Escape to Honeysuckle Hall

by Rebecca Raisin

  ‘Ooh, would you look at that. Boy must do a lot of squats to get a butt like that. It makes you just want to slap …’

  I slap a hand over her damn mouth. ‘Don’t do it, Es. You’re banned from talking if Leo comes in. In fact, don’t worry, I’m going to out! Bye!’ There’s nothing left to do but go through with it, even though I know it’s a bad idea.

  Maya laughs, noting the distraught look on Esterlita’s face. I’ve spoiled all her fun with Leo, and I don’t care one little bit.

  I grab my bag and make a dash for it, slamming the door behind me and waving to Leo to stay in the car. I feel like I’m back in high school, escaping fast so my mum doesn’t embarrass me!

  ‘Hey,’ I say, and clip on my seatbelt. ‘Go, go, go!’ I dart a glance behind me to make sure Esterlita hasn’t bounded out behind me and attached herself to the car. I wouldn’t put it past her.

  He frowns. ‘Are you hungry or something?’

  ‘Ah, yeah, something like that.’ The man is going to think all I care about is pizza! And to be honest, I really am partial to pizza. ‘It’s just—’ I scramble to think of an excuse for my erratic behaviour ‘—that I feel a little bad leaving Maya and Esterlita, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh …’ He stops the car before we’ve even left the driveway. ‘Why don’t we invite them then? I’m sure they’ll love Basilico.’

  ‘NO!’

  He blanches. This is not going well. ‘Just erm, keep the engine running, keep driving, that’s the way. I’m sure a bit of space is good for all of us. I can bring them home a pizza.’ Stop talking, Orly!

  ‘OK, if you’re sure.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  We get to the trattoria ten minutes later after a silent ride. This was a bad idea. We’ve already run out of things to talk about and we’re not even inside yet! I panic. I look for a way out. Maybe I can text Maya and tell her to call me with a fake emergency? A small fire. A robbery. A spider infestation?

  ‘Here we are. After you.’ He holds the door open for me and I’m immediately assaulted with the most intoxicating smell of roasted garlic. My mouth waters. I suppose it’s only good manners to eat with the damn man. Inside I see a few of the locals I know, like Bob and his wife. I go to their table as Leo waves to one of his workers and heads to their table to say hello.

  ‘Hello, Bob.’

  Ruddy-faced Bob wipes his hands on his napkin before shaking my hand. ‘Hey. Orly this is my wife Iris. Iris, this is Orly from Honeysuckle Hall.’

  I expect Iris to quiz me like the other locals have but instead she blushes and looks over my shoulder. I turn to see what she’s looking at and make eye contact with Freya, of all people.

  ‘Iris, you should pop over to the hall for a cup of tea sometime.’

  She snaps her eyes back to mine. ‘I’m so busy with … work at the moment. You know how it is.’ A guilty look flashes across her face. Is she worried about being seen talking to me because of all the rumours or am I just imagining that? She appears distinctly uncomfortable whatever the reason is.

  ‘Iris works in Josie’s craft shop.’ The mysterious Josie who also has it in for me …

  Iris looks pointedly back at her meal.

  ‘I understand,’ I say. ‘Enjoy your dinner.’

  I turn to Freya and give her a big wave and smile. Kill them with kindness, don’t they say?

  Leo and I are shown to a table and a carafe of red wine arrives. Leo pours us two oversized glasses and I take a big gulp. ‘You’re a fan then?’ he asks, as I wipe my red wine smile away.

  ‘Big fan, yes. Love wine. Red, white, blue. I’m not fussy.’ I take another gulp. It really is a delicious table wine and I inhale it to cover my nerves and the aftereffects of such a strange meeting with Iris.

  He nods and I notice his eyes widen a little as if he’s what … regretting this? The wine soon hits the spot and I feel a sort of lethargy come over me. A sort of loosening. Let them all watch and judge me! ‘So, word is you have a secret past,’ I say, trying to recall the rumours about Leo or whether Esterlita made them up because she was short of something to say.

  ‘Who says that?’

  ‘Everyone.’

  He grins. ‘I’m not sure I can trust you. You’ll probably sell my secrets to the Russian mafia or something.’

  ‘You can trust me! Unless you own a priceless masterpiece, a van Gogh, or a Dalí. Or maybe the Hope Diamond. Then you most definitely cannot trust me.’

  ‘Good to know.’

  ‘Well, you haven’t answered the question.’

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Why did you move here?’

  ‘Probably the same reason as you. It’s a picturesque place to live, but still has that small-town vibe where everyone knows everyone and as long as you’re a good person you’ll get along fine. There’s plenty of work for me and I like the fact that London isn’t too far away when I want a taste of the big-city buzz every now and then. Although I’ve been here two years, I’m still considered the new guy.’

  ‘That’s the most boring answer I’ve ever heard.’

  He lets out surprised laughter. ‘OK, fine. I’ll tell you the truth but you’ve got to promise you won’t tell a soul.’

  ‘Pinkie swear.’ We link pinkie fingers and swear on it.

  ‘Before I came here I worked as a spy for ze Germans. You know the type, hides in plain sight as a sports teacher.’

  ‘Really?’

  He nods.

  ‘Who were you spying on?’

  ‘Other spies.’

  ‘Of course. Russian ones?’

  ‘Mainly.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Got tired of the game, you know how it is. Always on the run, never settling in one place too long, unable able to form attachments. So I did what any good spy would do …’ He lifts a shoulder as if I should know the answer.

  ‘You had a face transplant!?’ I bellow, drawing the surprised gazes of a few other patrons.

  He laughs. ‘Yes! It was the only way to break free. So I had this face transplant with someone much uglier than I originally was, sadly, and then I burned off my fingerprints, and went rogue. It’s been two years and still they haven’t managed to find me.’

  ‘You must look over your shoulder a lot.’

  ‘Nope, trained not to do that. Must always look forward, never backwards. Hide in plain sight, remember?’

  ‘How could I forget. Wow, the stories you could tell.’

  ‘But I won’t as I don’t want to put your safety in jeopardy.’ He grins and takes a sip of wine.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘I hope they never find you,’ I whisper across the table as candlelight flickers between us.

  ‘How can they?’

  ‘I could talk– I bet that information is worth a lot to someone.’

  He lifts a brow. ‘I know where you hide your jewels.’

  ‘Then we’re at an impasse?’

  ‘Better to just forget our pasts, and think of the future.’

  ‘Do you know what I see in my future?’

  His eyes light up. ‘What?’

  ‘Pizza!’

  The night continues in a more relaxed way once we break the ice with silly stories and when it comes to an end, my jaw hurts from laughing so much.

  ‘I’d better get you home before midnight.’

  ‘Or my wicked stepsisters will send a search party.’

  ‘I can imagine Esterlita peering through the window …’

  He doesn’t know how right he is. Esterlita spends her life peering through windows at Leo, probably without his knowledge eighty per cent of the time! The poor fool has no idea. But to be fair, Es peers out at most men, most of the day, so it’s not as though she’s only focused on him. ‘She’s probably out there now,’ I say only half joking. You never can tell with that woman.

  ‘She’s a sweetheart, despite her stalking.’

  He knows?!r />
  ‘She is. I don’t know how I would have coped here without her.’ I might have been able to cope but it definitely wouldn’t have been half as much fun. ‘What was her Edward like? Did you know him?’

  Leo leans back on his chair, all thoughts of leaving now vanished. ‘He died before I arrived in town. He was the local car mechanic, so pretty much everyone knew and liked Edward. He worked right up until he died at seventy-something apparently. One of those guys who liked to tinker away at things, an old-school sort. From what I’ve heard, Esterlita has never really got over losing him. There was a lot of talk at the time, churchgoers tried to coax her out of her house, locals took her plates of food. They even tried to cook some of her Filipino dishes hoping that would tempt her but she stayed inside for an entire year.’

  ‘She stayed inside for a year?’ I can’t imagine vivacious Esterlita doing anything of the sort; she’s such a people person. A social butterfly if ever there was one.

  ‘Yeah, people were concerned. But I guess that’s grief. She had to do things her way while she healed. Luckily she has a lot of friends in Eden Hills who all stepped up to help in one way or another.’

  Goose bumps break out over my skin despite the warm room. I feel bad for not realising she’d been so grief-stricken.

  ‘I feel like I haven’t been there for Es, always going on about my own trivial problems, when she’s probably wanting to share something personal with me but never getting a word in.’

  Leo shakes his head. ‘Don’t think like that, Orly. I think you’ve been a bit of a saviour for Es. She’s back in town a lot more – people have been chatting about it a fair bit. It’s like she’s got a new lease on life. Apparently she was never quite the same after, but maybe she’s finding the light again …’

  Finding the light again. He’s so poetic at times. But it stuns me silent as I think of my new friend and the smile she hides behind.

  ‘Shall we go?’ he asks, as the staff not so subtly bang and crash in the kitchen, alerting us we’ve overstayed our welcome. Just how did the time flash by so fast?

  ‘We better. I had such a great night, thank you. This one is on me.’

  We wrestle with credit cards, and arms, until he reluctantly gives in and only lets me pay for my half when I remind him I can ruin him by telling everyone he was formerly a German spy who wouldn’t be easily recognisable because of his face transplant.

  ‘Fine, fine, keep your voice down,’ he says, laughing, showing off those pearly whites of his.

  Chapter 17

  As the sun rises, so do I. My long lie-ins here are now a thing of the past. I wonder if it’s because I know Leo will already be outside in the hall, hammering away at something, or if it’s the fresh country air that does it. Whatever it is, I wake these days feeling full of energy, so very different to the burnt-out former me who woke up every day with leaden legs and a groggy head. I take a quick shower and slip on my work clothes. Who knew I’d be this person?

  I make coffee and take it to the hall, hoping to share a cup with Leo before everyone else arrives. We’ve managed to steal some time together these last few days, with only the birds for company. And I’ve enjoyed it more than I can say. Leo is surprisingly funny when you get to know him and the more time I spend with him the more I like him. He’s also kind of quirky, has a touch of the poetic about him, which is rare in a guy, and very attractive. He’s well read, despite most people pegging him only for the outdoorsy, handyman kind of guy.

  ‘Can I tempt you with some caffeine this fine summer morning?’ I ask sneaking up on him as he studies something. He jumps and hides his hands behind his back. ‘What have you got there?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s nothing. A coffee would be great.’

  ‘What is it, Leo?’

  His face darkens. ‘Look, Orly, I don’t want you to be afraid, OK?’

  Oh my God he is a German spy who’s had a face transplant and he’s going to kill me because I know! ‘O-K,’ I say as my heart races. How will he do it? A hammer to the temple? A quick slice through an artery? No something less messy – an electric shock with enough vaults to stop my heart. Where’s my cardiothoracic surgeon when I need her?

  ‘Don’t look so afraid.’ He laughs. ‘It’s like you’re picturing your own demise or something.’

  I let out a nervous laugh. ‘What – no!’ I sneak a peek in case there’s a newly dug hole around, you never can tell with these carpenters. Always digging random trenches in the earth for no discernible reason.

  He opens his hand, and I fight the urge to scrunch my eyes closed. It’s another note. ‘Oh.’

  ‘Oh?’ he asks. ‘You know what this is?’

  ‘Let me guess, it says something like: You’re putting others in danger – that kind of thing?’

  His eyes light up with surprise. ‘You’ve found one before?’

  I sigh. ‘Yeah … a few.’

  He frowns hard. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Orly?’

  ‘What’s to tell?’ Do I confide in him and risk looking like a fool? Again.

  I sit him down and tell him the whole convoluted story.

  ‘Wow, Orly, you’re playing it down a fair bit if someone is trying to scare you away.’ He wears that same expression, which is half anger and half worry. I secretly love that his protective instincts kick in so quickly.

  ‘I’m not playing it down, Leo. But what else can I do? I don’t want them to see me running scared, so I have to show them I’m not.’ I lift my hands in the air.

  ‘How do you know it’s not someone dangerous?’ Anger radiates off him and I feel whoever is trying to scare me now has him as an enemy.

  ‘A few hastily scrawled notes aren’t the work of a serial killer, I’m sure.’

  He blanches. ‘Do you have any idea who it is?’

  ‘It could be Freya, or Josie. I’ve also been getting the worst kind of online trolling from Carly C fans. Would they go so far as this? Hard to tell. Somehow I think it’s closer to home. You’ve heard yourself all the rumours Freya’s started about me and what I intend to do at Honeysuckle Hall. From gentlemen’s clubs, to secret laboratories! Bob’s wife Iris couldn’t even look at me the other night at Basilico as if talking to me would tarnish her reputation or something.’

  ‘I can’t see Freya sneaking in here to leaves notes like that. I know she can be nasty, but this doesn’t seem to be her style. It could be anyone.’ He scrubs at his face and then stops abruptly, lifting his eyes to meet mine. ‘The person we saw running in here the other night – it’s them, isn’t it? Did they leave a note then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  His jaw works. ‘Why didn’t you tell me at the beginning, Orly? I could have helped.’

  I stay silent.

  With a groan he says, ‘You thought it was me!’

  I have the grace to blush.

  ‘Orly, I promise you it’s not me.’

  ‘Yes, I know that now. German spies would have far superior methods than a few hastily scrawled notes. So do you have any ideas? If we made a list, who’d be at the top?’ I still think it’s Freya – she has disliked me from the get-go and has managed to make others feel bad being seen talking to me. And that’s half the reason I’m not that bothered. What can she do to me except try and freak me out? We’ll have the alarm set up soon and no one will be able to access the hall without a lot of noise.

  He shakes his head. ‘Let me have a think about it.’

  ‘OK, I will too. Surely if we make some discreet enquiries in town we might be able to narrow it down?’

  ‘Yeah.’ He takes my hands. ‘Promise me if you get any more notes you’ll let me know?’

  Worry flashes across his face. I’ve never known a man to be so caring before, and while I can handle myself it’s nice to know I’ve got someone to call if I truly am fearful of my safety. ‘I promise. But I’m sure it’s all fine, Leo. Like I said, this started when I arrived, and I’ve managed to ignore it thus far.’

  ‘Yeah, but the campers
aren’t here yet. That’s what worries me.’

  I go to ask why, but he leans down and kisses the bridge of my nose and all thought vanishes. What was that? Before I can think he pulls away and is gone with a backwards wave. ‘Call me if you need me,’ he says. ‘Until then I’m just going to check a few things out.’

  ‘Detective Leo.’

  He winks at me from the cab of his truck. ‘Got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? I’ll be back soon.’

  ‘I’ll be here.’ He drives off and I put a fingertip to the bridge of my nose that still tingles from his touch. I spend the next hour going over the kiss in slow motion and tormenting myself about whether it was the kiss of a friend or something more and then panicking about it. Just the usual, then.

  Back to my to-do list. I call the web designer about the Honeysuckle Hall website. ‘Hey Lorelai,’ I say. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Great, Orly. How’d you like the layout of the site?’

  From my desk, which is a stool at the kitchen counter, I flick through the site. ‘I love it. You’ve nailed the brief.’ Lorelai designed the Excès website and we’ve worked together for years on various media projects. She’s the best in the biz and I’m grateful she put together the website for the camp at such short notice.

  ‘Great. So hit me with it. What do you think could be better?’

  I particularly like working with her because she takes feedback very well and listens to even the smallest changes and gets them done without fussing over it.

  ‘I’d like the Honeysuckle Hall text to be a little bigger. When it flashes up on screen as you enter the site, can we slow that down so they have a bit more time to read it?’

  ‘Yes that’s easily done.’

  ‘Aside from that, it’s perfect. These are only interim pictures until I get a professional photographer to snap some pictures once the renovations are complete. I’ll also ask for the first lot of campers to sign a media release and hopefully we’ll have some action shots to add of the camp.’

  ‘Just send them over when you’re ready and I’ll change them out.’

  ‘Thanks, Lorelai. You’ve made magic happen.’

  ‘Shucks, you’re good for my ego.’

  I laugh, knowing how lucky I am to have her. ‘Any chance you can use the same sort of formula for a poster for some community newspapers?’