The Trouble with Great Aunt Milly

by Alice Ross

  He resumed his running but had only gone a couple of yards when he stopped. He spun around. She was back under the hedge, obviously looking for something – and he had a good idea what it might be. He should go and help, but then he’d have to speak to her and- Oh, for God’s sake, man. Get a grip!

  ‘Have you lost your tortoise?’ he asked, silently praising himself at managing to sound somewhere near normal.

  She pulled her head from the hedge and nodded. ‘She burrowed under her pen.’

  James cleared his throat. ‘Right. Well, I could, um … help you look for her if you like.’

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘But you-’ She stopped, regarding him with a quizzical expression.

  James’ heart began hammering. After his ridiculous behaviour she obviously didn’t want him around. And who could blame her?

  ‘That would be great. If you don’t mind.’

  A tsunami of relief washed over him. For no other reason, he quickly assured himself, than being able to regain some credibility. He attempted to adopt a professional manner. ‘When did you last see her?’

  ‘About twenty minutes ago.’

  ‘Well, in that case, she can’t have gone far. I’ll look round the other side.’

  She flashed a hesitant smile. ‘Great. Thanks.’

  As she resumed her searching and James made his way round to the other side of the hedge, he heaved a relieved sigh. Funny how he’d held his nerve during a long and intricate operation, but fell to pieces in front of a member of the opposite sex – albeit one demonstrating excellent musical taste in her Blondie T-shirt.

  James found Tilly sunbathing on the pavement fifteen minutes later.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ gushed Alex, as he handed the tortoise over. ‘I know it sounds mad but I’ve had her since I was ten and I’d really miss her if she wasn’t around.’

  ‘It’s not mad at all,’ he said. ‘Tortoises are very under-rated.’

  ‘Oh, but look at your knee,’ gasped Alex, clamping her free hand to her mouth. ‘It’s bleeding.’

  James glanced down at his right knee and was surprised to find it was bleeding. So intent had he been on finding Tilly that he hadn’t noticed. ‘Hmm. Well, I suppose I’d better run along home and clean it up.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  James nodded but didn’t move. His eyes were fixed on the cute smattering of freckles covering her nose. He hadn’t noticed that before, or her otherwise flawless complexion, or how velvety her skin looked up-

  He stopped. She gazed at him questioningly.

  And no wonder. He’d been staring at her.

  Colour flooded his cheeks.

  ‘Right. Best be going,’ he announced, making a valiant attempt at nonchalance. He turned in the direction of his house, but he really didn’t want to leave her. Inspiration struck, accompanied by a massive surge of courage. He spun back round. ‘I don’t suppose I could clean it up here, could I? It’s just that I’ll bump into a dozen people on the way home and have to recount the same tale over and over again.’

  She laughed. ‘The joys of village life, eh? I think there’s a first-aid kit in one of the kitchen cupboards. Come on in and I’ll have a look.’

  A jumble of emotions jostled for recognition as James followed her up the path: relief that perhaps he was normal after all; pride that he’d conquered his nerves; anxiety at being alone with her; and something he couldn’t quite identify. Something that felt very much like … excitement. Although it couldn’t possibly be excitement, because there was nothing to be excited abou-

  His analysis stopped the moment he set foot in the Palmers’ kitchen. Whoever would’ve suspected that behind the quintessential cottage exterior a scene like this lurked? His astounded gaze bounced from the red-and-pink chequered floor, to the pink units, to the plethora of gold accessories, eventually settling on a wall tile bearing an image of a Grecian goddess. ‘Wow. It’s very, um-’

  ‘Marbella?’

  ‘That just about sums it up.’

  ‘According to my dad, Pru Palmer wants a villa there,’ giggled Alex. ‘But her husband isn’t interested, so she’s tried to create the same effect here.’

  ‘Right,’ muttered James, noting a six-foot standard lamp disguised as a flamingo.

  ‘Believe me, this is nothing compared to the family bathroom. Now that really is a sight to behold.’

  ‘Palm trees?’

  ‘With coconuts. Still, given I’m living here rent-free, I can’t complain. Now, why don’t you sit at the table over there while I dig out the first-aid kit. I’m sure I’ve seen one somewhere.’

  James wandered over to the shiny pink table, strewn with photographs of the surrounding countryside. ‘Are these yours?’

  ‘Ah ha.’

  ‘They’re good,’ he remarked, admiring the quirky angles and creative use of light. ‘Very good.’

  ‘Thanks. Oh, look. Here it is.’

  Perched on a stool at the pink marble breakfast bar, Alex watched as he cleaned his wound. All at once, she started laughing.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I was just thinking. This is rather ironic.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Well, there you are in your running gear and it’s the first time you’ve been within six-feet of me and not hared away.’

  James’ cheeks flushed crimson.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you,’ she apologised. ‘Mandy told me you were shy. It was stupid of me to say anything.’

  He didn’t reply. He was suffused with yet another suffocating urge to run. But he couldn’t just get up and leave. Could he?

  ‘Do you, um, think I could use the bathroom?’ he mumbled.

  ‘Of course. Down the hall, second door on the left. Mind you don’t fall over the wrought-iron flamingo.’

  James managed a weak smile as he heaved himself to his feet.

  Locating the cloakroom, he sank down on the loo seat and drew in several calming breaths. Damn! He’d been doing so well. But what should he do now? He needed to save what little face he had left. He’d make a polite excuse and leave. Yes, that’s exactly what he’d do. He splashed his face with water, before making his way back to the kitchen.

  Alex was at the hob, her back to him when he re-entered the room. But it wasn’t the delicious smell wafting about that held his attention. It was her incredibly long golden legs, legs that seemed to go on forever.

  ‘I’m making Spaghetti Bolognese if you’d like to join me,’ she said, spinning round and flashing him a smile.

  His stomach flipped. Did he want to join her? Or did he want to scuttle off home? Escape to a safe environment with no danger of saying or doing anything remotely stupid?

  ‘There’s more than enough,’ she continued, shifting to the sink and filling a pan with water from the tap. ‘I always make heaps and pop whatever’s left in the freezer.’

  A vision of a solitary rasher of bacon festering in his fridge for more days than it ought to have, flashed across James’ mind. The delicious smell of tomatoes, basil and onions flooded his nostrils. His eyes were glued to Alex’s long legs.

  Did he want to stay? Or did he want to go?

  ‘Well, if you’re sure …’ he heard himself muttering.

  Twenty minutes later they sat at the wrought-iron table in the garden, tucking into plates of pasta. A bottle of chilled Prosecco, now almost empty, stood between them.

  James had calmed down. Or rather the combination of wine and Alex’s easy-going manner had calmed him down. She really was easy to talk to. So easy, he now had no idea why he’d made such a fuss.

  ‘So,’ he began, twining spaghetti around his fork. ‘What do you think of life in Little Crumpton so far?’

  Alex took a slug of wine and contemplated her food for a few seconds. ‘It’s certainly different to York,’ she eventually replied. ‘But I needed a change.’

  Hmm. Had he detected a hint of regret in her tone? He picked up his own glass, stealing a glance at her
as he raised it to his lips. She looked … wistful. Obviously there was a deal more to her story than she wanted to tell. Did it involve a man? he wondered. Or her job? But whatever it was, he reasoned as he set down his glass, she would hardly confide in him, when she’d known him all of five minutes.

  ‘What about you? How did you end up here?’

  James’ cogitations executed a swift U-turn as an image of Olivia flashed before his eyes, followed immediately by a bolt of guilt. Not that he was doing anything to feel guilty about. He was simply having supper with a friend. And the fact that she had the most gorgeous legs he’d ever seen was really bye-the-

  ‘James?’

  ‘Oh. Sorry. Yes. How did I end up here? Well, I guess I needed a change too.’

  Alex gave a brief nod and went back to her food. ‘How do you get on with your German business partner?’ she asked. ‘Mandy says she’s a bit scary.’

  James leaped at the chance to steer the conversation onto more pleasant waters. He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. ‘Mandy said that?’

  Alex flushed. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  He laughed. ‘Oh, she’s definitely scary. It’s the “bit” I can’t believe Mandy added.’

  He proceeded to recount numerous humorous incidents which had occurred over the years involving Anya and their clients, leaving out her more recent strange behaviour. By the time he’d finished the Twinkle Tomlinson incident, tears streamed down Alex’s face.

  ‘God, look at the time,’ he gasped, noting it was a little after ten. ‘I have to check on a kitten at the surgery. Anya was popping in at seven, and I said I’d do the late shift.’

  ‘What happened to him?’

  James related the tale.

  ‘Poor little mite. Would you mind if I tagged along? I’d love to see him.’

  James grinned. ‘Not at all. As long as you know he’s not looking his best.’

  Due to Alex’s recounting of several funny tales of her days at the food magazine, they reached their destination in what seemed like no time. James inserted the key into the lock but to his surprise found the door unlocked.

  ‘Strange,’ he muttered, a number of viable reasons – none of them pleasant – galloping through his mind.

  ‘You don’t think someone’s broken in, do you?’ asked Alex, vocalising one of his fears.

  He grimaced. ‘It’s possible. But it’s more likely Anya forgot to lock up earlier. Not, I hasten to add, that she’s ever forgotten before. I’ll go and look. You wait here.’

  ‘No way. I’m coming with you.’

  James’ heart pounded furiously against his ribcage. Something wasn’t right, he could sense it. He pushed open the door and flicked on the light, relieved to find everything just as it should be.

  Next he checked the office.

  ‘Anya,’ he gushed on a huge sigh of relief. ‘Thank God, it’s just you. I thought we might have been-’

  ‘Ah, James, thank Gott you have come.’ Her voice sounded strange. Had she been drinking? And why was she perched on the desk wearing a tight black dress so short he could see the tops of her stockings?

  ‘I have been vaiting for you,’ she drawled, in the same peculiar tone.

  ‘Why?’ he asked bewilderedly. ‘Is something wrong with the kitten?’

  ‘The kitten is fine.’ She took a step towards him in towering stilettoes. ‘But I-’

  ‘James? Is everything okay?’ Alex appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Yes, fine. It’s just Anya.’

  ‘Phew, thank goodness for that,’ she puffed. ‘Hi, I’m Alex.’ She held out her hand to the older woman. ‘James has been telling me all about the kitten so I begged him to let me have a peep.’

  Anya regarded Alex’s outstretched hand as if it were something unsavoury, before awarding it a cursory shake.

  ‘Sorry, Anya. I hope you haven’t been waiting long,’ apologised James. ‘You’re obviously on your way out somewhere. Was there something you wanted to tell me about the kitten?’

  Very deliberately, Anya moved her steely gaze from Alex to James. ‘Nein. Just that his temperature vos a little high earlier.’

  ‘Right. Well, I’ll check it again. Please feel free to continue your evening. There’s no need for us both to be here.’

  Anya slanted him a venomous look before strutting out of the room, head high.

  ‘Well,’ puffed James, as the door swung shut. ‘That was Anya.’

  ‘Scary,’ grimaced Alex.

  ‘Very.’

  Chapter 10

  Matt was totally, completely and utterly knackered. He’d been working flat out on the lingerie pitch, surviving on coffee, Red Bull, and takeaway pizza. Getting home before midnight seemed like a half-day, and then he had to saddle-up Mimi and take her for a walk around the bloody park. For most people, taking their dog for a walk – at whatever time of day or night – was usually a straightforward exercise. For Matt and Mimi it was a battle of wits, a clash of the titans, a war of attrition. All of which added to his exhaustion and put him in an even worse mood.

  Francesca wasn’t helping matters either. Not once, in the six days she’d been in New York, had she called him. And every time he’d called her, she’d been cooler than the last. Dismissive. Almost as if he’d no right to bother her. And so, for the last two days, he hadn’t. He’d worked and worked and worked. And his efforts had paid off. The pitch looked fantastic. Even Geoff, his boss, thought so.

  On a rush of caffeine-induced adrenalin, he decided to call her.

  ‘Guess what, babe? The pitch is finished and it looks great. It’s sure to be a winner. Even Geoff thinks so.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The pitch. It’s finished. And it looks fantastic.’

  ‘Oh, right. Well, that’s good. Anyway, I can’t talk now. I’m having my nails done. I’ll speak to you later.’

  Matt opened his mouth to protest but she’d hung up.

  Bitch.

  He glanced over to Sasha. Seemingly engrossed in reading a brief, she leaned forward on her desk, displaying her ample cleavage. Sensing his eyes on her, she looked up, the corners of her luscious lips curling into a teasing smile. God, she was hot. Red-hot. And all he had to do was-

  ‘Coming for a drink?’ It was Marcus, another Account Director. Not one of Matt’s usual drinking buddies, Marcus was a real player, a total arse-licker, and a bit of a tosser. But Matt desperately needed a drink. And he needed to get away from Sasha before he did something he’d regret.

  ‘Love to,’ he replied, springing from his chair and grabbing his jacket. ‘Just the one, mind. Got the big pitch tomorrow and want to be wide-eyed and bushy-tailed.’

  ‘Oh, just the one. Definitely,’ assured Marcus.

  *

  Anya von Hutterhausen seethed. Her perfect plan to seduce James at the surgery had been well and truly scuppered. The instant he offered to check on the kitten at ten o’clock, she’d swung into action. With a razor-sharp mind like hers, it hadn’t taken long to concoct the perfect story: she’d been stood-up on an important date, was completely devastated, and the only person she could think of turning to was James. This “confession”, to be delivered in a heartbroken tone she’d spent hours perfecting, would be proceeded by a torrent of feigned tears. At which point she’d launch herself into his arms. What would then follow, with her looking so irresistible, would have been quite predictable. Perfekt.

  Or at least it would’ve been. Had that blonde in denim shorts not appeared. Anya had no idea who she was but she’d certainly find out. For now though, she decided to ease off on her attention to James. She didn’t want to risk scaring him off or raising his suspicions. Up until now she’d played him perfectly, been sweetness itself in her new feminine attire, flashing him coy looks, and holding them just long enough for him to notice. She’d also been particularly proud of the way in which she’d extracted the information from him regarding his brother’s wedding; very useful information she intended u
sing to her full advantage.

  *

  Matt was hammered. Smashed. Out of his tree. Pissed as the proverbial puff of flatulence. And he was having the best night he’d had for a very long time. It was incredibly cathartic relating his worries to an audience of willing listeners in the wine bar he and Marcus occupied. Marcus, meanwhile, appeared to be using the evening as something of a market research exercise.

  ‘Matt here,’ he announced to a group of thirty-something women at the next table. ‘Hasn’t had a shag for over two weeks. Would any of you ladies like to oblige?’ At which point he and Matt broke into raucous laughter. ‘Or,’ he continued, amidst snorts of hilarity, ‘raise your hand if you think he should screw Sasha.’

  Matt raised his hand and they both collapsed into giggles once again.

  The women remained unimpressed.

  A cool brunette with sharp emerald eyes raised her hand. ‘I’d like to suggest a third alternative, if I may.’

  ‘All suggestions gratefully received,’ snorted Marcus.

  ‘How about you both sod off and leave us alone.’

  ‘Ooooooo,’ chorused the boys, before collapsing, yet again, in hysterics. All of a sudden, though, Marcus stopped laughing and caught Matt’s arm.

  ‘Phwoar. Look what’s just come in.’

  Matt’s drunken gaze slithered over to the two girls to whom Marcus referred – a stunning brunette and a gorgeous platinum-blonde.

  ‘Sorry, ladies,’ announced Marcus, attempting to stand up. ‘But we’re going to have to love you and leave you. For a couple of better-looking, younger models.’

  And with that, he dragged a sniggering Matt over to the new arrivals.

  *

  The following morning, in the office of Little Crumpton’s veterinary clinic, James brought Mandy up-to-date with Anya’s latest strange behaviour.

  ‘How weird. What do you think she was up to?’

  ‘Well, I assume she was on her way out somewhere. But I’ve no idea where, that late on a school night.’

  ‘Hmm. Either that or she planned to seduce you. Why else would she hang about in the dark flashing her knickers? Anyway,’ she continued, voice now lilting with excitement. ‘You’ve missed out the best bit. How come Alex happened to be with you?’