‘Like we did, you mean?’ Oliver has noted down my score on the pad and is studying his own tiles. ‘How old were you before you left the village on your own? Nineteen?’ Oliver smirks at his sister. ‘And you only made it as far as Cheshire.’
Stacey gives him a hard shove. ‘I went to college way before then, and it isn’t my fault we were brought up in the middle of nowhere.’
Oliver snorts as he picks up one of his tiles and places it on the board. ‘The middle of nowhere? There’s a town a couple of miles away.’
I sit up straighter. ‘There is?’ There’ll be shops. A Rymans or W H Smiths. Maybe even – dare I hope – an Asda. I could stock up on all the stationery I need. And buy tights to stop my legs turning blue in the cold. And underwear, so I don’t have to wash, dry and wear the same handful of knickers I packed for ‘a few days away’. ‘Is there a bus that’ll take me there?’
Stacey wrinkles her nose. ‘There is, but it only runs every couple of hours. If you’re lucky. I used to end up walking home from college most days, until I learned to drive.’
Oliver snorts as he places three more tiles down on the board. ‘Gran used to pick you up, you mean.’
Stacey shoves him again, but Oliver is too pleased with himself to pay her any attention as he tots up his score. FAQIR, on a double word square. Damn it.
‘I could give you a lift.’ He gives the tile bag a shake before delving inside. ‘At the weekend?’
‘Really?’ I’ve clearly been isolated in Little Heaton for too long because although it’s been less than a week, the prospect of pushing a trolley around a supermarket is making me giddy. ‘That would be great, if it isn’t too much trouble?’ I cross my fingers under the table.
Oliver places his new tiles on his rack. ‘No trouble at all. Like I said, it’s only a couple of miles away.’
‘You can’t go on Sunday, remember?’ Stacey’s attention is caught by the pub door opening, and it’s held by the bloke who’s now walking towards the bar. He looks vaguely familiar but I can’t place him. Stacey clearly can as she’s basically salivating.
‘Is Saturday afternoon okay with you?’
I pull my gaze away from the bar to find Oliver giving me a quizzical look. ‘Saturday afternoon would be perfect.’ Unlike the selection of Scrabble tiles I have in front of me, which are far from ideal and I’m twenty-six points behind. AERIE is the best I can manage and although it only earns me five points, it’s better than forfeiting my turn to swap my tiles. Oliver, however, can hardly contain his glee, performing a joyful little wiggle as he adds my meagre points to my tally. I dig my hand into the bag and pull out four new tiles, squeezing my eyes shut until the very last second as I hope for better letters this time.
No such luck.
Two more vowels, plus a Z and an X.
Why am I even bothering?
Because you never, ever give up, I hear my dad’s voice boom inside my head. You keep fighting until the bitter end, unlike that so-called mother of yours who ran off at the first hiccup in our marriage. Bloody quitter. Don’t ever be like her, Rebecca, do you hear me?
‘The game isn’t over yet.’ I rearrange the tiles in my rack, as though it will actually make a difference. ‘Far from it.’
‘And on that note …’ Stacey drains her gin and tonic and stands up. ‘I’m going to the bar.’
Oliver doesn’t take his eyes off his tiles, but I see him smirking. ‘Say hi to Dreamy Dominic for me.’
Stacey fake laughs, but then she gives a genuine smile as she crouches next to her brother. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything, but you do know there’s a rumour going around about the two of you, don’t you?’ She waves a hand between Oliver and I, her smile turning sly when it transpires neither of us has the foggiest what she’s talking about. ‘Apparently, you were seen sloping away from Arthur’s Pass very early this morning.’ She places a finger to her chin. ‘Where could you possibly have been sneaking away from? And what had you been up to, hmm?’
‘We were playing Monopoly.’ Oliver rolls his eyes. ‘Take your mind out of the gutter.’
Oh, God. I recall Vincent’s strange behaviour this morning when I asked about Oliver’s whereabouts. He must have heard the rumour too.
‘Try convincing the village gossips that’s all you were doing.’ Patting her brother on the back, Stacey sashays away towards the bar, leaving an awkward atmosphere in her wake.
The only way to get through this, I decide, is to pretend it isn’t happening and concentrate on the game of Scrabble. I manage to claw my way back and swoop the win when I place the word ‘ZAX’ on a triple word square. Stacey is chuffed for me, but mainly because it means we can put the game away and enjoy one more drink before she has to get back to the kittens. She offers to get another round in, but I suspect it’s just so she can make cow eyes at the bloke propping up the bar.
‘That’s Dominic Blackwood,’ Oliver tells me when my nosiness gets the better of me. ‘Runs one of the farms down the road.’
‘What’s their deal?’ I open the little cloth bag while Oliver lifts the board and tips the tiles into it. ‘Stacey clearly likes him, but does he like her?’
Oliver shrugs as he folds the board in half. ‘No idea. I try not to examine my sister’s love life too closely. But I do know Dominic’s wife left him for their much younger farmhand about a year ago.’ Oliver shakes his head and takes the bag from me, setting it down in the box. ‘Poor guy was pretty messed up. I think that’s why Stacey holds back, but like I said, I try not to think about that kind of stuff.’
I watch as Stacey throws her head back to laugh at something Dominic has said, grabbing hold of the end of her ponytail so she can twist it around her finger. If Dominic can’t take the hint that Stacey has a massive crush on him, the dude must be blind. I’m about to remark as such to Oliver when my phone starts to ring. It’s my sister, again, who is another one who can’t take a hint.
‘Are you going to get that?’ Oliver nods down at my phone, which is still ringing in my hand.
I shake my head and send the call to voicemail, knowing Kate won’t bother to leave a message.
Chapter 23
I’m a bag of nerves as I pace the living room, the clip-clopping of my heels echoing in the vast, empty room. The builders, plumber and electrician are all up on the first and second floors and I’m surprised I can still hear the radio blaring from up there over the thumping of my heart. My chest hurts, my skin is prickling with sweat and I’m struggling to control my breathing. If there wasn’t a very good reason for the severe apprehension I’m feeling right now, I’d swear I was having a heart attack.
What am I going to do? I move to the bi-fold doors, my heels clip-clopping at a pace, before turning sharply and marching back to the window at the front of the property, peering out onto the drive. Vanessa will be here any minute and whatever game I’ve been playing over the past few days will be up. The builders will discover I’m not Vanessa, that I’m simply her pushover PA, and it will be clear for Vanessa to see that I know nothing about property development, despite watching Homes Under The Hammer very, very carefully every morning since I got here.
I’m going to get fired, just like poor Nicole. I’ll be jobless, penniless, and I’ll be forced to slope back home to Dad and admit that he was right all along. I’m a failure. I shouldn’t have ignored Dad’s advice and followed my own path. Just look at Kate – she’d never find herself in a situation like this. My sister’s life is sorted while mine is falling apart.
I’m about to turn and stalk back across the room when a familiar cherry-red Mini swoops onto the drive, loose pebbles scattering as it swings in front of the house. Oh, God. She’s here. She’s actually here, right now. My hand flies up to cover my mouth as I watch my boss’s legs swing elegantly from the open door. Flicking the car door shut, she starts to tread carefully over the uneven drive in a pair of needle-thin heels that would make my eyes water even if I wasn’t already on the verge of tears.
Vanessa looks from me to the house and back again before giving a shrug. ‘I don’t drink tea.’
I nod effusively, the rhythm matching the ferocious beat of my heart. ‘Of course. I know that.’ I give a strangled laugh, cutting it off when I see the startled look on Vanessa’s face. ‘Sorry. I’m just so excited that you’re here. How about a coffee?’ I usher Vanessa into the guesthouse, checking we haven’t been clocked before closing the door behind us. I know I’m only delaying the inevitable, but self-preservation has kicked in. ‘Take a seat and I’ll put the kettle on. I’m afraid we only have instant.’
Vanessa smiles tightly. ‘That’s fine.’
I know that it isn’t, but cheap coffee from the mini market is the least of my worries. ‘I bet you’ll have a state-of-the-art coffee machine in the house when it’s finished.’
Vanessa smooths down the seat of her trousers before she lowers herself carefully onto the edge of the sofa. ‘Speaking of the house, how is it all coming along? I spoke to Nicole at the weekend – she’s still in the hospital but recovering well, apparently – and she said everything was all going to plan before the accident.’
What a liar. I should pull my boss up on her porkies, but of course I don’t.
‘It’s going great!’ If my tone is too enthusiastic – which I suspect it is – Vanessa doesn’t pick up on it.
‘So we’ll be ready for the party?’
‘Absolutely!’ I shove my head into the cupboard to pick out a couple of mugs and also to hide the shame that is surely written all over my face. Vanessa isn’t the only fibber.
‘Good, because I’m going to start planning the party in earnest next week.’
The mugs clatter onto the worktop. ‘You are?’
‘Well, obviously.’ Vanessa scrunches up her face as she looks at me as though I’m a spanner short of a toolbox. ‘The party is in a couple of weeks so I’m already cutting it fine. It’s just that the Heron Farm Festival has been taking up so much of my time. Thank goodness for Sonia! And Emma too. She’s been a godsend.’ She sucks in a deep breath before letting it out slowly while shaking her head. ‘I don’t know what we would have done without my right-hand girls, to be honest.’
I know that I should be happy for my friend for getting some recognition, but I can’t help feeling a pang of jealousy. Here I am, stepping completely out of my comfort zone and it’s Emma and Sonia getting all the praise. I can feel that promotion slipping away from me even if I do somehow manage to cling onto my job after the disastrous refurb.
‘I could take care of the party planning!’ It comes to me in a flash of inspiration, my hands flying outwards like I’m inviting a hug, such is my enthusiasm. It’s the first time I’ve been so forthright, the first time I have put myself out there so explicitly, and I don’t know whether to be so proud of myself that I can’t help but dance around the kitchen or whether I should pick up one of the mugs and clunk myself over the head with it. Repeatedly.
‘You?’ Vanessa’s eyebrows inch ever so slightly up her forehead. ‘But you’re a PA.’
Yes, I want to scream at her. I am a PA, but I also have a degree in events management. And also, my job as a PA didn’t stop you bunging me into an alternative role to suit your needs. But I keep silent, obviously, and concentrate on spooning economy coffee granules into the mugs.
‘This place is quite nice, isn’t it?’ Vanessa is up and inspecting the living room when I place the coffees on the table. ‘I didn’t really pay any attention to it when I was viewing the house, but it’s a nice little bonus.’
‘Would you like a tour?’ I’ve been quite good at making sure there are no bras or knickers loitering around the bedroom since the builders started using the facilities, but I’m suddenly gripped by fear that I’ve left the contents of my washing basket strewn about the place.
‘No thanks.’ Vanessa gives a quick shake of her head. ‘I really don’t have time for that. Ty’s taking me to the opening of a new club tonight and I need to get my roots done.’ She runs her fingers through her hair as she gazes around the room. ‘It’s a decent size though, and it’d make a lovely holiday let, don’t you think?’ Vanessa reaches into her tiny handbag and pulls out her phone, tapping at the screen as she wanders towards the kitchen area. ‘I’m just going to have a quick look on Airbnb. See what the deal is.’ She leans against the breakfast bar as she swipes her finger on the screen. ‘It doesn’t need much work, and if we replace that manky old sofa with a sofa bed, we could charge more.’ Stepping away from the breakfast bar, she yanks open the oven door. ‘This could do with a clean.’ Her eyebrow quirks as she looks at me with mild disgust, and I want to tell her that I haven’t even touched the oven since I’ve been here, never mind cooked with it, so any griminess is down to the previous occupants. But I don’t. I simply stand back while she opens the cupboards, examining the contents briefly before flicking the doors shut again.
‘It’s all self-contained. I’ve had no problems with living here, apart from not being able to light the fire.’
Vanessa glances at the blazing fire. The eyebrow is quirked again.
‘Oliver showed me how to do it.’ I don’t mention the fact I was afraid to attempt it by myself in case I burned the place down, in case she chalks it up as incompetence.
‘Oliver?’ Vanessa quirks the eyebrow again, but she has a bemused look on her face to accompany it this time. ‘Been getting friendly with the locals, have you?’
‘No, not like that anyway.’ I hop up onto a stool at the breakfast bar, which is a big mistake as the image of me leaning in to kiss Oliver in this very spot imprints itself into my brain. My face is aflame, which is damning evidence as far as Vanessa is concerned if her dirty cackle is anything to go by.
‘Of course you haven’t.’ She pats my shoulder while performing an elaborate wink before moving on to inspect the washing machine.
‘I really haven’t. Oliver is one of the builders.’ I should have kept my big gob shut and let Vanessa assume I’ve been working my way through the male population of the village because mentioning the builders only reminds Vanessa why she’s here.
‘Ah, yes, the builders.’ Vanessa slips her phone into her miniscule handbag as she strides towards the door. ‘Shall we go over and take a look at the house? I’m dying to see how it’s all coming together.’
So this is it, I think as I shuffle after her. Time’s up. It’s time to come clean and face the music.
Chapter 24
I creep into the house as though I’m the next victim in a horror movie, with the killer lurking behind any one of the doors. The radio is still blaring from upstairs, which is good as the builders may not hear us skulking about down here. If I can keep Vanessa downstairs and the others upstairs, I may just get away with this.
‘I don’t understand.’ Vanessa is turning in a slow circle as she takes in the hallway, and I have to lean in close to hear her over the music. ‘It looks so … bland. It’s still a worksite. There are wires hanging from the ceiling!’ She jabs a hand at the offending wires before marching towards the living room, squeaking with alarm when she spots the bleakness that greets her. The bare plaster. More hanging wires. A vast, echoey space.
‘I was expecting …’ She shakes her head as she turns in another slow circle. ‘I was expecting … Something. This looks exactly the same as when I viewed the place six months ago!’ Her hands are covering her cheeks as she performs a second turn.
‘That isn’t true. The place was gutted, pulled back to its bare bones before being built back up again.’ I know this because I’ve picked my way thr
ough every single bit of paperwork contained in the numerous files. ‘So although it may not look like much work has taken place, it absolutely has. This room in particular was riddled with damp, which needed to be sorted before any restoration work could take place. And the joists needed replacing because of the damage the damp caused to the floor.’ I point down at the newly fitted flooring. ‘And look at the bi-fold doors. They’re going to give you a stunning view once the garden has been landscaped.’ I shouldn’t have mentioned the bi-fold doors, because while I’m heading for the door to move the tour onto the more aesthetically pleasing kitchen, Vanessa is wandering towards the huge panes of glass.
‘Oh, my God.’ She turns to me with wide eyes, and I’m about to explain that the jungle of a garden will be tamed very soon when she points into the distance. ‘There’s a donkey in my garden. Becky, why is there a donkey in my garden?’
I check over my shoulder, making sure the others haven’t sneaked down the stairs and overheard Vanessa’s use of the name Becky, least of all because it isn’t my name, before I hurry over to the doors. ‘It’s okay. That’s just Franny.’
‘Franny?’ Vanessa is still peering out into the garden, a hand at her throat, looking as though she’ll soon be in need of some smelling salts.
‘She lives at the animal sanctuary along the lane.’ I try to guide Vanessa away, but she’s dug her needle-thin heels in.
‘But what is it doing in my garden? Why isn’t there a fence to keep it away?’
I try once more to guide her away, and this time she’s more yielding. ‘There is a fence on the sanctuary’s side but Daisy, the other donkey, is a bit mischievous. She manages to sniff out any weak spots and break through, leaving Franny to wander out and take the blame.’ I titter but Vanessa doesn’t join in the mirth. We’re back in the hallway, so I give her a gentle nudge towards the kitchen, where there at least units and worktops and a giant island to admire. ‘There’ll be a new fence put up soon, once the vacant land is bought, so it won’t be a problem for you.’
The Accidental Life Swap Page 14
