
of course, Fanny’s eyesight was not sharp enough to recognise this
doubtful figure. Hopefully he’ll agree, thought Fanny.
That Thursday morning, as the sun began to rise, Fanny and
Hubert made their way to the red brick apartment. Windows and
balconies were lined up perfectly above a tall metal door. In front of
that door stood a young lady, looking prim and proper with her hair
done in a tight bow and a neat business suit fixed to her fit, athletic
body.
Tracy Tullun, their real estate agent, toured the two around the
whole building until they finally reached a door with number 13
written on it. Inside, spiders and cobwebs hogged the corners of the
rooms. Paint was peeling off the walls and dust was everywhere! It
was clear that there was some talking to be done in order for both
Fanny and Hubert to be convinced.
‘I am sorry, this apartment does need a little clean up. Would you like
me to organise a cleaner? It would look magnificent with some nice
furniture and a new paint job. I can also get you a painter.’ Tracy was
very keen to sell this apartment and was trying her best, giving it all
she’d got.
After many minutes of convincing and bargaining, Fanny and her