Joker in the Pack

by Elise Noble

  “From Lilac Cottage?”

  “How did you know?”

  “News travels fast around here.”

  “I’m beginning to get that. So, you live in the village?”

  “Not this one. I’m from Middleton Foxford.”

  “That’s only a couple of miles away, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Just under two by road. If you cut across the fields, it’s a little closer.”

  “Is it as big as Upper Foxford?”

  “Slightly larger. Upper and Lower Foxford are about the same size, but because Middleton Foxford’s in between them, more businesses have tended to gravitate there. So, we have the library, the doctor’s surgery, and more restaurants.”

  “Perhaps I’ll venture over there when the weather’s warmer.”

  “Why wait?”

  “I don’t have a car at the moment.” At the moment—that sounded better than admitting I wouldn’t be purchasing one for the foreseeable future.

  “How about I pick you up one day? I can show you around both of the other villages, and we could stop for lunch on the way back.”

  Lunch? Was he asking me out on a date or just being friendly? I couldn’t tell from his expression. Should I accept his invitation? It seemed like only yesterday that I was eating out with Edward, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to step out with another man, platonic or not.

  But then again, I felt terribly lonely…

  Tate picked up on my indecision. “Relax, it’s only lunch. There aren’t many people our age around here, and we’ve got to stick together. The WI ladies hunt in packs.”

  A giggle bubbled out, unbidden. Apart from Warren and Daisy, most people I’d met were my parents’ age at least, and Yvonne had already hinted I might like to join the committee of the WI to “bring in some new blood.” Yes, I wanted to fit in, but I didn’t have the time to organise the summer craft show and I was terrible at flower arranging.

  And while I may not have planned on meeting a man in Upper Foxford, when an admittedly handsome one was standing right in front of me in a Ralph Lauren button-down shirt that showed a certain amount of taste, it seemed rude to turn down his offer. What did I have to lose? I certainly didn’t want to spend the rest of my life alone, and at the very least, I could use another friend.

  “In that case, I’d love to join you one day.”

  Tate tapped his number into my phone then called his, and before he headed off with a group of friends, he promised to message me to arrange a time to suit both of us.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said as he turned to leave.

  “The pleasure was all mine.”

  Okay, so that line was a little cheesy, but the smile that accompanied it was genuine. I left The Cock and Bull with a matching grin of my own, frantically cataloguing what was left of my wardrobe as I hurried home. I couldn’t go out with Tate dressed in jeans and a faded jumper. Oh, if only I’d kept hold of a few of my nice dresses.

  “Need a lift?”

  I’d been so preoccupied I barely heard Warren approach in his taxi. Spots of rain dotting my decidedly non-waterproof jacket made the decision easy.

  “Thanks so much. It’s so dark without any street lights here.”

  “You should get a torch to carry in your handbag.”

  “I’m sure Aunt Ellie’s left one in the cottage somewhere.”

  “Or just call me. If I’m not working, I’ll give you a ride.”

  He’d already said that, but I’d feel guilty calling him out when I couldn’t afford to pay. “It’s kind of you to offer.”

  Lilac Cottage was dark when we pulled into the driveway, and I wished I’d been able to leave a light on, but the electricity bill would be painful enough already.

  Warren drew to a smooth halt outside the front door. “Let me give you my number, just in case.”

  Just in case. That couldn’t hurt, right? I handed my mobile over for the second time that evening and waited while Warren did his thing.

  “You’ve met Tate, then?”

  Oops. Warren must have seen the number in my messages. Was it me, or did his voice hold a hint of jealousy?

  “Just now, in the pub. He helped me out when Henry was bothering me.”

  “Henry’s an idiot. And Tate…”

  “What about Tate?”

  “Never mind.” A long pause followed, but Warren still had my phone. “Look, I don’t suppose you’d be interested in going out for dinner with me one evening?”

  Now that… That definitely sounded more like a date-type question, and damned if I didn’t consider it. Warren was the boy next door versus Tate’s distinguished gentleman, and after Edward, a down-to-earth man did present an attractive option. But I still wasn’t ready for that.

  “Uh… The thing is, I just got out of a long-term relationship, and when I moved here, I decided I’d try the single life for a while.”

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying, right?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “How about lunch someday? Just as friends. You can never have too many friends.”

  Another man, another lunch, and Warren had been so kind to me. Besides, the way he spoke, it didn’t sound as if he meant tomorrow or even this week. “Lunch would be lovely, someday.”

  After I closed the door behind me that night, I leaned back against it and closed my eyes. So much for staying single—I’d gone from no men to two I quite liked, and that made me more nervous than anything else.

  Boy, did I need to talk to Maddie.

  CHAPTER 13

  THE NEXT MORNING brought an unexpected bonus. After a frenzied bidding war, a set of Aunt Ellie’s sad-faced china dogs sold for four figures and the buyer paid right away. I stared at the balance for ages and even refreshed the page in case I was dreaming.

  “Maddie, you’ll never guess what just happened.”

  “What?”

  “Someone bought those hideous dogs from the dresser, and I’ve finally got a chunk of money.”

  “Seriously? Did they have impaired vision?”

  “I think they must have.” After all, I’d have felt guilty offloading them on the charity shop.

  “But that’s it? For a moment, I thought you were going to tell me you’d met an eligible country gent with a Land Rover and room for a pony.”

  “Uh, that too. Well, I don’t know if either of them has got room for a pony, and Warren drives a Ford Galaxy.”

  “Warren? The taxi driver? He asked you out?”

  “Last night.”

  “Ooh, where’s he taking you?”

  “Nowhere. I said no to dinner.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Uh, it was a bit awkward. I’d already agreed to go out with Tate, and I’m not sure Warren’s my type. I mean, he’s nothing like Edward.”

  “Wait a second. Back up. Tate? Who’s Tate?”

  “I met him in the pub last night, and he asked me out for lunch. Although it’s not a date. I made that very clear.”

  “So what’s this Tate got that Warren hasn’t?”

  How did I explain his charm and his twinkling eyes? I tried to think of the right words, but what came out was, “He was wearing Ralph Lauren.”

  Ouch. How shallow did I sound? I cringed inside and pictured Maddie as she smacked her palm off her head. The noise certainly echoed down the phone line.

  “Olivia Porter, you’ve got to look beneath the superficial. The last thing you want is another Edward.”

  “I know. Really, I do. But Tate stepped in like a white knight when another man was bothering me, and the fact that he knows how to dress is just a bonus.”

  Maddie sighed, long and loud. “I suppose it’s about time you met a nice guy. Tell me you didn’t sell your Agent Provocateur lingerie?”

  “Of course not! Who would want to buy used underwear? I certainly wouldn’t, even if it was washed.”

  “Olivia, you’re so sweet. Don’t you have any idea how many men get off on that? And they don’t want it washed
.”

  “Are you serious? That’s disgusting!”

  “They pay top dollar, babe.”

  “I don’t care if they pay in gold bullion. I’m not selling my dirty undies.”

  What would they do? Sniff them?

  “At least that means you’ve still got something saucy to wear for Tate. Or even Warren. I still think you should consider him.”

  “Don’t you ever give up?”

  “Not often.”

  “It’s only lunch with Tate. I won’t be removing any of my clothes.”

  “What about his?”

  “I’m not that sort of girl!”

  “One word: Taurus.”

  I put my head in my hands. “Can we just not talk about that?”

  She took pity on me. “Okay, okay. What are you going to wear? Do you want to borrow something of mine? Or shall we go shopping?”

  “I don’t have a lot of money to spare.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Shopping on a budget is the story of my life.”

  Maddie had Saturday off, so early that morning, I printed off the bus timetable and braved rural public transport with my handbag and a “deluxe faux-leather multiway laptop case” with Aunt Ellie’s computers in it as well as my own. That way, I could work on the bus. I’d forgotten to ask Maddie about her techy friend, but I figured I’d take them just in case.

  Curry night at The Cock and Bull might have a buzz about it, but it didn’t compare to an evening out in the West End. I couldn’t wait to visit some of my old haunts and experience the delights of Oxford Street again. Even the two-hour journey couldn’t dampen my mood. Not only was I going to see my best friend, but on Monday, Tate would be introducing me to what he claimed was the best spaghetti outside London at Middleton Foxford’s Italian restaurant. He’d originally suggested going today, but I’d had to give my apologies and ask him to reschedule.

  “No problem. I’m free next Monday or the following Saturday,” he’d said.

  Not a grumble—such a far cry from Edward, who’d sulked for days if I asked him to rearrange a meal out.

  Maddie was already dressed for a day of bargain hunting when I arrived, complete with sensible shoes and a handy umbrella.

  “Good to go?” she asked. “Or do you want a cup of tea first?”

  “I’d love a cuppa. And I don’t suppose that computer guy you know might be around today?”

  Maddie wrinkled her nose. “Vitaly? He went to visit his family for an extended Christmas break.”

  I quickly explained the situation. “I just want to know whether they can be made to work properly, either to sell or use myself.”

  “Vitaly’ll definitely take a look. He loves challenges like that, but he’s not due back until the end of the month.”

  A few weeks? It was a setback, but a minor one, and I had plenty of bric-a-brac to flog in the meantime.

  “Can I leave them with you? I don’t fancy lugging the extra bag back on the bus with me.” My slim Toshiba would fit in my handbag.

  “What, that classy pleather contraption? How many pockets does it have?”

  “Enough that if I put my phone in there, I’d never find it again.”

  Shortly after our second cup of tea, we headed for Oxford Street, where under Maddie’s critical eye, I picked up a floaty top and a pair of smart trousers in the sales.

  “There you go,” she said. “That’s classy enough for your posh bloke.”

  “He’s not my posh bloke. And I’m not even sure he’s that posh. I only spoke to him for a couple of minutes.”

  After all, Mother had trained me to speak the Queen’s English, and I certainly hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in my mouth.

  “You could also wear that outfit to go out with Warren. Just saying.”

  “Maddie, enough.”

  Mission accomplished, Maddie agreed to indulge my love of Japanese food by eating at a sushi place. I wasn’t likely to find maki rolls or salmon sashimi within a ten-mile radius of Upper Foxford, so I had to make the most of London’s restaurants while I could.

  I was smiling as I climbed onto the last bus of the night back to the countryside. An evening out with Maddie always cheered me up, and even though I missed the city, life could be worse. After all, I had three new friends, a house of my own, and an adequate though unpredictable income. Oh, and a date-and-possibly-more with a hot guy. I’d deliberately downplayed the heat factor there so Maddie didn’t get too excited.

  And maybe, just maybe, the memories of Edward and Becki would eventually fade.

  That positive vibe lasted the whole trip home, a long bus ride and the short walk from the bus stop to Lilac Cottage.

  It lasted while I stumbled down the uneven path and pushed past the rosemary bushes.

  It lasted until I saw my open front door.

  CHAPTER 14

  I’D CLOSED THAT door.

  I knew I’d closed that door.

  Maddie may have made fun of my OCD tendencies, but they meant I always checked the house was firmly locked at least twice every time I left.

  My heart hammered as I crept closer and squinted in the dim moonlight. Was it my imagination, or… Yes, the door frame was splintered around the lock.

  A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead as I froze, peering into the dark hallway. Could the burglar still be inside? What should I do?

  My brain screamed at me to run, and eventually, my feet got the message. I narrowly avoided face-planting as I tripped over a tree root on my sprint next door. Breathless, I jabbed my finger at Yvonne’s doorbell.

  The tinny sound of “Auld Lang Syne” rang out into the night, the best part of a month too late, and I uncurled my clenched fists as footsteps sounded in the hallway.

  “Who are you?”

  The man who answered the door didn’t look thrilled to see me, and understandably so. I must have looked a fright.

  “I’m so sorry for disturbing you. I live next door, and I think I’ve been burgled.”

  His glower didn’t shift, but he swung the door open wide enough for me to squeeze past him. “Well, you’d better come in.”

  I followed him through to the kitchen, where Yvonne was elbow-deep in the washing up. Her eyes widened as she took in my appearance.

  “She’s been burgled,” her husband said.

  Yvonne dried her hands and rushed over. “Oh, you poor dear. Did they take much?”

  “I don’t know yet. The door…open… I’m too scared to go inside.” I clutched at the back of a chair as I began shaking. “What if someone’s still in there?”

  “Have you called the police?”

  I shook my head. “I just ran here.”

  “Bob, don’t just stand there! Call Graham.”

  Bob moved slowly into action, reaching for the phone on the wall by the door while tutting about missing his fishing programme.

  “I’m so sorry I came here. I didn’t know where else to go.”

  Yvonne glared at Bob. “Don’t mind him. He always falls asleep in the middle of that show, anyway.”

  Graham’s enthusiasm rivalled Bob’s when he ambled in with a colleague the best part of an hour later.

  “There’s nobody there.”

  “But somebody was inside, right? I mean, the door was open.”

  The other policeman grimaced. “Not sure you’ll want to see inside, love.”

  “Why? How bad is it?”

  “Your visitor’s left a bit of a mess.”

  My visitor? Good grief, he made it sound as if I’d invited the burglar in. “How much of a mess?”

  Yvonne put an arm around my shoulders. “Why don’t we all go and take a look?”

  The tears came a few seconds after I stepped through what was left of my front door. A hurricane had rampaged through downstairs, leaving a trail of crumpled boxes and broken ornaments, knee-deep in places. Why had somebody done this? I’d tried so hard to fit into the village, and now my new start in life had been pushed under a bus.

&
nbsp; Yvonne gave me a squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Olivia. Why don’t you stay at ours for the rest of the night? We can come back here in the morning.”

  “But the house… I can’t even lock it.”

  “I’m not sure there’s much more damage they could do. Besides, Graham’ll be wanting to fingerprint first thing in the morning, so we shouldn’t disturb anything. Isn’t that right?”

  From the look on Graham’s face, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Right. Of course. Fingerprinting, yes.”

  I couldn’t get the mess out of my mind as Yvonne led me back up the path. “I can’t believe this.”

  “It’s a bit of a shock, isn’t it? But I’m sure the police will find whoever did it.”

  “Really? Graham didn’t seem too confident.” Or competent.

  “He’s not used to all this drama. Until Eleanor died, the worst thing to happen in years was a spate of missing cats. Although there was a touch of vandalism last year, and someone broke into an empty house and held a party, but everyone thought that was kids.”

  Yvonne’s spare bedroom could have come straight from the pages of Country Life magazine, with its comfy, overstuffed armchair and artfully distressed wardrobe. But as I huddled under the floral quilt, I found myself longing for my ugly room next door. Funny how you missed things when they were gone, wasn’t it?

  I barely slept, and I wasn’t hungry either, but out of politeness, I forced down a few mouthfuls of the porridge Yvonne made me in the morning. My stomach rebelled with every swallow, and in the end, I put my spoon down and apologised.

  “Thank you for everything, but I really should get back home.”

  Home. It didn’t feel like much of a home as I scrubbed the remains of a bottle of ketchup off the kitchen floor. And the counters, and even the window. The burglar’s artistic streak had come out, and he’d covered my kitchen with a variety of condiments then smashed every jar in the cupboard.

  I said burglar, but I couldn’t see that anything had been stolen. There was nothing worth much in the house anyway, but I found the watch Edward gave me for our first anniversary safely in its box at the back of my underwear drawer, and Mother’s gold earrings were on the floor under the bed.

  Could it have been kids? Anger welled up inside me. How dare someone come into my home and wreck it? Whoever broke in had been out to create as much mess as possible.