by Jill Mansell
‘Close by, don’t worry. Not far to walk.’
‘Let’s get out of here then, shall we? Before those sniffer dogs figure out what I’ve just smuggled through Customs.’
‘Don’t try and give me a heart attack.’ Shay grinned; those days were hopefully long behind his father now. ‘If you’re caught with something you shouldn’t be carrying, you’re on your own.’
Red gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. ‘So, how does it feel being back in Elliscombe?’
‘Pretty strange. Dad, the house is a mess.’
‘I know, you already told me. Where are you staying?’
‘At the Wickham.’
‘Are you now? Well well. Very fancy.’
‘They’re fully booked, but if you want to stay over, you can share my suite. There’s an extra bed.’
‘And have them frisking me every time I try to leave the building? No thanks. Anyway, I’m heading back this evening.’ As they made their way to the short-stay car park, Red added, ‘Have you seen her yet?’
‘Who?’ As if Shay didn’t know.
‘Come on, doesn’t she run the place these days?’
‘Has anyone ever called you a nosy old man?’
His father’s bark of laughter turned into a cough. ‘I’ve been called a lot worse than that in my life, I can tell you. Is that a real Cartier watch or a copy?’
‘The fact that you can’t tell the difference,’ Shay said with affection, ‘is the reason you spent so much time in jail.’
An hour later, they were in Elliscombe. As they drove along the high street, Red nodded at the Wickham. ‘What was it like then? Seeing her again?’
‘Can you give the inquisition a miss?’
‘I always liked that girl. You did too.’
‘That was thirteen years ago. We’re all different people now.’
‘Still the same deep down.’
What was his father playing at? Shay took the turning that would lead them to their old home and said firmly, ‘She’s getting married.’
Red raised his eyebrows. ‘And? You could do something about that.’
Shay looked at him. ‘Why would I want to?’
‘Fine, I get it.’ Red mimed zipping his mouth shut.
Minutes later, they reached their destination.
‘Bloody hell, you weren’t kidding.’
Shay helped him out of the passenger seat. ‘It’s worse than it looks.’
His father insisted on the full tour. The out-of-control garden was fixable, but the terrible state of the inside of the house indicated the need for more extensive repairs. There was black mould on the walls and ceilings, rising damp everywhere, rotten window frames, broken doors, boarded-up windows and missing floorboards. Ivy was growing in the kitchen; there were scorch marks on the interior walls and flood stains on the ceilings and floors. What remained of the furniture was no longer fit for purpose. In the main bedroom, a grubby mattress covered in cigarette burns occupied the floor. Someone had spray-painted PEACE AND LOVE on one wall and someone else – presumably – had scrawled FUCK THE WORLD in even bigger letters beneath it.
‘If I could get my hands on the bastards who did this . . .’ Red shook his head in disgust. ‘What possessed them? It’s my house, not theirs.’
Shay didn’t comment on the double standards his father was blithely employing. ‘I did warn you. It’s all fixable, but it’s going to take time. Look, I called into the estate agent’s yesterday, had a quick chat. Why don’t we head back there now, so you can see what’s on their books? If moving back here is what you want to do, it’d be a lot easier to buy or rent somewhere else.’
‘Easier,’ his father mimicked.
‘Quicker, too. There’s a fantastic house on Comer Street, newly renovated, everything you could ask for. Walls, roof, electricity supply, the whole lot. There’s no chain involved; you could be in there by the end of the month.’
‘And that’s what you think I should go for?’
‘Dad, it’s up to you. I’ll go along with whatever you decide. I was just thinking of . . . you know, the time factor.’
‘You mean if it takes six months to get this place sorted, it’s going to be bloody annoying if I kick the bucket the day before I’m meant to move in?’
His father was treating the awfulness of his situation with characteristic flippancy and humour. Following suit, Shay said, ‘It wouldn’t be that annoying. I’d just put it straight on the market.’
Red’s laughter turned into another bout of coughing, followed by the need to lean against a peeling wall in order to catch his breath.
‘Come on,’ said Shay, ‘let’s get out of here and find ourselves some lunch.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘You need to eat.’
‘I’d rather have a drink.’
‘Dad . . .’
‘Don’t look at me like that.’ Red was unrepentant. ‘Right now, the healthiest part of my body is my liver. I reckon it deserves a reward for good behaviour, don’t you?’
Emerging from the post office, Didi was so busy waving at Rosa waiting at the bus stop that she had no idea who was to the left of her until she turned and ran into them.
‘Oof, sorry! Oh.’ She ricocheted off Shay’s chest, which was simultaneously a bit of a thrill but also mortifying, because what if he thought she’d done it on purpose?
‘Here she is then. Good to see you again! And looking so well. Come here, girl.’ Next to his son, Red Mason stepped forward and enveloped her in a hug, and Didi found herself having to hold him for an extra couple of seconds to give herself time to conceal her shock, because he was so changed.
‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to tell me I look well. That’d be stretching credibility too far.’
Her heart melted; he was still the same character on the inside, as self-deprecating and quick-witted as ever. ‘It’s lovely to see you. Shay tells me you’re thinking of moving back.’
‘We’ve just been in to see Maurice Welsh.’ Red indicated the estate agency behind him, then the sheaf of papers in his hand. ‘Picked up a load of property details.’
‘Oh!’ Didi was surprised. ‘I thought you had your heart set on your own house.’
He looked regretful. ‘I did, but my boy’s not so keen. Reckons it’s too much hard work.’
‘I didn’t say it was too much. I’m just thinking about how long it would take,’ said Shay, evidently not for the first time.
Diplomatically, Didi nodded at the details in Red’s hand. ‘Any that look promising? There’s a sweet little place on Windsor Street that’s had a For Sale sign go up this week.’
‘We’re just heading over to the Prince for a drink.’ Red’s tone was genial. ‘If that boss of yours lets you have a lunch break, fancy joining us?’
‘Dad’s retired now. I’m the boss,’ said Didi.
He winked at her. ‘I know. Shay told me. So how about it, can you give yourself twenty minutes off? My round.’
‘Go on then, just the one. Let me run back and tell Sylvia where I’ve got to.’
Red was peering across the high street. ‘Is that Rosa Gallagher over there? What on earth’s she doing waiting at the bus stop?’
‘Yes, it’s Rosa. Joe died three years ago,’ said Didi.
‘Shay told me that too. Bloody old people.’ Red shook his head. ‘Falling ill and dropping dead all over the damn place, it’s downright depressing. But I still don’t understand what Rosa’s doing catching a bus.’
By the time Didi caught up with Shay and Red, they were seated in an alcove in the main bar of the Prince of Wales. The table was littered with details of potential properties and the manager of the pub had just brought them a bottle of Prosecco in an ice bucket, together with three glasses.
‘Never used to drink this stuff, but I’ve begun to get a taste for it recently.’ Red clinked his glass against theirs. ‘Any excuse to celebrate, eh?’
‘Absolutely.’ Didi took a sip, aw
are of how close her elbow was to Shay’s.
‘And congratulations.’
‘What, on running the hotel? Oh, it’s brilliant, I love it.’
‘Well actually I meant the engagement. Quite a rock you’ve got there.’ Red reached for her left hand. ‘Who’s the lucky chap? He’s got good taste in diamonds, I’ll say that for him.’
Last night, Shay had steered clear of the subject. To conceal the fact that she was feeling suddenly self-conscious, Didi said, ‘He’s brilliant too. His name’s Aaron and he has good taste in girlfriends as well.’
Red laughed. ‘Touché, of course he does. I wouldn’t expect anything less. So how did you two get together?’
‘It was the Christmas before last. He came along to a wine-tasting event that was being held at the hotel and we got chatting. Then he asked me out. That was it really.’
‘Romantic,’ said Shay.
‘It was romantic actually.’ She bristled.
‘Ah, don’t tease her. You never know how these things are going to happen. But they always do, don’t they? Sooner or later.’ Red gave Shay a nudge. ‘Have you told Didi how you met that last girlfriend of yours?’
Shay said steadily, ‘No, I haven’t.’
Red took a swallow of Prosecco then leaned towards Didi. ‘He was in a hurry at the bank so he asked if he could go ahead of her in the queue. And she said he couldn’t, because she was in a hurry too. Which annoyed him, obviously. Then when he left the bank, there she was, waiting outside for him, and she asked him out on a date. And he said yes.’
‘Wow.’ The sarcasm in her voice might be barely detectable, but she made sure it was there. She raised her eyebrows at Shay. ‘That’s wildly romantic.’
‘What can I say?’ He shrugged. ‘Real life isn’t always a Richard Curtis movie.’
Red was unperturbed. ‘How long were you and Rebecca together? Was it three months? I can’t remember now why you broke up. Was it because she was obsessed with Sudokus?’
‘Dad, can we change the subject?’
‘Oh, I’ve got it now. You finished with her because she was obsessed with spreadsheets, that was it.’
In defence of both Shay’s ex-girlfriend and being properly organised, Didi said, ‘Nothing wrong with a good spreadsheet.’
Watching her, Red’s eyes were bright above the violet shadows beneath them. Then he reached for the slew of property details. ‘OK, let’s take a look at these. Didi, you can give me your expert opinion – I wouldn’t trust that slimy bastard Maurice Welsh further than I could throw him.’
Which, when you compared the size of Maurice with Red’s current frailty, wouldn’t be far at all.
Twenty minutes later, she pushed back her chair. ‘I need to get back. Definitely have a look at the bungalow on Bray Hill, and the cottage behind the garden centre. Don’t bother with this one.’ She pointed to a house Shay had liked the look of. ‘The family who’ve moved in next door are causing all sorts of trouble, and the last thing you need is nightmare neighbours.’
‘If anyone’s going to be the nightmare around here,’ Red told her as she gave him a goodbye hug, ‘I’d rather it was me.’
It wasn’t how Rosa had planned to spend her day, but these things happened. At lunchtime she’d caught the bus to Cheltenham, a slow, meandering journey that had taken an hour and a quarter. Then she had made her way to the independent jewellery shop where Layla had bought the bracelet. Having selected the thin silver chain and begun picking out the charms Layla had chosen, it wasn’t long before the woman serving her said, ‘That’s a coincidence, someone went for those exact same ones last week!’
‘It was my daughter.’ Rosa wondered if a bit of a discount could be on the cards. ‘All the charms have special meanings for us, you see. She gave me the bracelet last night for my birthday and I loved it, obviously, but by this morning it was gone. I think the clasp might have been faulty—’
‘Oh no, definitely not, we don’t have faulty clasps.’ The woman shook her head so vigorously her chins wobbled. ‘We’ve never had a faulty clasp; you just didn’t fasten it properly.’
So much for hoping for a discount. Rosa had been forced to bite the bullet and pay almost two hundred pounds she couldn’t afford for a new bracelet to replace the lost one. Which meant economising in other areas to make up for it. Lots of toast, basically. And putting in extra hours on the orders for dolls, preferably those placed by customers who would actually pay for them.
Anyway, never mind. At least Layla wouldn’t find out she’d been careless enough to lose the bracelet within hours of putting it on. And the bus was now wending its way back home, returning her – poorer but wiser – to Elliscombe.
At long last it drew to a halt at the bus stop on the market square and Rosa queued behind an elderly couple to disembark. As she did so, she noticed that the impressive gates to Compton House were open and Benny and Ingrid had just returned from wherever they’d been headed earlier. In the time it had taken her to travel to Cheltenham and back, they could have been to London . . . or Devon . . . anywhere, which just made you think how—’
‘Oof.’ Missing her footing on the last step, she landed with a splat on the pavement and felt pain shoot like a knife through her knee.
‘Clumsy,’ tutted the old woman in front of her. ‘You want to watch where you’re going, you do.’
The woman’s husband huffed with irritation. ‘She almost landed on my foot.’
Ow ow oww. Rosa’s knee now felt as if it were on fire. Mortified and unable to get up, she clutched her leg.
‘You OK?’ called the bus driver.
Reassured that at least someone cared, she found herself summoning a bright, oh-so-British smile. ‘Thanks, absolutely fine!’
‘That’s all right then.’ The bus driver released the brake and drove off, only narrowly missing her handbag, which was lying upturned in the gutter.
‘Hello? Could you just get my bag for me?’ Rosa called after the old couple, but they were trundling off along the pavement, grumbling to each other about people who didn’t bother to look where they were going. Then she heard rapid footsteps approaching.
‘I can’t believe they just walked off and left you! Can you move? Or should I call an ambulance?’
‘No need for an ambulance.’ Rosa shook her head at Benny Colette. ‘I’ll be OK in a few minutes. But my bag might not be so lucky.’
Crouching at the roadside, Benny lifted the upturned bag like a man, then cursed when half the contents flew out. Hastily he collected together her purse, lipstick, phone, house keys and the deep-blue gift-wrapped box from the jeweller’s, stuffing them back inside. ‘There you go, I think that’s everything. Let’s get you up now, shall we?’
The irony of the situation didn’t escape Rosa. Eighteen months of climbing over the high wall into Benny’s garden without mishap, and now here she was having managed to wreck her knee slipping off one small step. Worse still, it had only happened because she’d been craning her neck in order to gawp at him and Ingrid, with their designer clothes, top-of-the-range car and perfect lives.
‘Benny, what are you doing?’ Ingrid’s crisp Swedish-accented voice betrayed her impatience. ‘I need to get into the house and you have the keys.’
A middle-aged woman who’d seen Rosa’s fall came bustling over waving a packet of tissues. ‘You poor thing, I can’t stand the sight of blood, makes me come over all queasy! But you can have these if you need them . . . Oh no, there’s some on your hand, I can’t look . . .’
Rosa, who hated being the centre of attention, took the proffered tissues and the woman hurried off. Other people were now stopping to watch from a distance; this was like one of those dreams where everyone stared at you in the street and you suddenly realised you were naked.
‘Benny, hurry up,’ Ingrid ordered as Benny, crouching awkwardly, attempted to haul Rosa upright.
Then another voice said, ‘Rosa, is that you? Anything I can do to help?’
Turnin
g, Rosa summoned an embarrassed smile of recognition. ‘Hello, Shay, I heard you were back. Red, hi.’ Goodness, he’d lost weight.
‘Benny,’ snapped Ingrid.
Between them, Shay and Benny helped Rosa to her feet. Putting weight on her knee elicited a small yelp of pain.
‘It’s OK, I’ve got her now.’ Shay’s arm was firmly around her waist.
‘Are you sure?’ Visibly relieved, Benny said, ‘Hope you feel better soon,’ before hurrying back to Compton House.
‘Who are they?’ Clearly baffled, Red stared after him. ‘Do they work for you? Because if they do, you need to sack them. Bloody hell.’
‘I don’t live there any more. They do.’ Rosa flushed. A gaggle of tourists were taking photos of her now, evidently delighted by the blood trickling down her shin. ‘Look, if you could help me over to that bench, I’ll just sit down and wait until the pain wears off . . .’
But Shay was already shaking his head. ‘Where are you living now? I’ll give you a lift, my car’s right here.’
Anything was better than being pointed at in the street. ‘Well, if you’re sure. That’d be really kind.’
Chapter 6
‘Frog Cottage. I can’t believe you’re here now.’ Red’s eyes lit up as they drew up outside. ‘Fond memories of this place. Had a bit of a thing going with Julie at one time.’
‘To be fair,’ Shay pointed out, ‘you had a bit of a thing going with most of the women around here at some stage or other.’
‘Julie moved to Cape Town with her sister,’ Rosa explained. ‘I was lucky; there wasn’t much I could afford, but this came onto the market just at the right time. Another couple were desperate to buy it but made the mistake of saying they’d have to repaint the living room. Well, Julie was furious and told them to take a hike. She knew how much I liked what she’d done, so she sold the cottage to me instead.’
‘So the mural’s still there? I loved that mural. I’m in it,’ said Red.
‘You are?’ Rosa frowned; this was news to her.
‘Don’t believe me? Let me show you.’ Opening the car door, he carefully levered himself out.
‘Oh, it’s OK! Thanks for the lift, but . . .’ Rosa winced as Shay helped her from the passenger seat.
