by Jill Barry
She pretended not to notice her daughter’s extreme eye rolling skills.
Before closing the front door and dropping the safety chain into place, Ruth watched Bethan Harley’s sleek silver car disappear down the track to reappear as it climbed the slope then vanished around the bend. She wasn’t sure how well her plan had gone. The two doctors hadn’t seemed all that fazed by the dead field mouse and now she was left to deal with the sickening stink. She daren’t ignore the problem, in case the irritating sales negotiator brought more people to view and kicked up about it. Mrs Up Her Own Arse Harley would be sure to ring Ruth and check if the cloakroom was returned to its former pristine state.
Ruth sighed. Maybe it was time for a change of tactics. This last couple had mentioned wanting to view other properties but she didn’t think they suspected anything odd about the incident. They’d made all the right noises and might well come back for another viewing. Unless. . .
She took her mobile phone from her pocket and walked through to the kitchen where she knew the satellite signal was strongest. She kept the call brief. By asking an old friend to join her for an early evening drink, she could turn up at the Queensbridge Hotel as if it was the most natural thing in the world. There wasn’t too much choice when it came to good places to eat in the area and, if Mr and Mrs Sarani had been out and about, viewing properties, she wouldn’t mind betting they’d choose a relaxing evening without needing to step from their hotel. Hadn’t the husband mentioned anticipating sampling the dinner menu?
Chapter Eleven
Ruth drove into the car park behind the stately stone building and found a parking space without trouble. The clock on the dashboard showed her it was five minutes to six. She cut the engine. Huw Blayney was a widower whom she met years ago in her tennis playing days when they’d partnered one another in mixed doubles. Their friendship had remained platonic and therefore amicable. They hadn’t seen one another for some months and Huw had sounded delighted when she rang to ask if he was free that evening. In fact, he’d offered to buy her dinner.
She couldn’t believe her luck. She needed to be perceived as a friendly, outgoing woman who thought the world of her friends, Suzanne and Eddie, wanting only the best for them. She considered it vital to allay any suspicions of devious practices while, at the same time, endeavouring to get the Sarani couple on her side.
Ruth had showered and washed her hair, using the upmarket products Suzanne provided in the guest bathroom. Every bottle and jar proclaimed its contents as satiny or sumptuous, creamy or velvety, though Ruth wondered whether the experience really did differ from her usual shower procedure using the slightly antiseptic-smelling soap, a brand she’d favoured for years.
She hesitated when choosing what to wear. She could change when she called at her own place to feed Dylan. Or, she could borrow a slinky jersey frock in silver-grey she’d already tried on when Suzanne first brought it back from one of her shopping fests. Ruth had condemned the garment as a little too clingy for a woman of Suzanne’s age but knew better than to comment.
“It’s amazing how well it fits you,” her friend had exclaimed after urging Ruth to try it on. “Considering I’m several inches shorter than you. I guess my extra rolls of fat must be the reason why we can both wear it.”
We can both wear it. The words rang in Ruth’s head. Suzanne had meant the comment as an invitation. And her friend must have known the string of turquoises and amethysts would look stunning on the pale skin exposed by the scoop neckline of the simple yet stylish dress. Her reflection in the full-length wardrobe mirror in Suzanne’s bedroom confirmed how right she’d been.
Ruth locked her car and walked to the hotel’s rear entrance and down the long, carpeted corridor leading to the foyer, ignoring the many framed photographs and watercolour paintings showing glorious local landscapes. Huw, a grey-haired, slightly crumpled man of around sixty, was waiting for her outside the entrance to the bar. He spotted her and beamed.
“How lovely to see you, Ruth.” They exchanged hugs. “I thought I’d turn up a bit early and save you walking in on your own.”
“Always so thoughtful, Huw. Am I allowed to buy you a drink?”
“I wouldn’t hear of it. I’m very pleased you got in touch, my dear. I don’t see you often enough.”
“Ah, well there’s a reason for that.”
“Let me order some drinks and you can tell me all about it. Is white wine still your tipple?”
“A spritzer, please. I have to drive home, remember.”
“You’re welcome to stay the night at my place. Spare room’s always made up, you know.”
“That’s very sweet of you, Huw, but I have animals to care for and I really can’t stay away from The Sugar House. I’d be betraying a trust.”
“Why don’t you sit down? You look as if you could do with a bit of relaxation.”
He moved towards the bar and Ruth took a look around and saw only two middle-aged couples plus a sprinkling of businessmen peering at tablets or tapping at laptop keyboards. She deliberately chose a table by the wall, allowing a view of the whole room. If Mr and Mrs Sarani were, as the husband had indicated, dining at their hotel, there was only one entrance into the restaurant and that was through the lounge bar.
“The barman will bring our drinks over.” Huw took the seat opposite her. “Now what’s all this about?”
Ruth launched into an account of how, over the last few months, her days had become spent at her friends’ beck and call. She spoke of driving Suzanne Deacon to hair appointments and helping her with shopping excursions. She said even Eddie wasn’t particularly computer literate, so she often helped them research the occasional short trips they took, to stay in luxury hotels in Europe. She explained how their daughter lived miles away and in any case was the mother of two young children with a husband currently deployed overseas. Of course, the family rarely came to stay with Suzanne and Eddie and none of their erstwhile friends from Sussex ever took the trouble to visit. What else could Ruth do but offer her services?
Huw shook his head in wonderment. “I didn’t realise how much your friends relied on you. You’ve never complained to me before. I can’t help thinking they’re amazingly lucky to have you close at hand,” he said.
Ruth waited while their drinks arrived.
“I’m pleased to help. It’s not as if I don’t love their house and their gentle old dog.”
Huw raised his glass and waited for Ruth to chink hers against his. “Let’s drink a toast to the future.”
“Oh, Huw, I wish I could join in on that one but I’m desperately worried about the years to come. Suzanne and Eddie’s as well as mine.”
“I can see you’re upset. On a lighter note, you do scrub up well, my dear. You look extremely elegant tonight – makes me wish I’d got my hair cut when I was last in town!”
“You’re fine, Huw. I wanted to make an effort, having not seen you for ages.” She paused. “I’m sorry about this. Can’t help feeling I’m not much of a jolly dinner companion, am I?”
“Don’t be silly. What are friends for?”
“You’re a sweetie.”
He cleared his throat. “So, how long are Suzanne and Eddie away for?”
“A few nights. Apparently, it’s open-ended.”
Huw frowned. “That doesn’t seem very fair, given you have your own life to lead. Though I guess you can spend time at your cottage during the day?”
“I’m afraid there’s more to tell yet. The Sugar House went on the market recently. I knew nothing about it until Suzanne rang to invite me round, saying what they had to tell me would come as a big surprise.” Ruth gulped. “It was more of a bombshell, to be honest!”
“They didn’t talk it through with you then?”
Ruth shook her head. “But it’s pointless holding a grudge. I offered to house sit for them, which of course means I have to be very much around, in case someone wants to view it. I’m on call during office hours. Understandably, Eddie was worri
ed in case the dog became agitated when strangers arrived. The agents have a key of course but with me there, Sparkles is fine. It’s a good job my cat is such a loner.”
Huw whistled. “It sounds as though your friends trespass far too much on your good nature. I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but wouldn’t it be a blessing if they upped and went? Left you to live your life as you wish?” He reached out and patted her arm. “I might see more of you then. I’d like that very much.”
“I’d forgotten how you cheer me up, Huw. And I don’t mean to make the Deacons seem nasty people.”
“You see the best in everyone, my dear. Though, that time you took me along to their drinks party, they seemed very friendly. Well, on the surface anyway.”
“Huw, over the years, the three of us have got on very well. So well, that a few years back, Suzanne made it clear that with me being so much younger than the two of them, it’d be a sensible idea for me to sell my cottage some time in the future and move into The Sugar House as their companion housekeeper.”
“Are you saying they’d want you to sell up and go and live with them in this new house, wherever it may be? Wouldn’t that be a terrible wrench? I remember how thrilled you were when your aunt left her cottage to you. That was just before I first met you, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right, but it’s not going to happen. My moving in with them, I mean. They’ve reneged on our agreement, if you can describe it as such.” Ruth kept her tone flat. She gave a half sob and sipped a little of her drink.
“I don’t like the sound of all this, my dear.”
“To be brutally honest, financially it’d be a good proposition for me. But this isn’t all about money. As regards the important things – as in friendship and companionship – I’m sad to say Suzanne fudged around the issue when I had the temerity to remind her.”
“That’s appalling. Even if you decided not to take up the offer, they should have informed you of their decision to move, instead of leaving you to find out in such a crass manner.” He leaned over and patted her hand. “Dear girl, you do have a predicament, don’t you? What next? I still can’t help feeling you’d be well rid of this pair.”
“You’re thinking in practical terms, Huw. I can’t help my emotions.”
“I know you can’t.” He smiled at her. “Don’t I always see the practical side? I’m also thinking of your welfare. You know I’m fond of you. Call me selfish, but I hope you’ll never leave the area.”
She reached across and patted his hand. “You’re such a comfort. I should have confided in you sooner.”
“Yes, you’re naughty to have gone on bottling all this up. Why don’t you tell me what you’d really like to happen?”
“I’m hoping they’ll see sense and take the house off the market. It’s no good pulling a face. I’m very fond of Suzanne and it’s quite plain that, well, to put it mildly, her health isn’t robust at the best of times. How on earth Eddie can contemplate letting her go ahead and offer her services as a child minder after they move, is beyond me. He can be extremely pigheaded sometimes.”
“It certainly sounds as thought he hasn’t thought things through properly.”
Ruth didn’t respond. Instead, she drew her escort’s attention to a smartly dressed man and woman approaching the bar. “My goodness. That couple who just came in are the people I met this morning when the estate agent brought them to the house.”
Huw craned his neck. “They make an attractive pair. And look at those colours in her sari.” He turned back to Ruth. “So, did they seem interested?”
“Very. In spite of a rather unfortunate incident.”
Ruth related the field mouse saga, skilfully turning it into something that might have happened in a TV sitcom. She watched Huw’s jaw tighten when she told him how Bethan Harley had been quick to allocate blame on the house sitter. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mr and Mrs Sarani turn away from the bar and walk in their direction.
Ruth waved as they approached. “Hello there. I didn’t think our paths would cross again so soon. Are you meeting someone, or would you care to join us?”
Mr Sarani hesitated. Huw scrambled to his feet and held out his hand. Ruth handled the introductions.
Mrs Sarani spoke swiftly. “We’d love to join you, if you’re sure we’re not intruding.”
“Not at all.” Huw pulled out a chair.
“We’re going in to dinner at seven.” Mr Sarani took the seat next to Ruth. “But yes, this is very civil of you. It’s quite a coincidence, seeing you again like this, don’t you think?”
Ruth had already decided that, if asked, she’d deny any prior knowledge of where the Saranis were staying. After all, she’d had plenty on her mind at the time it cropped up in conversation. She chose her words with care. “Around these parts, I’m afraid there isn’t the same choice of eating places as you’re accustomed to. This is definitely the best hotel for miles. Otherwise, it’s a choice of fish and chips, a curry or a Chinese meal, though all very nice, I hasten to add.”
“Don’t forget the local Kebab house,” said Huw. “Ruth’s spot on, of course. Like-minded folk in this area often bump into one another at the same places when they want a night out. You either embrace it or it drives you crackers.”
“Your drinks are coming,” said Ruth. “Huw, don’t try and put Mr and Mrs Sarani off the area. That’d never do, especially after the less than fragrant incident this morning.”
“Ruth’s told me about that,” said Huw. “She’d no idea what was lurking inside the conch shell. She’s afraid you might both have been put off any thoughts of making an offer.”
“You couldn’t possibly put us off this beautiful part of Wales.” Mrs Sarani locked gazes with Ruth. “Who knows, we might yet end up being near neighbours.”
Ruth cleared her throat. Stroked her fingers from beneath her chin to where the gemstones gleamed above the pearly sheen of Suzanne’s frock. “Oh dear. I really don’t know which way to turn. I’ve just been telling Huw what a difficult position I’m in. I’d so much like to confide in you but I don’t want to seem disloyal.”
Huw turned to Mr Sarani. “In my humble opinion, Ruth isn’t exaggerating and frankly I hate to see her so worried. She’s extremely conscientious over her house sitting duties and very torn over her responsibilities as a close friend of the Deacons. I apologise if I’m putting my Number Elevens right in it, Mrs Sarani, but if you’re seriously interested in The Sugar House, maybe you should allow my friend here to give you some back story.”
Ruth watched Mr Sarani’s eyes narrow. He’d opened his mouth to speak when his wife leaned forward.
“I take it we’re not talking structural problems. Tell me, are you concerned about us not fitting into the neighbourhood?”
“Absolutely not,” said Ruth, allowing her gaze to focus upon the other woman’s sari, a silken swirl of blues and greens, shot with gold. “As in any small community, there’s the odd person living in Three Roads who doesn’t hold with incomers, as they’re known. Strictly speaking, I’m an incomer; the Deacons even more so, of course. But there are probably more of us there now, than there are people born in the area.”
“So. . .” Mr Sarani splashed more tonic water into his glass.
Ruth had practised her agonised expression earlier. “I feel more justified in saying something, simply because you’re both doctors.”
“Really? Despite not knowing our specialities?”
Ruth noted Mr Sarani’s gaze wasn’t as friendly as his wife’s. She felt a swift flash of satisfaction as the other woman placed her hand upon her husband’s sleeve.
“Please, Jalil. Let Ruth say what she needs to say. She’s hardly going to jeopardise her good friends’ house sale, now is she?”
“Thank you, Mrs Sarani.” Ruth allowed herself a rueful smile.
“Please call me Zoyah.” Mrs Sarani smiled back at her.
“What a beautiful name. As Huw says, I find this situation extremely difficult, Zo
yah. My friendship with the Deacons goes back to when they first moved to Three Roads. It’s because we have become so close over the years, that I feel I should speak my mind. You two are the ideal purchasers for The Sugar House and I know we could become friends, if you were to move in.”
Ruth didn’t miss the way Mr Sarani’s body language contrasted with his wife’s.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But to be blunt, you should know that Suzanne is what you might call highly-strung.”
“I’ve no idea. As you know, we haven’t met the vendors,” said Zoyah.
“I realise that. Frankly, I find it worrying how Suzanne couldn’t wait to get away for this short break. It’s as if she’s already finding the process of house hunting rather challenging. Unless of course, Eddie has railroaded her into it. That wouldn’t surprise me.”
“What are you saying?” Mr Sarani folded his arms.
“I’m saying I don’t think Suzanne’s fit to move. I’m convinced her condition is unstable enough for her to suffer some kind of breakdown. Eddie will be devastated if that happens, especially as he’s the one who decided to set this whole business in motion.” Ruth reached for her bag, pulled out a handkerchief, and blew her nose. “I’m sorry. My gut feeling is he’ll have to take the house off the market until Suzanne’s better placed to cope with such a life-changing situation. It really was a snap decision, you know. I couldn’t believe my ears when the Deacons invited me round and I saw the sale board for the first time.”
“Your friends didn’t say anything about their plans?”
Ruth felt she had an ally in Mrs Sarani. She held back a sob. Shook her dark head. “They didn’t even drop a hint about wanting to leave the village. I’m sure you’ll understand how hurt I felt, being asked to call, only to clap eyes on a house for sale sign.”
“I agree this must have been a shock,” said Mr Sarani. “But your friends could have been contemplating this move for a while. The decision to sell up is often an emotional one, despite the practicalities prompting it. Perhaps they feared you might try to dissuade them?”