The Harpenden Heart-throb with a Squeegee

By half past nine, I’d been offered four cups of tea, two slices of lemon cake and a marriage proposal. The proposal came from a woman in Harpenden who added, ‘Only if you do the upstairs windows as well.’ I told her I’d need to check the diary.

It was turning into one of those mornings when every woman on the round seemed to have fallen in love with me. Whether it was the blue eyes, the charming conversation or simply the fact that I’d arrived when I said I would, I couldn’t possibly say. Naturally, I suspected the conversation.

Kim, who was working a few doors along, had a different theory. ‘They love being able to see out of the kitchen, Nick.’ Alfie nodded with the seriousness of a man receiving important professional advice.

At our first stop, a customer called Rosamund opened the door and announced, ‘There’s my favourite man!’ She waved me towards a cup of tea already waiting on the wall. At the next house, Anita said she’d been looking forward to seeing me all week. At the third, a red heart-shaped balloon was tied to the gate.

‘For you,’ said Beatrice, handing it over with a magnificent wink.

Alfie stared. ‘Should we start carrying autograph cards?’

I attached the balloon to the handle of my pole bag, which proved a mistake. Every time I bent down, it bobbed over my shoulder like an enthusiastic romantic adviser. Kim took one look and asked if we were still cleaning windows or launching my dating agency.

Then the trouble started. Rosamund appeared at her gate with another mug. Anita brought a plate of biscuits. Beatrice came out to ask whether I’d be staying for lunch. Three perfectly lovely women, three generous invitations, and one window cleaner suddenly struggling to remember how to finish a sentence.

‘I’m very flattered,’ I began.

‘He’s blushing,’ Alfie whispered, loudly enough for the entire street.

Behind Beatrice, a quiet gentleman stood in the doorway holding a little bunch of autumn flowers. His name was Lionel, and his face had the expression of someone watching his last bus leave without him. I noticed Beatrice glance back at him, then fuss with the biscuit plate.

Kim noticed too. She gently asked Lionel whether the flowers were for anyone in particular. He admitted they were for Beatrice, but he’d lost his nerve when our little gathering started. They’d been walking to the same community gardening club for months. He wanted to ask her for coffee.

Well, there are moments when even Harpenden’s greatest imaginary heart-throb has to step aside. I untied the balloon and offered it to Lionel. ‘Flowers and a heart,’ I said. ‘You’ve come better prepared than me. I’ve only got a bucket.’

Beatrice’s smile changed completely when he handed them over. She said yes before he’d quite finished asking. Rosamund clapped. Anita declared that she’d been waiting for this since spring. It turned out both of them had been trying to arrange the invitation, and their exaggerated fuss over me had been intended to give Lionel a gentle nudge.

‘So I was the warm-up act?’ I asked.

‘A very handsome one,’ Rosamund said kindly. ‘Now have a biscuit.’

We finished the windows while Lionel and Beatrice made their coffee plans. When we packed away, all three women insisted they still adored me. Kim said that was fair enough, provided nobody expected her to organise a wedding between bookings.

Alfie asked whether the balloon should go on our equipment list. I told him only if he could learn to carry it without getting tangled in the hose.

We drove away to a chorus of cheerful waves, with a new couple smiling at the gate behind us. Perhaps every woman on the round had fallen in love with me that morning. Perhaps they were just kind, funny people who appreciated a clean window. Either way, everybody finished the day with something worth smiling about—and I finished it with enough lemon cake to stop worrying about the difference.