"Michael Okeke," the real estate agent introduced themselves, rising from a velvet sofa.
Jackie shook their hand. Their rich purple suit clashed terribly with the yellow and sierra decor of the coffee shop.
"Call me Jocelyn," she said. "Everyone does. Except for my pupils, of course," she added; and the agent laughed. "My preferred pronouns are she/her," Jackie added.
"He/him." Michael pressed his hand to his chest in a charming flamboyant gesture. Jackie noticed subtle, stylish pink varnish on his nails. "Except when I perform. Then it's Solo, she/her."
"Pleasure to meet you." Jackie said. "I'm seeing your performance in a fortnight, actually. I've got an email from one of my former pupils, Oliver Pemberton. We'll be working together now. He invited me for 'a night of debauchery' at your club - his words, not mine."
Michael burst into jolly chortles. "Pleasure is all mine. And watch out! Oliver Pemberton is one of the most boring queer folk here in Fleckney. If you aren't careful, your night of debauchery will consist of virgin margaritas and bedtime at ten o'clock the latest."
"The horror!" Jackie gasped; and they laughed together.
"Shall we take our beverages to go, and find you your home?" the agent asked, and Jackie nodded.
***
An hour and a half later they climbed back into the agent's Volkswagen, which reminded Jackie of a rose chafer beetle thanks to its stunning emerald colour.
"Well, that wasn't good," Michael grumbled, jerked the sun visor, and checked his eyeliner. "I'll have to take this listing off our site. Talk of bloody puffery! I'm sorry, I truly thought this would be the one. But worry not! We still have a few apartments to check."
Jackie sighed. "Are you sure none of those cottages from your list are for sale? Those smaller ones, in Fleckney Fields? I really can't afford anything bigger; and they were so lovely! I just properly don't want to rent."
"I'm sorry, Jocelyn," the agent answered, starting the engine. "They belong to Rhys Holyoake. The man doesn't budge. He doesn't sell, and that's the end of it."
Jackie nodded morosely.
"How about we grab a bite to eat? What do you say?" Michael cajoled in a lilting voice. "We need sugar and carbs, love. It'll make us feel better."
Jackie snorted. "Now you're talking. Indian?"
"God, yes."
They had to walk quite a distance from the car park. Jackie tried not to gawk too much and to listen to what the agent was telling her; but her neck was starting to develop a kink: there were so many exciting shops and spots to see!
"Jocelyn, have I lost you to a haberdashery?" Michael asked, snickering.
"Oh, sorry! What were you saying?" Jackie whipped her head and grimaced apologetically. "I'm sorry! It's just that so many things are still the same; and the new ones are so exciting! I remember this florist's place from twelve years ago. And that hobby shop! But that café is new. And that bakery!"
"You should subscribe to The Fleckney Gazette," the agent advised. "There's a digital version. We encourage everyone to go paperless. I also suggest the package with a cultural newsletter that the vicar's wife is running. She's also in charge of our social media, another excellent source of news and updates."
"I definitely will," Jackie said earnestly - and cringed internally.
She doubted she'd be interested in any content that a clergyman's spouse could post. Conveniently 'forgetting' about the agent's advice wouldn't work either. She didn't need yet another nagging source of guilt, no matter how small.
"Where are you staying now?" Michael asked, as they headed towards the central square.
"Chestnut Manor," Jackie answered.
"It's a B&B! Darling, no!" the agent exclaimed and fanned his hands in the air, his second vocation rearing its glamorous head. "It's the least budget-friendly option possible! How long have you been in Fleckney?"
"Three days," Jackie answered, entertained by the man's immediate eye-roll.
"This simply won't do! You're paying through the nose, love! And you still have to eat out or order take-away. You need a rental ASAP. And if we don't find anything today, I'm moving you into an Airbnb!" The agent huffed an annoyed exhale. "No client of mine is getting subjected to this daylight robbery!"
"Mrs. Mair! Mrs. Mair!"
Jackie whipped her head in the direction of the voice. She, of course, recognised the person right away.
"Oh my god, you're Mrs. Mair! I knew it was you!"
"Ikmeet Kaur, right?" Jackie asked, admittedly knowing the answer.
"Yes, I am! Wow, you are here! I can't believe it!" The young woman was as much as bouncing in front of Jackie. "You haven't changed much! Well, except for the hair, of course."
Jackie's hand unconsciously flew up to the white strands above her forehead.
"Are you going to be a teacher in the Comprehensive again?" Ikmeet asked excitedly. "My younger brother is in Year 7. That would be brilliant! You were always our favourite!"
"I am coming back to the Comprehensive," Jackie said softly.
They'd finalised the paperwork a week prior; but the official announcement hadn't been made yet.
"Oh that's awesome!" Ikmeet squealed. "I can't wait to tell my parents! They remember you too! Like that time when you took us on the trip to London! And I mean, I never would've gotten my A levels if not for you!"
After chatting with the girl for a few more minutes, Jackie finally said her goodbyes and followed Michael to a small cosy café.
"You're a big deal, aren't you?" he asked, taking a seat in a booth.
"I'm really not," Jackie answered with a chuckle. "But according to Mrs. Dyre– Mrs. Guthrie, I've been 'chosen by Fleckney.'"
The agent guffawed. "Ah, yes, the good old 'Fleckney chooses.' You'll be in good company. The doctors in the local surgery, the vicar's wife, the bookshop owner, the Mayor's brother-in-law? They are all 'foreigners' who have been benevolently taken to Fleckney's bosom."
When a waiter came to take their order, Jackie was still laughing.
***
After lunch they looked at a few more listings, but none of them matched Jackie's requirements. They parted their ways on the village green, in the centre of Fleckney Woulds.
"We're meeting up first thing tomorrow!" Michael decisively chopped the air with his hand. "I'll revise the list of potential rentals, and I'll contact the Holyoake firm. I might name-drop the Oakbies. And also, you need somewhere to stay starting tomorrow night. No way I'm letting Mrs. Grave leech your money away. B&B's are for tourists who don't know better. Alright, darling?"
When he sauntered away from her, towards where his car was parked; Jackie released a long exhale through her rounded lips and looked around for a place to lower her backside. Even in her favourite trainers, her feet ached.
It seemed that her options were: some sort of a juice bar, with a happy carrot on its sign; a coffee shop and a bakery; and an ice cream parlour. Her choice was an obvious one.
She pushed the door open, following a small flock of teenagers inside - and froze, staring around her. Inside, the shop looked like an amusement park imploded into itself. The walls were decorated with paintings of magical creatures and landmarks from all around the world. In the centre of the ground floor, there was a circular counter, with two shop assistants dashing behind it, serving two queues of customers. The tables were on the first floor, on the mezzanine. To get there one could take one of two spiral staircases in the corners of the shop.
And above it all, the empty space above the central counter was filled with moving toy aeroplanes and hot air balloons; and trains, busily chugging around, on an intricate web of suspended rail tracks; as well as papier-mâché monsters and characters. Under the ceiling of the first floor, everything moved, fluttered, spun, and soared. She dropped her head back, her gaze jumping from one detail to another.
"Welcome to Sugar Cloud, a.k.a. The World of Ice Cream," a young person near her greeted her. "The menu is above the counter, or you can scan the QR code on any of the banners. Please proceed to the queue on your right."
The shop assistant made an inviting gesture towards the aforementioned banner to their right. It had a picture of a mouth-watering ice lolly - except, it was probably some sort of an exotic treat from somewhere far away, decorated with rose petals and pistachio nuts.
Jackie muttered a 'thank you' and obeyed, her eyes roaming the menu above the counter. She couldn't imagine how anyone was able to make a choice here! All her senses were in overdrive. The smells of fruit, and spices, and cream, and lemon zest flooded her nose. One of the freezers in the counter was filled with gelato: about two dozen massive tanks of ice cream, with little Italian flags stuck into each. One of the shop assistants behind the counter was working on the next customer's order, and currently they resembled a candy pulling machine. They stretched and folded a dollop of ice cream between two spatulas, one in each hand.
She felt a presence next to her - and just before she turned to see who it was, she heard a deep, coarse baritone.
"Hello, Jackie."