I rang the number on the envelope
This is a composite of conversations we have most weeks, written up as one story. Details have been changed. It is a personal account, not mortgage advice.
The short version. After four declines in a fortnight I rang a specialist bad credit mortgage broker in Essex, expecting to be turned down politely. She did not ask about the house. She asked what happened. Two missed payments from 2024 turned out to be the mildest thing on her list rather than the end of the road, my three panic applications mattered but were not fatal, and my 10% deposit narrowed the field without closing it. She told me to stop applying, told me one lender would definitely say no, and refused to promise me a yes. I have not got a mortgage. For the first time since December I know what the next step is.
I rang at twenty to ten on the Tuesday morning.
That was the third attempt. The first two times I got as far as her name on the screen and put the phone face down on the table.
Ridiculous. I’m a grown man with a 10% deposit and I was frightened of a phone call.
But by then I’d had four nos in a fortnight, three of them my own fault, and I honestly thought I was ringing up to be told the same thing in a nicer voice.
Before I rang, I checked whether I was a customer or a search term
Before I rang I did what I’ve done with everybody this month. Checked the register. Then I sat and read the About page on her website properly, start to finish, looking for the catch.
You know the sort of thing I was looking for. The guaranteed approval line. The countdown timer. The bit where you have to hand over your details before anybody will tell you anything.
It wasn’t there.
Then I went and found her page on bad credit mortgages, because there was one question I wanted answered before I spoke to a human being.
Was I an actual customer, or was I just a search term?
I’d worked out by then that a lot of these websites have a bad credit page for the same reason they have a contact form. It’s there because people type it in at 1am, not because anybody behind it knows what to do with you.
Hers listed what she deals with. Defaults. CCJs. Debt management plans. IVAs. Bankruptcy. Low credit scores. Self employed income.
And I read down that list and realised something that should have occurred to me five weeks earlier.
Two missed payments isn’t the hard end of it.
It’s the top of the list. The easy end. I’d spent a month thinking of myself as a lost cause, and in her world I was a Tuesday morning.
Two other things on that site I hadn’t expected, either.
The first is that her name is Angela Little. A Little Mortgage Advice. It’s her surname.
I sat at the kitchen table and actually laughed. First time in a month. There’s something about a business named after a small pun rather than a promise that made me trust it more than any of the banners had.
The second was the one that got me to pick the phone up.
She’d spent her entire career at the two biggest specialist mortgage brokerages in the country before she started her own. Specialist. Meaning the messy end. Meaning people like me, for years, as a full time job.
My banker of 7 years has spent his career selling mortgages to people who don’t have anything on their file. That is not the same skill.
She answered on the second ring
So I rang.
She answered.
Not a menu. Not hold music. Not “your call is important to us”. A person, on the second ring, saying her own name.
After a month of automated declines that on its own nearly finished me off.
I had my five questions written on the back of an envelope in front of me. I’d rehearsed them. I got about halfway through the first one before I realised she wasn’t going to do it in my order.
Because the first thing she asked me wasn’t what house I wanted, or how much I’d saved, or what my score was.
She asked me what happened.
So I told her. The card, the two missed payments in 2024, the Thursday in December, my banker of 7 years, the three applications I fired off that night like an idiot. All of it.
And I waited for the sharp intake of breath.
“You haven’t been refused a mortgage. You’ve been refused by one lender.”
It never came.
She said: “Nothing on here surprises me. Honestly. Nothing. Everybody’s got something.”
Then she said the thing I’ve since repeated to about four different people:
“You haven’t been refused a mortgage. You’ve been refused by one lender. That’s not the same thing.”
I’d spent a month treating my bank’s decision as the industry’s verdict on me.
Turns out it was one company’s opinion, generated by a computer, using rules that company wrote for itself.
Then she went through my five questions properly. Not vaguely. She answered them, and where the answer was bad news she gave me the bad news first.
The three panic applications. They do count against me, and she wanted the exact dates, which I hadn’t thought would matter. Not fatal. But she was clear that the reason she wanted the dates was to work out the right moment to apply, not to make me feel worse about it.
The two missed payments. She agreed with what I’d worked out during my week at the kitchen table. It’s the mildest tier of adverse credit there is, and there are lenders who care far more about the last two years than about 2024. She described the sort of lender she had in mind. I’d never heard of them, which by that point I’d stopped finding surprising.
My 10% deposit. Honest answer: it works with some of them and not others, and more deposit would widen the field. She didn’t pretend 10% was ideal. She didn’t tell me to go away and save for another two years either.
What it costs me. She told me exactly what happens on the money side, and when, before I’d finished asking. No dancing round it. I’d braced myself for a “let’s come back to that” and it didn’t come.
Am I stuck. She said no. Then she said something I wasn’t expecting, which is that the most useful thing I could do that week was nothing at all.
The most useful thing I could do was stop applying
Stop applying. Completely. Every application I make on my own makes the next one harder, and I’ve already burned three.
Then she told me one lender would definitely turn me down, and that we weren’t going to waste a search on them.
That’s the bit that properly landed. Not the encouragement. The fact she was willing to tell me a door was shut. Everything else I’d read in January told me every door was open, which is exactly how I knew none of it was true.
She also said that if she couldn’t help me straight away, she’d tell me exactly what I needed to do so that she could help me later.
Which is a strange thing to say when you’re trying to win somebody’s business.
What she wouldn’t do
She didn’t tell me I’d get a mortgage.
Not once. I asked her twice, in slightly different words, because I badly wanted somebody to just say it.
She wouldn’t. What she said was that she wasn’t going to promise me a yes on a first phone call, but she would tell me exactly what a yes needs.
After a month of guaranteed approvals from strangers, that was the most reassuring thing anybody had said to me.
What happens next
She’s asked for my payslips, my bank statements, and the full credit report I’d already pulled during my week of homework.
That last bit gave me a small and slightly pathetic amount of pleasure. She said most people come to that first call not knowing what’s on their own file, and turning up with it saves a fortnight.
So the research wasn’t wasted. It just wasn’t enough on its own, which is a different thing.
I haven’t got a mortgage.
I want to be careful about that, because I know somebody’s going to read this on their phone in a car park somewhere. I have not been approved. Nothing has been agreed. There’s a real chance this still doesn’t work out.
But it’s the 20th of January, and for the first time since the 14th of December I know what the next step is, who’s doing it, and roughly how long it takes.
I don’t think I’d understood how much of the last month was the not knowing rather than the being declined.
Anyway.
The envelope’s in the recycling.
Twenty minutes up the road, as it turns out. All that time on Google at 1am, and she was twenty minutes up the road.
I’ll let you know what comes back.
Part one: I was declined for a mortgage by the bank I had used for 7 years Part two: How long do missed payments stay on your credit file?
What people ask before they ring
Can I get a mortgage with missed payments on my credit file? Often, yes. A missed or late payment is the mildest form of adverse credit, and many lenders weigh the last two years of conduct far more heavily than older markers. The deciding factors are usually how recent the missed payments are, how many there are, your deposit and your affordability.
Do mortgage brokers help with bad credit? A specialist broker’s value is knowing which lenders’ criteria match your circumstances before an application is made, which avoids the declines that damage your file further. Many lenders who accept adverse credit are intermediary only, meaning they take business through registered brokers rather than directly from the public.
Will speaking to a broker hurt my credit file? An initial conversation about your circumstances does not put a hard search on your file. A formal application does, which is why a broker will usually want to establish the right lender before anything is submitted.
How long should I wait after being declined? There is no fixed waiting period, and waiting is not automatically the answer. What matters is understanding why you were declined and applying next to a lender whose criteria fit. Sometimes that means acting now with a different lender, sometimes it means a few months of preparation first.
Do I have to wait six years for missed payments to drop off? No. Missed payments stay on a credit file for six years from the date they were missed, but plenty of lenders will consider an application well before they expire.
If you’re four nos deep and you’ve stopped opening the emails, this is the conversation. Angela Little is a specialist bad credit mortgage broker in Benfleet, Essex, covering the whole of Essex and beyond. Free quote, no obligation, no pressure to proceed. Start your journey, or ring 01268 387898 and just say what happened.
