by Anna Jacobs
‘Still sounds as if it’s a two-man job, unless you can lend a hand with the carrying? There are some quite heavy things from the sounds of it.’
‘Ah. I can’t do that, I’m afraid. Not at the moment. I’m recovering from an operation. Hire someone else and I’ll pay the extra. In fact, if you can assemble the flat-pack stuff for me as well, I’ll pay extra for your time.’
‘Happy to do that. I have a friend who’ll help and we can work into the evening if we have to.’
Emil dashed back to the bedsitter to pick up the few personal bits and pieces he wanted to take with him and piled the other things to one side. He’d sort out the bedsitter later.
He scowled at the bed, a cheap thing that had bounced around every time he turned over. He left the beige bedding behind too. He’d chosen sheets of a soothing eau de Nil colour, and a duvet cover with a swirling pattern of toning colours for his new flat.
It was strange. He’d never been interested in such household details before, but since his operation it seemed important to make sure every aspect of his life was in harmony, and to have a home that made him feel happy.
You could almost call what he was doing ‘nesting’. It was what pregnant women were supposed to do – but perhaps it also applied to people who’d been given a new lease of life and wanted a more peaceful style of living for it.
On moving day, he arrived at the small block of flats early and started lugging his suitcase and boxes inside, dumping them near the lift. He’d made sure none of the boxes he was taking was heavy.
To his astonishment, on his second trip from his car he ran into Abbie Turrell.
He stopped dead and so did she, looking just as surprised as he felt.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked in her usual blunt way.
‘I’m moving in.’
Her mouth fell open. ‘To the upstairs flat? You’re the new tenant?’
‘Yes. And you? Don’t tell me you live here as well?’
‘Well, actually my father left these flats to my sister and me, so Louis and I are moving into one of them. And my sister has the other ground-floor flat. I … um, guess that makes us your landladies.’
Fate was smiling at him for once, he decided. ‘How delightful! I was wanting to invite someone to christen my flat, but my father isn’t available and I don’t know anyone in town yet. How about you and your sister joining me for a bottle of champagne?’
‘We each have a small child.’
‘Bring them with you. I’ll supply lemonade and potato crisps for them as well.’
‘Well … um, I accept. That’ll be very pleasant. What time?’
‘Would five o’clock be all right? What people in Australia call a sundowner. The children are too young to last far into the evening. Give me a day or two to settle in and we’ll have a little celebration.’
‘Yes. Right. I have to go now. I’m picking Louis up from school. See you soon.’
He watched her leave, wondering why he was attracted to such a brusque female. Who knew what caused that sort of attraction? Scientists could talk about pheromones, but that didn’t explain it nearly well enough. There was more than just hormones and chemicals to finding someone attractive. Or so he’d decided after making a few youthful errors in choosing good-looking but not so amiable or intelligent girlfriends.
He realised he was still standing next to the pile of things and hadn’t taken any of it up to his flat yet, so hurried out to finish unloading his car. Phil and his helper would be here soon and could help him get these boxes up to his flat.
Emil smiled ruefully. He was going to be busy if he was to entertain guests in his new home so soon. Did he even have enough plates and glasses?
And he’d have to pace himself carefully as he unpacked. He still got tired quickly.
These were possibly rather important guests. Well, one of them was. And he hoped to make friends with the other one, too, if she was half as interesting as her older sister.
What was life without friends?
Abbie picked Louis up and then took him to choose a desk for his bedroom. She wanted to do something special to mark the big change in their lives and she’d seen a desk in the charity shop that looked as if it would just fit nicely under the window in his new bedroom. The shop had been given several of them in flat-packs, so it would be easy to take it home.
He was fizzing with excitement still about his new home and was followed outside by his teacher, who reminded Abbie to send a note to the office changing their address and other details, if necessary.
‘Did Louis drive you mad today?’ Abbie asked Mr Parker ruefully.
‘He was a bit more lively than usual, but we all understood how exciting it is to move to a new home, so we did a story about it.’
‘Thanks. You’re always so helpful.’ She saw the teacher’s eyes soften and become speculative as he looked at her, and said hastily, ‘Now, I must hurry. We have to buy some furniture.’
Mr Parker was a lovely man but she didn’t think it wise to get involved with her son’s teacher, and anyway, that spark of attraction simply wasn’t there, on her side at least.
Louis was standing near the car jigging about impatiently, so she clicked the door open for him and they set off for the shop.
‘We’ve got a new neighbour upstairs. Remember Mr Kinnaird who picked you up from school the other day when it was raining? Well, it’s him. We’re invited round one afternoon to celebrate his new flat. Champagne for the grown-ups and lemonade for you and Susie. That’ll be nice, won’t it?’
Louis nodded, but was much more interested in choosing a desk then some second-hand books from the same charity shop. Now they had room to store them, they didn’t need to depend solely on the library. She chose a couple of novels for herself as well, feeling very extravagant.
She knew she’d inherited quite a lot of money, which made such careful spending ridiculous, but after years of being frugal, it’d be a long time till she could bring herself to buy anything rashly.
She hadn’t told Louis the details of her inheritance because he could never keep anything secret. Besides, she couldn’t quite believe in the amount of money the lawyer had said was waiting for them till it was actually deposited in her bank account.
How was it possible that her father could have made so much money?
Her mother would throw a fit about it all coming to her, and another fit when she heard about the half-sister. There were definitely storms ahead from that quarter. But then her mother had always enjoyed creating storms in teacups.
When Stacy and Elise went out together, Warren seized his moment. He crept along the back garden of the houses and peered in through Stacy’s window.
She’d left her creations out for anyone to see and copy, not even covering them with a dust sheet, the fool.
He got out his smartphone and took a photo of the little creature she’d made, the one Elise had raved about. The window was slightly open and the breeze was making the creation’s head nod up and down slightly, and to his dismay it really was cute, even to him.
He wished he could get closer to it and smash it to pieces. ‘Cute’ wasn’t what serious art was about, but people were so stupid it was easy to fool them. He’d studied what art critics looked for and it seemed to be about holding up a mirror to society, often satirising things. He’d worked hard to fit into that model, which suited his own feelings about the world.
He looked at the nodding bird again, really tempted to try to hook the creature out through the open window, or at least knock it off the bench and hope to damage it. But it was broad daylight and there might be someone looking out from Number 1, or that old chap might be working in the gardens of the two larger end houses again. So he didn’t dare risk anything.
Not in daylight, anyway.
When he did act, he’d make sure nothing could be traced to him.
He went back inside his own house and looked out at the front. Yes, the pots were still there.
/> Stupid waste of time. His foot was itching to kick them and scatter their contents.
But once again, he restrained himself. He had to choose his moment with care.
To his intense annoyance when the two women came back, they unloaded shopping bags and placed two more similar plants in identical pots on either side of Stacy’s front door.
Damn them!
Nell was in the upper floor of Number 1, painting the walls a soft off-white colour. She liked doing the occasional practical job and this one was not only straightforward, but her doing it would save them money. Even though they wouldn’t be using this room yet, it’d be ready.
She heard a faint sound, so faint she’d normally have ignored it. Today something made her go over to the window and look outside. She was surprised to see Warren Cutler peering into the back window of Stacy’s house, so drew back a little.
What was he doing there? Surely he wasn’t going to break in? She could see that the window was slightly open, so stayed where she was, trying to work out what was going on.
He got out a smartphone and took a photo of whatever was inside Stacy’s studio. He was scowling, looking really sour about it.
Was he jealous of one of the other artist’s pieces? Surely not?
When he went back inside Nell stood for a few moments longer watching, but he didn’t reappear so she went back to work.
A little later, as she was almost finished, she heard a car draw up in Saffron Lane and nipped downstairs to see who it was from the window at the front of the gallery.
Stacy and Elise. She smiled as she saw what they were doing. The pots of flowers looked pretty outside the houses. Maybe she’d buy some for Number 1 as well. She knew Ginger was a bit short of money.
She wondered suddenly if Cutler was watching his two neighbours do this, and smiled wryly. If he was, she had no doubt he’d be scornful about the flowers. She couldn’t imagine him beautifying his temporary home any more than his angry little carvings would beautify the world.
The more she saw of him, with his sour expression when he wasn’t pretending to be amiable, the angrier she grew with herself for being taken in by him at the interview.
Well, that was her mistake, so she felt it her responsibility now to keep an eye on him. She didn’t know why she kept mentally adding ‘just in case’, but she did. Just in case what happened? What could happen, for heaven’s sake?
She didn’t have any clear ideas about possible problems, but she’d found over the years that such uneasiness usually meant something was about to go wrong.
When she’d finished painting the walls, she rang Angus to help her carry down the painting gear and take it back to the cellar at the big house, where they stored all the tools and maintenance equipment.
As she went outside with some of the equipment, she wondered if her husband would notice the flowers and had a little bet with herself that he would.
She loved the way he was intensely aware of the world around him and the people in it.
Warren was working in his studio when he heard the car draw up and it was a few moments before he could put his tool down and go into the front room to see who it was.
Ah! Angus Denning helping his wife carry things out of the first house.
He debated going out to chat, but had started work on a piece that was going well, so left it this time. More important to produce some good carvings, ready for the art gallery opening.
He hoped they’d not take too long to finish setting it up. He was a little short of money, except for the miserable stipend they were giving him, because after some consideration he’d decided it’d be worth keeping up with his share of the mortgage payments. If his cow of a wife did sell the house, he wanted to make sure he was legally entitled to his half of the profits.
He bent over the Bengal tiger he was carving. It was just carrying off a small chital deer. If he said so himself he’d caught the last look of panic on the face of the animal the tiger had killed. He’d enjoyed doing that.
Elise came out of the house to say hello to Angus.
‘You look well,’ he said at once.
‘I’m feeling well. I love living here.’
‘The flowers are a nice touch.’ He indicated the pots.
‘Perhaps Mr Cutler will do the same.’
He chuckled. ‘I’d bet good money that he won’t.’
‘How about coming up to our house for a drink before tea?’ Nell suggested. ‘It’ll only take me a few minutes to wash and change, then I can show you round the garden at the other side of the house. It’s looking at its best just now.’
‘Love to.’
‘Could you invite Stacy for me as well?’
‘Happy to.’
They looked at one another and Elise prepared herself to refuse to pass on the invitation to Cutler, but it didn’t eventuate. And they didn’t knock on his door before they left, either.
Warren listened indignantly as Denning’s wife invited the other two occupants of Saffron Lane round for a drink, and didn’t invite him.
He watched them drive away. Elise went into Stacy’s house, presumably to pass on the invitation. Kicking a cardboard box out of the way, he went to pull a ready meal out of his freezer, scowling at it. For all her faults, Michelle had been a good cook. He missed that.
Then he turned back to his tiger and lost himself in the carving, not stopping till the main carving was finished. He eased his shoulder and looked out in surprise as he heard voices and saw his two neighbours come back smiling and chatting.
Dusk was falling. Was it so late already?
He still had to work out what to do about those damned pots of flowers, but he wasn’t taking care of that little problem during daylight while anybody in the houses could see him. He’d enjoy doing it.
Chapter Twenty
Iain and Ginger drove out of Newcastle after the hearing at the police station, heading south. By the time they got to Wiltshire, both were extremely tired and it was nearly midnight.
As they turned off towards Sexton Bassett, Iain said quietly, ‘I’ve been working out what’s best to do. Let’s dump the things from this van in your flat, then spend the night at my house. There’s a bed made up ready to fall into, food in the fridge, everything we need.’
‘Can’t we just go straight there and leave my things in the van till morning?’
‘Unfortunately, I have to make a really early start tomorrow and I’ll need to load up my van with plants first thing. There’s a new load of plants arriving at my garden centre early in the morning, you see, and I need to clear the space for them. Since I’ll be taking some of the plants I remove to Saffron Lane, I can drop you there then. What do you think? It won’t take us long to unload the van if we simply dump your things and leave.’
‘All right. I can manage one more effort.’ She felt rather shy as she added, ‘I may not be very good company tonight but I’d rather be with you after all the … the hassles with Donny. You’ve been such a comfort.’
‘So you’ll share my bed, even if it’s only to sleep?’
‘Yes. Happy to. After all, you’ve shared mine. And sleeping isn’t the only thing you’re good at.’
He grinned. ‘I might say the same of you. In fact, it’s a pity we have to get up so early tomorrow.’
‘Yes. I’m sure I’m going to love living in Saffron Lane, though. The houses look good now that the modernisations are finished.’
‘Angus and Nell are eager to finish the gardens as soon as possible, then they’ll look good too. There’s not a lot of work to do on Bay Tree Cottage now, just the planting and finishing, which I shall enjoy. Be done completely in a couple of days.’
‘You’re not taking out the bay tree, are you? I love its rich green colour.’
‘No, of course not, but I’m going to clear round it and plant some low flowering shrubs. They’ll look good against it.’
She roused herself when they arrived at Saffron Lane, got out quickly and opened up Num
ber 1. They took the bigger furniture through to her flat and dumped it more or less in place and put the boxes and bundles along one wall.
She wasn’t too tired to smile at him when they finished. ‘It’s been an eventful couple of days, hasn’t it? I’ll cook you a nice breakfast while you’re loading the van in the morning.’
‘Now you’re talking. Something that’s quick to eat but filling. We won’t have time to attend to our other needs. Not then, anyway.’
She could feel herself flushing at the warmth of his gaze. Oh, he was such a lovely man!
When they got back to Iain’s house, Ginger was surprised at how big it was, situated to the left of his garden centre in walled grounds of its own. And surely it was quite old?
He parked the van at the side of the car park and took her through a high gate and along a path to the house. ‘How about a quick bowl of cereal then bed?’
‘Good idea. You’re not the only one who gets hungry.’
After they’d eaten, he took her up to his bedroom. ‘Make yourself at home, love. I just want to check that the centre and house are properly locked up. It’s something of a nightly ritual for me.’
She tried hard to stay awake till he got back, but could feel herself jerking in and out of consciousness, so gave up the attempt. She felt so comfortable when she was near him, awake or asleep. It was … miraculous and … he was … wonderful.
As Warren was getting ready for bed, there was the sound of another vehicle. He watched a big van pull up at Number 1, keeping its headlights on the front door. The old tart got out and fiddled with a key, only she didn’t look as tarty without that dye job on her hair. But whatever she looked like now, her embroideries would never match his sculptures. No, he didn’t need to worry about her. He’d beaten her once and would beat her every time if she tried to push herself forward.