Bloom

"Hello, Annabelle, it's Lynda Rutledge from Dendrobium State High School"

Shit, Lynda Rutledge is the principal, Annabelle thought, and naturally her next thought was of Isaac.

Watching the traffic ahead, she took a deep breath and said, "How can I help you, Lynda?"

"It's about Isaac." Lynda's voice was coming through all business like, stating the obvious, and Annabelle felt a knot form in her stomach. Lynda continued with, "I'd like to set up a meeting with you, in person if you can make time."

"Can you tell me what the problem is? Is it an academic issue or something else?"

"It's behavioural, Annabelle."

Great, Annabelle thought. What's happening to my sweet little boy, especially after last night's shenanigans?

Pulling up to a red light in the left-hand lane and indicating left, she gathered her wits. "Do you mind elaborating?"

Lynda appeared to hesitate because there was silence for a moment, before she said, "Isaac swore at Ms McAvaney when she confronted him for defacing school property."

The light changed from red to green, however a woman and young child began crossing the intersection on the green-walk light, and Annabelle waited patiently, watching the pair, mother and son hand-in-hand, again reminding her of when Isaac was the kid's age.

Only ten or so years ago, where has the time gone?

A silver tradie's duel-cab ute with ladders and pipes strapped to the roof-racks entered the intersection from the opposite direction, its right indicator flashing, and Annabelle watched as the driver started mouthing off behind the wheel, most likely at the woman and child still walking across the road.

She shook her head, considering the man's reaction and her own son's actions at school, swearing at his teacher. She'd raised her children to be polite and respectful, at least she'd tried. And Ms McAvaney, who was Isaac's maths teacher, was one of his few favourites. Well, maybe not favourite, however Isaac told Annabelle how he doesn't mind Ms McAvaney because she actually gave him the time of day in class, likely because Isaac was reasonably good at maths. Why would he disrespect one of the few teachers he liked?

But there are no excuses for swearing at a teacher, or anyone, Annabelle thought, it's not on, and neither is defacing school property.

The woman and child were clear of her left-turn and Annabelle began to move, noting the tradie's ute turning too, but she had right of way and proceeded to make the turn.

BEEEEEP! Annabelle jumped in her seat and looked to her right, seeing the ute's grill in her face, directly out her window. It was so close she could have reached out and touched it if her window was open.

BEEEEEEEP, the driver behind hit the horn again, in case she hadn't heard the first time. Heart pounding and continuing her turn, Annabelle took off. She glanced in the review mirror, seeing the ute's driver mouthing off, probably swearing at her. He tail-gated Annabelle, but she tried to ignore the arsehole, sticking to the speed limit, breathing deep and slow, trying to calm her racing heart.

"Are you there, Mrs Thorne?"

Shit, she'd forgotten the phone call. "Sorry, Lynda, I'm driving and there's a bit going on. Do you mind if I call you back to arrange the meeting?"

In her mirrors Annabelle watched the ute pull to the right, across the double unbroken lines into the oncoming traffic, and the driver planted his foot.

"I suppose so, yes, sounds like you're in heavy traffic," Lynda replied as Annabelle watched the oncoming sedan flick its headlights at the ute, which was now level with her tiny Polo, roaring past.

"You are a fucking lunatic," Annabelle said, her heart racing and foot braking to let the dickhead back into the left lane lest he crash head-on into the oncoming cars. The ute raced back across the lane marker in front of her, the vehicle's rear narrowly missing the right front corner of the Polo, and the oncoming car blasted its own horn as it narrowly missed a head-on collision.

"I beg your pardon?" Lynda sounded incensed.

"I'm sorry," Annabelle said, grimacing and watching the ute roar up the road in front of her, a cloud of black smoke coming from the exhaust. "I wasn't speaking with you then, I was mouthing off at an angry man who overtook me just now and almost caused a head-on collision."

Shit, now Lynda Rutledge thinks I'm swearing at her and probably thinks like mother like son!

The phone was silent for a moment too long, Annabelle feeling sick, but Lynda's voice eventually came over the speakers. "I suppose this explains the beeping of horns."

"Yes, I'm very sorry," Annabelle said. "Look, can I call you within the next hour?"

Another pause from Lynda, before she said, "I look forward to it, Annabelle."

They finished the call and Annabelle shook her head, thinking, Great, really fucking great...Jesus, I could do with a third coffee right about now!

~0~

She drove up the street, blond and red brick unit blocks of each side, most built in the sixties, seventies or eighties, yet these were no classics of architectural genius, all boring boxes, most having steel grills covering ground floor windows, air conditioning units retrofitted on balconies, clothes draped over some balcony railings, and most buildings were surrounded by concrete and dry-yellow grass. Tall palms grew around some, providing no shade at all, and a few properties were even bordered by well-kept hedges, but they were in an exceptionally small minority, where most gardens were either devoid of vegetation or some having scrappy bushes which were mostly tough and prickly varieties or weeds.

Annabelle considered the steel bars over windows, thinking perhaps she should ask her own landlord to install them, even if they were ugly as sin and a death-trap in an emergency such as fire. Reading the street numbers on each building, she found the unit block she would be visiting, surrounded by an abundance of concrete, a patch of dying grass and even a couple of scrappy bushes, and she indicated and turned into the driveway.

Two teenage boys riding BMX's down the footpath sped in front of her and she hit the brakes. They wore shorts and singlets and gave her scornful looks and she ignored them, thinking, I do not want Isaac to end up like them, wagging school and doing whatever it is they do.

A white ibis stood in the one available visitor's car park, between a hatchback with sun-faded red paint and the garbage bins, and Annabelle nudged her car into the spot, the bird grudgingly walking to the yellowing grass rather than taking flight.

"Sorry, buddy, but it's either you or me," Annabelle said, before sitting for a moment, gathering her wits about her, closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths. Picking up her tablet from the passenger seat, she opened the door and immediately screwed up her nose, wondering if something died in one of the bins.

Maybe there's a body in there, she thought, noting the bird watching her, then she laughed at herself. Either one of its mates, or more likely another property manager of one of these units!

Double checking her car was locked, she made her way to the entrance of the building and pressed the door-bell for Unit Four. Despite having the key, Annabelle preferred to have the tenant let her in. She'd learnt this the hard way back when she'd first started in the real estate game, opening a door to a rented house and finding a young couple on the lounge getting hot and heavy in front of the television.

The memory always made her chuckle, the women's face staring at her with wide eyes, the man looking too, both half undressed, hands in intimate places, where they appeared frozen in time. The young woman was the tenant, immediately saying she'd forgotten about the property inspection, and surreally, the man had grinned and asked, "Do you want to join us?"

That was nineteen years ago, she sighed, recalling how she'd politely apologised and told them she'd give them a moment. Back when she was a fresh face in the industry, about the time she'd fallen pregnant with Millie. And here I am, a property manager again rather than a proper real estate agent like I thought I'd become.

The speaker at the door cackled to life and a woman's voice came through, barely legible. "Hello?"

"Hi, is this Candice?"

"Yes, you're Annabelle Thorne from Top Notch?"

When Candice said the word yes, she pronounced it yis, and Annabelle wondered if she was from New Zealand, before replying, "Yes, that's me."

"Come on up." The door buzzed open and she walked through and up the stairs to the second floor where a woman with beautiful natural copper-bronze skin stood in the open doorway to Unit Four, her hair thick, curly and black, tied in a loose bun directly on top of her head. A traditional Māori tattoo of black swirls and spirals, lines and hooks adorned her bottom lip to chin, and her eyes were dark, almost black, somewhat intimidating Annabelle. Peaking from behind her jeans was a girl of perhaps four or five years old.

"Good morning, Candice," Annabelle said, smiling, then looked to the girl and said, "And good morning to you, young lady."

Candice didn't smile but said. "Hello, Annabelle, this is Leilani. What do you say to the lady, Leilani?"

The girl's big dark eyes were the same as Candice's, staring up, but she stayed silent, clinging to her mother's leg.

Annabelle smiled again, then said to Candice, "This won't take long."

"What happened to Alice who used to manage this property?"

"She recently left and I've taken over from her."

"I sent her an email about the rent increase. I'd like to discuss it if we can."

"Of course," Annabelle said, grimacing inside, because the notes her predecessor made indicated Candice was a good tenant, and Annabelle considered the increase in rent to be excessive. However, at the end of the day it was the landlord's decision. "I've seen the rent increase notification and I've seen your email too. I know your current lease expires in a few weeks."

"I can't afford to pay an additional fifty dollars a week."

When she was a young and impressionable property manager, Annabelle first felt sorry for tenants, but soon the industry and other influences made her cynical towards people who rent, even when she was renting at the time, where the industry expected her to side with landlords, who, as her bosses always told her, were the people who paid her wage. However, she'd come a long way since those days, seeing more than enough of the industry to return her views back to what her naïve ideological young-self believed; that nine-times out of ten, tenants were given the rough end of the pineapple when dealing with real estate agents and landlords.

"I understand," Annabelle said, wondering how best to proceed. "Shall we take this discussion inside?"

Candice and Leilani stepped aside, allowing Annabelle to enter. Looking around the small living space, she could see it was exceptionally neat, bar a few toys around the living area, plus a half-eaten apple on a plate on the tiny kitchen table next to paper with drawings, opposite two thick law-textbooks and study notes. In the centre of the table was a green pot with several thick strappy leaves and a long stem emerging from the centre, adorned with multiple flowers with wide pink petals, and Annabelle uttered, "Phalaenopsis."

Candice frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Your orchid is a species of Phalaenopsis. It's beautiful."

"Oh, this, my boss gave it to me."

"I really like it," Annabelle smiled. Candice closed the door and moved into the room with Leilani, but said nothing, and Annabelle decided to address her concerns as best she could. Which wasn't good enough. "I understand the increase is considerable."

"Fifty dollars a week is too much. I'll have to pick up extra shifts at work but then I'll have to put Lani in extra days at childcare, which costs a fortune and will probably take up what I earn, and I'll have to drop some classes at uni."

Or she'll go without, Annabelle thought. Food, clothes, petrol if she has a car...

And the rent the new landlord was asking was too excessive for a two bedroom unit in this area. Once upon a time, back when she'd worked in the industry for a while, she'd tell the tenant their options are to either accept the increased rent if they wanted to renew the lease, or let her know if they planned on vacating the premises at the end of lease. Sometimes she'd offer the tenant help finding a new rental in their price range if they couldn't afford to stay, but most liked to stay and would take the hit of increased rent.

Annabelle smiled, trying to appear approachable and friendly, but aware she was the barer of bad news. "I've read your notes which say you're a good tenant for the past two years, so perhaps I can speak with my boss and see if we can negotiate a smaller rental increase with the landlord. After all, it's in their best interests to keep tenants with excellent rental records in their property."

Candice raised her eyebrows. "You could ask the landlord?"

"I can try but I can't guarantee anything. They'll likely still want to increase the rent though."

She could see Candice thinking, while Leilani still stared up at her with saucer-like eyes. Moments later Candice said, "If you could do this for me, I'd appreciate it. It's not easy, you know, trying to raise a kid on my own while working and getting an education."

"Tell me about it," Annabelle said, almost sighing. "I'll get back to you as soon as possible, but first I need to take a few pictures and will get going."

"Of course."

Annabelle logged into the tablet and opened the application allowing her to photograph the interior of the unit and make notes. Everything was neat and tidy as far as she could tell, and the few toys or children's clothes scattered around were there because the unit was lived in. Soon she was smiling at Candice, telling her, "I'm done and everything looks good. When I get back to the office I'll try and speak with my manager about the rent increase and I'll keep you informed."

Candice pursed her lips and gave a nod of sorts. "Thank you, I appreciate it."

She didn't sound appreciative, but Annabelle knew Candice would be worried and not expect much or anything from her. It was the way of the tenant to be fucked over by the landlord and real estate agency. She smiled again, hoping she'd reassure the young woman and then gave Leilani a smile too. "Goodbye, Leilani."

Leilani smiled now and waved, saying, "Goodbye, smiley lady."

This made Annabelle smile even more, and Candice smiled too. Perhaps it was genuine?

She left the unit, down the stairs and out across the concrete to her car, noting the ibis standing on the rubbish bins near the driver's side.

"Shoo!" she said, waving her arms when she approached, and the bird took off over the car, lightening its take-off weight by defecating sloppy green and white bird shit across the driver's door and window. "Ah, shit..."

She noticed the shit covered the Top Notch Reality logo on the door, giving her a chuckle. But there was no time to deal with it now. Over the next two hours Annabelle drove about, making routine inspections of other rentals in the area, all the while the bird shit hardened in the heat of the day.

She finished her inspections, where some tenants were home, others were out. Most units or houses were kept in neat order, while a few were in disarray, as if they'd never received the inspection notice. Indeed, one tenant claimed this very excuse, despite all tenants being notified by both email and text message. Another simply didn't care, arguing it was the way of the dwelling, to be lived in, not be a show-room. They were partly correct, where Annabelle ignored mess if it was clothes on the floor or children's toys, or even dirty dishes in the sink. But at the end of the day the inspections were to ensure the landlord's property was being looked after, and if kitchens were dirty with grease staining stove tops and splashbacks, or bathrooms were mouldy, or yards un-mown and over-grown, she'd inform the tenant of their obligations. Most took it well and didn't want to rock the boat.

And no one argued about the rent, except for Candice, the young Kiwi woman who Annabelle couldn't get out of her mind. She thought of Candice's daughter, Leilani, and felt bad because Candice was a single mother and single mother's needed a break, not additional stress and pressure.

"Shit!" She whispered, remembering she was supposed to phone Lynda Rutledge, the principal of Dendrobium State High School, regarding Isaac's misdemeanour. She did and Lynda's assistant made her wait for fifteen minutes, where Annabelle recalled how she'd earlier sworn aloud to herself about the aggressive driver, and how Lynda thought the language was directed at her.

This made Annabelle chuckle, because she couldn't wait to tell her friend, Louise. The context of her swearing about a crazy driver while her son's school principal informed her how Isaac was in trouble for swearing at a teacher was funny, in some way anyhow.

Lynda answered, sounding business like as before, a hint of displeasure, and Annabelle was glad the woman couldn't see her smirk because she felt the rebellious streak stir within when someone attempted to assert authority with her. The rebellious streak she'd once suppressed for love, then survival. Her smirk disappeared when she asked Lynda if they could set up a Zoom meeting, but Lynda said the issue was important enough to meet in person, despite Covid restrictions.

Annabelle's heart thumped and she felt a pang of nausea in her stomach, wondering if Isaac's behaviour was as bad as Lynda made out. Nevertheless, she maintained her composure and they agreed to meet at four in the afternoon, where Annabelle knew she'd have to ask to leave work early for the day. The whole situation sucked balls, and the weight of reality began to weigh on her shoulders.

By the time the conversation was over she'd arrived at Top Notch Realty and parked near her boss' BMW and Porsche SUVs, hoping if either came out they'd not see the dried bird poo over the side of the Polo.

~0~

Zara smiled and handed the gift pack consisting of a bottle of mid-ranged sparkling Cuvée Brut with cheese and crackers, and most importantly, the keys of the property to the new owners, two professional men by all appearances, wearing expensive suits. One took out the bottle of bubbly and grinned at his partner, saying, "We'll put this in the fridge right away."

Annabelle held her coffee and stood beside Olivia, the office receptionist, both women watching the happy couple thanking Zara. When they finally left, Zara turned to Annabelle and Olivia and said, "One-point-three million for a four bedroom, two bathroom house on eight-hundred square metres in a blue ribbon suburb. That's one-fifty grand over the vendor's minimum."

Olivia whistled and said, "Great one, Zara."

"Congratulations," Annabelle said, smiling, supressing the light feeling of envy growing inside. She should be selling properties but here she was managing rentals, still on the periphery of the industry after too many years. She gathered her wits and said, "Zara?"

"Yes, Annabelle?"

"Can I see you for a moment? About one of the properties I'm managing."

"Issue with a tenant?"

"Sort of. More a rental increase issue."

"Tenant won't pay?"

"Can't pay."

"They can all pay, Annabelle, you know this. Otherwise they can break lease and find somewhere else."

Annabelle shook her head. "Can I talk to you in your office, please?"