Nice

‘Let’s go in, shall we?’ said Geoff.
Mr and Mrs Gough followed Geoff inside the house with their teenage daughter.
‘This is nice,’ said Mrs Gough as she entered the hallway, breathing in the plastic scent of the new carpet.
‘Yes, I like this,’ said Mr Gough.
Geoff said nothing.
They went through to the living room.
‘Oh, this is nice,’ said Mrs Gough.
Geoff grimaced uncomfortably. How he hated the word ‘nice’.
‘Very nice,’ said Mr Gough, moving towards the fireplace.
‘I like the garden,’ said Jo, their daughter, standing at the back window. ‘It’s like, really nice.’
Geoff looked away to stifle a woeful expression of disapproval. His second least favourite word was ‘like’.
They poked their head into the small study off the hallway and then went through to the kitchen, saying only ‘ummm’ quietly.
The general layout and the fittings received three ‘nices’ and four ‘likes’ from the Goughs, so they moved upstairs.
‘Oh, I do like this, David,’ said Mrs Gough to her husband as they reached the landing.
‘Very nice indeed,’ agreed Mr Gough.
They went into the master bedroom first.
‘Oh yes, this is nice,’ said Mrs Gough.
‘It’s got a nice feel to it,’ said Mr Gough.
The Goughs noticed the en-suite bathroom and walked across the room towards it silently.
Geoff stood where he was.
‘Go on then, say it, you fuckin’ pricks,’ he muttered under his breath as they went in.
‘Ooh, David,’ said Mrs Gough, her voice resonating from the tiled walls. ‘This is nice.’
‘Fuckin’ twat,’ muttered Geoff. The bones in his hands tightened and a surge of bloody hatred swept into his brain.
‘I like the tiling,’ said Mrs Gough.
‘The bath’s a nice size, too,’ said Mr Gough.
Jo didn’t say anything.
Mrs Gough came out of the bathroom first and looked at Geoff.
‘We like the bathroom,’ she said with an excited titter.
‘Good,’ replied Geoff, smiling as if to a reviled relative.
They returned to the landing and Geoff led the Goughs to what would be Jo’s room.
‘This is nice,’ said Mrs Gough. ‘What do you think, Jo?’
‘It’s like, nice, but it’s a bit small,’ she replied.
Geoff went over to the far wall and tapped it. ‘This is only a partition wall. On the other side, there’s a box-room, so if you were to take the wall down, it would make this a very good sized double.’
Mr and Mrs Gough looked at each other and nodded.
‘Let’s go and have a look at the box-room,’ said Mr Gough, stifling a mechanical laugh with a cough.
As the Goughs squeezed into the box-room, Geoff waited on the landing.
‘I like your thinking, Geoff,’ said Mr Gough.
They all walked downstairs in silence, which led Geoff to believe that the Goughs might be quietly interested.
Stood in the hallway, he decided to weight in with the numbers.
The Goughs seemed keen enough and Geoff had nothing to lose, being an estate agent.
‘It’s on at two-fifty but I think an offer of two-thirty would be acceptable in the current climate,’ said Geoff.
‘That’s nice,’ said Mrs Gough, looking into her husband’s face.
‘It’s a good price for a solid house,’ added Geoff.
Geoff could hear Mr Gough playing with his keys in his pocket and saw the disinterest on his face, which was a sure sign that the Goughs weren’t interested in buying this house or any other for that matter.
As is the preserve of the mortgaged lower classes, the Goughs were here on a sightseeing snooparound. Perhaps Mrs Gough would get an idea for a new colour. Mr Gough might see a nice set of taps that he liked the look of. Either way, they’d probably booked a few other appointments with other agents for the afternoon.
‘So, if it ticks all the boxes,’ said Geoff, ‘would you like to make an offer?’
Mr Gough looked up as if he’d been insulted.
‘We'll go away and have a think about it, won't we, David. We’ve got a few more to see this afternoon as well.’
Geoff showed the Goughs out and thanked them for visiting as he approached his car.
The Goughs waved him away disrespectfully as they piled into their air-freshened Vectra.
Once in his own car, Geoff called up his friend, Terry, to ask a favour.
‘It’s number 3 Rosedale Gardens. They’re out for at least an hour so go and do it now, yeah? I’ll see you at the garage at four.’
The Goughs were in high spirits when they pulled up outside their house. Seeing other properties in their price-bracket had this effect on them. For some strange reason, seeing other houses made them feel important.
Contrary to the affable façade they portrayed to each of the estate agents, whose time they were only too happy to waste, the Goughs would laugh at how servile and courteous the agents had been to them once they were back in their car.
As Mrs Gough made her way to the front door of their pristine home, Mr Gough and his daughter lazily got out of the Vectra.
‘We don’t like estate agents, do we, dear?’ he said to her.
‘No, Dad, we don’t,’ she replied.
Before they had time to laugh, Mrs Gough screamed at the top of her voice from inside the house.
They’d been robbed, and the house had been vandalised very badly indeed.