Escape to Honeysuckle Hall

by Rebecca Raisin

  I pause as a new thought hits. Is it Leo doing this? He could have slipped this in as we did our tour around the hall! I talk myself down. What would he have to gain by my leaving? In fact, he’d have a lot to lose if I left, like the rejuvenation work I’ve hired him for. Then again, he’d probably be the one to secure the renovation work for whoever took over the hall … Part of me wonders when I remember those prickly comments he made about me potentially flipping the property for a profit and rushing back to big-city life. It’s almost as though he doesn’t trust my motives for buying Honeysuckle Hall …

  It’s something to consider before I plunge into any real friendships around here.

  I can’t help but shiver at the idea someone is trying to scare me off for no good reason. One or two notes I could explain away, but now it feels as though it’s a genuine campaign into scaring me to leave. Again, why? What does it matter I’m here, and who does my being here affect so badly? My heart sinks, and I realise it’s because I really don’t want it to be Leo, but part of me suspects that it is. Is this my own trust issues coming to the fore?

  Chapter 15

  A few days later I’m out in the garden pruning the overgrown fruit trees when a van arrives. I do a happy dance when I see who it is. ‘Maya!’ I call back towards the cottage.

  She comes dashing out. ‘What?’

  ‘The furniture is here! And all of our goodies!’

  We race outside to meet the driver, Bob, a local guy who does deliveries and was eager to go and pick up all of our loot from the various shops in town we visited. Once again I’d been surprised at the price of things being so much more affordable outside of London.

  ‘Hey,’ he says, jumping down from the cab. ‘Managed to fit everything in, might need some help unloading it though.’ Even though the hall isn’t finished, the storeroom is, so we have plenty of space to load all of our furniture for safekeeping. When the hall is ready we won’t have to wait around to get everything in.

  ‘Where’s Leo?’ Maya asks when Bob opens the back of the truck to reveal ten antique heavy-looking wardrobes.

  I’m still a little suspicious of Leo. I’ve managed to avoid him by sending Esterlita to do my bidding. And why was he around just when I needed him? Seems suspicious to me.

  Maya must see the hesitation on my face because she says, ‘What’s the problem? I’m sure he won’t mind lending a hand.’

  ‘We can do it,’ I say. ‘How heavy can they be?’

  Bob pipes up, ‘Hernia-inducing heavy.’

  I shoot Bob a glare.

  ‘Let me find Leo.’ Maya dashes to the back of the hall where Leo and his gang are working on the electrics.

  He soon comes along, wearing his lazy smile, as he and his guys happily help Bob unload the truck of all our precious cargo while Maya grabs me by the shirt and pulls me away in a very brash bossy manner that clues me up to the fact she’s about to lecture me. Leo reserves his widest smile for me, and my legs almost buckle at the beauty of it. I quickly turn away.

  ‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed,’ she says giving me an icy stare.

  ‘Noticed what?’ I study the ground as if it’s a wonder.

  ‘You’ve been avoiding Leo like he’s got the pox and I want to know why. What did he do? I’m guessing it’s a big, fat nothing.’

  I cross my arms. ‘I have no idea what you’re on about?’ But what she doesn’t know is there’ve been even more notes, and always right around the time Leo leaves for the day, coincidentally right where he’s been working. I will be devastated if it’s him. So I do what I do best, and hide, hoping it’ll all go away.

  She grunts. ‘Don’t try that delaying tactic with me, I can see straight through you.’

  Damn it. ‘What delaying tactic?’

  ‘The one you’re doing right now, and you know it!’

  ‘I don’t know what—’

  ‘STOP!’

  ‘OK, OK, sheesh. So, I’ve been avoiding him, yes, but it’s not a big, fat nothing.’

  ‘Then what is it?’

  Reluctantly I tell her about the old sepia photograph I found and the scrunched-up notes. I don’t dare tell her about the noises in the cottage in case she thinks A: I’m losing the plot or B: she makes her excuses to leave and never comes back. I’m sure they’re just the sounds of an old place creaking and groaning …

  ‘OK, so let’s think about this logically; maybe someone just dropped the picture off for you as a keepsake when they went past on their morning walk?’

  ‘Yes, that’s perfectly possible. But what about the notes?’

  Maya considers it. ‘Well, you’d think being a finishing school back in the day, those sorts of notes were passed around all the time. You’ll probably unearth many a snarky note from one to another. They were stuck out here together with no means of escape; surely tensions ran high every now and then.’

  ‘I thought that too at first, but the paper is more modern, even the handwriting is block letters, not cursive like it would have been back then. I get the feeling that it’s a more recent thing; that someone has it in for me. They all say the same type of thing: you’re not wanted here, you’re putting others in danger, and things like that. I don’t know how else to explain it, but it feels like someone has something against me, and I think that person is Leo.’

  ‘But why would he?’

  ‘I think he believes the rumours about me. He keeps asking if I’m going to flip the hall for a profit as if I’ve come to Eden Hills under false pretences or else I’m setting up a business that I can sell off for pockets full of cash, disappear into the sunset and never look back.’ It sounds ridiculous saying it out loud, but who else could it be?

  She shakes her head. ‘He doesn’t believe the rumours. No self-respecting person would. When he’s quizzed you, I think it’s purely to see where you’re at! That you’re not going to give up on small-town life and head back the bright lights of London. Look, the notes are creepy – I’ll give you that – but it’s not Leo. I feel it in my gut. It’ll be Freya and her gang of bored desperate housewives or something. I don’t think you need to worry. Look at the number of times you’ve called Leo after hours for one emergency after another and he’s come running. Someone trying to scare you away would just say they’re busy and let you deal with it yourself. His quote would have been sky-high, if he wanted you gone. He wouldn’t have helped source the tepees, and all the other people he’s had a quiet word with to get you a good deal, would he?’

  When Maya lays it all like that I do wonder. Sometimes I think this place is getting to me and making me look for things that aren’t there.

  ‘I need to know for sure that it’s not him.’ And right now, I don’t know that.

  Maya shakes her head. ‘Is this a subconscious ploy to push Leo away? I’ve seen the way you two snatch looks at each other, well up until you ghosted him, and I think deep down that scared you, so you’ve invented this mystery to hold him back.’

  ‘I didn’t invent it; it’s real.’

  She sighs. ‘I know it’s real, but you made him the scapegoat. And he’s such a lovely guy, a really sweet, laid-back guy. If you don’t move fast someone else will snatch him right up.’

  ‘Urgh, that’ll probably happen anyway.’

  ‘Harry really did a number on you, didn’t he?’ she says gently. ‘You don’t have to pretend you’re not still hurting.’

  I lift a shoulder. ‘I’m not pretending; I just don’t want to dwell on it. What’s the point? But the thought of moving on so fast makes me nervous.’

  ‘You can’t think like that, though, or you’ll never move on.’

  ‘It’s only been a couple of months.’

  ‘Come on let’s get this furniture sorted and we can chat more later.’ I still need to tell Maya about the Carly Army and see what her take on that is. Once the furniture is unloaded I ask one of Leo’s guys to heft the antique vitrine into the cottage living room. I spend the next few hours displaying my philatelic col
lection inside the lovely piece. It has the desired effect, calming me as I work out the best way to show off my stamps and the old love letters of strangers.

  *

  The only way to know who is guilty is to catch them in the act. I find a tree of moderate height, okay, it’s the smallest tree around because I’m not keen on climbing too high and I commit to my very first stakeout. I have water to last the duration, and binoculars so I can peer at the hall from a distance. Three minutes in, I realise I’ve forgotten my snacks, and wonder just how long I can last without them. Hopefully I’m not here all day, because I don’t want my blood sugar dropping when I’m so far above the ground – besides I’ve got bloody work to do! Who knew country living would mean being so furtive and living in the shadows like this!

  I’m adjusting my legs around the branch of the tree, wondering just how I can explain away splinters in my nether regions, when Leo comes into view and I freeze. He has some planks of wood in his hand, so it doesn’t look quite like he’s about to hide a note, but I watch him closely. I use my thigh muscles to hang on and grab the binoculars. I should have brought a rope and tied myself to the tree. My legs burn and I wonder how much longer I can hold on for. Spies really must do a lot of cardiovascular exercise in order to get the job done and I know I’m lacking that department. Still, they’re also mentally tough and I have that in spades … don’t I? Urgh, I wobble on the trunk as I watch Leo cart bits and pieces from the hall to the bin.

  His muscles ripple (who knew muscles actually rippled?) in the sunlight as he lifts heavy things. Whoa. I don’t let such a sight ruffle me, as I’m a professional and this man might be my enemy. He runs a hand through his thick, blond, too-long locks and then takes a great big guzzle of water, before pouring it over his head, letting it trickle down his lovely tanned body. Don’t get distracted, Orly! That’s what he wants you to do!

  But I can’t help it! For some reason all his movements appear in slow-mo and I hear some kind of tough-guy music as if I’m watching an advert on TV selling tough-guy aftershave or something. He really is too good-looking! He shakes the excess water from his skin – just like a bloody cliché – and a rush of longing races through me. It’s too much for my thigh muscles and I start to wobble alarmingly on the branch of the tree that now seems rather too thin to hold my weight. The ground seems so far away, like any fall would break every single one of my bones. What was I thinking?

  It’s when the satanical chicken comes pecking into view that I know my days are numbered. I drop my water bottle and binoculars and let out a blood-curdling scream. Now all I need is Henry the hairy spider to come creeping along! The chicken shrieks threateningly.

  ‘ARGH!’ I shimmy and shake and end up upside down on the branch, the chicken narrowing his beady little chicken eyes and squawking at me so shrilly I know he’s saying something foul (fowl?) in his own language. ‘Help! He’s after me! HELP! I don’t want to die like this!’

  My triceps burn, or biceps, or one of the ep muscles as I struggle to hold on upside down with my hands. I’m a sweating, panting mess as my vision clouds from exertion. Cluck Norris starts pecking away at my hair and I’m sure he’s going to rip it clean off my scalp. ‘HELP!’ I hear the thunder of footsteps and then I’m suddenly liberated from the tree and in the loving arms of none other than Leo. I hastily look around for the maniacal beast but he’s nowhere to be found.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Leo asks, with smiling eyes.

  ‘No, I most certainly am not!’ Just in case, I loop my legs around his waist and arms around his neck, looking this way and that for the demented fowl. ‘That chicken is trying to intimidate me! He won’t rest until he sees me running scared!’

  ‘What chicken?’

  I give him a ‘what do you take me for’ look. ‘You know what chicken! The one who was just here, squawking and making a ruckus, trying to separate the skin from my bones! He’s an extremist, a guerrilla! And I’m going to make chicken nuggets out of him when I catch him!’

  Leo searches the ground but I don’t let him go. He smells nice. How can he smell so good while doing manual labour all day? Yet he does. Like hopes and dreams and holidays in the sun and …

  ‘Are they your binoculars?’ he asks.

  Shoot.

  ‘No, they must be his!’

  ‘His? An extremist, guerrilla chicken who wears binoculars and chases pretty girls up trees?’

  ‘YES!’ Did he just call me a pretty girl? Focus, Orly, focus! ‘He, erm, chased me up this very tree. I wasn’t spying, I was running for my life!’

  ‘I can see that.’ He grins. ‘I’ll hold you as long as you need.’

  ‘It might be a while. I’m fairly shaken up.’

  ‘I’ve got time.’

  I rest my head against his shoulder and pretend for a minute he’s mine, all thoughts of chicken nuggets and secret notes gone.

  Chapter 16

  Friday evening rolls around and I’m weary right down to my soul. It’s been a busy but fulfilling week. Maya is showering so I sit on the back deck behind the trellis with a jug of orange juice and survey the hall. Sunlight slowly turns to moonlight, the sky moving from blue to a dusky pink and then to jet-black. I can’t find the energy to stand and turn the light on; there’s something so peaceful about sitting in the shade of evening.

  ‘Orly? Are you here?’ Leo says, appearing from the side of the house.

  ‘I’m here, behind the screen!’ I say.

  ‘I’ve missed you.’

  Missed me?

  ‘I mean, I keep missing you. I needed to get your approval on a few things that have cropped up. You like sitting in the dark?’

  ‘Sure do. I like waiting to see the stars appear.’

  Leo outlines a few issues with the plumbing that need to be fixed, and a few extra electrical problems that need to be sorted for safety purposes. I give him approval to get them all done. We lapse into silence. I don’t know what to say or do – asking him outright isn’t going to work. I can’t even see his facial expressions with the light off.

  I stand up to turn the outdoor fairy lights on when I see a figure in the distance.

  ‘Who’s that?’ I whisper to Leo. ‘Is it one of your guys?’ It’s hard to tell from here because they’re wearing black clothing and a baseball cap. Whoever it is hasn’t seen us behind the screening.

  ‘Where?’

  I point and watch the figure creep into the hall; Leo sees just as the door is quietly shut.

  ‘Hey, stop right there!’ He jumps up to investigate and I follow close behind, clutching on to his jacket for good measure. The notes didn’t bother me so much before, but seeing someone slink around the property gives me the right heebie-jeebies.

  Inside the hall, Leo flicks on the lights, and together we go from room to room searching for the intruder. Once we’ve done a lap of the place, I notice the door from the kitchen is open an inch. ‘Look.’ I point to Leo. ‘Whoever it was went out that way.’

  He wrenches the door open and we scan the rear garden, but I can barely see two steps ahead. It’s so gloomy at night because of the woodlands behind.

  ‘We should check all your antiques, Orly, make sure nothing has been taken.’

  ‘It’s OK, Leo.’ Then I see a balled-up note. I pick it up and pocket it while he’s looking the other way. As soon as I saw the figure tiptoeing into the hall I knew what I’d find. That person wasn’t looking for furniture; they were looking to hide another note. ‘I’m sure the antiques are fine, Leo. There was no time to take anything.’ Only time to leave something.

  ‘I don’t like the idea of someone wandering in here, I don’t like it at all. You’re going to have to lock it up of a night-time, especially now you’ve got all your furniture in here. What’s stopping them from wandering into your cottage? Do you have sufficient locks on the cottage doors?’ I nod, finding his protectiveness quite adorable but also sensible. ‘You need to alarm the place, Orly. I can get one set up for you, free of charge.’ H
is face is full of concern and I wonder how I ever doubted the guy. ‘It would help me sleep at night.’

  ‘An alarm is a good idea.’

  While my heart gallops at the thought of someone creeping onto the property, I also feel relieved that I can safely cross Leo off the suspect list …

  ‘I think you should report this to the police.’

  Should I though? And say what – that someone ran in and straight out of the hall? Doesn’t sound like the most serious of crimes. They’d probably laugh me out of the station. All I know is I need to get away from the place for a while.

  ‘I don’t know about you, but stress makes me ravenous. Would you like to go out for dinner with me?’

  The concern in his eyes is replaced with happiness. ‘Sure. I’ll go home and freshen up. Meet you in an hour? We can go to the Italian trattoria, Basilico.’

  ‘Perfect.’

  *

  Just shy of an hour later Leo arrives to pick me up for dinner. As he parks his car, I pace the small hallway, wondering if I should cancel. It seems too sudden, being alone with him. Like I’ll do or say the wrong thing and end up in his arms or something crazy. It’ll be better if I renege but how, since he’s already here? I could come down with a swift case of food poisoning? Headache? Something contagious might be a better idea …

  Maya and Esterlita have their faces pressed against the glass, managing to steam it up while they titter away, unaware of my angst.

  ‘Get away from the window,’ I hiss, unable to think of a good excuse while they’re giggling and whispering away like a couple of unruly teens.