The House Sitter

by Jill Barry

  She saw a spasm cross Suzanne’s face. She relaxed her grip. Watched the other woman walk to the back door and open it. She didn’t walk through it.

  In three strides Ruth was there. She closed the door and drew Suzanne back to the table.

  “Do you really think we’ve made the wrong decision, Ruth? Do you think I’m living in cloud cuckoo land?”

  A sense of triumph flooded Ruth. She helped Suzanne back into her chair and seated herself opposite again.

  “I think Eddie’s at fault for playing on your emotions. I’ve seen a lot of family dynamics over the years, mainly when I’ve worked as a companion housekeeper. Each generation has its own agenda and that’s how it should be.”

  Ruth reached for Suzanne’s hands and clasped them across the scrubbed pine surface. “Your delicate constitution needs tender loving care. Your daughter, bless her, cannot possibly cope with the burdens that come with age.”

  “We’re not that decrepit,” said Suzanne.

  Ruth noted the flash of spirit. “Of course not. And these peaceful surroundings will help you stay that way. How does that part of Wiltshire you visited compare with this village, Suzanne?”

  “I did notice the roar of traffic when we were looking at one particular house I liked.”

  “Precisely. You need to compare what you actually have with what you think you need. Choosing a new home is exciting. It’s easy to get carried away by that initial enthusiasm. It’s rather like the first heady days of a love affair.”

  Ruth kept her voice low. Her words soothing. “Life’s too short to keep upping sticks. Moving saps anyone’s energy. You know I’m right, Suzanne. Trust me. We were absolutely fine, all three of us, weren’t we? Before Eddie got fidgety?”

  Suzanne didn’t appear to have heard her. “I’d better get back. I need to talk to him. Tell him I’m not sure about all this. Mr Kirby might still be there. He’s the one most likely to make an offer on the house.”

  Ruth felt a flash of fury. Somehow, she managed to keep her voice calm. “I didn’t realise you had a second viewing this morning. You should have told me, Suzanne.”

  “Mrs Harley told Eddie not to say anything to anyone about this viewing.”

  “But I’m not just anyone, my dear.” Ruth got to her feet. “I’ll drive you back. Come on. I’ve said what needed saying and now it’s up to you. Don’t let yourself be bullied, Suzanne. Bring your doubts to Eddie’s notice.”

  After Ruth dropped her friend at her gate, she drove back to her cottage, a slow smile buttering her face. Did Mrs Harley really think she could get the better of her?

  Maybe she wouldn’t need to open her Pandora’s box again. If only she could hear the conversation between husband and wife. She’d opted to go for the jugular and succeeded in startling Suzanne out of complacency. Given her plenty to think about. The expression on the other woman’s face had inspired exquisite pleasure in Ruth. What delicious effects the right words could produce.

  “Are you all right up there?” Bethan called from the foot of the aluminium loft ladder.

  “I’m good, thanks. I wanted to check the load-bearing joists. Your agent speak isn’t euphemistic – this space would make a perfect studio.”

  “The Deacons had the roof windows put in as part of their original renovation.”

  She saw his face appear from on high. A grinning face. “You don’t need to do the hard sell. I’m totally hooked on the house, but you already know that.”

  “I could have emailed answers to your questions and saved you driving all the way on your own. I do feel awkward about this.”

  “Well, don’t. I wanted to come back, and not only to take another look at the house. I’m coming down now.”

  She moved away from the ladder as Ray Kirby went into reverse and planted one well shod foot after the other upon the rungs. She needed to keep his trim rear out of view. Out of her thoughts. That set her wondering what he meant by saying he had more than one reason for visiting mid Wales today.

  “I’ve never thought to enquire but do you and your partner have children?”

  “No, Bethan. Not last time I checked, anyway.”

  He sounded amused. What had made her ask that? Feeling silly, she turned around and watched him flip the sturdy ladder up and away into its resting position. One twist with the metal rod and the loft flap fitted flush with the ceiling.

  “Mr Deacon called upstairs to ask if you’d like coffee now.”

  “I certainly would.” He stood back to allow her to descend ahead of him.

  In the kitchen, Eddie looked up from his laptop. “Are you a sports fan?”

  “Do you mean me or Mrs Harley?”

  Eddie chuckled. “Either of you. Big golf tournament this afternoon.”

  Ray Kirby nodded. “I play now and then. And enjoy telling the top golfers how to take a shot when I’m watching on television.”

  “You’re a backseat driver, old chap?”

  “Afraid so.”

  Bethan fidgeted.

  Eddie got to his feet. “I’m forgetting my manners. Please sit down, both of you. Coffee’s ready to pour.”

  “Shall I fetch milk from the fridge?”

  “That would be great, my dear.”

  Ray looked around him. “I feel at ease here. Even if a property has all the mod cons, it doesn’t necessarily possess the right atmosphere.”

  “There are no ghosts in this house, as far as I know.”

  Bethan, opening the refrigerator door, resisted the urge to comment.

  “My only quibble is the lack of a garage,” said Ray. “I like somewhere I can tinker. And on winter mornings, I detest having to defrost a windscreen before I set off. Not that I’ll often be driving for work purposes.”

  “We did contemplate converting that old shed.” Eddie sounded defensive. “But we don’t normally venture out when the weather’s bad and I certainly don’t tinker with the car. Mechanics isn’t my forte.”

  “Mr Deacon comes from a family of hoteliers.” Bethan hovered at Eddie’s elbow. “Milk, Mr Deacon? I know Mr Kirby likes his black.”

  Immediately the words were out, she wished she hadn’t said them. Eddie’s swift glance at Ray met a deadpan gaze but a hotelier would be used to interpreting body language and intuiting subtext hidden by a seemingly innocuous remark. She decided to allow vendor and prospective purchaser to circumnavigate this kitchen table scenario.

  “That would work,” said Ray. “So long as there was a door at the rear to access the kitchen door.”

  “I can’t foresee any problem there.” Eddie helped himself to sugar.

  “So, have you found somewhere you’d like to move to, Mr Deacon?”

  “We’ve seen two houses which would fit the bill. Trouble is, I favour one and Suzanne much prefers the other.”

  “Which of you is the better negotiator?” Ray Kirby’s expression was quizzical.

  “Jury’s out on that one,” said Eddie. “I think my lovely wife might get her way. But of course, this is all in the lap of the gods.”

  Bethan looked up at the kitchen clock.

  Ray Kirby drained his cup. “I must complete my tour or I’ll be interfering with your TV watching.”

  “Not at all. Take as long as you want. Have a good wander round.”

  “I’d like to go outside via the kitchen door. Suss out the possible garage conversion and check whether the patio would accommodate a hot tub.”

  “Help yourself. A hot tub, you say? That’ll give the villagers something to chew over!”

  The big man strolled towards the kitchen door. Bethan heard him speak to the dog. The Labrador made a friendly little sound in return. If she’d been a cat, Bethan would have described it as a purr. She sensed Eddie’s eyes upon her. Turned towards him and smiled brightly.

  “So far so good. I’m sorry to have missed Mrs Deacon.”

  “I’ve no idea when she’ll be back. Here, let me show you the house she fancies. I’ve saved the particulars in my fav
ourites.”

  Bethan stood, replaced her chair neatly under the table and walked around to join her client. She was leaning in when Eddie’s hand shot out and rested on her arm. Comfortably, like an old friend, confident his action wouldn’t be misunderstood.

  “There it is. What do you think?”

  “Wow. It’s gorgeous.” Bethan’s blonde head almost touched Eddie’s snowy one. “Let’s take a look at the master bedroom.”

  “I wish!” Eddie roared with laughter. “Known the time, my dear.”

  “What’s this about?” Suzanne walked from the doorway and stood, hands on hips, her gaze taking in her husband and Bethan, who immediately sensed the tension.

  “Hi my darling. Mr Kirby is prowling around, checking out exciting possibilities. I was just showing Bethan this house you like. Have you had a good gossip?”

  “Are you all right, Mrs Deacon?”

  “I’ve been better, Mrs Harley.”

  Bethan pulled out a chair for Suzanne. “I don’t think Mr Kirby will be much longer. Unfortunately, his partner couldn’t join him as planned but there’s no doubt about his enthusiasm towards your house.”

  Suzanne sank on to the chair and stared blankly at her.

  “Shall I help you off with your coat?” Eddie kept his eyes on his laptop.

  “Let me,” said Bethan, moving towards the older woman.

  “This is all too much,” said Suzanne. “I’m not sure I can cope.”

  “I know how distressing it can be, having a stream of strangers coming and going.” Bethan spoke soothingly. Gently she helped the older woman slip her arms from the sleeves of her fleece.

  “Kirby seems a good guy. A bit John Blunt but that’s no fault. We could be on a winner here, Suze.”

  Suzanne slumped in her chair. Shocked, Bethan saw an old woman, tired and frightened, behind the smartly dressed, elegantly-coiffed silver fox and felt compassion for her client.

  “Has someone given you bad news, Mrs Deacon?”

  Bethan saw Eddie snap to attention at the sound of her words.

  “Suze? Has something upset you?”

  “Let me leave you two alone. I’ll wait in my car.”

  “No, don’t go,” said Suzanne. “Mrs Harley, do you truly think we’re doing the right thing by selling our house?”

  “Suzanne, please!” Eddie reached out to his wife. “We’ve gone through all this before.”

  “Mrs Deacon, I know you’ve been visiting Ms Morgan.” Bethan hesitated. “I wonder, has she said something to upset you?”

  Bethan watched Suzanne’s face crumple.

  “That bitch!” Eddie snapped. “Has she been stirring things again?”

  “No! You’re wrong, Eddie. I think Ruth has our best interests at heart. Maybe we are too old after all. I mean, too old to cope with the upheaval of setting up home in a new part of the world. Didn’t we agree the move to Three Roads should be the last one? Everything’s happening in too much of a rush.”

  Bethan watched Eddie look at his wife as if she’d turned into a stranger.

  “I think we should make tracks.” Ray Kirby’s powerful frame filled the doorway. “Sorry to have taken up so much of your time, Mr Deacon, Mrs Deacon.” He nodded at Bethan. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Ray Kirby leaned against his vehicle and folded his arms across his chest. “This is a bugger’s muddle, isn’t it?”

  “How much did you hear?”

  “Enough.”

  “I swear I’ll swing for that evil piece of work!” Bethan sighed.

  “Why the feck did Mrs Deacon schlep down there, anyway? You’d think, with a second viewing booked, she’d want to be at home with her husband. Why did he let her go, I wonder?”

  “She thought Morgan sounded distraught on the phone. I’m thinking emotional blackmail where their so-called friend’s concerned. Morgan’s playing Suzanne Deacon like a harp. Knows just when to tighten the strings and when to relax them. I wouldn’t mind betting she’s fed Mrs Deacon all kinds of poison, parcelled up as friendly advice.”

  “Sheesh. It doesn’t make my position any easier.”

  “No.”

  “I could use a stiff drink.”

  “You and me both.”

  “Why don’t you come back to my hotel?”

  She stared at him. For moments the earth tipped on its axis.

  “For a drink? Maybe a bite to eat?” He sounded hesitant.

  “I’m not sure. I should go straight to the office, in case Mr Deacon rings. He’s got the job of calming his wife down.”

  “Where I’m staying’s on your way. Your vendor has your mobile phone number, surely?” Ray didn’t allow her time to reply. “In fact, why don’t you ring him now? Go on! Tell him I’m prepared to offer the asking price.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I never joke where money’s concerned. If it’s the uncertainty that’s worrying Mrs Deacon, what better way to calm her down than remove the offending factor?”

  “You’re quite certain?”

  “Are you in the business of bricks and mortar selling or not?”

  “Originally, you said you wanted your partner to approve your decision.”

  “I want this house, Bethan. I’m gagging to get my paws on it, with or without Claudia.”

  Bethan ignored the gigantic lurch inside her stomach and pulled out her mobile. “Right. You’re either going to make Eddie Deacon’s day or totally trash it. Either way, it will be an unforgettable moment.”

  Ray nodded. Kept his eyes fixed on her. Kept them so focused, she almost rang her own number. Had to start again.

  “Two hundred and ninety-nine thousand pounds?”

  “That’s what your website stated last time I looked. Go on, make his day, why don’t you?”

  Bethan selected the correct number this time. Waited for the call to be picked up. “Mr Deacon? We’re still in the village but about to drive off now. I’m ringing to give you good news. Mr Kirby has offered the asking price for your property.”

  She didn’t need to look up, to know Ray Kirby still kept his eyes on her. She didn’t know how much Suzanne Deacon’s emotional outburst had affected her husband’s decision-making process. But when she heard Eddie Deacon pause a beat before giving his verbal agreement to the offer, she felt several things. Relief. Triumph. Professional satisfaction. Not to mention a huge amount of joy that owed nothing to the commission achieved from selling a heap of bricks and mortar in an idyllic location.

  She smiled at her purchaser. “It’s a yes. Do you want to go back inside?”

  “Nah, let’s leave them to it. He’ll calm her down. Still fancy that drink?”

  Bethan followed him back to Knightly. He drove carefully, obeying every speed restriction sign.

  His hotel stood on the town’s outskirts, approached via an ornate gateway and a winding drive. It overlooked one of several rivers that helped make the area so appealing. Vehicles belonging to local businessmen dotted the car park. She recognised a personal number plate belonging to the owner of the nearby country store, a business that drew customers from miles around. This was green welly country. Lots of people kept horses, goats, chickens and dogs. The Royal Welsh Showground was an easy drive from here. Ray Kirby parked at the side of the building and she drove into the adjacent space.

  He pulled a dark grey holdall and a laptop case from the rear of his Range Rover.

  “I stayed in Llanbrenin on my first visit.” He zapped his key lock.

  “At the Queensbridge?”

  “Yup. I thought the food was excellent.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t want to go back.”

  “I thought Claudia might prefer this place. The spa’s undergone a facelift but I imagine you’d know all about that.”

  “I like to keep my eye on the ball.”

  He looked around. “You wouldn’t think we were so close to the town. Such as it is.”

  “Isn’t its size
and quirkiness part of Knightly’s charm?”

  “I wasn’t trying to wind you up. Hell’s teeth, I might have an urgent need to buy a set of wind chimes one of these days.”

  Bethan laughed. “Or Chinese massage balls. They’re supposed to be very therapeutic, according to my daughter.”

  They walked towards the entrance, and she felt the temporary closeness of being part of a couple that were not a couple. He held open the swing door and she entered the lobby ahead of him.

  “I’ll tell them I’m here. It’s too early to check in.”

  He approached the desk and spoke to the receptionist with that easy charm which so belied his tough guy appearance. The woman looked across and recognised his companion.

  “It’s good to see you again, Mrs Harley.”

  Bethan responded, confident the hotel employee would recognise she was here as part of her business duties and not because of an assignation. She was equally aware how her feelings towards this particular client had ratcheted to an inappropriate level totally unrelated to a business transaction. The knuckles of her left hand brushed against Ray’s quilted black jacket as she walked beside him towards the lounge bar. She drew her fingers away, clenching them as though they’d brushed against the logs burning brightly in the enormous fireplace.

  The ringing of her mobile snapped Bethan back to reality. She checked the caller’s identity.

  “My daughter. Do you mind if I—?”

  “How about I order a half bottle of champagne? Seeing as it’s still your working day.”

  She nodded. Accepted the call. Watched him march up to the bar, his long legs devouring the distance in a few strides.

  “Mum, can I stay at Callum’s tonight? His sister’s boyfriend’s coming over and we want to get a takeaway and watch movies.”

  “Will his parents be there?” Bethan waited for the familiar ‘Mu-um’ to echo in her ear. She didn’t hang around for long.

  “They’re going to someone’s house for dinner. They’ll be back by midnight. Callum’s sister says I can crash in her room. Satisfied?”

  “Yes, darling. Have a lovely evening. I’ll see you in the morning then. Text me when you want a lift.”

  Bethan walked into the bar where Ray had been chatting with the barman.