by Lynda Renham
I nod with that oh yes proud look on my face.
‘How long have you owned that?’ he asks, toying with a tooth pick.
I stare at him. Own? Bloody hell, who owns their own property these days? I fidget in my seat.
‘We rent it,’ I say. ‘They’re very sought after.’
‘We?’ he questions, raising his eyebrows.
I look away. He nods and says right, in that dismissive way, the way that arrogant little pricks like him do. You know the kind of right I mean, don’t you?
‘So why aren’t you living there?’ he asks pointedly.
‘Because I’m here, sorting out Aunty Vera’s house,’ I say, not sounding in the least convincing.
He collects the dishes and walks to the kitchen.
‘Well you needn’t worry about this house. I’ll take care of it until we know who it belongs to. I can send you regular updates if you like.’
I don’t believe this guy. What was Aunt Vera thinking of leaving it to Mr Casanova? How the hell did she know him anyway? It’s obvious to anyone with a GCSE that Aunty Vera left the house to me. He must have worked on her when she wasn’t all the ticket. I gasp when I think of the Lamborghini outside. I bet that was bought with Aunty Vera’s money too. Muffy was right, he was Aunt Vera’s bit of stuff. A young stud that made her feel good in her old age. All this rubbish about helping her make investments is just bollocks. No one leaves money to people who help them handle their money do they? It’s like me leaving the bank manager everything I own because he helped me set up a savings account. My heart sinks at the thought of the savings account a.k.a. my wedding fund. I’ll have to break into it. That seems like bad luck doesn’t it, I mean, who breaks into the wedding fund for anything other than a wedding?
‘I’m not leaving the house because I know it’s mine. It’s pretty obvious that Aunty Vera was confused when she left the house to you. You’re not even family and personally I think you should be ashamed of yourself,’ I say boldly, pouring the last of the wine into my glass.
He spins round holding a box of mince pies.
‘I’ve got two left over. As you’re not watching your figure …’ he says, deliberately leaving the words to hang, and looking me over critically. Bloody cheek. I suppose all the women he humps are like stick insects. I accept the mince pie feeling I need a sugar lift. He takes a bite from his while stacking the dishwasher.
‘So, are you staying?’ he asks, deliberately squeezing past me to the kitchen sink. His hips brush mine and I fight back a gasp as the heat of his body washes over me.
‘Are you leaving?’ I reply.
He shakes his head.
‘And have you changed the locks? Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’re a nice person but I don’t know you that well. For all I know you may have a deceitful scheming evil side and I’ll be locked out the minute my back is turned.
I open my mouth to feign shock.
‘Now if you intend staying, you’ll need to pay your share towards the heating …’
‘Well that can go down for a start, it’s much too high.’
‘And I’m afraid there is only one bathroom so I suppose we should organise times so we don’t barge in and …’
‘I’ll set up a rota,’ I say primly.
‘Whatever. I imagine you’ll need more time in there than me.’
What the buggery does that mean? First he calls me fat, now what is he insinuating?
‘As for the heating, turn it down if you wish, the thermostat is on the landing I’ll tell you now though, as soon as you do the place turns into an ice cube. I was going to get it repaired next week but I’ll leave that to you shall I?’
Oh, he is such a bastard. Poor Aunt Vera, she must have been a sitting duck for someone like him. I’ll ask Muffy to see if she can check him out. She knows all kinds of people, one of them must do that kind of thing.
‘As for the builders …’ I begin.
‘They can carry on,’ he interrupts, closing the dishwasher. ‘It is in both our interests to get the most out of the outbuildings. I’ll pay. I’ll also work out there. So that’s sorted. I go running every lunch time. Don’t get any ideas though; otherwise I’ll have to get Andy to keep an eye on you. There are a few shops about a mile away. The nearest supermarket is a bit further out. There isn’t much in the local town but it does boast a post office and a sex shop.’
‘Huh, I imagine you’re keeping them in business.’
I bite my lip when he raises his eyebrows.
‘They need staff if you’re interested,’ he smiles. ‘I think they prefer women without sex appeal; you’ll be perfect. Stops the leeches and makes sure they focus on the goods.’
I feel my lips tighten. I could knee him in the balls. I really could. How dare he call me unattractive? Ben Newman didn’t think so did he? He would have had his thrill drill in me in an instant if I had been obliging. Then again, Ben Newman with the wart on his nose; not exactly your dream man is he? And then I did find Oliver with some tart on Christmas Eve. Oh God, what if Mr Lamborghini is right and I am totally without sex appeal and that the only men who want me are sleazeballs like Ben Newman. Ben Newman, God, what’s happened to me? His phone bleeps. He studies the text.
‘I’ve got work to do. I’ll see you in the morning. Oh by the way, I hope you don’t mind spiders, the place seems to be crawling with them. Check your bed. Goodnight.’
I feel my body turn cold. He’s not serious is he?
‘Really,’ I say with a quiver in my voice.
‘You’re not scared of them are you?’
The bugger. He’s just trying to scare me into leaving.
‘Of course not.’
He smiles.
‘I’ll check your room if you like, you know, like do a spider search.’
I force a laugh.
‘I’m not afraid of a little spider,’ I say turning to the stairs while feeling my thighs turn to jelly. I hate the little buggers.
‘Good. See you in the morning then,’ he says, strolling past and leaping up the stairs. ‘Don’t forget the lights.’
I hear his door close and shut my eyes. Oh my God, what am I going to do if there is a spider in my room?
Chapter Thirteen
I’d pulled the bedcover back and almost died when a little black thing dropped onto the white sheet. I had to fight back a scream and I quickly threw the sheets back over the little bugger in the hope that would kill it. I had considered fetching the bastard, but the thought of his smug smile stopped me, so I grabbed my shoe, pulled the sheets back and whacked the thing with all my might. It took me a while to realise I was murdering my earring. I fell onto the bed cursing William Ellis, Oliver and Ben Newman, my curses turning into tears, and tears turning into sleep.
*
I open my eyes and look around. Panic engulfs me. This isn’t my bedroom. I lift my head and groan as a pain shoots through my neck. These aren’t my pillows either. I listen to the strange noise emanating from the other end of the landing and then I remember. I’m in the house Aunty Vera had left me and with Mr Arrogant. What is that noise? Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. I fumble for my Blackberry, check the time, groan and pull the duvet over my head. It’s only 6 a.m. Whoosh-whoosh whoosh. For pity’s sake. I pull the curtains open and squint outside to try to find the source of the noise. No builders. Maybe it’s the faulty heating system. Whoosh, whoosh. I feel my shoulders tense. My head is thumping from the wine and my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. I untangle myself from the duvet and fall out of bed. My clothes lie in a heap on the floor and I fumble in the suitcase for my wrap. Oliver had bought me a lovely Japanese silk kimono for my birthday last year and then with a jolt I remember that tomorrow will be my birthday. I’ll be thirty. Oliver had planned to take me to Romeo’s to celebrate. I feel the tears spring to my eyes. Am I being stubborn not forgiving him for a little Christmas indiscretion? After all, it was Christmas. God, what am I thinking? I’m doing the It’s okay at Christmas crap
. I bloody hate men. Whoosh, whoosh. I grab two aspirin from my handbag and throw them into my mouth. Whoosh, whoosh.
‘Oh for God’s sake,’ I groan, flinging open my door to find the source of the sound.
It’s coming from the end bedroom. Bloody heating system, I suppose I’d better let knob head get it fixed. I smile at my new name for him and fling open the door. I stare transfixed at knob head who is rowing rhythmically with sweat staining his running top. Don’t you just hate keep-fit addicts? They have this marvellous way of making you feel stiff and inadequate. He turns to look at me and continues rowing, his firm thighs rippling with the effort. I force my eyes away from his lean athletic body and grasp the door handle as a wave of nausea washes over me.
‘Some of us are trying to enjoy a hangover you know,’ I groan.
‘Oh dear,’ he smiles. ‘There’s coffee downstairs.’
‘Can’t you go somewhere to do this kind of thing?’ I mumble, turning to leave. ‘Like a gym.’
‘I’ll be finished soon and we can go over that rota of yours, I presume it’s done?’
Wanker. I give him the finger under my wrap and slam the door. I hear his low laughter.
‘I like the scarecrow look by the way,’ he shouts. ‘Kept the spiders away did it?’
What? Oh no. I rush back to my room and check my reflection in the mirror. Oh sod and piss it. I’d only gone in there with mascara-streaked eyes, and as for my hair … I sigh and run to the bathroom. I don’t care if the bugger is sweaty, he can wait. I unpack my toiletries and place nightlights around the bath. I take my time cleansing my face before sliding into the hot bath. Thirty minutes later I sneak my head around the door.
‘Whoosh, whoosh’
Jesus Christ, is he going for the Iron Man record? I blow-dry my hair, pull on some jeans and a blouse, stroke some blusher on my cheeks and reapply my mascara. I open the door stealthily. I can hear the shower and take the opportunity to explore the kitchen alone. The kitchen is amazingly tidy now the cleaner has been. The dishwasher has been emptied and there is one solitary mug in the sink. I have made fresh coffee by the time he strolls in, and he helps himself to a mug.
‘Have you seen the light?’ he asks, taking milk from the fridge.
‘I beg your pardon,’ I say haughtily. ‘If you mean am I leaving, then the answer is no, and before you start telling me that the vampires come out on Fridays and there are bats in the loft, forget it. You won’t drive me away.’
He smiles.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it. Is Binki your real name by the way?’
Not again. I nod sullenly. He turns and takes a bottle from the cupboard.
‘Right, I’ll just take my medication and then I’ll be in the office if you need me.’
Medication? He looks pretty healthy to me, healthier than Oliver that’s for sure. The one and only time Oliver went on a rowing machine he put his back out. Mind you, everything seems to put his back out, except screwing Amanda Rowland of course. Honestly, whenever I asked to go on top he always said it was a strain on his back. Huh, I suppose that is another way of saying I’m too heavy.
‘Are you sick?’ I say before I can stop myself.
‘Not if I take my lithium and exercise. It keeps everything well balanced.’
He grins and swallows two tablets from a container.
Lithium? Oh my God. I feel my stomach flip. He’s stark-staring mad. Aunt Vera probably never left him this place at all. My heart lurches when it occurs to me that he most likely stole something from my bag that day I visited the solicitors, and he somehow managed to find out about the house. Stay cool Binki, these kinds of nutcases are unpredictable. He’s probably under some delusion that I am the fraud and just someone trying to force him out of his own home. Don’t give him any idea you’re aware that things aren’t all they seem. He probably believes he owns the house. That’s about right. It all makes sense now. In all the horror movies the nutter keeps himself really fit too doesn’t he? Oh my God, I’m in the starring role of my own horror movie. I’m trapped in a house with my very own Freddy Krueger, albeit better looking, but just as dangerous. Keep calm Binki. I glance behind him into the cupboard and see a row of containers. Jesus, he is on a cocktail of the things. I was lucky to survive the night. Just be nice, I tell myself while feeling my knees knock under the table. I need to search the house for chainsaws and meat cleavers as soon as he leaves, although where the hell I’m going to hide them all I have no idea. Under my bed I suppose.
‘I may explore the area,’ I say. Explore the local police station more like. I hope it isn’t too far away. In the movies the help is always a million miles away isn’t it? I hope it isn’t just one local bobby who Mr Lamborghini nutcase here will most likely scalp while he’s still alive. Shut up Binki. My trembling hand holding the coffee mug shakes and I wonder if I should warn the builders. He may just tip over the edge now I am here. God, it will be my fault that the builders are slaughtered. I wonder if Nathan knows. It then occurs to me that Nathan probably doesn’t exist. It’s probably his alter ego, you know, like in the film Fight Club. Don’t be silly Binki, of course he does. You saw his business card didn’t you? Yes, well anyone can get those on the Internet, whispers a voice in my head. Jesus, Muffy wasn’t far wrong when she said he could be a sexual predator.
‘You’re absolutely certain you want to stay?’ he asks menacingly, while shaking pills from another bottle. I wonder if he’s got some Valium up there. I could do with a handful. My heart is racing so fast I feel it will burst from my chest. He picks up a breadknife and I gasp. He turns to me with one of his evil grins and I almost stop breathing.
He drops the knife onto a salami and I jump knocking my leg against the table. He slices the salami carefully, watching me the whole time.
‘Perhaps you can get some shopping,’ he says, casually throwing a slice of salami into his mouth and heading for the door.
‘Careful with the knives, they’re very sharp,’ he warns closing the door behind him.
I let out a shuddering breath. I’ve got to get out of here, and quickly. I grab the breadknife for protection and am about to go upstairs to pack when I hear the door open. I stifle a scream and brandish the knife. Andy stands frozen in the doorway.
‘Morning Mrs Ellis,’ he says nervously.
‘I’m not Mrs bloody Ellis,’ I yell, waving the knife in my shaking hands.
He takes a step backwards.
‘No, of course not. I don’t know what made me say that. I’m an idiot that’s what I am.’
Oh my God, what am I doing? I’m pointing a twelve-inch breadknife at a builder. I lower it slowly and smile.
‘I’m sorry. I’m a bit highly strung this morning. I didn’t sleep so well last night,’ I apologise, lowering the knife.
‘Not a problem Mrs Ellis, my wife is the same that time of the month. Well, not with the knives, but you know what I mean. No worries Mrs Ellis.’
I sigh, what’s the point. I know I’m bad that time of month but I don’t grab breadknives.
‘Okay to make the guys a cuppa?’ he asks hesitantly.
‘Of course,’ I say.
I decide I have to tell Andy about William.
‘You do know Mr Ellis takes certain pills don’t you Andy?’
He looks at me and smiles.
‘Oh yeah. That’s how he keeps going if you ask me. I ought to take them.’
God, don’t tell me Andy is psychotic too. Perhaps the whole lot of them are crazy. For all I know this place has been turned into a madhouse. I take the lithium bottle.
‘Do you know how often he takes these?’ I ask quietly.
‘I wouldn’t know. I guess you take multi-vitamins once a day don’t you? Do you have any of those chocolate biscuits Mrs Ellis? I’ll replace them at the end of the week.’
Multi-vitamins? I turn the bottle around to see the ‘Multi-vitamin’ label. I rummage through the other bottles to see they are all vitamins and supplements. What a git. How
dare he try to scare me? I search the cupboard for his chocolate biscuits and hand the pack to Andy.
‘Help yourselves,’ I say.
‘Thanks Mrs Ellis.’
What’s the point?
I grab my bag, don my cap and jacket and march to the outbuilding, slipping on the early morning frost as I do so. I feel livid. I stumble over some loose bricks and search for the entrance.
‘You okay Mrs Ellis?’ asks Andy, holding a tray of tea.
‘How do I get in here?’
Andy points to a plastic cover and I push through it. I stop when I find myself in a neat office where the bugger sits behind a desk with two large screens. He leans back, chatting on the phone with his feet on the table and twirling a pencil in his fingers. He looks up lazily and gestures for me to wait. I wander around the makeshift office which I have to say is impressive in its tidiness considering the mayhem surrounding it.
‘This is a sure investment so get it sorted ASAP. I don’t want them going elsewhere, got it?’
He hangs up without saying goodbye and looks expectantly at me.
‘I’m going to explore the town,’ I say sweetly, aware the builders have stopped working. Great, just what I didn’t want. I am sure they have their ears cocked and are listening to every word.
‘Have fun,’ he says, reaching for his keyboard. I open the flap to go out and stand in the doorway.
‘I thought I’d look in that sex shop like you suggested. Did you say you needed more masks and whips? Do you want me to get them? I’ll get more whipped cream while I’m out shall I?’ I smile at the builders seductively. Two can play this game.
Ellis opens his mouth and closes it again before saying quietly,
‘I don’t need anything but thank you for asking.’
‘Great. Don’t forget your anti-psychotic medication darling. We don’t want your sexual appetite suppressed do we? Not if we’re buying goodies. Talking of which, I must buy more chocolate biscuits for the workmen; they do so get through them. Well, I’ll see you later. Don’t go near the knives until you’ve medicated.’
Andy looks at the others and shrugs.
