The House Sitter

by Jill Barry

  Ruth didn’t need to feign a flash of anger. “Mr Sarani, you don’t understand! Suzanne confides in me. We’ve been close for years now and I don’t think she’d be capable of withholding such an important decision from me, regardless of the time element. Eddie must have arranged for a valuation to be done in secret. Suzanne’s often out of the house with me when I’m driving her around for shopping trips and so on. It’s perfectly possible for him to have engineered the appointment to coincide with his wife being away from the house for several hours.”

  “I have no doubt he has her ultimate well-being in mind. A lot of folk prefer to spend their latter years living closer to family,” said Mr Sarani.

  “Do you think Bethan Harley is aware of Mrs Deacon’s health issues?” Zoyah took the leather-bound menu her husband passed her but didn’t open it.

  “I very much doubt it,” said Ruth. “Mrs Harley’s pulling out all the stops so as to get as many viewings as possible. Hasn’t she mentioned the other people who’ve already been to view the house?”

  The couple exchanged glances.

  “No,” said Mr Sarani. “I enquired whether anyone had made an offer yet. Apparently, no one has.”

  Huw nodded. “Speaking as a mere observer, I imagine the husband wouldn’t wish to give any impression that his wife’s delicate condition might lead to his withdrawal of the house from the market.”

  “There are one or two more properties we’re viewing tomorrow. I must admit we’re both very taken with your friends’ place though.” Mrs Sarani looked pensive.

  “Well, don’t fall any further in love with The Sugar House, my dear,” said her husband. “Not until we’ve seen these other properties and considered our options.”

  Ruth squared her shoulders. “I hope you agree I’ve done the right thing in sharing my concerns. To be honest, I’d dance for joy if having to lose the Deacons meant welcoming you two into Three Roads.” Again, she noted the couple’s quick glance at each other.

  “But I’d hate you to begin negotiations and spend money on a survey only to. . . but let’s not look on the black side. I’m sure you have lots to discuss over dinner. Huw and I will be dining a little later on.”

  Mr Sarani got to his feet. “We appreciate your honesty, Ruth.” He turned to his wife. “Let’s go through and make our choices at the table. We’ve taken enough of these good people’s time already.”

  The Queensville Hotel website stated its dining room provided a relaxing ambience. The couple were shown to a table for two, upon which pink candles shed a soft glow in the dimly lit corner of the room.

  “This is more like it,” said Jalil. “Why do I feel as though I’ve come through a wind tunnel?”

  “That’s a little harsh, darling. We mightn’t have wished to hear what Ruth had to say but I’d prefer to be aware of the situation than be kept in the dark, don’t you agree?”

  “In any event, I’m sure we’ll enjoy a better meal than the egg sandwiches we ate in our room last night.”

  “We packed a lot in yesterday. I’m not sure I’d have appreciated sitting down to a big meal so late.” Zoyah gave her husband a stern look. “Nor am I sure how seriously you’ve taken that explanation we just heard. Care to illuminate?”

  “I think our starters are on their way, darling. Ah, yes, here comes the wine as well. Things could be far, far, worse.”

  “But do we cross off The Sugar House or do we still keep our options open?” Zoyah whispered as the wine waiter arrived, carrying the ubiquitous silver bucket.

  Jalil took a sip of Chablis and nodded to the waiter to pour for them both. “If that woman’s telling the truth, it sounds to me, if we make an offer, we could be in for a stressful and ultimately disappointing few weeks or even months.”

  “We can both do without that, but why on earth would she lie to us?”

  “Because, Zoyah, I think Ruth Morgan’s up to no good. Didn’t you notice her eyes?”

  “Jalil, that’s so unfair. She’s obviously distressed over the whole thing.”

  “Or she’s deserving of an Oscar for her performance.”

  His wife stared at him. “I still don’t understand what’s in it for her, if she puts us off. Why pick on us?” She sipped at her wine. “You surely don’t think she’s trying to prevent The Sugar House from being sold to anyone at all? Not just you and me because of our origins?”

  “As I said, if she’s lying, she must have a reason. I don’t for one single moment think she’s concentrating solely upon us. Ms Morgan, in my humble opinion, has a very big axe to grind. And if she has, Bethan Harley should be made aware of the situation so she can meet with the vendors on their return and make clear her justifiable concerns.”

  Zoyah shook her head. “Jalil, I really don’t think it’s our place to interfere. Maybe that house is not for us after all?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Ruth drove back to Three Roads with the satisfaction of not only having enjoyed a delicious meal with an old friend, but also from having injected doubt into the minds of the two consultants.

  Huw, unaware how much help he was providing, had manufactured several gold bullets for her to shoot. He insisted he and she should see each other more often and she’d promised not to leave it too long before arranging another meeting. She didn’t plan on inviting him to visit her at Rock Cottage too soon though. When the Deacons returned, she intended on dropping a few choice crumbs of information designed to play upon Suzanne’s conscience. Her friend must be made aware how Ruth, as a close and trusted friend, should not and must not be treated in such an offhand way.

  She let herself into The Sugar House and discovered a flashing red light on the answer phone. Eddie had rung not long after her departure for her evening date and Ruth listened to what he had to say, her lips setting in a tight line of disapproval. She picked up a pencil from the hall table and, hearing the upbeat tone to Eddie’s voice, snapped the pencil into two pieces, almost without noticing.

  He sounded, she thought, like a crowing cock, as he reported how Suzanne had perked up and shown no signs of tiredness. Their daughter and grandchildren were thrilled to see them and he confessed to having a lump in his throat at the sight of Suze down on her knees, happily playing with the kids and their toys. Having already viewed two properties in the area they had in mind, Eddie considered both as strong possibilities. He hoped all was well back home but emphasized his wish for Ruth not to contact them regarding viewings.

  That comment pleased her. Hopefully the Harley woman would be putting her foot in it sooner or later.

  Eddie went on to remind her there was no one more suitable to house sit, and promised to ring again when they knew which day they’d be driving back. He didn’t even mention the dog, so caught up was he with his rose-tinted perception of his and Suzanne’s new life.

  Ruth replayed the message one more time and went through to the utility room to see Sparkles. She let the dog into the garden and stood, staring up at the sky while the Labrador snuffled and squatted her way around. This was the kind of night no city dweller could hope to enjoy. Big sky. Stars blazing against dark velvet. A perfect full-beam moon lighting the countryside.

  She called to the dog to come back and, followed by an adoring Sparkles, locked the back door and headed for the sitting room. She switched on a couple of lamps and helped herself to a generous measure of vintage brandy from Eddie’s drinks cabinet. Settled into a corner of the settee, Labrador nestled at her feet, she sipped the rich, powerful liquid, feeling its tingling warmth spread through her. She slipped off her shoes, burrowing her feet into the thick carpet pile.

  Becoming indispensable Luxury. Security. Control. All these things were seductive. Addictive. Why couldn’t this foolish couple, while appearing to have everything, appreciate how much they needed her to help run their lives? Ruth vowed, having begun her campaign, she would not now give up, even if Eddie and Suzanne floated on a cloud of optimism while planning a future that didn’t include someone who
had every intention of destroying it.

  In the kitchen next morning, Ruth rummaged through Eddie’s bits and pieces drawer until she found the coffee machine instructions. She experienced a ridiculous surge of triumph as the rich whiff seeped into the atmosphere. The two croissants she found in the bread bin felt dry beneath her fingers but she gave them a light toasting under the grill and ate them with a dollop of her own blackcurrant conserve, sucking the sweet, tart jam from her long fingers afterwards.

  A glance through the window confirmed the capricious nature of the weather. The evening before, she’d driven back beneath a starry canopy and stood gazing up at the moon afterwards. This morning, a sullen sky oozed rain blown around like crinoline frills by an equally truculent wind. Ruth smiled as Sparkles appeared in the utility room doorway and lumbered forward. She fondled the dog’s head.

  “How about a walk, old girl?” With an odd jolt of satisfaction, she realised she’d used Eddie’s favourite term of endearment for the family pet. “Your mistress doesn’t like taking you out on wet days, does she, Sparkles? Never mind, old lady. You’ve got me and I like walking in the rain. Isn’t that lucky? Let’s stretch our legs, shall we?”

  Still chatting to the animal, Ruth went to the utility room where she’d hung her wet weather suit. She stepped into the trousers, pulled the jacket over her head and drew the hood toggles together beneath her chin.

  Woman and dog left the house via the back door. Ruth narrowed her eyes as a powerfully built man got out of a black range rover and buttoned himself into his waterproof jacket. Who could this be? Surely it wasn’t a curious time-waster who’d noticed the sale board and hoped to look around the property? If so, whoever it was could turn around and go away again. She put her head down, shortened the dog’s lead and marched purposefully onward, ignoring the stranger.

  But the man turned towards her and waved. “Good Morning,” he called. “Could you tell me if this is the best place to park, if I want to walk to the waterfall?”

  Ruth hesitated.

  The stranger took a couple of steps towards her. “I should apologise for accosting you,” he said. “Rotten weather. Stranger in the camp and all that! My name’s Ray Kirby and I viewed the house down the track the other day. I’ve come to check out the local terrain before heading back to London.” He kept his eyes on her face. Something pinged in the part of the brain that hoarded useless information, but he ignored it. “I can ring the estate agents if you’d like to check me out.”

  Ruth forced a smile. She cleared her throat, the fingers of one hand automatically moving to the neckline of her waterproof jacket. “That won’t be necessary, Mr Kirby. As it happens, Mr and Mrs Deacon mentioned your name to me.”

  “You’re a friend of theirs?”

  “Friend. Helpmate. Chauffeur. House sitter.”

  This read like a CV. Why did he feel as though he knew her? Ray bent down to pat the Labrador. “Of course. Dog walker, too. Hello again, Sparkles, old girl.”

  Ruth watched the animal wag her tail. “You haven’t chosen a very good day for sightseeing. I have to go out in the rain, whereas you don’t.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Rain doesn’t bother me. If you take a liking to a place when you see it in foul weather, you’ll be even more enthusiastic when the sun shines.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “I thought I should check out the area so I can describe it to my partner. Having good walks within easy reach is important to both of us.”

  “Some of the countryside around here is rather challenging,” said Ruth. “You need to take care.”

  “I wouldn’t let Claudia go for walks alone. You obviously know the area well?”

  “I know the places to avoid, yes.”

  “If you don’t mind my saying, you sound a tad negative, Mrs. . .?”

  She didn’t pick up on his unspoken query. “I’m being realistic. Three Roads is not a place for the vulnerable.”

  His laughter rumbled like thunder. “This gets better. Sounds like I should pack a crucifix and string of garlic next time I visit. So, are you planning to walk up the hill?”

  “That depends upon whether you’d like company or not.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’d appreciate it if you pointed me in the direction of this Pwll-y-Diafol place, ma’am.”

  “You need to practise the correct pronunciation but I’ve heard worse.’

  “I stand corrected. How about you tell me the English translation?”

  “It’s known as The Devil’s Pool.”

  “Is it now? Okay. As it happens, I’d appreciate your company.”

  “I’ll walk up the hill with you and part of the way down the track you’ll need to take. Sparkles isn’t as young as she used to be but I’ll make sure you know the route before I turn back.”

  “Aren’t you afraid I might slip and tumble into the water?”

  He was a great lighthouse of a man. Stirred something within her that didn’t fit with how she should feel about someone who posed a threat to her future. She didn’t know why she’d agreed to join him on his walk. She didn’t know if he intended to interrogate her about the house and surrounding countryside. He might question her motives if she badmouthed the half-pint village in an effort to put him off purchasing the house he so admired. He might say something to the Harley woman. That could make life difficult, should Suzanne and Eddie get wind of it, which, with what she’d gleaned about Bethan Harley, was a given.

  Ruth wiped a raindrop from the tip of her nose. “I’m afraid all I can say is, on your own head be it.”

  “Cheer me up, why don’t you?” He shot her a quizzical look. “As it happens, I have a military background. I shan’t get myself lost and I’m certainly not scared of getting my toes wet. But I’d like to take some photographs before I set off home. Chocolate box landscapes never appeal to me.”

  Ruth, having temporarily forgotten to keep up the pretence of a stiff knee when others were around, slowed her pace for effect. “It’s no good.” She screwed up her face in exasperation and tapped her right leg. “I tried but this knee of mine won’t allow me to keep up.” She paused. “Our climate probably doesn’t help. I do hope neither you nor your partner suffers from arthritis.”

  He shortened his stride. Offered his arm. “Hang on to me. I promise not to go too fast. Arthritis isn’t a problem for either of us. What intrigues me is why an intelligent woman chooses to live in a dead end like Three Roads. Are you wearing any significant rings beneath those leather gloves, I wonder? Or are you an artist who needs inspiration in order to create? An author maybe?”

  Again, Ruth felt both annoyed and intrigued by this man who’d interrupted her day.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I shouldn’t be curious but I have the oddest feeling that I know you from somewhere.”

  Ruth froze. Surely this big Englishman who so strangely attracted and repelled her couldn’t possibly have read those odious conclusions reached by reporters with no better story than a possible love triangle? There’d been a photograph and fleeting television coverage on the Scottish news. Surely, after a decade, her former alter ego, Julia Hayes wasn’t going to haunt her?

  She’d resented Kirby’s curiosity. Now she feared it. When he first mentioned visiting the waterfall, she’d experienced a sudden mind’s eye flash of the shawl-shaped falls plunging into a subterranean, rock-infested pool. A circle of nothingness surrounded by steep, almost vertical cliffs. Phil Sartin once told her that years before she took over her cottage, a middle-aged couple, touring the area, had drowned in the deep, rushing waters.

  This persistent stranger, probably accustomed to getting his own way, and who, from what she’d heard, was a self-declared trouble-shooter to boot, suddenly loomed too large in her cloistered world. He could prove a much greater threat than the couple she’d manipulated the night before. Now fate had thrown her into Ray Kirby’s path and she needed time to reconcile her tumbling whirlpool of thoughts. The cunning option must
surely be to answer his questions and also learn whatever she could about his personality.

  “I’m single,” said Ruth. “My elderly aunt died some years ago leaving me as her only beneficiary. I found a tenant for my flat in Llanbrenin Wells and moved into the small cottage I inherited in Three Roads. I live on the other side of the village from The Sugar House.”

  “Have you ever worked in or near Edinburgh?”

  “Never.” The lie slipped from her lips but her heartbeat tripped.

  He shot her a quizzical look. “I spent a couple of years living in Church Hill. Sometimes go back to visit one company I still deal with. It’s just that you remind me of someone. Someone I didn’t know but whose picture was in the papers. I didn’t have much of a life outside work in those days and the case intrigued me.”

  Ruth’s chest hurt. Safer not to comment. Let him stew.

  “Quite obviously you know nothing about this. I apologise. So, do you work locally?”

  She kept her cool. “Not in the sense you mean, apart from proof-reading assignments now and then.”

  “If I buy The Sugar House, I’ll be needing someone to help keep my records in order, maybe type up some reports. Someone trustworthy.”

  Ruth didn’t respond. Ray Kirby maintained a steady, slower pace and she hadn’t taken up his offer of a helping arm.

  “I should say, Claudia is springtime to my autumn and we both lead busy lives.” He looked sideways at Ruth as if expecting a reaction. “What, no sarcastic comment about age differences?”

  “It’s none of my business. Equally, I can never understand what makes people ask why I never married.”

  “I can imagine. I’ve had my share of snide remarks but who cares what others think? And if we settle into what we consider the perfect home, when the time comes to hang up my driving gloves, I’ll have to adjust to Claudia chauffeuring me, I guess. If she’s still around by then, of course.”