by Anna Jacobs
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. I have a whole house to furnish and not much money, you see, so I’m a bit – anxious.’
‘Marriage broken up?’ the woman asked with a sympathetic look.
‘Something like that.’
‘Some men are bastards, but then some women are too. Me an’ my Fred were lucky to meet, not lucky to stay together. We’ve worked at it.’ She hooked her arm in her husband’s and gave him a loving smile.
Lara couldn’t help feeling a sudden stab of envy at their happiness, but she hoped she hadn’t let it show.
The words stayed with her though. Had she and Guy worked hard enough at their marriage? No. She could see that now. He’d worked every hour of the day at developing his car yard and once the children were off their hands, she’d joined the company and taken projects all over the world. At first a month here and a month there, then longer stints. That was all in the past, so why on earth was she thinking about it now?
She carried on, finding bits and pieces, most of them free or at minimal cost. Twice she went back to get Fred to bring his trailer and collect bookcases and a clunky old TV table too big to fit in her car. Of course she didn’t have a TV yet, but that was beside the point. Five pounds was a good price for this one.
By mid-morning she was tired and the best items seemed to have been snapped up. She decided she’d buy herself a brand new bed; well, she would once she had more of an idea where exactly she stood financially. Surely the police would find John and get at least part of her money back? Or was she fooling herself? They hadn’t phoned her today. Did they work at weekends? Or did thieves have free rein then?
Fred nodded when she told him where she lived. ‘I’ll follow you home and don’t worry if I fall behind. I know where that leisure village is. I play golf there sometimes. Do you play?’
‘No. I’d rather go for walks and enjoy the scenery.’
By the time she got back, Fred had fallen behind. She saw a car parked in front of the next house whose door was propped open. She wondered if it was the owner, but she was too eager to take her smaller loot inside to hang around and introduce herself.
She put the kettle on, sure that Fred would welcome a cup of tea or coffee when he arrived, then she started unloading her car.
She’d tried to find solid pieces which she could rub down and paint white. She wasn’t stupid enough to leave them as they were and call it the shabby chic look, because it was a furnishing fashion she heartily disliked. Fancy deliberately putting scratches on your furniture as one of her colleagues had done! How stupid was that?
Fred arrived and started lugging things inside, sometimes needing her help. She went to help him with the dining table, which was very heavy, and without Fred’s wife, the two of them had trouble getting it off the trailer safely.
‘Let me help,’ a voice said and a man came across from next door to join them.
With his help they got the table inside the house and he went on to help Fred with the other bigger things, so of course she offered him a cup of tea and a biscuit as well.
‘Love something. I forgot to bring a snack with me.’ He sat down with a sigh, looking rather pale.
‘Should you have been doing that heavy lifting?’ she asked, suddenly feeling worried about him.
‘I just get tired easily. I’m not injured or anything like that. A cup of tea will work wonders. I haven’t introduced myself – Ross Welby. My aunt used to live next door, but she died a few months ago. I’ve been too busy to clear out her house and of course I had to wait until I got probate, but I made a start on it yesterday.’
‘I’m Lara Perryman. I’ve been working in Australia and come back to settle in the UK permanently.’
‘You’ve bought some nice solid pieces today.’
She smiled. ‘In among the tat and cast-offs. But they’ll look a lot nicer after I’ve either repolished them or, if the surfaces are too badly damaged, painted them white. I, um, can’t afford to buy new furniture.’
He nodded, accepting her vague explanation without comment, thank goodness.
Fred finished his tea and stood up. ‘Got to go. Hope things go well for you, Lara.’
She paid him seventy pounds and he nodded as if he thought that fair. She saw him to the door and waved goodbye.
When she turned round, Ross was still sitting there clutching his empty mug, looking thoughtful, so she sat down again. She hadn’t had time recently in her busy life for doing much socialising with neighbours but she’d vowed to take every chance she could to meet people in her new life, so she wasn’t in a hurry to get rid of him.
‘I’m sorry about your aunt, Ross.’
‘Yes. Me too. She was a lively old bird and I really miss her. Look, I wonder if you could do a job for me? In return I can give you Iris’s spare bed. It’s a double and doesn’t look as if it’s ever been used. She bought it new when she moved in so that her friend could stay the night, only the friend died suddenly.’
‘What’s the job?’ she asked cautiously.
‘Clearing out her underwear and clothes. I can’t bear to touch them, the underwear particularly. It’s, um, rather old-fashioned and some of it’s been used, though it’s clean, of course.’
He’d actually flushed slightly as he said that and she relaxed a little. She’d met a lot of predatory men in her working life and this guy definitely wasn’t one of those. In fact, he seemed quite gentle, in voice and manner.
He was still too pale, though.
‘Have you been ill?’
He hesitated.
She held up one hand. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s none of my business.’
‘If you’re going to help me out – you are going to, aren’t you …?’
She nodded.
‘Well, you’re bound to notice how quickly I tire. I have chronic fatigue syndrome, otherwise known as ME. A lot of people don’t believe in it, but—’
‘It’s all right. I do. I knew someone who had that. But she got better, slowly.’
‘I’m hoping to do that. I’ve been going through a rather nasty divorce recently, but it’s over now, at least I hope it is, so the stress levels should go down.’
‘Divorcing is horrible, isn’t it?’
‘Very. You’re divorced too?’
She nodded. ‘Years ago. It wasn’t acrimonious, not exactly, more chill and polite, but it was very unpleasant dividing up the goods and chattels. I was relieved when that was over.’
They were silent for a few moments, then she looked at his pale face. ‘Perhaps you’d better go home and rest now. I can’t start work on your job till tomorrow because I have a lot of new possessions to clean and arrange. I can’t bear to live like this.’ She gestured to the bundles of ‘stuff’ and pieces of mismatched furniture that made her lovely new home look like a junk shop.
He nodded and stood up. ‘Fine by me.’
She watched him go, standing at the kitchen window, which overlooked the parking area. He looked utterly exhausted as he closed the front door of his aunt’s house and got into his car, poor thing, and yet he’d helped her.
It sounded as if she could earn herself a bed and that would be a help. Even a small positive step was welcome.
She turned round and stared at the chaos, wrinkling her nose at the musty smell of the old, neglected furniture and who knew what else there was in the ‘miscellaneous boxes’ of crockery and kitchen paraphernalia. These pieces would need a thorough wash before she did anything else with them.
She was about to start on that when her phone rang.
‘Donald Metcalf here, from the fraud squad.’
As if she’d forget who he was!
‘Nothing to report, unfortunately, Ms Perryman. Any sign of that photo?’
‘My daughter’s going to go through her records tonight. She thinks she still has it.’
‘Let me know as soon as it’s available. Let me give you the address to email it to as well as my own direct email. If
it’s any comfort, we’re setting things up with Interpol at the moment, given the scope of this Crichton fellow’s thefts. I’d guess he’s hiding out somewhere in Europe. People who commit fraud often do. Or he may have gone to South America. I’ll keep you in touch if there are any developments.’
If, she thought, not when. As she put the phone down, tears came into her eyes but she blinked them away. She would not keep crying.
She went to change into her oldest pair of jeans and start cleaning her new possessions.
Thank goodness for the old radio and the talk-back show she found. She was so used to being with people it felt weird to spend so much time on her own. There didn’t seem to be anyone around in the detached house on the other side of her row, as well as Ross’s aunt’s house next door being empty.
Lara spent the whole afternoon dealing with her new possessions. That was rewarding. She actually enjoyed washing the glasses she’d bought at knock-down prices: wine, champagne, tumblers, all sorts. It had seemed as if every alternate person had too many glasses and wanted to sell untouched packages of them. She hadn’t had to pay much for them at all.
Who knew there was this other bargain world out there?
After that she gave in to temptation and unpacked the box of special ornaments and pieces of silver that she’d had stored at her daughter’s for the past few years. Was she being stupid putting such lovely pieces out on view among such rubbishy furniture? She shrugged. Who cared? It would give her pleasure to see them every day.
But after she’d eaten, another evening hit her. A scratch meal and then what did you do to pass the time? She wasn’t in the mood for reading, though she’d picked up a few dog-eared paperbacks as well as household items.
She would definitely have to hire or buy a television. She’d go online and have a look tomorrow, if Molly would let her use their Internet system again. Maybe even on a Sunday she could find something to hire – or would buying one turn out to be cheaper in the long run?
Who knew? This was a very big learning curve on frugal living.
All she did know was that she was too tired to go online and find out tonight.
Chapter Eight
When Ross got home, he went to lie on the bed, fretting at his desperate need for another rest. Still, the day had seen some progress made. He had to hang on to the idea that any job ticked off his list was a good thing at the moment, given how weak he felt. He would have preferred to work more quickly – who wouldn’t? – but it wasn’t going to happen.
The new woman living next door would probably be a pleasant neighbour for whoever bought his aunt’s house. She didn’t look the sort to throw wild parties and keep people living near her up all night. What was her name? Lara something or other. He couldn’t remember her surname. He yawned. Nice name, Lara.
She seemed a bit uptight, but she was clearly short of money, so maybe that was why. Been there, done that in the early days of his first marriage. He and Diana had tried to make it fun to manage together, literally saving every penny they could in a big pot, but even so, it had got them down sometimes.
Being economical would be a lonely business on your own, and Lara was a bit old to be in that situation, surely?
She was sporting quite a good suntan so he guessed she’d been working overseas. Strange. People usually came back from that sort of stint with plenty of money – unless she’d just been travelling for pleasure.
The best thing about meeting her was that she was going to get rid of that damned underwear and all his aunt’s other clothes for him.
He was woken by the doorbell ringing and before he’d come to fully, it rang again. He stumbled across to the window, still feeling dopey, and stuck his head out, looking down towards the front door. ‘Fiona! Hi!’
‘Hi, yourself. Are you in bed again?’ she teased.
‘Yeah! Can’t get enough of it. I’m a sleep junkie. Hang on. I won’t be a minute.’
He let his cousin in. It was always good to see her.
Head on one side, she studied him. ‘I’ll make you some coffee, Ross. I want you fully alert because something’s cropped up that may be useful to you.’
‘Mmm.’ He led the way to the kitchen and got out a cake while she made the coffee.
She smiled at the sight of it. ‘How have the mighty fallen! A bought cake!’
‘Yup. I still miss Diana’s cakes. And her.’
‘I miss her too, you know. You married a great woman the first time. Diana felt as much my cousin as you are. She and I used to have a lot of fun shopping together.’ Fiona plonked a beaker of steaming liquid down in front of him. ‘Take a couple of swigs of that and then listen carefully.’
‘You always were a bossy britches, even when we were kids.’
‘I was the oldest cousin. I had the right to boss you others around because I was always left in charge and got in trouble if you misbehaved.’ She took a sip then looked at him. ‘Am I right in thinking you’re going to be very short of money after you’ve paid off Nonie Jayne?’
‘Yeah. It’s what they call paying for your mistakes. With a vengeance.’
‘Well, I know how you can earn some decent money without lifting a finger.’
He looked at her, frowning. ‘Lead me to it. As long as there’s no risk of losing what I’ve got left.’
‘Don’t look so wary. It’s a way of using your biggest asset.’
‘Huh?’
‘This house, dumbo. Have another gulp or two of coffee.’
He did as ordered. People tended to do that when Fiona spoke in that tone of voice.
‘You know my friend Tom Connors, the film producer? Well, he’s scouting round for an eighteenth-century house to use as a location for a new historical TV series.’ She made a sweeping gesture with one hand. ‘And here you are with a house built mainly in that era, which you have neither the energy nor the money to look after properly at the moment.’
He realised he had his mouth open, literally, and snapped it shut again.
‘They’ll pay big time for you to get out of here and let them hire it for a few months. And they’ll guarantee to look after the place, too. They’ll put in a live-in caretaker and improve your security system at no charge to you because they’ll be leaving expensive equipment around. Apart from the caretaker, the house will only be used for film shoots.’
‘How much will they pay?’
The sum she named made his hand jerk and sent coffee splattering across the table. ‘You’re joking.’
‘No, I’m not. They’ll pay that much and still save themselves money. They don’t want you to leave any valuables around but they’ll pay extra if they can use your furniture. It’d cost them much more than that to build fancy sets and source reproduction furniture, you know.’
He found his voice at last. ‘Tell me where I sign the contract and I’ll run all the way there.’
‘You can’t do that till they’ve seen the house and approved of it. It’s not a hundred per cent certain yet. I don’t know the details of this series so I can’t say exactly what they need, because that’s being kept a big secret. But when I showed Tom a photo of your house and told him about the interior, he thought it looked promising.’
‘I could go and live in Aunt Iris’s house for a few months. This would be all profit.’
‘Yes, that’s what I thought. Good timing, eh?’
‘It certainly is.’ He waited for her to go on, mentally crossing his fingers and hoping that fate had moved across to stand by his side for a while.
‘When can they come to view it, Ross?’
‘Any time they want, unless you think I need to spiff it up a bit first.’
‘No. They want a lived-in look.’ She took out her phone. ‘Shall I ring Tom and set up a visit?’
‘Go for it.’ He watched her, trying to work out whether the meaningless grunts and monosyllabic comments she kept making were positive or not.
She held the phone away from her ear. ‘How about Tom comes r
ound now? He’s only half an hour’s drive away.’
‘Fine by me.’ Ross swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment, and next thing he knew she had her arm round his shoulders.
‘Poor you. You’ve had a hard time with that bitch and the fallout afterwards, haven’t you? And being ill on top of it.’
‘Not been the best of years. But she’s not a total bitch.’
‘Oh?’
‘No. She’s rather stupid and greedy, but she has her good points. We were just the worst of mismatches you could ever make.’
‘Well, that’s all water under the bridge now. Let’s see if Tom can cheer you up a bit. It always makes me feel good to be with him, he’s so ebullient.’ She moved away, smiling at him.
When Ross looked round the kitchen and jerked to his feet, she put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him down again, saying sternly, ‘Do not even think of tidying up. Save your energy for dealing with Tom. I’ll put the dirty mugs out of sight in the dishwasher and who cares about the rest? He won’t.’
So Ross sat down again, finished his coffee and waited. Half an hour, he found, could seem a very long time.
Tom Connors was a thin, rather intense fellow of about Ross’s own age, with hair gelled upright to defy gravity. Fiona had said he was just starting to make his name as a major filmmaker. When he got out of his car, he didn’t come straight to the front door, but walked up and down outside, framing the house with his hands from various angles.
At last he came inside and Fiona introduced them.
Tom nodded, but wasn’t really paying attention to them, instead was staring avidly round the room. ‘Look, Ross, I’d prefer to go through the house on my own, if you don’t mind, so that I can get a feel for it. Could you and Fiona maybe go out for an hour, then come back and we’ll talk?’
‘I’ll take him for an early lunch at a café I know,’ she said at once.
‘I’m not really hungry,’ Ross told her as they set off in her car.
‘You can have a lemon and lime with a packet of crisps, then, and drive us back. I could murder a glass of dry white wine, early as it is. The kids at school have been über-lively all week.’