by Anna Jacobs
“Pardon?”
“Oh, sorry. I’ve done a lot of renovating. I was going to start my own designer décor business in Australia. I may still do that later. Now, I’ll just go and have a quick look round upstairs, shall I?”
He called after her, “If you’re going to accept the job, you might as well choose a bedroom for yourself while you’re up there. I’m sleeping down here since it’ll be a while before I’m able to get up and down stairs easily.”
She turned to look back at him and admitted, “I’m feeling very positive about the position at the moment.”
He beamed up at her. “The big bedroom at the front is rather nice.”
The smile warmed her as she inspected rooms full of old-fashioned furniture, with unmade beds and bare mattresses. Someone had cleaned up here fairly recently, though there was a faint covering of dust again. There were vacuuming marks on the carpets and the windows had been cleaned, but the curtains were faded, elderly things and the furniture looked sad and neglected. The bedroom Kit had suggested was furnished as spartanly as the others but had lovely views down the main street of the village and you could see across some fields to the moors through a gap in the houses.
She decided to sleep in this one. Which meant she was definitely taking the job. Smiling at herself in the mirror, she tried her new title out on her reflection, “Mr Mallinder’s Housekeeper,” and nodded approval.
When she ventured up the narrower stairs to the attics she found two much smaller bedrooms and a large open space containing piles of old, discarded furniture and trunks. She lifted the lid of a couple of trunks, feeling guilty but unable to resist peeking. They were full of old clothes, some at least a hundred years old, giving off a strong smell of both lavender and camphor. Those things really should be aired and stored properly. They were probably worth a lot of money now.
When she went downstairs, Kit called out from the kitchen and she found him making mugs of coffee. “Here, let me do that,” she said instinctively.
“I can manage!”
His voice was just that bit sharper, so she stood back and left him to finish on his own.
He slipped the crutches in place under his arms and smiled at her. “I’ll let you carry the mugs to the table, though.”
She looked out at the back garden while he manoeuvred himself into a chair, because she was beginning to understand how very much he hated his disability. Only after he’d eased himself down did she take the coffee across to the table. “Pity about the garden. I bet there are some lovely plants hidden in that jungle.”
“I’m getting some contractors in to clear it.”
“Oh, don’t! You’ll lose everything if you do that. Get a jobbing gardener instead and I’ll help him. In Australia I belonged to a group which rescued old plant species and saved the seeds, though I could only do annuals because we moved house so often. I had to turn my collection over to another member when I left Australia. I bet you anything you like we’ll find some interesting old plants under the tangles. I must buy some books so that I can identify them.”
“Aha! That sounds as if you’ve definitely decided to work for me.”
She felt suddenly shy. Had she assumed too much? “Well, yes. If you still want me to.”
He reached out to shake her nearest hand, pumping it up and down, then keeping hold of it for much longer than was necessary. “Of course I do! I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. How soon can you start? Tomorrow?”
She was startled. “Are you in such a hurry to move in?”
“In a hurry to move out of Joe’s house, more like. I’m fond of my brother but his house is tiny and he’s driving me crazy fussing over me.”
“I’ll remember that and neglect you shamefully when I come here, Mr Mallinder.”
He leaned back, still smiling. “Kit. I’m not big on being called mister.”
“OK. And I’m Laura. We’re not big on formality in Australia, either.” It had surprised her that her dad still called the neighbours Mrs Bayton and Mrs Gleed, after living next door to them for nearly forty years.
“I’m sure we’re going to get on brilliantly.”
She was a bit taken back by the warmth in his tone. Did he always make such rapid decisions about people? And no two people living together ever got on “brilliantly” after the first few careful weeks, she was sure, unless they had love to blind them to the other’s faults - and even then you didn’t stay blind for nearly long enough.
“Wait till we’ve lived together for a month or two before you say that. I’m a bit of a perfectionist about some things and I’ll probably drive you as crazy as your brother does.”
“I’d welcome some order and domestic comfort, actually, Laura. I seem to have been living out of suitcases for years. And a hostel attached to a rehabilitation centre isn’t exactly a home from home.”
His eyes took on a distant look, as if memories were surfacing, so she waited a minute or two before saying, “It’s going to take a lot of organising for us to move in tomorrow.”
“I don’t care if we have to camp out for the first few days! If it’s at all possible, let’s do it.”
For a moment she hesitated, the doubts that had filled her lately trying to creep out again, but she pushed them back resolutely. “All right. You’re on.” If nothing else, it’d stop her brooding about her mother.
They discussed details, he gave her some money then saw her to the front door. “Until tomorrow.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
As she got back into the car, still lost in her thoughts, Angie had to prompt her for information. “Well?”
“I’m starting tomorrow, going shopping for him this afternoon then bringing the stuff round here. He’s given me a key already. I’ll air some sheets and make up the beds when I come back.”
Angie’s voice was hesitant. “I could help you if you like. I’ve nothing on today and I don’t start work until seven tonight.” Her smile faded a little. “And I’d like to come and see you sometimes - if I’ll not be a nuisance, that is?”
“You’ll be very welcome indeed.”
“That’s great. I can cycle over because it’s not all that far from home.”
“I’m to have my own sitting room and TV so we’ll be perfectly private, though I doubt Kit will care who comes and goes. He’s very laid back. I suppose that comes of living all over the world in primitive conditions. It’s Dad I worry about.”
“He’ll be sorry you’re moving out but Gran will be easier for him to manage on his own,” Angie said softly. “I go round and help him sometimes and you can still do things for him like shopping, cooking and stuff.”
“Yes. And Deb’s coming over to England soon. Maybe she’ll be able to help him as well.”
“Depends on how Gran takes to her, doesn’t it? Is she good at toileting old ladies and helping them get undressed?”
“I can’t imagine her doing it,” Laura said frankly. “Though she did always get on with Mum when they visited us in Australia.”
“We’ll have to wait and see. It’s rotten for Pop, isn’t it? But I can granny-sit for him sometimes so that he can come and visit you here.” She hesitated then added, “I don’t mind helping him out, but I’d go mad if I had to live like he does, tied to the house, always watching over Gran. I don’t know how he stands it.”
“He’s always been a very loyal and caring person, the best Dad a girl could have had.” Her voice thickened as she said that and she had to blink away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes.
“Gran’s lucky to have him. Heaven knows what she’d be like if she was in one of those homes. He can still settle her down better than anyone else. It’s as if she recognises subconsciously who he is and knows instinctively that he loves her.”
Laura decided that this conversation wasn’t cheering either of them up. “Right, then. I accept your help gratefully. Let’s go shopping and afterwards I’ll buy you lunch.” She didn’t have to feign ent
husiasm, the words burst out of her, “Oh, I am looking forward to this!”
It felt absolutely wonderful to have something to do with her time again and to be earning money instead of eating into her savings. It was amazing sometimes how quickly life could change - for the better as well as for worse. She’d have to get her National Insurance Number sorted out. She’d found her old number when she’d cleared out the house in Australia and presumed she’d still be using that.
She smiled at a sudden thought that the wishing well had brought her exactly what she’d wished for. Good thing she hadn’t been wishing for romance and a man to love, as she always had when she’d gone there as a teenager!
Maybe she should go back and do that. Ha! No way. She wasn’t putting her head into the marriage trap again.
She paused. Ever? She didn’t know. Maybe once she’d got herself sorted out she’d think about it. If she got the chance to meet people.
There were a lot of ifs and buts in her life at the moment.
Chapter 13
Kit called a taxi and on the way home asked the driver to stop at an off-licence and get him a bottle of wine for tonight, plus a bottle of the good whisky that Joe particularly liked as a thank-you present for having him.
When his brother came home, he broke the news that he’d be leaving the next day and as he’d foreseen, Joe wasn’t pleased.
“It’s all a bit of a rush, isn’t it? Are you sure this woman will be reliable?”
Some imp of mischief made Kit say, “Oh, yes. She’s a very motherly type. I shall be spoiled outrageously, I’m sure. And you’ll have your house to yourself again, which I’m sure you’ll appreciate.”
“I was happy to have you here.”
“I know. And I’m truly grateful for your help. Now, let me pour you a glass of wine. Or do you want to open the whisky?”
“Wine please. I’ll just nip up to the bathroom.”
The doorbell rang as soon as the bathroom door had closed on Joe, so Kit went to answer it.
The guy on the doorstep looked at him with narrowed eyes, then said, “You can’t be the brother, surely? You don’t look at all like him.”
“You must be a friend of Joe’s. And I’m definitely the brother. Kit Mallinder at your service.”
“I’m Gil. I won’t shake hands or I might knock you off the crutches.”
“Come in. He’ll be down in a minute.”
Gil hesitated then followed Kit into the living room. Footsteps clattered down the stairs before he’d had a chance to sit down.
“Did I hear the doorbell?”
Joe stopped dead as he saw who the visitor was and for a moment Kit thought he saw an expression of panic on his brother’s face.
“I asked you to give me some space, Gil,” he said sharply.
The visitor shrugged. “You know me, always turning up like a bad penny.”
“Well, I’m busy, so I’m afraid you can’t stay.”
Kit was intrigued. What the hell was going on here? He couldn’t help noticing the slight sibilance in the visitor’s speech and the fact that the man had an almost girlish prettiness. “Look, if you two need to talk privately, I can go into the kitchen and work on my laptop.”
Tight-lipped Joe turned to the front door. “No need. My friend’s just leaving.”
Gil didn’t move. “You haven’t told him, have you?”
“There’s nothing to tell. And I want you to leave now, please.”
Gil spread his hands and rolled his eyes to heaven as if giving up, then turned away. From the doorway he looked back at Joe, his expression sad, then with an almost imperceptible shrug he left. Joe slammed the door shut behind him.
“What was that all about?” Kit asked.
“Nothing.”
“Oh, I think there was something happening.”
“Nothing important. Now, I’m tired. I think I must have picked up a cold, so I’m going to bed. I’ll give the wine a miss. In my opinion you’re wrong to move out, it’s far too early, but you never would be told about anything once you’d made up your mind.”
When Joe had gone Kit put the bottle of wine aside and got himself something to eat. He cleared up as well as he could afterwards then packed his laptop into its travelling case. He listened at the foot of the stairs but could hear nothing, so heaved himself slowly up on his backside. It was too early to sleep, but he wanted to do the packing tonight and get an early start in the morning. He had packing down to a fine art after all these years of globe-trotting and had never been a collector of possessions, so it didn’t take long.
Afterwards he tried reading but couldn’t concentrate on the story, so put out the light and let his thoughts roam where they would. To Joe and his strange behaviour. To Laura Wells and her pretty face, one minute with a vulnerable expression, the next with a managing, capable expression. He was looking forward to getting to know her. Looking forward to having his house and leading the sort of life he wanted.
Thanks, Uncle Alf!
From the creaking of the bed in the next room Joe didn’t get to sleep for a long time, either. What had all that been about?
* * * *
In the morning Kit was woken by Joe getting up. He blinked at the clock. Half-past five. Turning over he tried to get back to sleep again, but only managed a short doze.
When he went downstairs at six, his brother had already left, a full two hours earlier than usual. There was a note propped up on the kitchen table wishing him well and that was all. He could have done with help getting his bags downstairs, but he’d manage somehow.
He still didn’t understand exactly what had happened the previous night, though there were several possibilities he couldn’t help considering. Why would Joe not discuss whatever it was with him and trust him, for heaven’s sake? And why was he avoiding Kit this morning?
Surely Joe couldn’t be gay? No, not Joe. There must be some other explanation.
Only Gil was definitely gay - and had looked so sad when Joe asked him to leave.
Fed up of sitting in the kitchen, Kit called a taxi earlier than he had planned and set off for what would, he hoped, be a more congenial way of life. He smiled wryly at how his horizons and ambitions had narrowed since the accident. Now his main ambitions were to make a home for himself, start driving a car again and learn to walk properly.
Maybe after that was all in place he’d finish writing the book of foreign correspondent memoirs a publisher was interested in. He hadn’t been able to settle properly to that at Joe’s place, and it had been even more difficult to write in the rehabilitation centre, with all the exercising to do and people everywhere you turned. But now, he’d have the freedom of his own space and timetable.
Those modest aims would do him for the time being. After that, who knew? He was living proof that you could never be truly certain what would happen next.
He did hope something would happen. Hated the thought of living quietly for the rest of his days.
That made him grin. Be careful what you wish for!
* * * *
Sue looked at her daughter, who had just rocked in well after the time they always served tea with the excuse that she’d been helping her aunt. Angie was flushed and happy, talking of going across to help Laura again the following day, and that annoyed Sue because her daughter was never like that with her. “If you’re into helping people, how about helping me for a change? Goodness knows there’s enough to do here.”
“I’ve tried helping you and you only complain that you don’t like the way I’ve done things, then you do them all over again.”
“Well, you should be more careful how you work. I like to keep my home clean. Some germs can be very dangerous to health, you know.”
Angie was definitely not going down that road again. “Yes, Mum. I know. Is there any food left?”
“I don’t like your tone of voice, young lady. And I’ve finished serving tea in this café for tonight. You know what time meals are served. You’ve not been at wor
k, so there’s no excuse for not getting back on time.”
Angie breathed in deeply. Her mother was in one of her excitable moods again. She knew from experience that they’d not be able to discuss this rationally, that if she even tried, her mother would wind up screaming at her. “Fine. I’ll get something at work. They let me have the leftovers for nothing.”
Trev stepped forward hastily. “You go up and get changed for work then, Angie love, or else you’ll be late. Your mother’s - ,” he hesitated, then finished, “ - not feeling well.”
He waited until his daughter had gone to her bedroom before saying quietly, “You’re being unfair to the girl, Sue. Why send her out hungry, for heaven’s sake, when there’s food cooked?”
“I don’t think it’s unreasonable to expect her to be on time for meals. And I might know you would take her side. You always do.”
“It’s starting again, isn’t it? Please go and see the doctor, love. I’ll come with you if you like.”
“There’s nothing starting! I’m just a bit stressed, that’s all. And that doctor doesn’t know what he’s talking about. There’s a medical conspiracy to get women on tranquillisers and keep them calm and docile, you know. Well, they’re not turning me into a zombie again.”
“You need help. And they didn’t turn you into a zombie last time. They made you feel happier and . . . ”
“Excuse me but I think I know how I felt better than you do. At the moment I need help with the housework because Angie is always messing things up. But I don’t need help with anything else, thank you very much!”
When Angie had left, he went to get his jacket.
Sue confronted him in the hall. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Out.”
“With her, I suppose.”
“I keep telling you there is no ‘her’. I’m simply going down to the pub for a bit of peace because I can no longer find it in my own home.”
“Why don’t I believe you? You weren’t in the Hare and Hounds last time you went out because I checked.”
“And I shan’t be there tonight, either. If I want some time on my own and a bit of peace, I go to a pub where I’m not known and where you can’t find me. Heaven knows, I deserve a break from all this.” He waved a hand at the house.
