It Started at Sunset Cottage

by Bella Osborne

  “Of course, hopefully see you then,” replied Marcus. Kate was getting more confused by the minute. One moment Tim doesn’t know what he’s doing, the next he might see Marcus on Sunday, and it’s something Marcus clearly knows about.

  On the train, Kate listened to her messages. There was one message from Andy saying he’d put his washing on before he left, so it would still be in the machine when she got home. One from a neighbour asking if they could look at her deeds so that they could compare boundary lines. And, finally, one from Sarah asking if she’d have Amy while she went shopping for her birthday present. Back to normality and normal-ish people, she thought as she relaxed into her seat for the journey home.

  Sarah had been woken early by an over-excited Amy, who was very keen to show Sarah the surprise in the garden. A very tired Sarah dragged herself out of bed, shrugged on her dressing gown and plodded downstairs like a stroppy sleep-walker. She hit the switch on the kettle as she passed, as she was in desperate need of caffeine to get her kick-started. Amy was trying to open the back door whilst jumping up and down on the spot, which made it completely impossible to get the key into the lock.

  “Give it here,” said Sarah, taking the key. Sarah opened the door and Amy ran past her and blocked her way.

  “Stay there, Mummy,” she instructed, before running round to the back of the house and exclaiming, “Yes, he did it, woweee!” Sarah woke up a bit at this. Amy came scurrying back.

  “Close your eyes, Mummy, and follow me,” said Amy, taking Sarah’s hand. Sarah instead put her other hand over her eyes, but peeked down so that she could see where her feet were going. Whilst Amy was a sensible five-year-old, it still wasn’t safe to put your entire wellbeing in her very excited hands. Sarah followed Amy along the old grey-stone path to the back of the house, where she saw the ground change. The grey stopped and, where there used to be grass, there were beautiful coloured slabs.

  “Ta dah!” shouted Amy. “You can look now.” Sarah took away her hand and took in the sight before her. Her old, grey concrete-slab path and part of the lawn had gone and in its place was a beautiful smaller version of Andy’s patio, including the circle of stones. Sarah almost cried. “I helped Mummy. I filled in all of this bit and did the sand. Andy put the slabs on top.”

  “Amy, its amazing! Well done, you. I love it.”

  “So do I!” said Amy, hugging her mother.

  Amy had her music on loud, so Sarah didn’t hear the person slip through the side gate until they rapped a bony knuckle on the kitchen window. Sarah leapt away from the sink in alarm and looked to see who the rapper was. There was nobody there, but the back door flew open and in walked Irene. She was looking worse than usual, as if someone had wrung her face out and wasn’t exactly sure which way it went back on.

  “Where is ’e?”

  “Hello, Irene. Let me stop you there. If you’ve come for an argument, you can leave now.”

  With absolutely perfect timing, Andy appeared behind Irene.

  “Hi there. I saw your visitor heading down the side of the house, so I thought I’d come that way round too,” and he walked past Irene to stand protectively next to Sarah.

  “You still ’er are ya, must be some sort a record. So what’s happened to my Shauny?”

  “We don’t know, we haven’t seen him. I told you that,” said Andy. Sarah turned to look questioningly at him. “Sorry, I forgot to say that she rang last night.”

  “When did you last see him?” asked Irene, her voice less confident than usual. Andy opened his mouth to speak, but Sarah got there first.

  “Ten days ago, and I’ve not seen or heard from him since.” It was Andy’s turn to look surprised. “He came round here shouting the odds and I sent him off with a flea in his ear.”

  “Or an axe in his head! That means you’re the last one to see him. What did ya do to him?”

  “Nothing Irene. He was drunk, again, and shouting about me turning Melanie against him. He tried to get in, I threatened to call the police and he left. End of story.”

  “You’re a lying c…”

  “Hello, Nanny Irene!” shouted Amy, running into the kitchen, searching Irene with her eyes for any concealed presents. “It’s my birthday next week.”

  “I know, Luvvy. Your daddy’ll get you something special, I bet.”

  Sarah was thankful that Irene had the sense at least not to tell Amy that her father had gone AWOL.

  “Nanny Irene is just going, so say good-bye,” said Sarah.

  “Bye-bye,” said Amy dutifully, before returning to her music.

  “If you’ve done something to my Shauny, I’ll ‘ave you,” Irene said, as she stepped closer to Sarah.

  “You’re imagining things. Shaun will turn up like the proverbial bad penny that he is. You mark my words.”

  “I’ll mark your face for ya if he don’t.”

  “Okay, that’s enough,” said Andy, as he stepped in front of Sarah and gently ushered Irene to the door.

  “Alrigh’! I’m goin’,” she said, as she eyed Sarah. Irene then left, only pausing for a moment to admire the new patio.

  “They’re a lovely family, aren’t they,” said Andy, with a shake of his head.

  “If you like tails, horns and cloven feet,” replied Sarah.

  “So you saw Shaun after the whole drink-drive thing, and after Melanie got beaten up?”

  “Yeah, he came round shouting the odds.”

  “You didn’t say that you’d seen him.”

  “I didn’t realise I was tagged and had to report my every movement to you,” Sarah said, defensively.

  “Hey, I was only saying. Irene is clearly worried and it does look like you might have been the last person to see him.”

  “This is Shaun we’re talking about. Shaun, who cares about nothing and nobody apart from himself. He will have gone off in a strop. He won’t care that Irene is worrying about him or that he was meant to have Amy and didn’t turn up again.”

  “Don’t you think that’s odd, to not turn up for Amy?” shot in Andy,

  “For a normal human being, or even a laboratory chimp, yes, but for Shaun, no. He’s an arsehole. Andy, if you’ve got something you want to ask, fire away.”

  Andy looked uncomfortable, but went for it anyway, “What happened, exactly, when he came round here the last time?”

  “He was drunk. He was begging me to let him in and to help him. He said he needed my help because someone was going to kill him. I told him that I’d happily sponsor them, a pound a bullet. He got über cross and kicked the door. I shouted, so he kicked it some more. I opened the door… on the chain,” Andy looked alarmed at this. “He tried to grab me, so I shut his hand in the door. Then he sat on the door step crying for a bit and he eventually buggered off. I had a large glass of wine, watched an old episode of Friends on TV, and hoped Shaun would spontaneously combust. Looks like dreams really do come true,” said Sarah, with a forced smile.

  Chapter 15

  Kate looked at her computer screen for a while before completing a couple of chapters of her latest book, which made her feel rather pleased with herself. Unfortunately, her writing also got her thinking about the change of location for the setting for Love.com. Kate had only been to Bath once, a long time ago, and now all she could remember about it was lots of tourists and some nice shops. She googled Bath and a variety of hotels and details of the spa came up, but nothing that felt like somewhere that would have enticed Patrick to base himself there rather than London. Patrick was meant to be a ruthless character who softened on falling in love with Marcie. Someone who would take the high risk, do the deal and to hell with the impact on other people. A nice spa and lovely architecture didn’t really seem to fit with his persona.

  The more Kate thought about it, the more she thought she was unhappy with the decision. So she decided to give Marcus a call.

  “Hi Marcus. Sorry to bother you. The thing is, I’ve been thinking about the location change to Bath and it’s bothering me. I
t just doesn’t feel like something Patrick would do.”

  “Oh dear. We’re filming there in a few weeks’ time. And to be brutally honest, I don’t think we can influence a change.”

  “No, I know that, but I thought I might check out the filming locations in Bath with you and see if I felt any better about it.” And she really did want to feel better about it as she knew it was all booked now.

  “I’m afraid Niamh and I are fully booked this weekend; dinner and drinks at Fergus and Bunty’s today, seeing friends tomorrow morning and then theatre in the evening.”

  “Not a problem, it was just a thought.”

  “You should ask Tim. He is very into the role of Patrick, so for once he could actually be quite helpful with this dilemma.”

  “I don’t really like to ask him. He’s always so busy with Lumina… and Jackie.” Kate thought she would throw out the bait and see if he’d take it. There was a slight delay before Marcus replied.

  “I think our Tim has rather got himself into a bit of a situation with the lovely Lumina. But aside from that, if he is free, I do think he would be worth taking with you. He’ll definitely have an opinion,” said Marcus.

  “Okay, I’ll try Tim and see if he wants to come.”

  “Good idea, have fun. I’ll see you bright and bushy on Monday.”

  “Bye, Marcus.”

  “Au revoir,” and he was gone.

  She’d found out nothing about Jackie, and now she had to call Tim, otherwise Marcus would ask Tim if he’d gone to Bath with Kate, and he’d say he didn’t know anything about it, and she’d look as if she was slightly bonkers. Kate sat at the kitchen table and thought through what she was going to say; she wanted to get things straight in her head before she spoke to him. Also, she was spending the day with Amy so that Sarah could do some secret shopping, so she could only do Bath on Sunday. She found his number and pressed the “call” button.

  “He…lo, …lo, ‘an… ear me?” said Tim or a really bad ventriloquist. This was such a great idea she thought sarcastically.

  “Hello Tim, it’s Kate. Can you hear me?”

  “…lo?”

  “Hello?”

  “Kate, hello, is that better?”

  “Yes! Hallelujah, I can hear you,” she said, with a bit more gusto than it required. “Sorry to bother you. Have you got a couple of minutes?”

  “Yes, fire away.”

  “I was thinking that I might check out the filming locations in Bath tomorrow and you said you thought you had nothing planned, so if you wanted to come along you’d be very welcome. I asked Marcus, but he’s busy. Not that you weren’t my first choice for a companion to Bath. I’d like your opinion as Patrick, I mean, to see if the location fits with the character.”

  “What time tomorrow?”

  “Morning, I guess. I might make a day of it.” Bath had very good shops and, if she was going all that way, she felt she might as well make it into a day out.

  “Okay, I could meet you there at about lunchtime. Shall I call when I get there?” Tim’s voice had a business tone to it.

  “Okay, yes, that would be great. I’ll see you lunchtime tomorrow.”

  “It’s a date. Bye, Kate.”

  “A date”? Really? Did she have a date with Timothy Calder? Kate wished she knew what she was doing. This was not like her. She usually had a plan. Actually, she always had a plan. Plans were Kate’s forte; it’s what she did – she made a plan and stuck to it. Not this off- the-cuff, wander-off-in-any-direction and meet-up-with-famous-actors stuff. Kate wanted to talk it over with Sarah, but feared Sarah would get all excited and start planning what hat she’d wear for the Hello wedding photo shoot. So she decided to keep it to herself and enjoy a day in Bath with Timothy Calder. “Yay,” she squealed excitedly.

  Amy was deposited in a swirl of gravel, blue smoke and a flash of ageing VW Beetle.

  “Mummy says she can’t stop because she’s doing flower deliveries. She gets to drive a van!”

  “Wow, lucky Mummy,” agreed Kate, as she was hugged enthusiastically by Amy,

  “I’ve brought some books and some mini figures. What would you like to play, Kate?”“I thought we would do some baking first, then have lunch while the biscuits are cooling down, and afterwards play whatever you like. What do you think?”

  “Mummy said you’d have a good plan for today. Can I do the measuring?” Amy said, as she dropped her rucksack in the hall and headed for the kitchen.

  The morning whizzed by, and Kate and Amy made a plethora of biscuits shaped like butterflies, hearts and flowers, and some fairy cakes of varying unregulated sizes. They played hide and seek inside and outside the house, did some skipping and generally had a good time.

  Tim turned the corner with his phone held out in front of him and the little figure on the screen turned the corner, too, to indicate he was still going in the right direction. As he reached the end of a large wall, a small flag popped up to indicate he’d reached his destination. Tim looked around. He was wearing dark, fitted jeans, white t-shirt and his trademark sunglasses. He was looking for number 18, but on this side there was just a large wall. Tim looked over to the row of terraced houses on the other side of the road and crossed over to find some numbers. Most had names. He went along the row and saw “Lilac cottage”, “Fairview”, “The Berries”, and number 25. Can’t be far away, he thought. An elderly lady was bearing down on him, dragging a decrepit tartan trolley behind her. She looked up just before Tim leapt out of her path.

  “Sorry,” she said, but didn’t look at all sorry.

  “No problem. Actually, I wonder if you can help me. I’m looking for Kate Marshall?”

  “Are you a friend of hers?” said the woman, suddenly stopping and looking interested.

  “I’m a colleague, really. Can you tell me where she lives, please?” The woman’s face changed and looked less friendly.

  “But she’s a writer, she doesn’t work with anyone. She’s written quite a few stories you know. They’ve got them at the library, but they’re not my kind of thing. I like a good murder.” Tim held his tongue. There was a temptation to offer to bring her closer to a real murder. “Unless you’re her publisher,” she added appraising him.

  “Nothing so grand, I just need to talk to her about… a book-cover design.” Tim amazed himself at his ability to confidently and convincingly lie to people. The woman seemed happy with the explanation.

  “Poor Miss Marshall. Her fiancé was killed, you know. Very young he was. Tragic. He was a lovely young man. He always carried my shopping in for me, if he saw me,” she said, looking from the trolley to Tim and then back again. There was a short delay before Tim sprang forward and picked up the trolley.

  “Oh, you are kind. Now, where are my keys?” She fumbled in the bottom of a large handbag, took out a pair of woolly gloves, and handed them to Tim with a smile. A bit more rummaging produced a packet of tissues, a glasses case and a bag of toffees. Tim was about to lose his patience when she pulled out an Isle of Wight keyring, burdened with a lifetime’s keys, and waved it under Tim’s nose. “Here they are,” she said and in a jangle she opened the door and pointed inside. “You can put the trolley anywhere in the kitchen.” Tim walked through small rooms and into a narrow kitchen. He deposited the trolley and handbag items and went back to the front door.

  “Thank you. Goodbye,” said the woman, as she started to close the front door.

  “Hey, just a minute. You were going to tell me which one is Kate’s house,” he said, nodding his head up and down the row of houses.

  “Oh,” she chuckled, “silly me. She lives over the road,” and with that she shut the front door. Tim turned around and pulled down his sunglasses with his index finger so he could inspect the other side of the road. Just as he suspected, there was no sign of any houses on that side, just a large wall that seemed to go on forever. He could see that there was as a break in the wall further down, where there was a gated drive, so Tim decided he would go and see i
f there was any sign of intelligent life there.

  As he turned in the gateway, Tim was impressed by the handsome house that stood at the end of the wide drive. It was a Georgian gentleman’s residence, with three windows across the first floor and one either side of a large wooden door. It was beautifully symmetrical, with an understated grandeur. Tim crunched his way up the gravel driveway and climbed the two old stone steps. He knocked on the door and turned his back on it whilst he checked his phone for messages. There was a text from Lumina, “Surprise! We’re going to Monaco in June!” Tim was frowning at the screen when the door opened behind him. Tim shoved his phone back in his pocket and turned around with a smile, ready to charm whoever opened the door.

  “Tim?” said Kate, looking very puzzled by his presence on her doorstep.

  “Hello,” said Tim, as he glanced at the small cast-iron plaque next to the door, which read Number 18. “Hello, Kate!”

  “What are you doing here? Sorry, that was rude. It’s lovely to see you, come in.”

  “This is a great place you have here.”

  “Thank you. It’s my family home, passed down the generations.” Kate often felt she had to explain why she had such a grand home, even though she could have afforded it from the book sales. Even so, it was a large house for one person and her cat.

  “You don’t answer your phone, do you?” Tim scanned the rooms that were visible from the hall.

  “Sorry, did you call? I was playing in the garden.” Tim looked quizzically at her and then he turned his attention to the skipping child, who was now joining them in the hall.

  “Hello, do you like woodlice?” said Amy to Tim, opening a grubby hand to reveal a small tightly curled-up grey ball, rather like a ball bearing.

  “Who doesn’t?” said Tim, crouching down to get a better look.

  “Do you want to come and find some more?” asked Amy hopefully.

  “Amy, I don’t think Tim came over to…” but Tim was already following Amy outside into the garden. Kate glanced out of the kitchen window to see if she could see Tim’s car but there was no sign of it.