The Storm Before the Calm: Epilogue

I don’t intend to out anyone; that was not the purpose of my story. If it were, I would have probably tried to contact someone like Mark Laurence Zammit or Mark Camilleri so that I could maybe utilize a bigger platform. No, I don’t have the energy for that, nor do I want to be in some public spotlight. I also don’t feel like exposing myself to a potential libel case. Developers truly are the cowboys of our time and you wouldn’t dare want to go under their skin unless you’re ready to get in the ring and fight. It’s sad, really – I have to protect him to protect myself. 

 

A few of the chapters were easy to roll out – I’d do two or three at a time and schedule them to be published periodically. Others really took a toll on me. I had to dig through old photos, paperwork and messages to relive some pretty harsh moments. It would take me anywhere from 3 to 5 days just to finish a one-pager and it would dampen my mood for a whole week. I needed to do it though, something inside of me was driving me to do it, and once I started there was no turning back. I thought it would be therapeutic, but it wasn’t. Even as I sit here typing this, I don’t feel any relief that I don’t have to write about it anymore. I’m disappointed that we had to go through it in the first place to get to where we are today.

 

The property market can eat you alive if you’re new to it and you’re too naïve. Banks will gloss it over to market their home loan products. Real estate agents will promote listings as dream homes which are not to be missed. It is so, so much more complicated when you’re just an average citizen trying to set up the next phase of his life. The various articles I shared are a testament to that. Our story is a testament to that.

 

I wish I could conclude with a “chin up” message, or say look on the bright side, but I can’t. Though our story had a happy ending, I sometimes see it more as one of a sad beginning. The mental price I paid almost made it a Pyrrhic victory. It shouldn’t have to be so hard for someone to own the roof over their head, but it is, and there are no signs of that changing anytime soon.

 

Keep your feet on the ground, and if you are going to put your trust in someone, do your due diligence and make sure they check out. Avoid listings on plan. Leave your deposit with a reputable notary and with no one else; stand your ground and don’t waste your time with anything else. It’s not worth it. Take your time for certain key decisions, act swiftly for others. Trust your gut.

 

Above all, don’t worry about hoping for the best. Just hope you can avoid the worst.

The Storm Before the Calm: Chapter 21

Picture an innocent dog going through physical abuse from his vicious owner. Yes, yes, a sad scenario. Now imagine said dog being rescued and placed in a safe environment. Much better, no? Well, the dog is now surrounded by loving, caring people, but whenever someone tries to approach him, the poor pup cowers in a corner. If you try pet him, he’ll flinch. There’s a lot of doing that needs to be undone before a new family can adopt him.

 

As was with the case before – as is with any case – there were a lot of formalities we had to go through to sign the final contract. Bank sanction letter, permits, insurances, medicals, etc. Looking back at it now, there were some obstacles, bureaucracy and red tape, but there was nothing that couldn’t be managed. We were introduced to a lot of people along the way who helped us beat each small deadline until the big day. Joseph, the architect, the bank, the sellers themselves – all of them were helpful, understanding, and basically pulling the same end of the rope. That’s the way it should be, shouldn’t it?

 

Had we not gone through what we did before, there would have been nothing more to say about it. But we did go through what we did, and now every small hiccup we began to encounter drove me into full blown panic mode. If something unexpected cropped up, I’d say This is it, it’s happening again. We’re going to lose this place too. My mind was a Category 5 hurricane. We had a promise of sale in hand, sure, but what does it matter? We had one the first time too. There was no sense of security. All it took was one requirement we couldn’t fulfil, and we’d be back to square one.

 

Fits of rage, bouts of depression, tormented with worry. Screaming at the top of my lungs alone in my car, crying myself to sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. How he could go back to what I imagine was a very nice house every night, while we continued to struggle with uncertainty. It wasn’t fair. I wished I could see his name on the news. I wanted justice. I wanted closure. I could be going about with my day and all it would take was a minute of intrusive thoughts to take me back to a mere few weeks ago. I was just. so. angry.

 

I could no longer drive up that road. Or down it. Or near it. I physically couldn’t. I couldn’t bear the thought of learning that the construction was picking up pace now that we were out of the picture. Then a big crane was set up. You could see it from Nadur. From Qala. It’s ok, there was plenty of activity going on in that area, it could have been another house. But I wouldn’t know, I wasn’t going to check for myself.

 

Why should I care? I have something else now, something better. No, I don’t have anything. Do I have a set of keys in my hand? Of course not. But these were good people now. Yes, but they still have their own interests to protect if something goes haywire. True, but they’re not the type to do something behind our backs. Why would they? They were kind, genuine, no salesman bullshit. And anyway you were dealing with the middleman. Yes, but- Jesus Christ, I’m turning into Gollum.

 

Some loan requirements took minutes to fulfil, others days, a few took weeks. Each one was like an uphill battle and it was wearing me down. It was tiring me out because each one weighed double with paranoia. Without the fear, they would have been inconveniences, annoyances. But I was on high alert mode all the time. All the time. It felt like everything and everyone was trying to stop us. We learned of more people who had been trying to buy it too but were too late. Someone is going to try sabotage everything at the eleventh hour, you’ll see. I was yearning to leave the bank on contract day with that same rush of ecstasy I had six months prior. Now it started to feel like I just might get out of there with apathy.

 

What I found uplifting was the following up from the sellers’ end. They were checking to see when the day of the contract would be. They wanted this as much as we did, and I made sure to be as transparent with them as I could. Every box we ticked, I updated them. Progress, progress, progress. The six months began to wind down and – déjà vu – we needed to do a small extension. Only a few days, so that the notary could finalise his searches. It’s ok, it’s fine. This isn’t like before. It’s just a few more days.

 

The booking of the appointment – the day, time, place, everything – rejuvenated me. We took the day off from work, dropped the girls off at school, had a coffee and a breakfast bagel from Hog. That was one of the best bagels of my life.

 

Two hours later, just like that, in a very straightforward fashion, we put pen to paper. The keys were handed over and we drove down to dangle them in front of the door and take pictures. The old cliché. I don’t care. We deserved that soppy moment. We deserved so much more than that soppy moment. But it was OUR moment. We entered the property battlefield three years ago, and we came out the other side, broken, battered, but victorious. We did it. It was the end of the beginning.

 

We did it.

The Storm Before the Calm: Chapter 20

That same Saturday evening, we messaged the real estate agent. It was still available, and we could go see it the following day if we wanted. It would be the third time that we’d set up an appointment with him, but the first time we made damn sure we’d actually remember and be there. I can’t say I slept any easier that night, but at least my mind was too overwhelmed to focus on the despair of the previous days.

 

And on Sunday, we walked through the front door again. Amidst all the tools and rubble strewn everywhere. But now, this time, all I could see was potential. It wasn’t one big mess, it was a collection of small tasks that could be tackled one by one, in any manner we wanted to. The owners had done all the dirty work and opened up the layout. It was a blank canvas.

 

A sense of urgency – just like I had two years ago – came over me again. How soon can we sign? He called the owners. He called the notary (on a Sunday, no less). Tomorrow. Tomorrow?? Yes, tomorrow.

 

Joseph Buttigieg of Better Homes Gozo, you are a star.

 

And so tomorrow came, we met the owners, wonderful people, and we left the notary’s office with a feeling of ecstasy I had not felt in years.

 

Four days. Ninety-six hours. That’s all it took to go from the bottom of the emotion barrel back to the overflowing top. From utter darkness to blinding light. If that’s not a hustle story, then I don’t know what is.

 

And we had to hustle – we were told that someone else was going to make an offer of their own that very same day. It goes to show that there are times when it is appropriate to take it slow and steady, and there are times where there isn’t a moment to lose. Those close to you might try with their best of intentions to direct you one way when you ought to go the other. Stick with your gut feeling.

 

Too much had happened in four days to properly process everything there and then. Now that the dust could settle, we were in a position to march on and never look back. I would have liked that.

The Storm Before the Calm: Chapter 19

It only took an hour or so for that morning’s adrenaline to wash away and be replaced by bleak emptiness, as reality set in. We had another viewing that afternoon, and while we waited for the agent we mostly sat out on the pavement in sombre silence.

 

There was an elderly gentleman sitting in his open garage nearby, and we struck a conversation with him while we waited. He was working on some traditional fishing baskets while listening to some oldies on a black dusty radio. Man, what I would do to reach that level of serenity and simplicity. Without going into too much detail, we told him how difficult it was to find something nice these days. Before making our way he wished us luck and continued whistling to his 80s tunes. It was enough to draw half a smile from me.

 

The listing really was a nice one. Fully furnished, very modern, ready to move into. It was perfect – if you were a bachelor or a couple not planning to have kids. Sure, you could put up a wall or two to divide a room, but then you’re just turning spacious areas into cells. Why does everywhere and everything feel so small?

 

Sometimes I begin to question my own sanity. Surely it can’t just be me asking these questions? Properties are becoming smaller and smaller aren’t they? You go to blocks of flats, and everyone has shoe racks outside their doors, in the common area. When did this become universally accepted?

 

No, I’m not insane. This very recent article proves it. This one too.

 

Now, you might ask me – what’s the rush? It’s been 48 hours since you realised you have to seek something new. Take it easy, take your time.

 

Well, it might have been “official” for only 2 days. But we’ve been in limbo for many months, from having little direction, to now having no direction. And we did our research. We know what’s out there, and there’s not much to go by.

 

We know what’s out there. There’s… well, there’s this quaint little house. A bit old, nothing flashy – after all, we did forget to go see it before when we were supposed to. Twice. It requires a lot of work – is it a lot? I mean, it’s not impossible to deal with. It has a nice, square-ish layout.

The Storm Before the Calm: Chapter 18

Right there and then I had to call him up, 24 hours after that fateful encounter, in front of the bank teller. I felt like Oliver Twist again.

 

He was monotone but cordial. No problem to prepare a new cheque and collect it that very same day, if I went to Malta, or otherwise I’d have to wait a couple more days.  I wasn’t quite sure what to do at that moment in time, as we had viewings lined up for right after the bank, so we agreed that I’ll call him back.

 

The viewings themselves felt like a sad attempt at a quick relationship rebound. Nothing was close to stirring us, and the element of compromise would have been too much. The agents we met promised to look into more listings and get back to us as soon as possible.

 

It was well after 10am when I decided to make a dash for Malta and try to make it back to the bank before closing time. A quick call and we agreed to meet at Ċirkewwa so that I could hop back on the same ferry. I had to suck it up; it was the quickest way to clear this mess and start afresh once and for all. The trip there was the longest half-hour of my life.

 

For once, he was the one waiting, not I. That was a relief as literally every second counted. There was barely any eye contact but still a level of cordialness. I returned the invalid cheque, he gave me the new one, and that was the last time I ever saw him or spoke to him.

 

The return trip was agonising. I kept mapping out the different scenarios in my mind, each depending on how many seconds it took for the ferry to berth, for me to reach the car, to reach Victoria, etc. Why is it taking so long for the people to disembark? Come on. I sprinted down the stairs ahead of everyone, past the taxis, found the car, and away we went. 15 minutes to closing time.

 

Gozo is much better than Malta in terms of traffic, everyone knows that. But Fortunato Mizzi Street on a Saturday morning? Forget about it. We had barely entered Victoria when I decided it was better to complete the rest of the journey on foot. Move over, Usain Bolt.

 

The bank teller looked at me, dumbfounded. “Yes, I made it there and back. Here’s the cheque”, I sputtered, between gasps for air, dripping with sweat. Well, that’s my exercise for the month sorted.

 

One task down, one to go. To find a home.

The Storm Before the Calm: Chapter 17

There was still a birthday party to attend. We drove there in complete silence. We stayed there on autopilot. I kept face, but I think I muttered a total of maybe 50 words, which was low even for my standards. The kids, completely oblivious to the hell that we were just put through, were enjoying themselves, that’s all that mattered. I was counting off batches of 15 minutes, making through each one. It was a lovely party, it really was. 

 

Some sentences were strung together during the drive back to Gozo that Friday afternoon. I have little memory of what happened thereafter, only that we agreed that we had to go to the bank first thing the next morning to make sure we got our money back as soon as possible. We also got in touch with some agents to set up some viewings. Again.

 

Yes, there was no time to lose. We had to force ourselves to trudge on. We were back to square one, only this time we weren’t in the comfort of our own flat. We were now in a smaller one, paying rent, and we had to limit our searches to Għajnsielem. Well, I say “had” like it’s a bad thing, but by then we had rooted ourselves into the locality and had grown very fond of it. But options were now far less, and we couldn’t spend any time drowning in sorrow.

 

Impressively we managed to line up a few for that following Saturday. But first, the bank. We made our way to the branch and found a representative. We sat down, gave her the cheque and waited for her to tell us that it had been processed. I assumed we’d have to endure a few days before seeing the refund in the account, which just created a fresh warm batch of anxiety for me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to rest easy until I could say all ties with The Developer were fully cut.

 

“Oh dear, I can’t process this cheque.”

 

“…What? Why?”

 

“It wasn’t filled in properly. See, the names need to be written in full. I’m sorry, you’ll have to ask the remitter to issue a new one.”

 

God. Dammit.

The Storm Before the Calm: Chapter 16

One of my golden rules in life is to always arrive 15 minutes early. Punctuality and time management are typically my strengths, albeit more challenging with kids (especially when you completely forget an appointment altogether). I wish I wouldn’t obsess so much about it though. Most people are so relaxed about arriving a few minutes late. Especially when they have nothing to lose.

 

I had already gone through my coffee when he arrived. No niceties were exchanged; that ship had sailed halfway across the universe by then.

 

He started off with an unimpressive monologue about how he had studied law, knew his rights, etc. Nothing material so I zoned out until he decided to get to the point. In hindsight, he would have made a great politician with his skillset. Smooth talker? Check. Ongoing rambling about his accomplishments? Check. Lying in your face? Incoming.

 

What started as an agreement the evening before to receive full reimbursement for all associated costs turned into paying nothing more than what was directly associated with the selling price. No notary fees, no architect fees, nothing. A complete denial of agreeing to that. Despite showing him the message to his face. Continuous rebuttal.

 

I had walked into that meeting ready to cut all ties civilly and have him disappear into the horizon forever. Now I was caught off guard and frantically checking the time to see if there was still a chance to take the offensive and call our lawyer so he could make his way to the courts. In the midst of that he went into some other monologue, but this time a vital piece of information came up.

 

Last extension we did was at the end of September. 30^th September. For six months. That’s up to March. The end of March. The end of it? Wait, March has 31 days, today’s the 31^st.

 

 

Oh no. Oh no.

 

 

If there ever was an opportunity for someone to smile as smugly as Tim Curry did in Home Alone 2 when the credit card was listed as stolen (followed by the Grinch giving off the same smile), now was it. And we were on the receiving end.

 

I felt the colour drain from my face. How did I overlook this? This small, teeny tiny, miniscule, very RELEVANT detail, which made it so much easier for him than he could have even hoped for. In the end, that’s all it took. Him to ignore our calls for an afternoon the day before – the actual deadline day – and it would be too late for us to do anything. I walked right into it. For almost 24 hours I was missing the queen on the chessboard without even knowing. Checkmate.

 

Very calmly he wrote us a cheque for whatever we had given him. “Here, as you can see I didn’t spend any of your money. If there are 10 decent developers on the island I’m one of them!”

 

The parting words that followed were futile. Nothing we could say could change the outcome, and yet the victim act continued until the very end, until he was no longer in view, no longer audible, as I walked away, dejected, defeated, completely shattered.

The Storm Before the Calm: Chapter 15

Keeping up appearances for your kids is so hard. So, so hard. You know like how in the movies they show a mother receiving some form of bad news, then her kid comes up from behind so she quickly wipes away her tears and smiles like everything is fine? That’s not one of those unrealistic clichés. You just have to be a parent, and then it’s a matter of when, not if, it will happen to you.

 

A day in Malta was still on the books, with the drive there that very same evening. Everything was packed, it was starting to get dark, so off we went.

 

We were already in contact with a lawyer we knew. Poor chap, receiving a call after-hours on the eve of a public holiday. But we had no time to waste to know our options; the extension was set to expire in just over 24 hours.

 

And then, he called.

 

We had already disembarked the ferry but we were still in the middle of a long drive in the mainland, in the dark. And all appearances were thrown out the window. Thank goodness they were half-asleep, half-absorbed with their tablet, because the insults we threw at him before he could say anything would have made Samuel Jackson wet himself. It wasn’t our finest moment, but could you blame us? We were hard done, and I was at the “angry” section of the emotional rollercoaster.

 

As bluntly as one can be, he offered to give us back what we paid him. No explanation for his act of cowardice, nothing. Fine; we hung up so we could regroup and look at our next moves once we reached our destination and the girls were asleep.

 

10pm, and we’re on a call with the poor lawyer. We could file an injunction letter prior to next day’s close-of-business to force the sale, but it would need to be before noon and at an extra fee since it was a public holiday when the courts were closed. Lucky us.

 

I got back to him, telling him that we were willing to meet the following morning without legal action if he was ready to reimburse not just what we paid him, but also all notary, architect and related expenses.

 

He did not object; we agreed on a time and place for the following day for the final showdown.

The Storm Before the Calm: Chapter 14

I don’t really remember much from the meeting. I was basically on autopilot, numb with anxiety, trying to keep a straight face.

 

In the meantime, Connie took matters into her own hands. I guess he was caught off guard, maybe he didn’t recognise the number, but she called him up and told him she’ll be at the location in minutes to collect the extension from him.

 

And when the meeting was done, she was there alright, still waiting in the car, in the heat, with the kids in tow. What a miserable situation to be put in. I rushed there as soon as I could to switch places.

 

“He’s not coming, you’ll see.”

 

I would not believe it. So I called, no answer. I waited. Called again. Still no answer. Waited some more. Messaged him.

 

“What’s going on, where are you? This is very unprofessional.”

 

Nothing.

Countless unanswered calls.

I began to lose it. My vision became blurry as I gazed over the empty, dug up plot, like someone whose girlfriend just broke up with him with no remorse and simply walked away. This isn’t happening. Why is this happening?

 

And just like that, the grip slipped, and there was nothing left to cling on to. I was staring at something which I wanted for so long, which was right in front of me, which was no longer going to be mine.

A Remnant of the Past

The most peculiar feature of the house is probably the awkward border line at the back. Lots of small straight lines and one big curve randomly tossed in, a contrast to the rest of the square-ish layout.

 

It was silly of me to not notice sooner – in fact it was a visiting contractor who pointed it out – that the curve is there for a reason. When working your way towards the roof one gets a more of a bird’s eye view of the structure. It is a remnant of something that was there before the house.

Whatever it was, the remains were used as a makeshift corner for the border of the property. Standing almost two floors high, it is in fact higher than the rest of the border wall.

I have no idea what it was, but obviously it was something round, like a mill or a small tower of some sort. Whatever it was though drove me to do a bit of research to see if I could find something conclusive. I began looking for historical photos of Għajnsielem online, particularly aerial shots of the village square and its surrounding areas.

 

The current parish church took decades to complete, but there are a handful of photos of its construction in the 1950s and 1960s, which show a completely different backdrop to the many residences that stand today.

 

A search in one Facebook group yielded this result:

The building in the right-hand side of the picture (the one with the white half-oval-shaped area next to it) appears to be the church, prior to completion, without its trademark gothic steeple. Looking at the angles, trying to judge the closest possible spot of its location, I noticed a small standalone and round structure (which I’ve zoomed in to and circled in red):

 

I’m not 100% sure it’s it, but it’s the best lead I have so far, from only an hour or so of sifting through some preliminary online searches. Unfortunately, I’ve been incapable of accessing any proper photographic archives, and I don’t know if there are any available in digital format, as otherwise I’d need to check out a library or something.

 

I’m shelving the search for now as we need to focus on the present, hopefully when things settle down I can dig up some more of the past. It is a cool feature though.

 

So long as there are no ghosts to go with it.

 

Boo.

 

The Storm Before the Calm: Chapter 13

29^th March, 2023

 

The plan was to meet up in the afternoon, at around 16.00/17.00. After clocking out from work, I messaged him to see what time we’d be meeting.

 

An hour later, he replies. “The architect could not make it; could we postpone to the following day at around 13.00?”

 

No problem for me, I had a work meeting at 14.30 which was a good excuse for me to not spend too much time around him. Tomorrow at 13.00 it is then.

 

There’s a distant thought in the back of my mind.

 

 

30^th March, 2023

 

It was a Thursday and, with the next day being a public holiday, our plan was to spend it in Malta to attend a kid’s birthday party. The intention was to make the journey in the evening after work and sleep there.

 

Aside from the meeting, I was working from home that day. I’d just wait for him to let me know he arrived so that I could pop out and be back in within a few minutes.

 

At 11.00, I messaged to make sure we’re still ok for later. So far, so good.

 

A couple of hours later, I ask whether I can leave to meet him. It was the agreed time.

 

The reply was quick; he just boarded the ferry to Gozo and will keep me updated.

 

Three minutes before my work meeting, I message him again. He’ll call me shortly.

 

My work meeting starts.

The Storm Before the Calm: Chapter 12

I was shaken to the core. There were a number of parallels I began to draw which started to ring alarm bells. Now, I’m not saying it was the same exact situation. In our case The Developer could at least show that something had started, despite the countless delays. But there were a lot of questions that all of a sudden I didn’t have the answers to. Was it standard practice to take deposits directly, and use them to develop properties? Was it normal to ask for more than the standard 10% deposit? Is it common to indirectly get prospective buyers to finance the building of the property while it is still at promise-of-sale stage?

 

Was our decision to not give him more money the reason for the delays – because he couldn’t actually finance it himself?

 

I never found out the answer to that last question, because I lacked the cojones to ask. I was too scared to know just how thin the ice we were treading on actually was. Instead, I decided to turn a blind eye. It was already hard enough to muster up the courage to request yet another extension, I couldn’t fathom the idea of an interrogation. Zero confrontational skills come with the anxiety and low self-esteem package, I’m afraid.

 

And so, in mid-March, I posed the question, as casually as I could. Same procedure as before; we’ll sign, then he’ll sign and post it to the notary.

 

The phone rings. “Listen, last September I agreed to not get paid something more because of what the situation was, but you know by now that I’m losing money out of this deal. If you want to sign we’ll sign, but I think it’s only fair that now I get the balance of the agreed payment.”

 

Oh boy. Well, I guess the definition of “fair” can be subjective when you lose perspective. By now, months had passed since the original target date. Our rental started to feel more crammed with each passing week. Yep, it wasn’t fair.

 

I believe in honesty and transparency. In subsequent messages, I opened up to him about the article, how it made me worried. I made sure he knew I was not accusing him of being that sort of person – because I genuinely didn’t think he was. But I needed to validate my concerns and him to understand our position. At the same time, I was willing to not leave him empty-handed this time round. I acknowledged that there was some progress with the construction, and that we would remit a small payment. And if the works really started to pick up the pace, we would settle the remaining balance even before signing the contract.

 

We left it at that. He would be coming to Gozo on the 29^th of March with his architect to oversee the works, and while there, he’ll meet up and sign the extension.