by Karen Clarke
‘Oh, my baby,’ Sheelagh sobbed, taking the cat and cradling him to her bosom. ‘Look at my poor little pussy,’ she cried. ‘His fur’s gone flat.’
Craig came over, rubbing his arm. ‘Bloody thing attacked me,’ he said, wincing. His jumper was on inside out, and the sight of the label sticking out made my chest feel tight. His sleeves were rolled up, and his forearms were criss-crossed with scratches.
‘I’ve got some Savlon in my emergency drawer,’ I said, through a lump the size of a ping-pong ball in my throat. ‘I’ll get it for you, if you like.’
‘I’m OK.’ He smiled briefly. ‘Thanks, though.’
I looked at Erin, who had her hand crushed to her mouth, staring at the house as if willing Ollie to appear. ‘What’s he doing?’ I said, wondering why Craig didn’t seem particularly anxious.
He ran the heel of his hand over his brow. ‘He’s, er, trying to persuade Barry to come out.’
‘What’s his problem?’ I said, tightening my coat around me. ‘Surely if he’s able to, he should. It can’t be safe in there.’
‘It’s not that simple.’ Craig looked distinctly awkward now.
‘But Barry’s OK?’
‘He’s fine.’ He glanced towards the house, where one of the firemen was extending the hose, while another assessed the situation. There was a palpable sense of tension as the living-room window shattered, and flames started licking upwards.
‘BARRY!’ Sheelagh screamed.
Craig started to move back towards the house, just as one of the firemen aimed a jet of water at the blaze and Ollie appeared at the front door, struggling under the weight of a body slung over his shoulder.
‘Thank god,’ said Erin, so softly I was probably the only one who heard it.
‘It’s like Father Christmas, but in reverse,’ someone said.
‘Except that’s not a parcel of presents he’s carrying.’ I recognised Mr Flannery’s voice.
‘That’s not even Barry,’ said someone else. ‘It’s a woman.’
As Ollie staggered down the path, backlit by the blaze from the house, I stared. I recognised that red hair. It belonged to Barry’s mistress. Her sizeable bottom was barely covered by the skimpy robe she was wearing, and a pair of fluffy mules dangled from her feet.
‘My god, were they having a threesome in there?’ said Erin. ‘No wonder they didn’t want to come out.’
‘Not exactly.’ Craig moved back to join us as Ollie lurched past a row of illuminated angels and deposited the woman in front of Sheelagh like a heavy parcel.
‘Oh, my darling,’ she cried, placing Marmite gently on the ground before throwing herself into the woman’s arms. ‘Thank god you’re safe.’
‘Anyone else in there?’ called the fireman.
‘No,’ said Sheelagh. ‘We’re all here.’
‘What’s going on?’ I looked back at the house. ‘Where’s Barry?’
‘Yes, where is he?’ said Doris, looking as mystified as everyone else.
‘I’m here,’ said the woman. Reaching up, she removed her long red hair, and suddenly it wasn’t a woman at all. It was Barry, in crimson lipstick and dangly earrings, the silky camisole under his skimpy robe barely covering what looked like an ample bust.
‘Fuck,’ whispered Erin. ‘And I thought it might be boring living in Shipley.’
The firemen were concentrating fiercely on the house, even though the fire had been put out.
‘I know what you’re all thinking.’ Sheelagh turned to look at the stunned faces of her neighbours, brightly lit from the surrounding houses. She was holding on to Barry as if to stop him legging it back into the house – though I doubted he could in those mules. ‘But he’s not doing anything wrong. He likes wearing women’s clothes sometimes, so what?’ Through the bravado, her voice shook. ‘I expect we’ll be targets now you’ve found out, like at the last place we lived, which is why we left, but I’m not ashamed and Barry shouldn’t be either. And just so you know, I love him very much.’
So that explained the self-help books I’d seen her carrying, and why she’d been worried that I might have spotted something the night she was at her sister’s. Poor Sheelagh. I wondered whether it explained why their daughter rarely visited, and felt even sorrier for her.
‘My dear, you don’t have to be ashamed,’ said Doris. ‘My Roger always wore a pair of frilly knickers under his uniform.’
‘Dennis is partial to a bit of make-up now and then,’ said Jane. ‘He was wearing eyeliner just this afternoon.’
‘Well, I think Barry’s got an excellent pair of legs.’ Ollie rested a firm hand on Barry’s drooping shoulder. ‘I say, embrace your inner woman, but get some advice about the underwear, yah, you need to dress for your size, not the size you think you are.’
‘That’s what I keep telling him,’ said Sheelagh, eyes shining. ‘Ollie, you saved his life,’ she added. ‘I can’t ever thank you enough.’
‘He would have been fine, but I wasn’t taking any chances so got him in a fireman’s lift, which was astonishingly difficult. I need to get back to the gym.’ With a final press of Barry’s shoulder, Ollie came over, his face alight with satisfaction. ‘I think that’s rounded off my stay in Shipley rather nicely,’ he said, a smile breaking over his face. ‘And at least it wasn’t me disturbing the peace this time.’
‘Why were you dressed?’ was all I could think to say. ‘Normally you sleep like the dead.’
‘Oh, I had things on my mind.’ He glanced at Erin, eyes shining like marbles. ‘Like how to win this beautiful lady over.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ she burst out. ‘You just did.’ And with that, she threw herself at him and pressed her lips to his.
Craig and I arched our brows at each other, and the warmth in his eyes when they fixed on me made me dizzy. Or maybe it was the drifting smoke from the house.
Ollie’s arms were wound around Erin’s waist, and hers were tight around his neck. They clearly weren’t going anywhere, any time soon.
‘Shall we?’ Craig nodded at the cottage.
I couldn’t stop grinning. ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ I said.
Chapter Thirty-Three
‘I’ll actually miss this place,’ said Ollie, accepting the plate of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs I’d rustled up for what he was calling The Last Supper – even though it was breakfast. ‘It’s been hashtag memorable.’
‘Don’t say hashtag,’ Erin scolded.
He grinned, checking her out. She looked undeniably sexy in my stripy pyjamas, even with tangled hair and no make-up, and he was clearly having carnal thoughts. Erin had refused to sleep with him on the grounds that it would be disrespectful to me – as well as to humanity, considering he was a massive idiot.
I’d never seen him happier to be insulted.
‘It feels like you’ve been here longer than a week,’ I said, sliding a plate across the worktop to Craig. He looked tired, but then none of us had slept much, rehashing what had happened over mugs of hot chocolate and mince pies, once Erin and Ollie had joined us in the kitchen.
Ollie, hyped up on adrenaline and love, had been full of admiration for Barry and Sheelagh, and how ‘marvellous’ it was that she accepted her husband ‘warts, knickers, and all’.
‘That’s all a man really wants,’ he’d said, gazing longingly at Erin, who looked at him like something on the bottom of her shoe, as if they hadn’t been kissing each other’s faces off minutes earlier.
By contrast, Craig had reverted to his earlier self, despite my best efforts to engage him in the analysis of our neighbours’ private lives.
‘That must be why they didn’t want you to interview them,’ I’d said, which had led to Craig explaining to Ollie and Erin his plans for a ‘talking heads’ type show, which they’d both declared was ‘genius’.
He was eating his breakfast standing up, as if to underline the fact that he wouldn’t be hanging around for much longer.
‘Did you have a nice run?’ I said,
forcing a broad smile, noticing his trainers on the mat by the door. I was going to miss seeing them. ‘It looks like it might snow again.’
‘I didn’t go for a run,’ he said, politely. ‘I was loading the car, then I went to fill it up with petrol.’
‘Sexy,’ said Erin.
I would miss her too, I realised, as she turned away to pile her plate with food. I was about to ask if she’d like to stay for the weekend, when my mobile vibrated with an incoming call.
‘Lily, are you OK?’ Mum said, sounding panicked. ‘I just saw it on the morning news.’
‘It?’ I said, putting the empty egg pan in the sink. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Ollie Matheson saved someone from a fire,’ she said. ‘There was a little bit of wobbly footage and I recognised your neighbour’s house.’
‘Footage?’
‘Lily, why are you repeating everything?’ She sounded exasperated. ‘Doris knew what I meant right away and explained everything, but I wanted to check for myself that you hadn’t inhaled smoke, or anything.’
‘Doris?’
‘Lily, for goodness sake! You weren’t answering, so I called her.’
‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’ I looked at Craig. He was washing his plate at the sink, as if he’d been doing it for years. ‘Hang on a sec,’ I said to Mum, and Craig turned, as if alerted to something in my voice. ‘Mum says Ollie was on the news.’
‘What?’ Ollie stopped trying to fork eggs into Erin’s mouth. ‘How so?’
Craig slowly dried his hands. ‘Nothing to do with me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t have my camera. One of the neighbours must have filmed it on their phone.’ He aimed a small grin at Ollie. ‘At least there’s something real to show for your time in Shipley.’
Ollie looked overcome. ‘I didn’t even notice anyone recording me.’
‘That’s a first,’ Craig said drily. ‘At least you were being you. And now everyone else will see that, too.’
A thought struck. ‘What about Barry?’
There was a rush as they dived for their phones. Erin got to hers first and found the news website. ‘You can see it’s Ollie and that he’s carrying someone, but not in any detail… then it pans to a shot of the house and that smoking-hot fireman,’ she said, as we craned over her shoulder for a look.
‘He’s not that hot,’ grumbled Ollie. ‘And his helmet’s too big.’
‘Well, whoever cropped the footage and sent it in meant well.’ I felt a swell of emotion. ‘It was a nice thing to do.’
‘Awesome,’ Erin agreed, looking a bit shiny-eyed. ‘Maybe the neighbours won’t hate you now you’ve rescued one of their own,’ she said to Ollie. I noticed her bare foot was resting on his trousered knee, and that he didn’t seem to mind one bit.
‘You know what, I don’t care.’ He looked like he’d had a eureka moment. ‘As long as the people I care about know the real me, who gives a fig about the rest of the world?’
‘Oh god, he’s gone all Disney,’ groaned Erin. ‘Pass the sick bucket.’
‘I think that’s amazing.’ Crossing the kitchen, I kissed Ollie’s bristly cheek. He’d announced he was growing a beard again, because shaving was a ‘total bore’. ‘And it only took you thirty-odd years to realise.’
‘Lily!’ screeched a tinny voice.
‘Oops, sorry, Mum.’ I lifted my mobile once more. ‘Did you hear all that?’
‘You sound very affectionate towards him, Lily, but remember what I said. Men like Ollie Matheson—’
‘It’s fine, Mum, you’ve no need to worry,’ I said. ‘I told you Ollie was in love with someone else.’ Erin pretended to vomit. ‘She’s right here, actually.’
‘I thought I recognised Erin’s voice.’ Mum sounded pleased, as if she’d known all along that Ollie was in love with my friend. ‘Tell Ollie he’s welcome to come and direct our next production,’ she added. ‘We’re doing a spoof of The Mousetrap, set in the future.’
‘I’ll tell him,’ I promised, though I had a feeling Ollie’s plans wouldn’t involve any amateur dramatic productions.
‘Anyway, I’ve got to go.’ She made it sound as if I was the one who’d called her. ‘I’m meeting your brother for brunch.’
‘At the hipster café?’
‘It’s not a hipster café.’ She tutted. ‘He wants me to try their new deconstructed English breakfast tasting plate,’ she said. ‘Apparently, it’s very playful.’
‘All good with the Ambroses?’ Erin said, as I ended the call with a smile.
‘All good.’
‘Right then.’ Ollie stopped massaging Erin’s toes and stood up. ‘I guess it’s time to say ciao.’
‘Only if you’re Italian, you chump,’ said Erin, buttering some more toast.
‘Are you going to your parents’?’ I asked him, aware of Craig’s barely concealed impatience as he pushed his feet into his trainers.
‘Yah, I’ll probably catch up with the folks and then…’ He looked a bit lost for a moment. ‘Actually, I don’t know what’s next, except that it involves sorting out some training if I want to be a top-notch director, and then whisking this amazing woman somewhere exotic.’ He brushed a crumb from the corner of Erin’s mouth. ‘What do you say?’
‘I say, forget that,’ she said. ‘I’m spending Christmas with my family, and no doubt I’ll be coming back here to visit Lily.’
‘What about you, Craig?’ I said, keeping my tone light.
‘I’ll pop home and see my dad,’ said Craig, pulling his jacket on over his long-sleeved top. ‘Check Linda hasn’t been over-feeding him.’
‘I’d love to see your home, some time.’ The words flew out and landed in an awkward heap. No one spoke for a second, but I noticed Ollie and Erin swap a look. ‘What I mean is, it would be nice to stay in touch.’ I gave a silly laugh. ‘Don’t you think?’
‘Of course we’ll stay in touch.’ It was Ollie who came over and drew me into a bear hug. ‘We’re practically family now,’ he said, while I discreetly inhaled his delicious scent. ‘You can’t get rid of us that easily, you know.’ He pulled away and planted his hands on my shoulders. ‘Now, how much do I owe you for our stay?’
‘Don’t be silly,’ I said, feeling almost tearful. ‘You’ve just said, we’re practically family. Family don’t charge for staying.’
‘Say ten grand,’ said Erin. ‘He can afford it.’
I ignored her. ‘I really don’t want your money.’
‘Well, how about an open invitation to the chateau,’ he said, eyes twinkling at full pelt. ‘Call it a Christmas present, and bring Fiona. She’d love it.’
She would. It would increase her status no end at the shop, and with the Acting Out bunch. ‘We might take you up on that,’ I said.
‘I’m counting on it.’ Ollie’s smile held genuine affection, and it struck me how different he seemed to the man who’d turned up a day early, supposedly to avoid detection, but really to attract attention. Although part of it was down to Erin, I liked to think there’d been a shift in his attitude, and felt glad that I’d played a small part.
It was just a shame that Craig seemed distant, rather than happy that his friendship with Ollie was intact, and Tattie was off the scene.
‘Sure I can’t take you back with me?’ Ollie turned to Erin, who was on her third slice of toast.
‘Nope,’ she said, cheek bulging. ‘I’m staying with Lily, if she’ll have me. I need a proper tour of the cottage, and to see Shipley by daylight.’
‘Of course,’ I said, pleased. It wasn’t that I couldn’t face being on my own – although it would be strange – but I knew once they’d gone I’d either have a little cry, or spend too much time wondering whether I’d upset Craig. Probably both. ‘There’s a nice café on the seafront where we could have lunch.’
‘You will come out for dinner with me next week, though?’ Ollie said to Erin, sounding unusually anxious for a ‘player’. ‘Chiltern Firehouse?’
The name rang a bell. I remembered the
receipt I’d come across among Ollie’s things, and wondered if he’d kept it for sentimental reasons. The notion was heart-warming.
‘Or we could try my local, The Dog and Duck.’ Erin’s tone was lofty.
‘Ooh, it’s nice there,’ I said. ‘They’ve got fancy tiles.’
‘O-kay.’ He chewed the corner of his bottom lip for a moment, then sighed. ‘I suppose I’d better go and get my things,’ he said, not taking his eyes off Erin as he left the kitchen, closely followed by Craig.
‘I’m never going to be one of those girls,’ Erin said fiercely, when Ollie was upstairs out of earshot. ‘I won’t roll over and be his little plaything.’
‘You’re not a plaything,’ I said gently. ‘And he knows it.’
Craig had gone outside, leaving the front door ajar. An icy breeze made me shiver, and the melancholy sound of a seagull seemed to reach inside me.
‘Come and wave us off then,’ said Ollie, reappearing with his holdall. He’d thrown his navy coat on and looked as handsome as ever – in spite of the trilby, which Erin immediately plucked from his head and tossed into the kitchen. ‘You look like a buffoon.’
‘Oi, you minx.’ But he didn’t bother to retrieve it.
‘It’s bloody freezing.’ Erin pulled her coat on and I followed suit, reflecting that I’d been outside a lot this week with my coat on over my nightclothes. Perhaps I’d start a new trend and become known as the eccentric coat-lady.
To my surprise, a congregation had gathered in the garden, and when Ollie emerged they applauded and gave him a cheer. Even Doris had defrosted enough to join in, putting down her gingham-covered basket to clap, alongside a thirty-something couple I didn’t recognise.
‘The Jensens,’ Doris mouthed, stabbing a finger in their direction when she saw me looking. They must have taken time out from their high-powered jobs to see what the fuss was about.
‘I gave everyone a heads-up that we were leaving,’ said Craig, joining us on the doorstep. He folded his arms, as if unsure what to do with them when he wasn’t holding his camera. ‘I thought they might want to make sure we were actually going.’
‘Ha, ha,’ I said, happy that he wasn’t waiting in the car, and that he’d clearly wanted Ollie to have a good send-off.