Meanwhile, up the coast, Frankie, recently made redundant from Winona’s office, is dealing with the challenges of her new vocation. With her redundancy payout and a little loan on her little house, yearning to be free of an office in late middle age, she has started up her own business. Everyone who visits her cleverly restored cottage exclaims over the “painted lady” exterior and goes into raptures over the blue sky ceiling, complete with white clouds, in her hallway. So she has hung out her shingle as “Frankie’s Friezes – Stencils, Murals, Paintwork Plus!”
The first wave of clients were disappointing. Friends, or friends of friends, they all expected a “mate’s rate.” Which, now that she sees how much her business overheads are, isn’t very matey. She must be the only person glad about the GST and fuel price increase, it allows her to stand firm on prices. Nobody’s offended, but she hasn’t had a lot of work, either.
Which is how she comes to be standing in a large house in Hataitai. There’s no furniture, but the house is full of the overweening ego and booming voice of its obsessive new owner. Frankie is wondering how much it’s worth to her to be bullied when her mobile rings. For a moment’s respite, knowing it’s rude, she takes the call.
Will she work in the Wairarapa? She supposes so. It’s to add the decorative flillips to a large Edwardian-style house, can that be arranged? It’s her specialty. Is she all right signing a confidentiality agreement?
Frankie raises her eyebrows. Can it be…she’s not sure, but…
When the brief call is done, she turns to the already-difficult client. “I’m ever so sorry. I do believe that was Peter Jackson’s people.”
The client’s mouth loses her frown lines, opening in a perfect O. Frankie could care less about celebrity, but she recognizes that malady in other people, and seizes the day. “If we start here soon, I can still fit you in.”
Tags: celebrity · frankie · real estateNo Comments
0 responses so far ↓