The House at the Bottom of the Hill

by Jennie Jones

  Charlotte opened the flyscreen door, her breath flickering in her chest as Grandy walked into the house. She looked over at young Mr Morelly and Ethan. They hadn’t heard, were too far down the path. No wind today, no breeze to carry the conversation on the air, but Grandy’s words unnerved her. Had Grandy just referred to her by the alias the authorities had given her, the six-year-old child who’d witnessed her mother’s murder?

  How in God’s name did this old man know about Charley Red?

  Dan looked into the stockpot of chilli as he stirred the thick, spicy sauce. Cooking gave him a breather, a chance to wind down and gather his thoughts as he chopped and browned and spiced the meat, vegetables and herbs. He and Lily liked the restaurant food to be fresh wherever possible, not frozen and re-heated for weeks on end.

  ‘Dan,’ Josh called from the bar.

  ‘Yeah?’ He turned.

  ‘Ethan’s out the back.’

  ‘Okay.’ Dan put the lid on his pot of chilli, turned the gas burner to low. He untied the chef’s apron from around his waist, flung it onto a stack of plastic glass-trays then went to the back corridor. His thoughts were on the dinner party the other night, and his promise to Charlotte yesterday. He wouldn’t bring the topic up with Ethan, not until he’d discovered once and for all what had happened to Charlotte and why it involved his best mate.

  Ethan stood at the open door. ‘All under control—Grandy’s installed at the B&B.’

  ‘Okay, that’s good.’ Man, he and Charlotte were going to have to be extra sneaky now. It was hard hiding anything from Grandy but Dan didn’t want to be without Charlotte—and he needed to do something for her. Her sadness after they’d made love yesterday had pinned him to the wall. He looked down the northern end of the alley. Made love? Since when had sex with Red turned to making love? ‘I’ve sussed out the gear we need for his farmhouse,’ Dan said. ‘Young Mr Morelly can get most of it from the stock they keep in Canberra. He’s ordered the rest.’

  ‘Should be here in a week or two then.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Lucy appeared, winding her way down the alley with her young-dog gait. Dan checked the dog’s collar. No note, which meant nothing to explain to Ethan, and also meant Charlotte hadn’t sent her over. He wished she had, regardless of his having to explain sly, secret notes to Ethan.

  The dog trotted up to Dan with a friendly bark and lashed at his boot with a playful paw.

  ‘You’ve got a pal there,’ Ethan said.

  ‘Yeah.’ Dan thought about what Charlotte had said to him. ‘Charlotte asked me if I wanted to take her.’

  ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘Not sure.’

  ‘Everything okay?’

  Dan grimaced through his embarrassment, but while he had the chance, he took it. ‘I need to do something romantic.’

  ‘Like what?’

  Ethan hadn’t asked for who. Was it obvious to those closest to him that he and Charlotte were together? Dan lifted a shoulder. ‘I’m asking. What should I do?’

  Ethan furrowed his brow. ‘Depends what you’ve done wrong.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything wrong—I just want …’ His mind was an empty cave, devoid of romance. He’d never been in a position to want to go overboard on the R stuff, but Charlotte needed the extra-special touch, and he wanted her to smile again.

  ‘Flowers?’ Ethan suggested.

  ‘Nah, boring.’ Flowers would only remind her of the pink-flowering wisteria he’d given her.

  ‘I like flowers,’ Ethan said.

  ‘You like receiving them?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. I like giving them to Sammy. She relaxes. Then she forgives me. Flowers. If you want out of the dog house.’

  ‘I’m not in a dog house.’

  ‘Dan, you think you haven’t done anything wrong but I can pretty much guarantee Charlotte will have found something.’

  Yeah, Ethan knew about the secretive relationship. Hopefully it was only those closest to him, the friends who’d keep quiet. ‘You’re getting the wrong end of the stick. We’re not an item. We’re not a couple. We’re just … having a nice time.’

  Ethan grinned. ‘Flowers. If you think you’re about to get a bucket of cold water poured over your “nice time”.’

  Charlotte flicked the cardboard lid into place on the boxed steamer and slid it into the cupboard, where it nestled tidily with the other tools.

  How wrong of her to behave in an underhand manner towards the people of Swallow’s Fall. How had she dared to try to sell the B&B as a growing concern? Shame on her.

  She picked up the telephone from the hall table and dialled the realtor’s in Canberra. After a few minutes’ wait, she got through to the salesman in charge of selling the House at the Bottom of the Hill Bed & Breakfast.

  ‘I need to make changes to the ad,’ she told him. ‘I’m no longer selling a business. I’m selling a house.’ She nearly added ‘a home’ but stopped herself in time. No need for the realtor to know she’d gone soft on the lived-in tattiness of the house. On the pink-flowering wisteria. On the townspeople and their hopes and wants. Although someone, surely, would steam off the flocked peonies? ‘How soon can you get the changes made?’

  ‘Twenty-four hours. I suggest we keep the ad running until you’ve signed the new marketing proposal, in case someone’s interested.’

  She discussed the new terms, accepting the lower sale price— lower than she’d paid for the house due to it no longer being a business, and lower still in the hope it would sell sooner.

  She ended the telephone conversation and rubbed a hand over the tired, tense muscles in her face. With the B&B sold as a house, not a business, Daniel could get on with his plans for Kookaburra’s without creating unnecessary acrimony between himself and another accommodation business. No-one in town would be hurt. Thank God she’d seen sense in time. One guilt she wouldn’t be taking with her when she left.

  ‘Cup of tea time, Charley.’

  Charlotte turned for the kitchen.

  Charley. Charley Red. She bit down on her agitation and headed for the kitchen where Grandy waited. He was up earlier than the birds. Forget making his breakfast, he was the one who had toast and tea waiting by the time Charlotte dawdled from her bedroom at seven a.m. She’d never had such a perfect house guest. He made a damned good cup of tea too, insisting on tea leaves and teapot.

  ‘Settling in nicely,’ Grandy said, putting a cup and saucer in front of her with a steady hand.

  ‘I’m glad.’ Charlotte lifted the cup from the saucer. ‘I would hate to think you didn’t like it here.’

  ‘Didn’t mean me,’ Grandy said, taking his seat and resting his cane against his long thigh. ‘Meant you.’

  ‘Oh?’ Charlotte asked guardedly.

  ‘You got friends in town.’

  Charlotte pulled her mouth into a penitent smile. ‘And a few enemies.’ Pointless not admitting her foibles regarding her inept handling of the townspeople. ‘Of my own making, I know that.’

  Grandy chuckled. ‘They’ll come round. So what are your plans?’

  ‘Oh, you know … Fix the banister. Lift the lino and sand the floorboards. Some other stuff, just bits and pieces.’

  ‘Didn’t mean that either.’

  Charlotte took a sip of her tea, cautioning herself against its heat but unable to think of what else to do with her hands. Being under Grandy’s scrutiny was like being on the blind side of a two-way mirror. Questioning Grandy about whether he knew her history would have to wait until she’d sorted out in her own mind how he might know and where he was involved. If she didn’t get that right, she’d only create more apprehension and unpleasantness for the people of Swallow’s Fall.

  ‘You haven’t done what you came here to do,’ he said. Charlotte knew he wasn’t referring to her renovations. He shifted in his chair, took hold of his cane and rested his hands on top. ‘Got a heap of questions in that head of yours, haven’t you?’

  Charlotte met Grandy�
��s regard but couldn’t speak. This was her opportunity—and she wasn’t ready. She’d travelled seventeen thousand kilometres to find answers and the questions she’d decided not to ask were choked in her throat. She shook her head slightly and put her cup into the saucer.

  He leaned across the table and patted her hand. ‘Maybe the next time we talk will be the right moment. Let’s discuss something else.’

  Relief was a balm to her nerves.

  ‘How long are you planning on staying?’

  ‘Grandy …’ Too soon, relief turned to nagging worry. This man knew things. He wasn’t the type to give up, and Charlotte had to find the courage to ask him those questions.

  ‘I hope you’re behaving like a gentleman with Charlotte,’ Julia said. Since she had electric hair clippers in her hand and was currently clipping the hair behind his ear, Dan didn’t answer. Another one who knew about his ‘nice time’. Not that he and Charlotte had shared anything more than a wave down Main Street since Grandy moved in. Three nights without her.

  ‘She’s my new friend, Dan, and I don’t want her hurt.’

  ‘What makes you automatically think I’m going to hurt her?’ he asked, affronted.

  ‘Just saying.’

  ‘I have no intention of hurting her.’ He glanced at Julia’s reflection in the mirror. ‘What about if she hurts me? Would you care about that?’

  ‘Sure. But in this case, it’s you who’s likely to do the hurting. Keeping it all secretive, like you’re scared to death people might make the assumption you’re getting serious.’

  ‘Maybe it’s Charlotte who wants to keep it secret.’

  Julia lowered her thin eyebrows and looked down her nose. ‘Is that the reason for the little-boy-lost look?’

  Dan shuffled on his seat and ran a finger beneath the neckline of the lilac cloak he’d been forced to wear. He was stuck so he might as well see where it led him. Ethan’s advice hadn’t been any use. Charlotte wouldn’t want flowers. The pot plant hadn’t been in any way romantic. ‘We’re both happy having a nice time, but I’d like to do something romantic and I don’t know what.’

  ‘Flowers.’

  Dan sighed.

  ‘Biggest bunch you can get—and I mean pricey.’

  ‘No.’

  Julia’s eyebrows shot up, wrath brewing on her features.

  Dan clocked the cutters in her hand. He didn’t want a scalping. ‘I don’t mean no to spending the money—I don’t care what I spend—but I’m looking for a gesture, not a bunch of roses.’

  ‘Did I say roses? The language of flowers, Dan. Google it.’

  Give a guy a break. ‘So how’s it going with Mr Assistant Vet?’ he asked, changing the subject.

  ‘Cool,’ Julia said.

  ‘You’re looking dreamy-eyed. Is he the one?’

  Julia glanced at him in the mirror. ‘I’ve told him about my past and I’ve quit thinking about sperm donors. Truth is, I think I’d like to have Ira’s babies.’

  ‘Think? Isn’t that something you should be sure of before you get all gooey with the guy? Why don’t you just let things rumble on, see where it goes?’

  ‘No time for that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She put the clippers down and caught Dan’s face between her hands, angling his gaze to the mirror. ‘What do you see in my eyes?’ she asked.

  Dan studied her blue eyes and saw a gentleness, a kind of hazy glow. ‘You’re already in love,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Yeah.’ She bent to kiss his cheek and looked into his eyes in the mirror, her hands willing him to observe his own brown-eyed gaze. ‘And so are you, Dan.’

  Facing the fourth day without his girl, Dan made his way down the back corridor of the bar wondering who was knocking with such persistence at eight o’clock on a Thursday morning.

  He unlocked the door and swung it open. Daylight and Charlotte.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, sticking his hands in his jeans pockets as his insides turned warm and fuzzy. What better way to welcome the day than having a beautiful redhead smile at him? He nodded down at her Lycra shorts and sneakers. ‘We going for that five-K run?’

  She laughed, pulling at the knot of a pale-green sports wrap she was wearing over her white singlet. ‘Not until I’m certain I’ll beat you.’

  Dan smiled at her. ‘You forgot your hat.’

  She reached behind her, pulling a folded baseball cap out of the back of her shorts and waved it under his nose. ‘Got my mobile too.’

  Dan’s smile grew warmer as his girl’s got happier. Of course he wasn’t in love. Guys in love got serious about flowers and went bug-eyed every time the woman of their dreams walked into a room. Yeah, alright, he liked Charlotte a lot more than he was saying. He’d like to spend more time with her in an open and honest way but that didn’t mean he was in love with her.

  ‘I was looking for Lucy,’ she said.

  ‘Luce!’ Dan called over his shoulder.

  Charlotte tutted. ‘I knew she’d be here.’

  ‘She came running with me earlier.’

  ‘She’s more yours than mine,’ Charlotte said as she bent and let the dog kiss her hand. ‘You really ought to keep her.’

  Dan bent to the dog. ‘She’s ours.’ He caught Charlotte’s fingers in his. ‘You could have come in the front door. You didn’t need to sneak down the back alley.’

  ‘Habit,’ she said, smiling at him.

  ‘Hasn’t been much of a habit recently.’ They hadn’t been together since Sunday. He squeezed her fingers gently. It would be good to walk down the street with her, holding her hand. Maybe draping an arm over those stubborn shoulders and pulling her into him as they sauntered down Main Street. He saw himself leading her across the road, a hand on her back as they nodded hellos to the shopkeepers. He saw himself leaning over Charlotte’s shoulder to see her smile as he bearhugged her. Yeah. A natural progression to what they already had; no back alley sneakiness with Charlotte any more, he wanted to show her off. At his side.

  ‘Lucy won’t want another run if she’s already been out with you.’

  Dan straightened. ‘Sorry. If I’d known you were going running I’d have made her stay in town.’

  ‘It’s alright. I don’t mind.’

  ‘Coming inside for a while?’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘We can exercise together.’

  She grinned. ‘You’re trying to put me off my training. You’re really scared I’m going to beat you, aren’t you?’

  She was playing for time, and maybe about to refuse. ‘Come inside with me, Charlotte.’ He wanted her in his arms, desperately.

  He shooed Lucy, pulled Charlotte into him and held her with one arm as he closed and locked the back door. Lucy snuffled off to check out the empty bar.

  Dan bent and kissed Charlotte, holding her steadfastly against him. Her mouth so tender beneath his, her body so pliant, that a craving to taste and hold onto her forever flew through him in waves of tenderness.

  ‘Shall we go straight in?’ he asked. ‘Or do you want to have a chat first?’

  She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. ‘You mean a chat before we …’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What would we talk about?’

  He shrugged in apology as he released her. ‘I just don’t want you to think I only want one thing from you.’ She’d been away from him all week. He didn’t care what they did first, so long as she was with him.

  She gave him a sheepish smile and took hold of his hand. ‘We’ve never chatted before.’

  ‘There’s a first time for everything, Red.’ And he was beginning to understand exactly what that old cliché meant.

  Charlotte took his hand and they walked in silence through the back corridor and into his bedroom. Inside, he pushed the door closed, locked it, and turned to her.

  He pulled her into him and kissed her. She warned herself against getting too comfortable in his embrace. Theirs was a sexual pull. No need for passionate stuff to infiltrate
the casualness of their affair, even though she’d felt passion with him recently.

  She knew it didn’t take much for either of them: the first touch; the release of sexual tension. The intake of breaths, bodies connecting, arms intertwining. They didn’t have to lock eyes in some love-bitten simpering manner—a sexual urge flew through them and they each recognised it without needing to pretend otherwise.

  ‘You’re making those little noises,’ he said. ‘Those sighs.’

  Making noises with him? Already? She hadn’t realised. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘The breathy ones,’ he said, butterfly kissing her throat. ‘The ones I like best.’

  Well, if he liked them, maybe it was okay to keep sighing them, because she didn’t think she’d be able to hold them inside her.

  ‘I want you on the bed, sweetheart.’ He pushed her gently backwards until the back of her knees hit the mattress.

  Charlotte allowed her body to sink to his bed. He’d called her sweetheart. What did that mean? And how did she feel about it?

  He kicked his shoes off and undid the belt on his jeans, then the stud and the zip.

  Charlotte drank in the sight of his abdominal muscles and then his chest as he pulled his white T-shirt up and over his head. A man made for loving. Body tanned, muscles defined. He discarded the trousers then bent to the dumbbell rack he used as a bedside table. He took what he needed from a box and slipped it on, his body already hardened and obliging.

  Charlotte sighed at the glory of him as he lowered himself carefully on top of her, kissing her lips. ‘I like this part.’

  So did Charlotte.

  ‘I love undressing you.’ He pushed the cardigan off her shoulders. ‘Seeing your flesh appear.’ He threw the cardigan to the floor. ‘I missed you.’ Everything about him sent waves of familiarity over her; the scent of his body, the heat he threw off.

  ‘Now this.’ He lifted the hem of her singlet, his fingers caressing her midriff. His thumbs brushed over her breasts.

  Charlotte raised her arms over her head and allowed him to pull the singlet off.

  ‘Very nice underwear. But I’m going to remove it.’

  Oh, God, yes please.

  The warm smile in his eyes danced over her as he undid her bra, slid it from beneath her and sent it to the floor with a flick of his wrist. He undressed her, unhurried, taking his time to kiss each part of her body as her shorts, her pants and then her running shoes flew to the floor.