‘It’s okay, Spot, darling, come out and meet us. It’s all right, don’t be frightened.’
Spot didn’t make a sound. The poor thing must be terrified, maybe hiding under the bed.
Then her fingers found a switch. She flicked it on.
A huge python was coiled around a log in the middle of the bedroom. Not six feet from where she was standing. Six easily slitherable feet.
Her throat tightened as she drew in a sharp breath. Tingles flooded her body and her muscles tensed. Fight or flight. Well, for God’s sake, that was no contest. Her shriek was proper horror film. Long, piercing waves of I’m-being-murdered-here screams. If the snake was bothered, he (she? they?) didn’t let on. Not that Harriet was about to wait around to find out. She dashed back through the door and slammed it shut.
‘What the fuck, James!’ she shouted as he ambled up the stairs.
‘I’m sorry.’ He might look sheepish, but the bastard had the cheek to laugh. The actual cheek.
‘I cannot believe you let me walk in there like that. Anything could have happened.’
‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ he said. ‘He’s in a sturdy enclosure.’
‘I don’t care if he’s in a nuclear bunker, James. You did that on purpose. And you would be bloody sorry if I’d had a heart attack.’ At least, she hoped that was true.
‘Oh, please. You? With all that carry-on, the snake probably needs CPR right now.’
They both jumped when someone started pounding on the door downstairs. A man’s deep voice reverberated through the solid front door. ‘Sophie? Sophie! What’s going on? What’s happened?’
‘You probably woke the dead with that scream of yours,’ James said, starting back down the stairs.
‘I doubt the dead knock, James.’
Billie hovered with them in the hall as they listened to the lock clicking back, then watched as the doorknob turned. The man was coming into the house!
‘Excuse me, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Harriet glanced around for something to protect the family. But she’d tidied too well. Only a neat row of shoes remained.
She could use that plimsoll with malice if she had to.
‘Who are you?’ the man demanded.
She had to admit he didn’t look like a dangerous felon. His button-down shirt was too well-pressed, for one thing. But he was nearly as big as James, and younger-looking. His hair was jet black, not greying at the temples like James’s. His fists were clenched and one couldn’t take chances. ‘No, who the hell are you?’
‘I’m Sophie and Dan’s neighbour,’ said Sophie and Dan’s neighbour. ‘Carlos.’
Deadly intruders didn’t usually introduce themselves, either. Or wear thick-framed tortoiseshell glasses or dark stubble that made them look like the barista in the coffee shop next to her office.
She felt a bit silly with the shoe in her hand. ‘Oh, well, we’re their house guests.’ She looked pointedly at her husband. ‘Jump in any time, James.’
Carlos’s hands unclenched. ‘I heard screaming. I thought it was Sophie.’
‘She’s on holiday,’ James said. ‘We’ve swapped houses, actually. They’re staying up in ours. In Gloucestershire. Moreton-in-Marsh. Do you know it? Lovely little village.’
‘Of course he doesn’t,’ said Harriet. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She gave Carlos what she hoped was a disarming smile. ‘I’m afraid it was me who screamed. I found Spot.’
‘You didn’t scream in front of her?’ Carlos looked worried again.
‘Well, where else?’
He pulled a face. ‘Can I go and check on her? Make sure she’s all right?’
‘Make sure she’s all right?’ Harriet said. ‘Oh, yes, by all means, make sure the snake wasn’t frightened by me.’
James started for the stairs with Carlos when Billie suddenly said, ‘Dad! You’re not seriously about to let some stranger into the house just because he says he’s the neighbour?’ She marched straight up to Carlos. ‘Excuse me. Can I see some identification before you go wandering around the house?’
Even Billie adulted better than James, Harriet thought. She wasn’t a little girl any more. Harriet proudly watched her daughter, the way she carried herself with confidence. Their Billie definitely knew her own mind. Her gaze was hewn from steel. Not a bit of her childish clumsiness was left. She was lithe and graceful. She was beautiful.
‘Of course, sorry, what am I thinking!’ Carlos took his bank cards and driving licence from his wallet. ‘I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Sophie and Dan asked me to look after Spot when they’re away. My son had a python, too. I’m afraid that’s why Katie got one, so it’s my fault, in a way.’
Once Billie was happy that Carlos wasn’t a serial killer, she let him go upstairs. She trailed behind him though. ‘Come on,’ she taunted Harriet. ‘You’re not scared, are you?’
‘I was just surprised.’
‘Right.’
Together the Cooper family went to meet their housemate.
Harriet crept closer to the glass for a better look at the snake. When Spot shifted position, she could see the muscles move beneath its smooth scales. Its body was twisted around the heavy tree limb, so she could only count the spots she could see. As frustrating as it was, that was the rule.
‘You said your son had one. Did it escape?’ she asked Carlos.
‘No. My wife made him get rid of it when they moved out. My wife – ex-wife – hated it. She was against having it in the first place.’
Harriet stared at Carlos. ‘I hope that wasn’t the reason for the divorce.’
Billie sighed. ‘Mum.’
‘Well, it’s a possibility, isn’t it?’
But Carlos shook his head. ‘It wasn’t the reason. Though she wouldn’t go anywhere near the enclosure.’ Carlos glanced at Spot. ‘People think she’s scary just because of the things they’ve heard.’
‘People say the same thing about my wife,’ said James.
‘Piss off, James.’
Billie rolled her eyes. ‘Carlos, I’m not sure my parents properly introduced themselves before. They’re the Snarkersons.’
‘You piss off, too, Billie,’ Harriet snapped. ‘I’m going downstairs now. Enjoy your love-in with the snake.’
Chapter 4
Thursday
‘Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! Just look at that!’ The narrow lane had widened after Sophie and her family drove through another tunnel of trees. The steep banks that hugged the road were carpeted with ferns, moss and little white flowers, and the sunshine filtered through the deep-green foliage overhead. ‘This is incredible!’ She reached over to cover Dan’s gear hand with hers as she turned to the children in the back. ‘What do you think of this? It looks like we’re travelling to The Shire!’
‘We are,’ Dan reminded her. ‘This is Gloucestershire.’
‘I mean with the Hobbits. Bilbo and such.’
‘Silly bean, everyone knows what you meant.’
Oliver and Katie had their noses pressed against the car windows. ‘Cool!’ they said together. ‘Mum, do you think there’ll be horses?’ Katie asked. ‘Maybe somewhere we can ride?’
‘There must be stables. We’ll ask.’ Sophie patted herself on the back for finding Katie those lessons in Hyde Park for her birthday. Her heart was in her throat as she’d watched her precious girl climb aboard the huge animal, but Katie came away in one piece, with more confidence than Sophie had at her age, not to mention her now signature long fishtail plait that she’d learned to do on her own (though Sophie liked to do it for her when she was allowed).
Sophie shifted back round when the satnav told them to turn. ‘This is – this can’t be it.’ They stopped in front of an imposing black metal gate flanked by towering, immaculately clipped box hedges. ‘Are you sure? How will we get in?’
Dan patted her knee. ‘It’s all taken care of, sweetheart, Harriet emailed me the code.’ He rolled down the window, but no matter how far he stretched, he couldn’t reach th
e keypad. ‘Damn it!’
The door dinged the post as he flung it open to punch in the code. Sophie felt a shiver. She watched Dan carefully as he took a deep breath. Then the gate swung open and they were on their way up the drive.
She gasped when the house came into view around the last stand of fir trees. ‘This is their idea of a cottage?’ She’d been in smaller Tescos. And not the Tesco Metros, either. She felt another guilty twinge about their swap with Harriet and James because this, well … this was something else.
The cottage was more like a stately home, if a thatched one. The main building had two storeys, with single-storey extensions off both ends. She took it all in in an instant, but knew she’d remember it for the rest of her life: the attic windows cocooned in the weathered grey thatch along the roofline, and the warm yellow Cotswold stone front; all the small-paned windows that didn’t completely line up, and the eight chimneys that did. Not to mention the tumbling profusion of cottage garden flowers and neatly trimmed shrubs that could have been a gold medal display at the Chelsea Flower Show.
The children’s seat belts were off before Dan had put the car into park. But Sophie hesitated.
‘Soph?’
‘This is too high-end for us,’ she murmured. ‘Dan, this looks like a film set!’ She thought of the house she’d grown up in. They’d been bungalow people, not stately home people. Her family had eaten dinner on their laps in front of the telly, and fought over the single bathroom when they all had to get ready for school and work in the mornings. Her mum would have had a lot to say about a place like this. A little sadly, she imagined her running commentary. It would have started as soon as they’d left the motorway.
These moments ambushed her, even years after her mum’s death, when she’d give almost anything for her mum to answer the phone one more time. To hear her voice instead of having to imagine it.
She would ring her dad in a bit to let him know about the change of plan, and she was ever so grateful that she could still do that. But it wasn’t the same. She wondered if anything could ever be quite the same after losing her mum.
Dan shook his head, then walked around the car to take Sophie’s hand through the open door. ‘Silly bean, nothing’s too good for us. Don’t you know that by now?’
He’d rung her the day after the river cruise. ‘I loved meeting you last night,’ he’d said, ‘and I know I’m supposed to wait three days, but I’ve got tickets to the opera tonight. If you’re interested?’
He could have asked if she was interested in watching surgery being performed and she’d have said yes. As soon as they’d agreed where to meet and had hung up, she’d phoned her mum.
‘Well, that’s posh,’ she’d said. ‘Do you have to wear a gown or anything?’
‘Gosh, I don’t know. Do you think so?’ She didn’t own a gown.
She was glad she asked her boss, who’d definitely been to the opera before. Otherwise she might have turned up in some over-the-top frock while everyone else wore their normal work clothes.
Dan met her outside the Royal Opera House, looking at least as handsome as he had the night before. His suit fitted him perfectly, but then he had the ideal tall, slim, strong-shouldered physique for it. ‘I’m so glad you could make it,’ he said. When he leaned in to kiss both her cheeks, she smelled the most delicious earthy scent.
She couldn’t hide her amazement as they stepped inside the atrium. ‘It looks like a giant greenhouse!’ she said, staring at all the wrought-iron-and-glass Victorian splendour. The round bar in the middle was flanked by elegantly tall floral arrangements. People milled about holding champagne glasses. She wished she had a camera to take a photo for her mum.
Dan laughed. ‘I’m glad you like it. Have you seen Arabella before?’
She hadn’t even heard of it before his call. ‘I guess this is where I confess I don’t know a thing about opera. I’m sorry, I feel like I’m here under false pretences.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m happy that you wanted to come. And I’m glad you haven’t seen it. It means you’ve got a lot to look forward to. Sometimes it’s nice being …’
‘Naive?’
‘I was going to say unspoilt. So many women I meet are jaded. You’re such a breath of fresh air, Sophie.’
As Sophie wondered how many women were ‘so many’, Dan went to get the champagne.
‘Didn’t I promise to give you the holiday of your dreams?’ Dan said now. ‘I can’t import the handsome Italian masseurs – you’ll have to make do with the spa in the village – but you’re going to have the perfect holiday. Starting with this.’ He swept his arm across their view.
Sophie smiled as Dan helped her from her seat. Let yourself enjoy this, a little voice warned. Dan was right. She’d jumped at the chance to go to a spa hotel in Italy, so why not here instead? Nobody needed to know that she was an impostor who’d picked up her sparkly new sandals a few aisles over from their breakfast cereal. They didn’t say ASDA on them. She shoved those pinchy thoughts from her mind and followed Dan to the ancient-looking front door.
It was ridiculously perfect, right down to the scent of jasmine on the warm breeze and the sound of birdsong all around them. She half-expected Snow White to turn up with Bambi and Thumper and all their forest friends. But she was mixing up her Disney classics. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, then.
She coughed.
‘All right?’ Dan asked. ‘Your heart?’
She nodded. It was worst at night. Lying in bed, trying not to obsess over that miraculous little pump keeping each of them alive, she swore she could feel every heartbeat. Once she started noticing, she felt the skips constantly. Every one made her sure she’d end up like her mum. She tried convincing herself that it was too much coffee, or the cheeky bottles of wine she’d sunk with Dan for their anniversary, or her imagination, or about a hundred other things that had nothing to do with a dicky heart that could stop at any time.
But her heart wasn’t trying to kill her. At least, not in the way she’d feared. The GP promised her that those skips were common, and not dangerous. Some people felt the urge to cough when they felt them. Nothing to worry about, really.
She wanted to kiss that man, until he gave her the real bad news. She did have dangerously high blood pressure. She’d need medication to control it. And she needed to avoid stress.
How exactly was that supposed to happen when she spent nearly every waking moment running around? If she wasn’t chauffeuring the children to school or ballet, or chess club, science club, art club, ping-pong (thankfully only a fleeting interest), football practice, piano, violin and saxophone lessons, or that sodding art appreciation course that had just started at the Tate, then she was up to her elbows in the charity work Dan kept finding for her.
He’d thought she was joking when she told him that the GP said she should avoid stress. Well, why wouldn’t he? On the surface she was the most relaxed person either of them knew. ‘What have you got to be stressed about?’ Dan had scoffed. ‘You don’t even have to go to work. Fridge-freezers aren’t as chilled as you.’
He honestly seemed to believe that it took no time or effort to run the children everywhere and generally be the family’s dogsbody.
Besides, no matter what he thought, her blood pressure begged to differ. That’s what had her so scared. Maybe she was like her mum after all. She just hadn’t reached the same unfunny punchline yet. A stroke at fifty-two with no warning at all. Mum never even left the hospital.
‘Coming inside?’ she called to the children. Katie had her arm hooked around Oliver’s neck as they peered behind the house. Sisterly love sometimes looked a lot like assault, but her gentle son never seemed to mind.
‘Mum, look, the goats, there they are!’ Oliver couldn’t have been more excited if he’d spotted a unicorn. ‘There really are goats!’
She smiled at her animal-mad son. ‘Don’t go there yet, okay? Either come in or stay out in front where we can see you. We’ll all go toge
ther in a minute.’ What kind of parent would she be if she let her city children fall victim to some barn-related horror? Being a child of the suburbs herself, she wasn’t sure what that might be.
She jumped at Dan’s exclamation as he opened Harriet’s front door. It wasn’t anger this time, though.
‘It is a film set!’ Sophie said. The front hall wasn’t huge but it felt spacious. It took Sophie a second to realise why. It was completely clear of clutter. A few tastefully framed paintings dotted the walls at regular intervals, and the only piece of furniture was a highly polished church pew against one wall. But there was nothing under the bench: not so much as an umbrella (or the water stains that were always under the umbrellas in Sophie’s house). No dust bunnies, spare bits of paper, lost homework, sweet wrappers, discarded socks, schoolbooks or old newspapers. Not so much as a shoe.
Homes & Gardens could walk in and start photographing.
She was going to be living here for the next two weeks!
Sophie’s pace picked up as she roamed through the ground floor. She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d expected when Harriet had talked about the cottage, but it wasn’t this. The ceilings were beamed but they weren’t low. The whole house had a serene feeling of air and space despite not having big windows. She thought of their town house with its tall sash windows. This felt lighter.
She raced through the interconnected rooms until she reached the back of the house. ‘Crikey! Dan, you’re going to love this!’ The enormous Aga gleamed against one wall and there seemed to be miles of warm stone flooring between the worktops. The pristine farm table could seat a dozen people.
There wasn’t a single item on the table or on any of the worktops that wasn’t a kitchen accessory. A beautiful bowl stood in the exact middle of the table, without a spare key, button, USB stick, screwdriver or other cast-off in it. Sophie just knew that when Harriet was home it would hold a selection of seasonal fruit that never went off. They probably didn’t even get fruit flies. She thought about the veg drawer that she’d forgotten to empty before they left their house.
The Staycation: This summer's hilarious tale of heartwarming friendship, fraught families and happy ever afters Page 4
