The House Sitter

by Jill Barry

  If he could only stand a little closer, he could obtain a better shot of the opalescence arcing above the waterfall. He looked down at his feet. Shuffled forward a bit. Not too close to the edge. He turned his attention back to his camera. Damn it. He needed to fish out his reading glasses, because he still hadn’t totally got his head around this recently purchased gizmo. He’d better make sure he pressed the right buttons. Daren’t go back without a few shots.

  Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Indigo. Violet. If he were only a different kind of a guy, he’d tell Claudia he wished he could give her the rainbow for a scarf. He smiled to himself. No way would she have chosen him, if she’d been seeking the romantic hero of her dreams.

  Engrossed in the moment. Totally captivated by the wonders of Nature. He didn’t even consider the possibility that he mightn’t be alone in visiting The Devil’s Pool on an autumn weekday, which began by overdosing on torrential rain.

  Nor did Bethan, spotting him, realise Ray Kirby already had company. A rush of relief overwhelmed her and she surprised herself by her need to hold back tears. The choked-up feeling stopped her from calling out. Fortunately, perhaps, given his precarious position. But someone else had no such concerns. Sparkles barked, tugging her lead.

  “Stay. Stay, Sparkles!” Bethan used both hands to restrain the animal from making a dangerous lunge.

  Moving closer to the waterfall meant braving a quagmire. Bethan knew she daren’t risk the dog causing her to lose her balance. Ray Kirby seemed not to have heard the commotion. His ears must be filled with the hammering of the waterfall, his concentration focused upon his viewfinder. She hesitated. And while she watched, she noticed something or someone materialise among the foliage close to the photographer.

  Was it a trick of the light? Watery sunshine cast a disguise over the dark, brooding woodland. Bethan sometimes felt this part of mid Wales whispered secrets never to be revealed. But whatever lurked in the shadows had moved once more. Bethan blinked. The shape was now closer to Ray Kirby, who should know better than to allow his macho man image to threaten his life. The ground must be saturated where he stood and to yell a warning could bring danger. If indeed he heard her.

  Bethan’s mouth dried. Intent on the moment, she felt miraculously calm, despite her obsessive dark thoughts. The fear of someone moving in on the big man seemed entirely possible while he appeared so unaware of his vulnerability.

  She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not when he shifted his foothold and looked across at her. Maybe she’d been imagining things after all because he didn’t move from the spot but pointed to his camera and turned back, clearly determined to capture the image he wanted while the light was right.

  Bethan blinked hard. Shielded her eyes against the sun. Whatever or whoever she thought she’d seen, was no longer in evidence. The Labrador had calmed down.

  “Stay, Sparkles.” She waited until the big man had taken enough shots of sky and water and picked his way back to join her on the stony part of the track.

  “What are you doing here? Is everything all right?” His face showed a mix of concern and curiosity.

  “Everything’s fine,” said Bethan. She wondered if her voice sounded as tremulous to him as it did to her. “Er, I’ve just been showing people around The Sugar House and happened to notice your car in the lay by.”

  His eyes crinkled. A smile softened what Bethan thought of as his tough guy image. “Yeah, that number plate’s a bit of a giveaway.”

  “I wondered whether you were hoping for another look at the house before heading back to London. I had a hunch you might be here, so coming to check seemed the obvious thing to do.”

  His eyes widened. “But you’ve brought Sparkles. Surely that’s beyond the call of duty? I met the house sitter taking the dog for a walk, when I was making my way here.”

  Bethan was about to tell him what she’d discovered when she heard a cry of surprise.

  “Oh, my goodness. Oh, what a relief.” Ruth Morgan emerged from the woodland only yards from them and hurried forward.

  Bethan sucked in her breath. So, she hadn’t been mistaken. The house sitter must have been skulking in the woods but with intent to do what?

  Sparkles barked a welcome.

  Bethan handed over the dog’s lead. “She came bounding out of the woods, Ms Morgan. Luckily she ran towards me and I managed to grab her lead and stop her from getting too close to the water.”

  “She loves the water.”

  “I’m sure she does.” Bethan took a deep breath. “But have you not noticed the state of the ground? It would be easy for an animal – or a person – to lose their balance.”

  She didn’t intend spelling out the consequences. Ruth was glaring at her. Ray didn’t comment. Possibly enjoying the show?

  “As the dog was roaming around but you were nowhere to be seen, I was worried you might’ve had an accident. I walked back the way Sparkles had come and saw the state of the bench.” She held Ruth Morgan’s gaze.

  “But what were you doing here in the first place, Mrs Harley? Surely you weren’t looking for me? I don’t understand.”

  “I might say the same to you,” said Ray Kirby. “Didn’t you tell me you were heading home with the dog? You mentioned your knee was playing up. Wow, Ms Morgan, the England football manager would give his right arm for that kind of recovery time among his squad.”

  Fifteen love, thought Bethan, even if it was the wrong sport.

  Ruth Morgan raised her chin. Her eyes gleamed. “Yes, I did set off back but couldn’t help worrying about you being out here on your own. Despite your protestations, I agree with Mrs Harley. It can be undeniably treacherous in this area.”

  Bethan refrained from muttering ‘In more ways than one.’

  Instead, she answered Ruth Morgan’s question. “I left a message on the answer phone to let you know I was coming over to show prospective purchasers around. You must have already left.”

  “You let yourself in, despite my absence?”

  “Of course. As agreed with the vendors.”

  “Even so, common courtesy would decree you should have left a message asking me to ring you back and fix a convenient time. I worry about you bringing strangers into The Sugar House.”

  Bethan placed her hands on her hips. She knew she must plumb the absolute depths of her resilience or risk not maintaining her professionalism.

  “That’s a strange attitude, Ms Morgan, if you don’t mind my saying so. The potential purchasers were passing through and read the particulars in the office window. Why on earth would I lose an opportunity to show them around, when the vendors have granted me full permission to enter their property?”

  Ruth Morgan merely glared at her.

  “Don’t worry. I accompanied the couple every inch of the tour.”

  Ray looked at his watch but Bethan was beyond stopping.

  “Anyway, why didn’t you keep to the designated track? I’m surprised you can tolerate uneven terrain if your knee really is as troublesome as you make out.” Bethan tried for the same impassivity as Ray Collins achieved when looking at the house sitter. She hadn’t been quite so skilful with her confrontational comments.

  Ruth avoided her gaze this time. “I. . . er, decided to leave Sparkles tied up at the bench for safety reasons, in case I needed to assist Mr Kirby. That dog may be old but she’s still capable of pulling someone over, you know. She’s quite a heavyweight.”

  Damn her. Score’s fifteen all, thought Bethan.

  “So that Lab’s either clever with knots or you were never a Girl Guide, Ms Morgan?”

  Bethan inwardly cheered. Thirty – fifteen, thanks to Ray Kirby. The house sitter from hell knew her way round these woods. She knew where to sneak up and pounce. Maybe to spook the big man. Maybe for a more sinister reason.

  “Well, no harm done and everyone’s okay,” said Ray Kirby. “But I’m sorry my decision to check out the views has caused trouble for you ladies. I can’t even offer you a lift ba
ck.”

  Bethan pulled her keys from her pocket. “My car’s parked not far away. I’ll drop you both in the village.”

  “That’s really not necessary,” said Ruth.

  “We don’t want you straining your knee any further, do we? I left my car in the forestry turning space.” Surely forty – fifteen now?

  They rode back in awkward silence. Ruth insisted Bethan park in the lay by rather than take her back to the house. The woman walked away, Sparkles lumbering beside her, leaving Bethan and Kirby standing next to his Range Rover.

  “Rum old bird,” said Kirby, watching the house sitter disappear from view at the corner of the track.

  “She’s not that old.”

  “She knows we’re watching her so the limp’s back. She fudged her way out of answering you back there though.”

  “So, you’ve been making her acquaintance?”

  “I came across her when she appeared with the dog and I was about to climb the hill. I asked if I’d chosen the best place to park but she didn’t suggest I drove closer to that track.”

  “I can’t think why not. It would’ve been far more convenient.”

  “She seemed wary of me. So, being the gentleman I am, I introduced myself and she immediately said the Deacons had mentioned me. I get the impression she’s like a mother hen with two rather elderly chicks. Likes to know what they’re up to.”

  Bethan nodded. “Spot on. But you realise my priority is to concentrate on the business of selling a house, not to voice my personal views?”

  He nodded. “Of course. That’s why you took the trouble to discover what I was up to this morning. But it’s obvious you don’t like Ms Morgan.” He held up his hand. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to know more.”

  “Let’s just say, your use of the adjective ‘rum’ is putting it mildly. I have certain concerns. Certain suspicions.”

  “Suspicions? Come on, Mrs Harley. I’m asking you to spill the beans. You needn’t fear I’ll drop you in it but I’m intrigued as to what’s bugging you. Can you blame me?”

  Bethan looked him in the eye. “These particular vendors seem to be experiencing a little too much misfortune regarding viewings.”

  He smoothed his hand over his chin. “Like when I turned up to find a dirty great tractor blocking access?”

  “Exactly. There have been a few other incidents, enough to rattle my cage, even though I’ve made the right noises to my clients. I’m telling you this, Mr Kirby, in complete confidence and I’m aware I might be doing myself no favours.”

  “Go on.”

  She nodded. “Estate agents are always the baddies. But you’re looking at one who likes to sleep at night and I have to say, if you’re experiencing doubts about moving into Three Roads, I wouldn’t blame you for driving off and telling your partner this one’s not for you.”

  Kirby pressed his key to unlock his car, pulled off his hat and threw it on the back seat. “I meant what I said. I can sort out one cantankerous cuss of a farmer. No problem. But these other incidents you mention. How serious are they, on a scale of one to ten?”

  “Mr Kirby, you’re asking a lot.”

  “It’s Ray. And you’re risking a lot if you’re not prepared to be totally honest, Mrs Harley. Something tells me I’m your best prospect when it comes to buying this property. Am I right?”

  She couldn’t stop herself twisting her rings around her finger again. “God, I need caffeine. Yes, you’re right. So far, of course. And please call me Bethan.”

  He tipped his head in the direction of the house. “As there’s no sign of baristas plying their trade around these parts, we could ask our friend there to fire up Mr Deacon’s machine. Tell her I’m close to offering on her chums’ house and in need of sustenance.”

  Bethan’s laugh rang harsh. “And risk her poisoning us? I don’t think so. As for your question, I’d say ten out of ten on that scale of seriousness you mentioned.”

  Ray Kirby didn’t even blink. He lifted his wrist to check a watch that small boys and airline pilots would kill for. “If I follow you back to town, may we talk privately in your office? But I warn you, Bethan, I want to know every single nasty detail.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ruth took care to fake a limp after leaving the Harley woman with the equally irritating and macho Kirby. They were quite likely to check up on her. She seethed in silence as she approached the gateway, Sparkles padding beside her. Without a doubt, that bitch suspected her. She’d expressed concern over the possibility of Ruth getting into difficulties while walking but that was mere smoke and mirrors. All the estate agent cared about was her commission. What did it matter to Mrs Harley if Ruth’s lifestyle and future prospects were crumbling around her?

  She berated herself for failing to take the dog home before setting off. But that would have further delayed her arrival at the waterfall. And she might have run into the estate agent before she reached the woodland area. Either way she assessed the situation, the Harley woman was a nuisance, if a manageable nuisance. Whereas, Kirby. . .

  Could she really have reached out and sent him flying? He might be built like a lighthouse but taken unawares while focusing on pretty pictures maybe his balance would have suffered. His feet might have aquaplaned, sending him sprawling helpless on the ground. Yes, he could even have tumbled into the deep waters.

  Did he hold the cards to out her as a woman with a dubious history? To her knowledge, no one, absolutely no one else in the area had any inkling of how Julia Hayes had hit the Scottish newspaper headlines as the glamorous housekeeper who caused tongues to wag. Now, out there, imagining no third person in the vicinity, desperate to maintain her way of life and relationship with Suzanne and Eddie, she’d been inches away from teaching Kirby a lesson he’d never have forgotten. If indeed he had survived. Sometimes, she surprised herself with her own depravity. This was all the fault of the Deacons. How much longer would it take to convince them they should stay where they were?

  Ruth had no intention of allowing the careful web she’d spun around her friends to be torn to shreds.

  Back in Llanbrenin Wells, Bethan spotted a parking space, slapped her season ticket into view and hopped out to purchase a ticket for Ray, who’d parked further down the line.

  “I got you an hour’s worth.” She handed over the slip.

  “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.”

  They walked back to his vehicle in silence.

  Bethan led the way up the ramp to the main street. “I appreciate your time. I also have a hunch you won’t write me off as a hysterical female, gorging herself on crime novels.”

  “You; hysterical? That’s one description I wouldn’t apply.”

  “My daughter might disagree.”

  “So, you’re married? Career, wife, and mum?”

  Clearly, he hadn’t noticed her engagement and wedding rings. “I. . . we are amicably estranged, if you must know.”

  “Sorry. I was out of order.”

  “I’m not precious about it.” She indicated the shop. “Take away coffees? Sadly, I can’t compete with Eddie Deacon’s cappuccino bar.”

  “Take away black is fine. I’ll get them.”

  When they entered the agency reception area, Bethan found her assistant dealing with a client. She called a quick greeting and ushered Ray Kirby into her office.

  “I won’t do you the discourtesy of tying this up in pink ribbons,” she said when they seated themselves either side of her desk.

  “Pink never was my colour.”

  “Okay. Here we go.”

  He listened carefully, sipping his drink while she gave him the facts in reverse order.

  “That’s about it,” she said. “I have no solid evidence. I can only conjecture.”

  “Plus use your gut feeling.”

  “Indeed.” She took a swallow of coffee. “That’s better. So, it didn’t take me too long to connect that woman I saw talking to Valerie and Brad, with Ms Morgan.”

 
“Did you hear this – let’s say, for argument’s sake, this Morgan alter ego – actually speak?”

  “No. But I distinctly remember her clearing her throat and raising her hand to stroke it. I saw Ruth Morgan do exactly the same thing when I was at the Deacons’ house. Cue chill running down my spine.”

  “A nervous tic.” He nodded. “I noticed it while we were walking up the hill together and she loosened her hood. But something like that is hardly conclusive, is it?”

  “My daughter wondered if Ms Morgan might have a sister.” She caught his eye. “Believe me, I don’t make a habit of telling all and sundry about my clients and their peculiarities.”

  “Praise be for that.”

  She had no business liking the way his eyes sparkled but undeniably she did.

  “I wanted to run my suspicions past someone. Poppy, my daughter, despite being only seventeen years of age, has a lot of common sense.”

  “You must have been a child bride.”

  She shook her head at him. Their relationship was shifting and she didn’t know whether to be pleased with or wary of his slightly flirtatious tone. “I’m trying to make it clear that I do know the meaning of professionalism.”

  “Bethan. Watch my lips. I have no doubt whatsoever about that.” He leaned back in his chair again. Crossed one leg over the other. He wore red socks. “Irrespective of that sighting and discounting your dislike of the house sitter, you appear to have good cause to suspect dirty deeds.”

  Bethan winced. “That whole business this morning stank worse than the dead field mouse that found its way inside a conch shell.”

  “You say, those two consultants didn’t seem put off?”

  “They appeared to be very keen on the house. But, given they’ve had no contact with the vendors, I find it inexplicable that Mrs Sarani rang to enquire whether there’d been any change of mind from the Deacons regarding their property remaining on the market.”

  “And your point is?”