The House at the Bottom of the Hill

by Jennie Jones

  She shook her head.

  ‘Has Mrs J introduced you to her pig, Ruby? She walks her on a lead.’

  ‘No, she hasn’t. I’m not liked, as if you didn’t know. But I don’t care about that.’

  ‘You have to care if you want to become part of the community.’

  ‘Perhaps I don’t want that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  Great. Now she’d turned sullen. He tried again. ‘Well, you’ve got some friends. There’s Lucy. There’s me.’ He smiled. ‘And there’s Sammy—and Ethan.’

  She looked up and blinked rapidly, putting her hand up to cover her eyes from the sunshine streaming over her, giving her a warm, charismatic glamour. The lady was a cocktail of fascination. No, wait—he wasn’t sure she was a lady yet.

  ‘Sammy and Ethan Granger,’ he said. ‘Happiest married couple I’ve ever known.’

  She skimmed her gaze along the grassy bank then tilted her face to Dan. ‘Do you know Ethan well?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He seems friendly—like a big, handsome giant.’

  Jesus, she was really after Ethan! He could hardly believe it of her. ‘Like your men big and brawny, do you?’

  ‘I like men I can respect.’

  ‘He’s married. He’s in love with Sammy. He won’t be looking your way.’

  ‘Are you suggesting …?’ She yanked at the sleeves of her sweatshirt, tightening the knot at her waist. ‘How dare you!’

  Dan jogged on the spot.

  ‘You know nothing about me,’ she continued. ‘And how about you? Do you have a little fancy piece around town you’re hiding away?’

  ‘So you’re denying it?’

  ‘I’m getting a little sick and tired of the people in this town.’

  Dan stopped jogging. Twice she’d made a disparaging remark about not caring about the town or what its people thought of her. If the B&B meant so little to her, why was she here, doing it up?

  ‘So quit,’ he said. ‘Sell up. Leave.’

  She lifted her gaze to his. Her body had gone so still he wasn’t sure if she was even breathing. His throat thickened. He hadn’t meant to pounce on her like that. What was wrong with him?

  He turned from her to glare at the scenery and to give the compassion he felt for her time to settle inside him. Red stirred up feelings of protection he’d never thought he’d have reason to call on, and getting offside with her wasn’t going to help anyone. It certainly wouldn’t get his seven ensuite bedrooms built easily.

  He turned back and found her looking at him, eyes veiled in something looking too much like worry, the corners of her full mouth turned down. Damn it. Her all-too-perfect sweetheart-shaped face and the deep vulnerability he read in her eyes were going to be the death of him.

  ‘I apologise,’ he said quietly. ‘I had no right to make assumptions about you.’ But she’d gone into some kind of shock when she met Ethan yesterday. What else was a guy supposed to think other than that sparky little Red had been knocked off balance by Ethan’s good looks—or whatever a woman went for in a guy? And what was it with all the off-hand quips about not caring what anybody thought about her? It was as though she had no intention of joining the town’s fold.

  He stepped towards her. ‘Can we please start again? Shake?’ He thrust his hand out and gave her his boyish grin, although for the first time ever, it was hard to produce, because he now had the impression her arrival in Swallow’s Fall had a lot to do with Ethan and little to do with wanting to run a B&B.

  She lifted her arm, paused, then slid her hand into his.

  The slightness of her fingers and the softness of her skin surprised him. He pressed her hand gently. ‘Friends?’ he asked.

  She gripped his hand, squeezed hard.

  A pull of amusement bit through the tension in his chest. She was going to be a tough adversary. A pretty one though, and he kind of liked that a lot.

  ‘Acquaintances,’ she said, and pulled her hand free.

  Four

  Ted Tillman banged the gavel so hard on its indented wooden plinth four hands shot forwards to settle the cups and saucers on the trestle table.

  ‘Order, please. Take your seats.’ His voice boomed with command and a ring of self-importance.

  Charlotte put a finger under the collar of her blouse, tugged at the sudden tightness of it and ran her gaze around the Town Hall. The preservation notice outside stated the building was safe for use but the inside needed a fair amount of refurbishing. A kitchen alcove was obviously in the midst of renovation, the cupboards sanded back to the original wood and a large white sink sitting on the stone floor, unplumbed but spotless and shiny. Multi-coloured bunting strung on all four walls bobbed and flapped as the townspeople moved around the room, chatting, whispering, some laughing, as though they were about to see a blockbuster movie—or witness a hanging. They gathered metal-legged chairs from stacks at the back of the hall and organised them into rows in front of the committee table where Charlotte sat.

  She settled her breathing as people took their seats. The fluorescent strip lighting on the vaulted ceiling created little sparkles on the large glitter-ball hanging incongruously from the centre truss. They must use the Town Hall for dances and parties too, not just newcomer slaughterings.

  She’d been seated at the far end of the committee table and nobody had sat next to her. Look at the criminal. Spotlight the new woman who dared to make a revolutionary suggestion.

  The door flew open, sending a rush of warm evening air into the room and ruffling the minutes from the last committee meeting. Ted slapped his hand on the papers.

  ‘Sorry I’m late.’ Sammy Granger walked to the top table and swung into the seat beside Charlotte. ‘Hi, how are you?’ she asked, moving the chair back to accommodate her baby bump.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Charlotte said, and added a small smile.

  ‘Thought you might need some company. It’s a lonely spot in the dock.’ Sammy grinned, her face flushed, russet hair flying around her shoulders; a blast of vitality in an overcrowded room. ‘How many times has he banged the gavel?’ she asked, a smirk on her face.

  Charlotte munched on her bottom lip. ‘Eight.’

  ‘Oh good, I haven’t missed much.’ Sammy pulled a pot of tea towards her and poured a cup. ‘Ethan said to say sorry he couldn’t make it. He’s on Lochie duty.’ She patted her stomach. ‘I’ve got Edie.’

  Memories of what Daniel had accused her of swept over her in mortifying waves. She’d have to watch how she behaved next time she met Ethan. Her eagerness at wanting to judge him had tripped her up, resulting in Hotshot thinking she liked Ethan. Well, she did like him, but not in the way Daniel meant. Ethan appeared calm and tolerant when she’d half expected a monstrous chip off the old hideous block: O’Donnell. She settled in her chair. There wasn’t time to contemplate O’Donnell now and she didn’t want to have a conversation with Sammy about Ethan, in case Sammy got the same—wrong—impression Daniel had: that she was after Sammy’s husband.

  ‘Cuddly Bear Toy Shop is yellow,’ Ted began, the authority in his voice drowning the chatter and halting Charlotte’s thoughts. ‘We can’t have two buildings the same colour. It wouldn’t work.’

  ‘Here we go,’ Sammy said. ‘He thinks he’s an ace batsman but he usually lobs off course, so if he throws the gavel at you—duck to the right.’

  Charlotte laughed suddenly and put her hand over her mouth when committee members stared at her.

  She glanced at the back of the room and got caught in the amused gaze of the town’s charmer. Oh no. Why was Daniel here and why did his presence make her feel more exposed than she already was? She cleared her throat—loudly. Everyone turned to her.

  She squared her shoulders and put her most cooperative smile on her face. No way was this town going to disregard or overthrow her plans. ‘I’d like to say something, please.’

  Nobody spoke.

  Charlotte took it as acceptance and stoo
d.

  ‘Cuddly Bear’s yellow is lemon with royal-blue trim and signage,’ she began. ‘It’s the darker blue on the toy shop that stands out, not the yellow, and it’s practically the other end of town. My sunflower yellow weatherboard might balance things out a bit.’

  ‘There’s nothing needs balancing,’ Ted said. ‘You’ve got to paint it pink again.’

  ‘I’ve decided on yellow.’

  ‘Pink.’ Ted gripped the gavel and swung it in a circle.

  Mrs Johnson coughed and shuffled in her seat next to Ted.

  He jumped and looked down at his ankles as though something had bitten him. He seemed to get his official demeanour back quickly. ‘Please sit down,’ he said to Charlotte, with strained politeness. ‘You’ll get your chance to speak later.’

  Charlotte doubted it but at least she’d got a please out of him. She snuck a look at the back of the room. Sure enough, Daniel had a grin on his face, although he covered it quickly with his hand.

  She sat, a sense of defeat gnawing at the pit of her stomach. Sammy patted her hand under the table.

  ‘We’re worried what sort of clientele we’ll get if it’s bright yellow,’ someone in the audience said.

  ‘Exactly.’ Ted lifted the gavel and shook it at his comrade sitting somewhere on the right of the room.

  ‘We don’t want hippies down this way,’ a woman said in a pinched tone.

  Hippies? Charlotte bit into her cheek. What era were these people from?

  ‘It does need some work though, it’s a bit of a mess.’

  ‘It’s lovely on the inside. Is she going to change that?’

  ‘Rose Capper kept it immaculate,’ some old man said in a glum tone. ‘What’s going to happen to it now?’

  Charlotte gasped at the offensive implication. Enough. She stood. ‘I beg your pardon. I ran a bed and breakfast with my grandmother for the last ten years in England. I assure you I not only know how to run a small business efficiently and profitably, I also know how to clean.’

  Her heartbeat knocked in her chest so fast she thought it would be heard in the back row. These people were harder to deal with than the executives in Yorkshire who had coerced her into selling her home and business. But she hadn’t gone down without a fight.

  Silence. Uncomfortable silence at her outburst. Something they obviously weren’t used to, and although she still held fast to her right to speak up, her outburst had been of the tempestuous variety—no help to her case whatsoever—and was now irretrievable. She glanced at Ted, who was still glaring at her. She sat.

  ‘Right.’ Ted swung the gavel and looked back to his audience. ‘There’s another business item for the evening that might help us out of this dilemma. We’ve had a townsperson enquire as to whether or not he can join the committee.’

  Sammy leaned towards Charlotte. ‘That’s funny, I hadn’t heard anything about a new committee member. They’re precious about who gets to view the gavel out of session.’

  Ted Tillman flipped the gavel in his hand and used it to point to the back of the room. ‘Daniel Bradford, please stand up.’

  Everyone turned in their seats. A few laughed, good-heartedly. One whistled and others applauded.

  Charlotte almost choked.

  Daniel rose from his seat, stuffing his hands into his pockets, a quiet smile on his face. Unruffled, relaxed, he looked like a clean-cut, well-respected member of the community. Which, unfortunately, he bloody well was. Daniel nodded. ‘Thank you, friends and neighbours. I appreciate your warm response.’

  Huh. Charlotte folded her arms.

  ‘I’ve asked to join the committee as I feel I can help with this delicate situation we find ourselves in. You’re all busy people, and I’m happy to step in and mediate.’

  Charlotte glowered. He was talking about her as if she wasn’t here.

  ‘I think we all agree Miss Simmons has the best interests of the B&B at heart. It’s just that she might need some guidance in town matters. I’ve met her and I can honestly say I believe we can find a satisfactory solution to this problem.’

  She was the problem, but how was he going to satisfactorily handle her?

  ‘I’d be delighted to help out in whatever way I can.’ He grinned, looking boyish and … charming, damn it. ‘Firstly,’ he continued, ‘I suggest we have one town member act as a go-between. Someone who can shadow the process. Someone who has knowledge of building works and the requirements therein.’ He put a hand over his heart. ‘Me, if you’ll accept me on the committee.’

  Smarmy.

  ‘Those for, raise your hands,’ Ted said, gavel lifted to shoulder height.

  About forty hands went up in the air, with a few murmurs of appreciation.

  ‘That’s obviously a vote of confidence but we must do things properly.’ Ted cleared his throat with a bumptious cough. ‘All those against, show your hands.’

  Charlotte shot her arm in the air, dead straight, fingers stretched.

  ‘You don’t count,’ Ted said, and banged the gavel.

  Charlotte stacked three chairs from a row at the back of the hall and shunted them into a corner with the other piles, intent on her task and on not feeling isolated.

  The judges at her trial were evading her as though her very presence in their Town Hall might cause the infrastructure of the historic building to crumble at any second. As though she were some newly discovered stone-decaying fungus. Best not go into the kitchen to help with the washing up—being ignored from a distance was the better option.

  ‘I’m hoping you’re not going to give me too much trouble during this process.’

  Charlotte slotted the last chair onto a pile of others and turned to Daniel. ‘You’ve done this on purpose,’ she said. ‘Because I don’t respond to your little-boy-gorgeous manner.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say I was gorgeous.’

  Well, he was—to look at, not so much to hold a conversation with. ‘Don’t pull your fast charm on me. I know what you’re up to, and you’re wrong.’

  ‘What am I wrong about?’

  ‘About …’ Ethan. ‘You know.’ It wasn’t only his opinionated observations about her fancying Ethan she’d have to watch out for. His very presence appeared to be unravelling the unflinching image she’d been portraying.

  ‘No, I don’t know,’ he said, head tilted in a jocular manner.

  He knew. And if he was going to be close to her during this mediation process, with all his mighty charm and expensivecoffee-bean aroma, she might succumb and lose her steadfast image altogether. What would she be left with then? A shell. A lonely woman on a quest that was beginning to torment her and twist her priorities. ‘Why are you so keen on scrutinising my every move in town?’

  ‘You mean the committee thing?’ He shrugged. ‘Just being friendly.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You’re up to something.’ Not that she could think of one single thing he might be up to, but it certainly wasn’t because he wanted to be close to her. Like—really close.

  ‘You’re the one who’s up to something, Red.’

  ‘I bet you ten dollars I’m not.’ Lie. Big fat lie. One she’d have to hide from him. Especially if he got close. ‘And stop calling me Red.’

  ‘No deal. I bet you a five-K run you are up to something. And note I said a five-K run, since I doubt you’re up for distance.’

  Charlotte knew he was teasing but why couldn’t he just leave her alone? What was his problem? ‘Distance?’ she said, pulling her shoulders back. ‘You have no idea how far I can go but you’re going to find out.’

  ‘Hi, what’s going on?’ Sammy asked, poking her head between them and glancing from one to the other with the look of a tolerant mother about to break up a kindergarten quarrel.

  Daniel hitched a thumb Charlotte’s way. ‘Red and I are just getting acquainted.’

  Sammy slanted a look at him. ‘What’s got you suddenly interested in joining the town committee?’

  He gave her an indulgent smile. ‘Not what you thi
nk.’

  She smirked right back. ‘Did I say anything?’

  ‘You don’t have to, you’ve got the nesting look on your face.’

  Sammy poked him in his chest with her finger. ‘I’ll get to the bottom of it, you know I will.’

  He patted the top of her head. ‘There’s nothing going on. Keep your nose out of it.’

  Charlotte stepped back from their banter.

  ‘Not so fast.’ Sammy grabbed the sleeve of Charlotte’s blouse. ‘Let’s get out of here now. It takes them ages to wash up while they chat about what’s gone on and my feet won’t put up with standing that long.’

  Charlotte indicated the committee members who were gathered around the gavel, collecting papers and collapsing the trestle table. ‘I should help.’ Her tone didn’t suggest complete happiness about the idea, but at least she’d made the effort.

  ‘Dan will do that for you.’ Sammy nudged him hard in the ribs. ‘Won’t you?’

  He grunted in mock pain. ‘Will I?’

  ‘Hey, everyone,’ Sammy called out. ‘Charlotte wants to help clear up, but if you don’t mind, I’d like her to walk me to my car. Is that okay?’

  A few murmurs, some nods and very few smiles.

  ‘I’ll walk you both down the street,’ Daniel said.

  Sammy flounced past him, tucking her arm through Charlotte’s as she went. ‘But then we wouldn’t be able to talk about you.’

  He grimaced. ‘Go easy on me, will you?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Sammy said to Charlotte as they walked down the darkened street. ‘The townspeople will come around.’

  Charlotte breathed in the quietness of the town. What were the chances? She stared at her little B&B at the end of Main Street, the flamingo pink colour subdued by the dark and the glow of the street lamps. It looked like a flushed rose beneath the night sky. It looked a little special. Maybe this was the way the townspeople saw it.

  ‘Dan’s coming over for dinner one night next week,’ Sammy said as they walked past the pioneer cemetery with the ever-present white bunting on its picket fence. ‘Will you come too?’