Christmas at the Lucky Parrot Garden Centre

by Beth Good

  Someone being held prisoner in an upstairs bedroom, perhaps?

  Pressing her nose closer to the window, Hannah recognised one of the men there as Daniel Elliott. Even from the back, there was no mistaking that tall, dark figure. Then he turned, and she saw the intense green glow of his eyes.

  Definitely her Shadow Man.

  As she watched, he took a bottle and poured a drink that looked like wine, handing the glass to a stunning, willowy woman with long black hair, who took it with a grateful smile. She sipped the deep red drink, and flirted outrageously with Daniel, batting long, mascara-coated eyelashes that were clearly fake. Then the woman turned away, helping herself to something from a glass dish on the sideboard. She had long, scarlet-painted nails – also fake, Hannah thought with pursed lips – and she was carefully selecting a …

  No, it couldn’t be.

  Hannah’s eyes widened as she recognised the pile of round, whitish objects in the dish.

  Eyeballs!

  She stared in horror at the eyeballs, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. What in the name of all that was holy … ?

  Then she looked up and met Daniel’s gaze. His gaze locked with hers, dark and glowering, and she felt her heart lurch into hops and jolts like a terrified rabbit.

  No way, she told herself. No way could he have seen her.

  Yet he was still staring straight at her through the tiny gap in the curtains.

  Suddenly, something soft and warm bumped Hannah’s hand.

  With a yelp she jerked round, startled, and lost her precarious balance on the sill. Unfolding like an ungainly deckchair, she tipped backwards, struggling to right herself rather than land on her back, and managed to get one foot down first, thankfully her good one.

  With the most incredible crack, loud as a gunshot in the silence, her foot crashed straight through the Perspex top of the cold frame.

  Staggering backwards, she came down hard on her bottom on the frosty ground, one foot in the broken cold frame and the other foot up in the air, waving about uselessly.

  Staring up at the windowsill, she saw her own cat staring down at her, eyes huge as saucers, clearly as freaked out by her abrupt descent as she was.

  ‘Pepper!’

  CHAPTER THREE

  There was nothing like lying on her back looking up muzzily at the stars to focus her mind on the reality of her situation. A second after this vital discovery, she also realised there was nothing like the possibility of imminent discovery by a group of eyeball-munching vampires to get her back on her feet, aches and pains aside.

  She was carefully untangling her foot from the cold frame when raised voices inside – plus the unmistakeable sound of a bolt being drawn back on the kitchen door – gave her added impetus.

  Half running, half hobbling, she made for the protection of Ivy’s large compost bin on the principle that no-one would want to examine compost too closely. Burrowing behind the smelly bin in the shadows, crouched low, she realised that she had also unwittingly found the remains of the liquid manure that Ivy had used to dig into the kitchen garden.

  The manure squelched under her hands and seeped through her clothes, but Hannah merely gritted her teeth and tried not to inhale too deeply.

  It was too late to move now, anyway. They were coming.

  ‘Did you hear something?’

  ‘I can’t see anything.’

  ‘It must have been a wild animal. We are in the countryside here.’

  ‘A fox, perhaps.’

  ‘That shriek didn’t sound like a fox.’

  Just at that moment Pepper, bless her, chose to squawk and shoot past the assembled party-goers, fur raised along her neck.

  Someone gave a short, relieved laugh. ‘It was only a cat. Come on, let’s get back inside. It’s freezing out here.’

  Then that rich mesmerising voice said, ‘All the same, I’d better check properly. You go back in, guys. I’ll join you in a few minutes.’

  Hannah recognised that voice. She closed her eyes in pure mortification.

  Please don’t let him come this way.

  Please.

  Crouched behind the compost bin, she watched as a torch beam quartered the garden with deliberate precision, lingering over the scuffed-up ground around the broken cold frame.

  Her vampiric new neighbour laughed softly to himself. ‘Somehow I think this “animal” was a bit larger than a cat,’ he murmured, as though aware of his hidden audience, ‘and had two feet.’

  Then the torch swept over the compost bin.

  Heart thundering loud enough to be heard in Whitby itself, Hannah squeezed herself even more tightly against the wall.

  No, no, no.

  The frosty bite of brick and the stench of rotting manure were nothing compared to her fear of being caught by this man, covered in mud and poop (once again) and, even worse, having to explain why and how she came to be trespassing in someone else’s garden.

  Finally, the torch moved on. Then she heard his footsteps receding, and the kitchen door closed behind him.

  Hannah crept out of her hiding place and made for home again, still bent over and hobbling. Both feet hurt now. Well, what a fantastic result. That was what came of meddling, she thought wildly. Next time you hear screams in the night, bolt your door and hide behind the sofa.

  Back in the sanctuary of her little cottage, she stripped off in the kitchen, dumping her mucky clothes on the kitchen floor, and then ran upstairs to the shower. It took over half an hour to wash the muck out of her hair, and the water had gone cold by the time the straw and other muck had stopped swirling down the plughole. She’d used half a bottle of shower gel but still didn’t feel clean. But far worse than being covered in muck was the suspicion that Daniel had seen her before she’d managed to hide. Recalling those first few panicked seconds, she felt sure the curtain had been tweaked back just as she’d scrambled to her feet.

  Oh god, the embarrassment!

  Padding out naked to the airing cupboard, she put the water heater back on for the morning, then made her way wearily to bed.

  She hoped she would never have to see Daniel Elliott again. But given that Mr Vampire was living right opposite her, that hope was clearly forlorn from the start.

  The next morning was a Saturday, and the start of two days off work. All the same, she got up early and ran herself a deep bath, sitting up to her neck in bubbles and trying to get rid of the stink of manure. At least she had the weekend off, she told herself, and didn’t have to do much except a few household chores. She had also treated herself to an online purchase of some new lingerie and that should arrive today, so no grocery shopping until it had been delivered.

  Closing her eyes, she luxuriated in the warm water, and lay dozing for a bit, her sleepy imagination peopled by lean dark men, all of them with Daniel’s face and pointy canines, chasing her across a gloomy moorland landscape with torches and dogs.

  The doorbell rang suddenly, startling her back to awareness.

  It must be the postwoman with her parcel.

  Leaping out of the bath, she stood dripping on the lino, dazed and unsure where she had left her towel. But she could not risk missing her parcel delivery.

  Through the partly open bathroom window, she yelled down, ‘Morning Karen! Sorry but I’m starkers. Leave it on the step, will you? I’ll be down in a minute.’

  But instead of Karen’s cheery tones, only silence greeted that announcement.

  Perplexed, Hannah raised the window sash fully and poked her head out of the window to check Karen had heard. Except it wasn’t the familiar, wide-hipped figure of the local postie she found herself looking down on, but a head of glossy black hair and a pair of masculine, black-clad shoulders.

  Oh no.

  As if sensing her presence, Shadow Man looked directly up at her, brows raised, his eyes the colour of new oak leaves.

  Shock froze her brain but not, unfortunately, her mouth. ‘We meet again,’ she quipped.

  ‘So we do.’ H
e smiled, a mere twitch of his lips. ‘I’m Daniel Elliott.’

  ‘I know. I saw your name in the delivery book.’

  ‘And you’re Hannah.’

  ‘How did you know that?’ she asked suspiciously.

  Daniel pointed to his chest. ‘It was on your name tag at the garden centre.’

  Then his gaze dropped a few inches below her face, as though he had X-ray vision and could see right through bricks and mortar to her naked chest below the windowsill.

  I’m starkers!

  Why, oh why, had she yelled that?

  The intense interest in his gaze made her cheeks glow with heat.

  ‘Erm, just a minute.’ Hannah pulled her head back into the bathroom like a turtle, and crawled away to the closet. There was only one clean towel on the near-empty shelves. She really needed to catch up on her laundry this weekend, she told herself furiously.

  Oh well.

  She grabbed the towel and tried to cover her modesty with it. It was on the small side but was better than nothing. Just about. It didn’t quite go all the way around her body, and wasn’t long enough to secure properly so she gripped the edges tightly instead.

  Damn vampire.

  Poking her head out of the window again, she said, her tone deliberately unfriendly, ‘What do you want, Mr Elliott?’

  ‘Daniel, please,’ he said easily, as though he had not noticed her coldness. ‘I thought I’d better check that you were all right. You know, after last night?’

  Hannah’s fingers dug into the soft cotton of her towel. ‘Last n-night?’ She strove for nonchalance. There was no way she was admitting to anything. Not when she didn’t even have a clue who he was or why he was living in Ivy’s house. ‘I don’t understand. Why shouldn’t I be all right?’

  His gaze was unwavering. ‘The party last night. We made rather a lot of noise. I hope the screams didn’t scare you.’

  ‘Screams? I d-didn’t notice.’

  ‘Oh?’ His smile was knowing. ‘I thought maybe that scream frightened you when you were on the window sill, and that’s why you lost your balance and fell into the cold frame.’

  Colour scorched Hannah’s chest and face, right up to the roots of her hair.

  He knew.

  ‘Sorry, you must be mistaken,’ she said, going for plausible deniability. After all there was absolutely no way he could prove it was her. ‘I’ve absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Oh, really? I could have sworn it was you I saw limping away from the window.’ He paused. ‘And your cat was there too.’

  Hannah started to shrug and then, recalling the tenuous cover of her towel, thought better of it and tilted her head ironically instead.

  ‘Pepper’s a free agent. He has a cat flap, and comes and goes at will.’

  Again, his brows jerked upwards. ‘Pepper? What sort of name is that for a ginger tom?’

  ‘You can get red peppers, can’t you?’

  Daniel made a choking sound and looked away, his broad shoulders shaking.

  ‘What?’ she demanded indignantly.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ he said, craning his neck to study her again, his smile unnerving. ‘But seriously, why didn’t you just knock on the door and ask us to keep the noise down if we were disturbing you?’

  ‘I told you, you weren’t disturbing me. I went to bed early last night. Slept right through.’

  He said nothing.

  Hannah faced him down, her chin raised stubbornly, determined not to break first.

  The silence stretched thinly between them.

  Then she snapped, ‘Listen, what have you done with Ivy? I haven’t seen her for ages and I’d … I’d really like to check that she’s OK.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t she be OK?’ he asked, looking surprised.

  ‘Just tell me where she is.’

  But this rather feeble attempt at an interrogation was interrupted by a little red post office van, which came to a rattling stop on the verge.

  Karen, the postwoman, jumped out with a parcel in her hand and, spotting Hannah at the bathroom window, called out, ‘Parcel for you, love.’ She studied the discreet packaging and the little logo. ‘Looks like sex toys, I’d say!’ She grinned, and gave Hannah a wink. ‘Eh, it’s always the quiet types who surprise me.’

  ‘Oh my lord, Karen, it’s just … lingerie. For a hen party.’ Hannah heard Daniel’s amused snort, went scarlet, and felt like banging her head against the window sill. ‘Please, just leave it on the step.’

  That was the disadvantage of living in such a small rural area, she thought grimly. Everyone knew your business, and if they didn’t, they made it their life’s work to find out.

  ‘So you’re a looker, aren’t you? Don’t get many like you to the pound.’ Karen turned her attention to Daniel who had been watching this entire exchange with undisguised amusement. The local gossip-monger, she did not bother with any further preamble, demanding, ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Daniel, Ivy’s great-nephew. I’m house sitting while she’s cruising the Caribbean.’

  Hannah stifled a gasp. So that was it!

  ‘Is your wife with you?’ Karen asked, only half teasing.

  Daniel stiffened. ‘I should hope not. I’m divorced.’

  ‘Huh. Good.’ Karen winked up at the bathroom window again. ‘Just checking, in case Hannah’s being courted by a bad ’un.’

  His eyes widened. ‘Wait, I’m not -’ Daniel began, but stopped when Hannah said at the exact same moment, ‘He’s not courting me.’

  Karen’s grin grew broader. ‘Of course not.’ She popped some letters through Hannah’s letter box. ‘Hey, poppet, did you know you’ve got some random cloves of garlic strewn across your doorstep?’

  Oh no …

  ‘Have I?’ Hannah said faintly. ‘Goodness me. Garlic cloves? How … erm … odd. I can’t imagine how they got there.’

  Could this day possibly get any worse? Hannah hoped not, but with the luck she’d been having lately, who knew?

  Daniel’s attention was no longer entirely on her, she realised, with a sudden bitter taste in her mouth. Instead, his dark head was bent and he seemed to be focusing on the garlic cloves on her doorstep. Then he looked up at her again, eyes narrowed, a frown dragging his brows together. Her stomach roiled as she saw him putting two-and-two together, and got the sinking feeling that he was coming up with the correct answer. Which was that his great-aunt’s neighbour was completely and utterly insane!

  Behind her came a rhythmic rattling noise as Pepper, bored of waiting for her attention, began to demolish the toilet roll.

  ‘Hssst, Pepper …’ She straightened, waving a hand at the cat, and her towel almost dropped. She clutched it just in time. ‘Stop it, bad cat!’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Karen was saying below. ‘I’ll clear it away for you.’ The postie picked up the garlic and tossed it over the hedge into the garden next door. ‘See ya,’ she said cheerfully, getting back into her van.

  Her little van sped off down the road, leaving Hannah grinding her teeth and swearing she would kill Karen the next time she saw her and there were no witnesses.

  Pepper, bored with unrolling the toilet paper, shot across the room, chasing something invisible, and landed with a thump against the far wall.

  Hannah ignored him.

  Right now she had to cope with Daniel, who was regarding her with a strange gleam in his eyes.

  ‘Seriously,’ he said, ‘you should have come across last night. The drinks and other nibbles were very … tasty.’

  Hannah couldn’t suppress a shudder at the memory of the blood-red drinks and the dish of eyeballs he’d been serving his guests. ‘I’m not that keen on eyeballs, thanks,’ she said tartly, abandoning the pretence that she hadn’t glimpsed what was going on there last night. ‘Or blood. To be honest, I’m surprised I didn’t see you serving lime-and-chilli crickets. Sam told me you’d bought a couple of boxes of insects too.’

  His smile reminded her of a cat
after catching a bird. ‘Gotcha,’ he said softly. ‘So you were spying on me.’

  ‘I wasn’t spying,’ she told him defiantly. ‘I was …’ Hannah cast around wildly for an adequate excuse. ‘I was looking for Pepper,’ she finished triumphantly, and then added, remembering that the best defence is always offence, ‘What kind of sick person serves eyeballs and blood at a party anyway?’

  ‘Someone hosting a horror night, perhaps?’

  She stared, silenced.

  ‘Like I said, you should have joined us, not run away.’ He dug both hands into his jeans pockets, watching her ironically. ‘We had spooky party snacks, then watched a scary movie together. Chocolate truffle eyeballs, bloody Marys, and red wine. Sadly, crickets were not on the menu. Though thanks for the tip. Maybe next time.’

  ‘So … the crickets you bought … ’

  He smiled at her faltering incoherence. ‘The crickets are for my garter snake, Woody. Like you, he’s not really an eyeball person. But if you’re partial to spicy insect dishes, I can certainly serve lime-and-chilli crickets next time.’

  ‘W-Woody?’ Hannah ignored his implication that there would be a next time, irritated by his unflagging good humour. Especially when it was at her expense.

  ‘Because he looks like Woody Allen. Or so I’ve been told.’ Daniel’s eyebrow quirked upwards at her expression. ‘Sorry to disappoint your fevered imagination, but there was really no need for scattering garlic across the threshold. By the way, tell me, did you think I was planning to bury Ivy in the box? Or sleep in it myself?’

  There was no longer any point hoping he had not guessed her rather foolish suspicion. And it did seem pretty foolish, looking at him now in the daylight.

  Caught red-handed, or rather, red-faced, Hannah stuttered, ‘That’s s-silly. Why would I think anything l-like that?’

  Daniel shrugged again, an elegant rise and fall of his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s something to do with virtually living in the shadow of Whitby,’ he said. ‘Though frankly, I’m surprised you haven’t asked to check my mouth for fangs.’

  Hannah wished the ground would swallow her up. But, of course, she didn’t have that kind of luck.