The House at the Bottom of the Hill

by Jennie Jones

  Charlotte wished she had the courage to turn and face him. To look into his eyes as he spoke so she could gauge how she really felt about him lying to her. She clamped her lips together to stop herself asking if he was planning to send six toilets and shower units back. As she was also lying to him by keeping quiet about why she was here and not telling him that she’d never intended to stay, there was nothing she could do about it.

  ‘I need to ask you a favour, Daniel.’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘Don’t talk to Ethan about what happened last night. Please.’

  He didn’t move or speak for a few moments. She almost felt the pounding of his thoughts as he inhaled and exhaled slowly.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I made a mistake. One I can’t fix or take back.’ She had to let him know that much, but had no intention of following through with her questioning of Ethan now, and didn’t want to put another lie onto her already full agenda. In the loneliest hours of the night, those just before dawn, she’d made her decision. Leave town. O’Donnell would remain in the rivers of her history; the fear of him would always be with her, bumping its way over the many boulders of her memories. But her past was hers and she didn’t have any right to thrust it on others. ‘Can you promise me you won’t talk to Ethan and that you won’t ask me any more questions about it?’

  ‘That last favour is going to be hard.’ He rocked her in his arms. ‘You’re hurting for some reason, and I don’t like any friend to be hurt.’ He brushed a finger over her cheek. ‘Can’t I help you out?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not with this.’ She turned into his embrace and enjoyed the heat of his body as it filtered through her. ‘You could help me with the staircase banister though. Or maybe the work guys you’re going to hire could take on some extra work for me at the B&B.’

  ‘Thought you were going to do a lot of the jobs yourself.’

  ‘Changed my mind.’ She showed him her bright-red nails. ‘Might chip one.’

  ‘So get Julia to do them again.’

  ‘I think she’ll busy with Ira for a while, don’t you?’

  ‘What’s going on, Charlotte?’

  How could she tell him? His plans would take business from the B&B, which worried her because the little house ought to be given a chance. Its history was important. Why, it’s practically heritage ranking, is our B&B, Ted had said. The town was growing but progress would be suitably sedate. Daniel wouldn’t fill his hotel with a rush of guests, not at first, and neither would the B&B, even without the hotel. A quiet town like Swallow’s Fall didn’t suddenly erupt onto the tourist scene, no matter how good Ted’s photos were on the internet. It would take acceptance, patience and care from everyone to see the town prosper.

  Daniel’s plans would be readily accepted, she felt sure of it. They’d need some persuasion, but he’d encourage them gently, all the time caring for his town and everyone in it. He had the love of his townspeople. She wondered if he realised how big a deal that was.

  ‘Will you help with the banister?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course I will. Whatever you want.’

  He’d open the hotel all day. He’d serve breakfast, morning tea, lunch, afternoon tea and dinner. He’d be mad not to and there wasn’t a fool’s bone in his body. She leaned against him and let him put his arms around her. The B&B had one year in it, maximum, while he built the hotel rooms. She couldn’t see a way it could keep going after that, let alone prosper. Which created one more concern she’d be taking with her when she left: guilt. She’d spoken to a realtor this morning and was waiting on his proposal for the sale coming to her over email. She’d sign the papers for a ‘going concern’ called the House at the Bottom of the Hill, pay for the advertising and sell the B&B under false pretences.

  She put her arms around Daniel’s waist and snuggled into the warmth of him.

  ‘That’s good,’ he murmured. ‘Have I got the real you back now?’

  There wasn’t a real Charlotte, just a lost and bereft homeless woman but how comforting it would be to hold the imprint of Daniel against her in her mind for those quiet, restless nights when the dream came after she left Swallow’s Fall. Or for the moments when the void of loneliness couldn’t be shaken and all she had was the memory of being with tall, muscular Hotshot, and how it felt being up against him. Being sheltered by the strength in his shoulders and delighted by the charming smile on his mouth.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’ She tilted her face to his and ran her gaze over the planes of his face. She needed memories. Good memories, like the feel of his skin on hers, his heartbeat thumping along with hers, his body, so long and toughened with muscle, entwined with hers. The kisses from his mouth. The smiles. She’d remember his smiles forever. Each of them. The charming one she’d thought so smarmy. The boyish one she’d fallen for, and the smile of the man. The smile that sent dancing lights shivering over her body.

  ‘Can we?’ she whispered.

  ‘Thought you’d never ask.’

  He led her down the stairs, holding her hand. No need for speech. He knew what she was asking for and thankfully, he wanted it too.

  He walked her into his bedroom, closed the door and turned the lock.

  ‘What did I do?’ Dan asked, propped on one elbow on his bed, looking at how Charlotte’s hair spread like a display of red silk on his pillow. Yeah, they’d made it to the bed. Best place as far as he was concerned. He liked the length of her next to him.

  ‘You want an explanation?’

  No need for one. The images in his head were pleasing enough, but this time had been tender. ‘Those little noises you made.’ He moistened his mouth, smiled down at her. ‘They weren’t the usual ones, and I like them. Do you think you could do them again, next time?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘You’re teasing me.’ He pulled the sheet up and over them, tucking it under her arms in case she felt chilled now the heat of their soft passion was over. ‘Was it something I did differently?’ he asked. ‘To bring those sighs and cries out of you?’

  ‘What was different?’ she asked, gaze averted.

  ‘Well … you weren’t just sighing, you were holding onto me in a different way. You were like a purring kitten.’ It sounded silly, but that’s what it had been like for him.

  ‘I was feeling softish, that’s all.’

  ‘It was romantic.’

  She moved her head on the pillow to look at him, eyes widened.

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ he said. ‘You didn’t expect me to use the R word.’ He hadn’t expected to feel it in such a way let alone speak about it, but she’d done more than hold onto him, she’d sort of … given herself. He couldn’t explain it, but halfway through he’d yielded to the newness and wonder and they’d connected. Not just physically.

  She swallowed. ‘I frightened you.’

  ‘No.’ He stroked her hair with his fingers. ‘Nothing frightens me.’ That wasn’t quite true. In fact it was an outright lie, because she’d been frightening the skin off his bones all morning.

  ‘Sometimes I like being charmed.’ She grinned, although it looked forced. ‘Let’s not get carried away, Daniel. Just because you now know the different types of moans and sighs I make, it doesn’t make us a couple or anything. We’re not dating.’

  He nodded, accepting the reality and relieved they were on the same wavelength. Presumably it was relief, he couldn’t rightly place the sensation swimming through him. ‘They weren’t moans, they were tender little sounds. But you’re right. We’re too sneaky for dating.’ So why was he pushing her to accept they’d had a romantic moment?

  ‘We are sneaky, aren’t we?’

  He shifted her in his arms, turning her so her back was to his chest, her body spooned into his. ‘I admit I threw a few jibes your way to begin with. But not now we’re together. You don’t think I’m still being a charm-boy hotshot, do you?’

  ‘We’re not together,’ she reminded him. ‘We have
sex.’

  He stared over her head, at the space he called his home. ‘And that’s enough for you?’

  ‘Don’t go thinking my softish spells mean anything. I’m a girl.’

  ‘That explains very little to me.’

  ‘Sometimes we naturally feel the need for a romantic moment.’

  ‘But that’s the thing, Charlotte, I had a romantic moment too. What was it I did?’

  ‘Why? Do you want to repeat it?’

  ‘Are you getting prickly with me, for asking?’

  ‘Sorry.’ She turned, rolling into his embrace and burying her face in his shoulder.

  ‘Are you pissed off? I was just asking a question, didn’t mean it to turn into an argument.’

  ‘We’re not a couple so we can’t have an argument,’ she said, her voice muffled.

  ‘So what are we?’ He tightened his embrace, almost fearful of her answer. He’d settled for seven months or longer; if she was going to end it sooner, he needed to know.

  ‘We’re friends,’ she said. ‘Who have sex. Regularly. And like it.’

  He repeated her clipped response in his head. They were friends—that was good. They were having sex regularly— that was amazing. And they both liked it. And they’d shared a romantic moment. They were having a … nice time. She didn’t want anything more, but it felt like he’d hurt her.

  ‘I’d like to keep our nice time going for the seven months we discussed earlier. How would you feel about that?’

  ‘Let’s just wait and see, shall we?’

  ‘Okay.’ The timeframe wasn’t flashing in neon lights above the bar, but if they were having such a nice time together, why end it? Why not wait until it fizzled out naturally? Perhaps she needed more romantic moments. He liked this gentle side of her, this womanly, wanting-a-cuddle side of her. He liked protecting her. He liked those soft sighs and cries and he wanted more of them. Wanted to give her what she wanted so he got what he wanted: more cries and sighs from sexy Red.

  ‘It’s just an instinctual need for cuddles. It’s normal,’ she added.

  He kissed her head. Okay then. The cries were sexy, the sighs were romantic. And she was probably right. They ought not to push anything, just enjoy what they had.

  He curled his arms around her tighter still. ‘You know what, Red? I think we’re getting good at this.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she murmured, but she didn’t sound convinced.

  Sixteen

  ‘It’s like the light bulb has blown in Ted’s head,’ Mrs Tam said, sipping the latte Dan had made her.

  ‘More like the fuse,’ Mrs J answered, a dainty espresso cup in her reddened farmer’s hand.

  Dan had trouble thinking of her as Clarissa, but hey, it kinda suited her. He nodded at Ruby pig, stuck on her lead and tied to the leg of Clarissa’s bar stool. ‘Would Ruby like an apple?’

  ‘Thank you, Daniel, she would.’

  Dan picked up the sliced apple he’d been about to eat before his unexpected visitors arrived, leaned over the bar and dropped the pieces on the floor for Ruby. Kookaburra’s was a dog-friendly pub, so long as the dogs were on a lead and not in the family restaurant area, but the punters loved it when the pig visited. He might be able to make use of this in the future. He looked across to the alcove where he’d placed the monstrous twisted-metal Kookaburra sculpture he’d inherited from the previous owner. Maybe he could have an animal portrait section up there. Ruby, Lucy, one or two of Ethan’s horses.

  ‘So what’s the news this bright Monday morning?’ he asked the ladies. They’d never come in for coffee before and it was good to open the doors for them. Might get them used to the doors being open all day, every day.

  ‘Grandy’s due back this afternoon. Said he wants to take a look at Charlotte before he makes any decisions about staying at the B&B. Said to tell you if he doesn’t like the look of things, he’ll put a camp bed in your apartment.’

  ‘Did he now?’ Dan asked. News travelled fast—and far. How the hell did Grandy know about his apartment?

  ‘Have you thought it through properly, Daniel?’ Mrs Tam asked. ‘It’s ever such a big space. How many bedrooms are you planning?’

  ‘Um … four. Plus a study. And a gym.’

  ‘Enough for a family,’ Mrs J said. ‘Not thinking of selling up, are you?’

  ‘Oh Daniel, please don’t sell up.’

  ‘I’m not selling.’

  ‘Is business that bad for you too?’

  ‘Mrs J, swear to God.’ Dan slapped a hand on his chest. ‘I’m not selling.’

  ‘Good. So why an apartment that big?’

  ‘I’m thinking of the future.’ The little white ones were coming faster and easier, but he’d had some practice recently.

  ‘Perhaps he’s thinking of a family of his own,’ Mrs Tam said, patting her bun.

  Mrs J fixed her eyes on him. ‘Got someone in mind?’

  None of her business. And the best reason for him and Charlotte to stay under the radar. ‘Not yet, but I promise you— once I decide to tie the knot, you two will be the first to know.’ He didn’t make promises he didn’t keep and as he would never have the opportunity to call on these old dears to discuss his matrimonial affairs, the promise was sincere and secure. ‘I’ll even ask for your blessing.’

  ‘I see Charlotte coming in for a lot of coffees.’

  ‘Yeah, she’s got an addiction. How’s Ted?’ Another skillset he’d polished—putting people off the trail of any gossip they thought they detected.

  Mrs Tam shook her head. ‘Worrying. He’s scouring the space and alien web pages again.’

  ‘It’s the problem with the girls that’s getting to him, not to mention how hard it is to make a fair living these days,’ Mrs J said. ‘But according to Grace he’s not doing too badly and the twins are getting themselves organised. Getting a lawyer.’

  ‘And they’re helping Grace run the store while Ted takes a bit of time off. Jessica is handling the till and Jillian is doing a stocktake.’

  Dan had a healthy suspicion the twins’ sudden enthusiasm for work was due to Charlotte’s assistance.

  ‘Ted’s bored,’ he said. ‘He needs something to get his teeth into. Something to fire him up and spark his enthusiasm for life again.’

  Mrs Tam kinked an eyebrow. ‘Not sure if Grace would want him fired up.’

  ‘What Dan means is Ted needs to be kept occupied.’ Mrs J peered at Dan. ‘Isn’t that right?’

  Dan nodded. He hadn’t seen Ted since he’d helped him write the letter to Charlotte and as far as he knew, Ted hadn’t anything more than Hay & Grain Weekly to keep him distracted from either the problem with his daughters or his hoped-for involvement with aliens. Charlotte had said the townspeople needed hobbies and pastimes and Dan agreed with her, but a man like Ted needed more important distractions than the fortnightly visit from the mobile library.

  ‘Ted’s got some buddies at the shire, hasn’t he?’ he asked the ladies.

  Mrs J nodded. ‘He got chatty with a few of them when we were going through the rigmarole of getting approval for the renovation of the Town Hall. He used to play some online hangman game with them.’

  ‘He’s very good online,’ Mrs Tam said. ‘Surfboards the net everywhere.’

  And Dan didn’t want Ted wandering the internet ocean looking for Charlotte. He slapped his hands together.

  ‘Tell you what, ladies. Why don’t we do something to help Grace out? How about I offer up a suggestion to Ted that will keep his smart brain chugging like a steam roller?’

  ‘Anything to keep him out of space,’ said Mrs J.

  ‘Like what?’ Mrs Tam asked with a concerned look in her eyes.

  ‘Leave it to me,’ Dan said. ‘I’ve got an idea.’ There were varied means of support and goodwill in town. All Dan had to do was connect them, and Ted was the link.

  ‘How do you do? It’s so nice to meet you.’ Charlotte stepped onto the veranda, hand out in welcome, although her fingers were shaking slightly. �
�I’ve heard lots about you.’

  ‘Have you now?’ the old man asked, head tilted, his gaze steady.

  It wasn’t his towering height that surprised Charlotte most, it was the way he held himself. Relaxed, but the authority in his easy stance immediately told her she’d been wrong to think of Grandy as a cranky old man.

  Grandy took the steps from the path to the veranda. He used a cane, but didn’t appear too stiff. Old joints fluid, maybe a little too creaky for his liking. His mouth pursed as he trod the steps but if he was in pain, he hid it well.

  ‘Charlotte Simmons.’ He took her hand in his, his long fingers curling around Charlotte’s hand, his papery skin cool and his grip firm. He looked into her eyes for a long time, gauging and searching.

  ‘Well, well, well.’ As though he understood his scrutiny created more awkwardness in her than she already felt, he looked up at the house and released her hand. ‘Always did like this veranda. Looking forward to sitting on one of your rocking chairs. Weatherboard could do with a new coat of paint though.’ He looked back at Charlotte and winked.

  Of course he’d know about the sunflower yellow issue, people would have been tripping over themselves to tell him, but Charlotte had a feeling Grandy knew everything there was to know about anything, whether he’d been told or not. She lifted a hand, indicating Ethan and Junior Morelly as they hefted a Queen Anne–style winged-back armchair off Ethan’s ute.

  Contrary to her expectations of being shunned after her rude questions at dinner the other night, nobody had expressed doubt over their friendship with Charlotte. She hadn’t expected the generosity of spirit and it only made her feel worse about what she’d come to town to do and more determined not to further her questioning of these genuinely kind people.

  ‘Does the armchair mean you’ll be staying?’ she asked Grandy.

  He nodded. ‘Thank you kindly for the offer. Hope you don’t mind but I like the feel of my own armchair. My old body has kind of moulded to it. Why don’t you show me inside?’ He looked at her, and Charlotte felt he might have seen right through her. ‘Got a feeling we’re going to get on just fine, little Charley.’