by Karen Clarke
Maybe the same thought had crossed his mind, as he eased her gently away. ‘I’m looking forward to meeting all the residents of’ – he shot me a questioning look – ‘what’s the street called?’
‘Maple Hill,’ I said, adding rashly, ‘I’d be happy to host a meeting for the society here, tomorrow afternoon. Say, four o’clock?’
‘Sounds wonderful.’ Sheelagh was still gazing at Ollie, as if he was a priceless piece of art.
‘I’ll do afternoon tea,’ I said, wanting to impress her. ‘Make sure you let the other members know.’
‘I will,’ she said, though I doubted she’d even heard me properly.
Craig was limping downstairs. ‘We’ll need you all to sign waivers because of the filming—’
‘Filming?’ Sheelagh’s head shot round. ‘We’re going to be on the telly? Like Ollie in Players?’
‘He’s not in Players any more, and I thought you knew about the filming.’ Craig gave me a questioning look. ‘Didn’t you tell that woman about it, earlier?’
I gave him a frosty stare. ‘No, I didn’t,’ I said. ‘I was waiting until I knew more about what was happening.’
His jaw tightened. ‘Sorry.’
Sheelagh was half out of the door now. ‘I can’t believe I know something that Doris doesn’t.’
I couldn’t believe Doris hadn’t already called Sheelagh to tell her that Ollie was in my house. She was already halfway down the path.
‘’Bye!’ I called. ‘Don’t forget! Afternoon tea here, at four tomorrow.’
She raised her hand, slipped and almost fell, and I held my breath as she mustered her dignity and carried on through the gate, fiddling with her jumper as if her corset had worked loose.
‘Well, she was quite a character,’ Ollie said, when I entered the living room, feeling oddly shy as I pressed myself against the radiator to warm up. He’d flung himself on the sofa, legs stretched out, one arm along the back, while Craig hovered by the window, staring out. ‘How wonderful if they’re all like that. I don’t come across folk as’ – he screwed up his eyes, as if searching for the right word – ‘as quirky as that, very often.’
Now that Sheelagh – or Loretta, as I would never think of her – had gone, he’d dialled down the charm, and his posture was more relaxed. Not that I thought he’d been acting – I was certain lavishing his attention on every female he met was in his nature – but he couldn’t maintain that level of intensity without something slipping, eventually. Like people in high-demand jobs, who burnt out at thirty-five. I’d seen it happen to a teaching colleague, and a friend of my brother’s who’d been a social worker. Not that I was comparing what Ollie did with someone in social services – that would be ridiculous. But being Ollie Matheson was clearly tougher than it looked.
‘They are pretty quirky,’ I agreed, thinking of the neighbours I’d met at the Lamberts’. ‘But they might not all be as welcoming as Shee… Loretta.’
‘Oh?’ Ollie sat forward, elbows on his knees, eyes frisking me like an airport scanner. ‘Pray tell.’
Blood whooshed to my face. ‘Just that some of them… well, they probably won’t have heard of you, no offence, and a few might be a bit resentful that you’re not… more famous.’
Craig released a barely audible sigh and looked at me over his shoulder.
What? I said with my eyes.
He shook his head and turned back to the window, as if something fascinating was happening in the street.
‘More famous?’ Ollie’s brow creased. ‘Like, Tom Cruise famous?’
‘Well… maybe,’ I said, carefully. ‘An actor, definitely, or a singer.’
The brightness briefly left Ollie’s eyes, and I felt terrible for bringing it up.
Across the room Craig’s shoulders tensed, as if he was dreading what might come next, but Ollie simply smiled and said, ‘Well, I’m a terrible singer, but acting’s actually my passion, and it’s kind of where I’m hoping to go with my career.’
‘Really?’ I said, as if one of my pupils (former pupils) had announced he wanted to be an astronaut when he grew up. Then I remembered Ollie’s Wikipedia page. ‘Weren’t you in a vampire movie?’
‘You have done your homework.’ His gaze was so openly admiring that I felt as if I’d announced my intention to train for the next Olympics. ‘Yes, I was, though it was more of a foray into the acting biz really. The film wasn’t critically acclaimed.’
Craig coughed into his fist, which I interpreted as meaning it had bombed, and I wondered why he wasn’t being more supportive. If Ollie was making a move into acting, surely that meant there’d be a role for his favourite cameraman. ‘I’ll look it up online,’ I said. ‘I’m sure you were very good.’
‘It was a small part.’ He flapped a dismissive hand. ‘I barely wet my fangs.’
‘Shall we get on?’ Craig unzipped his Nike running top, and took a notepad from his rucksack, which he’d brought in from the hall. ‘I thought we could keep things discreet,’ he said, flipping open a page and running his eyes over it.
‘Only guy I know who won’t use a tablet for storing info,’ Ollie said, winking at me. ‘Complete luddite.’ I smiled, but didn’t admit I preferred pen and paper too, and wondered briefly whether the words might flow more easily if I tried writing my novel by hand.
‘I’ll film a short segment in here, or outside the house if you’d prefer, Lily.’ Craig glanced up, and I nodded, somehow surprised at the ease with which he said my name.
‘In here’s fine,’ I said, though I hadn’t really thought through the filming aspect, and still wasn’t sure I was comfortable being part of Ollie’s one-off show. I didn’t voice my doubts, though, unwilling to cast a pall over his career-revival plan.
Craig looked back at his notepad, pushing a hand through his hair, revealing a subtly darker shade beneath and a faint scattering of freckles across his forehead. ‘Once we’ve worked out a schedule, I’ll follow proceedings with my camera and we’ll just let things unfold.’ He paused, tapping the pad with his pen. ‘That’s about it, really.’ He lifted his head, eyes fixing briefly on mine. ‘We’ll try not to get in your way too much, and if at any point you’re not comfortable feel free to say so, we—’
‘Woah!’ Ollie raised a hand, like a traffic controller. ‘Steady on, old chap. You’re scaring poor Lily witless.’ He patted the cushion, indicating I join him on the sofa. ‘Of course she won’t be uncomfortable. I simply won’t let that happen,’ he said, as I obediently shifted from the radiator and sat beside him, smoothing the hem of my dress over my knees and trying to curl my toe back into my tights.
‘You’re used to having a camera on you, Lily’s not,’ Craig said, bending to put his notepad away so it was impossible to see his face. ‘I’m just saying, once things are underway she might not like it, and I don’t want her to feel like she can’t tell us to stop.’
Ollie made a yapping-mouth motion with his hand, and I gave a guilty smile. Craig probably had health and safety in mind, but it was nice of him to be concerned. ‘I’m fully insured,’ he went on, ‘so if there should be any damage to any properties, we’re covered for repairs. Not that I’m suggesting that would happen.’
Ollie pretended to stifle a yawn and Craig glanced up, just as I was biting my lip to stop myself laughing.
He quickly looked away. ‘Any questions?’ he said, reaching for the mug he’d put on the windowsill, and turning his back.
‘Are you planning to sleep outside every night?’ I said.
‘We won’t be here very long. I can manage a few nights in the car.’ He gulped some tea, and my gaze settled on his feet in their plain black socks. ‘I’ve got a thermal sleeping bag, and my outdoor clothes are insulated,’ he said, as if compelled to defend his reply.
Ollie sat up straight. ‘It’s true,’ he said, swivelling to face me with endearing eagerness. ‘It’s from when he spent a week on Everest, a few years ago, before his pa had his accident.’ Admiration crept into his voic
e. ‘We’d wrapped Players for the season, so Craggers took off with this idea of shooting a talking-heads type show, interviewing people on their way up the mountain about why they were doing it, bearing in mind they’re risking their lives and a lot of them don’t make it back.’
‘That sounds amazing.’ I eyed Craig with fresh interest, but he didn’t look round. ‘That’s definitely a programme I’d watch.’
‘Yah, well, like I say, his pa needed him and it didn’t get finished, so—’
‘I don’t think Lily wants to hear the story of my life,’ Craig cut in, though I couldn’t deny a stirring of curiosity. ‘Let’s get back to the topic in hand, shall we?’
Ollie winced at me and mouthed, ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s OK,’ I mouthed back, hoping Craig wasn’t lip-reading our reflections in the window.
‘So.’ Ollie slapped his hands down on his knees and assumed a serious expression. ‘I was thinking of a little narrative we could use.’
That got Craig’s attention. ‘I thought you wanted to be yourself,’ he said, turning to face us. ‘No more “structured reality”, right?’
Ollie stood up and crossed to the fireplace. ‘You should open this up,’ he said, smoothing a hand over the mantelpiece. ‘There’s nothing like a real fire during the winter. We had them in every room when I was growing up, even the bathroom.’
‘If you can do it, that would be great,’ I said, trying to imagine bathing in front of a roaring fire. ‘Apparently, there are loads of logs in the shed. The previous owner wasn’t here long enough to use them.’
‘It would be my pleasure.’ Ollie beat his fists on his chest. ‘Man makes fire. Me Tarzan.’
I couldn’t help laughing, even as I worried about the technicalities of restoring the fireplace to its natural state, while Craig muttered something that might have been, ‘For Christ’s sake.’
‘What’s that, bro?’ Ollie dived over and hooked an arm around Craig’s neck, ruffling his hair with his other hand. ‘Speak up, old chap.’
Craig tolerated the assault with surprising ease, cuffing his arm as Ollie let him go. ‘So, what’s this narrative you had in mind?’
‘Ah, yes.’ Ollie’s expression switched from playful to lustful, and he hauled me off the sofa and attempted to twirl me round. It didn’t quite work, as I wasn’t expecting it, and I ended up stumbling against him, then reeling away. ‘I was thinking it might be nice if I got myself an “ordinary” girlfriend while I’m here.’ He let go of me to scratch quote marks in the air with his fingers.
My heart bumped. ‘I’m sure there’ll be no shortage of offers,’ I said, straightening my cardigan, aware Craig had tipped his head back, as though seeking strength from the light fitting. ‘My neighbour was definitely smitten.’
Ollie threw back his head and laughed, seeming not to notice that no one joined in.
Wrapping his arms around himself, he looked at my scalding face, his eyes boring into mine. ‘I’m offering you the post, Lily Ambrose. As long as you promise me something.’
‘Oh god,’ Craig muttered.
‘What?’ My voice was faint.
‘That you stop wearing holey tights.’
Chapter Thirteen
‘Lily, do not pretend to be his girlfriend,’ Erin blasted. ‘I can’t believe he even thought it, let alone suggested it.’
‘I didn’t say yes, for crumble’s sake, what do you take me for?’ I shivered as I paced around the shed in an attempt to warm up. ‘He was probably joking.’
After Ollie’s girlfriend-pitch, which I’d tried to laugh off – not very convincingly –Craig had jumped in to propose I fetch some logs so he could get the fire going.
Ollie had graciously agreed and, too dumbfounded to argue, I’d grabbed my keys and phone from the kitchen, and headed down the garden on a wave of adrenaline.
‘He’s such a shit.’
‘Erin! I don’t think he meant any offence,’ I said. ‘He got a bit carried away, that’s all. I’m sure it’ll be forgotten about by the time I go back indoors.’
I banished an image of me crushed to Ollie’s broad chest, wondering whether the air in Shipley was affecting my brain cells.
‘Lily, you don’t get it.’ Erin sounded despairing. ‘This is part of his routine, to pull you in. It’s how he finds validation, even if it’s subconscious and he doesn’t realise he’s doing it. Don’t think for a minute he’s actually going to fall in love with you.’
‘Thanks for thinking I want him to fall in love with me,’ I huffed. ‘And for assuming that he wouldn’t. It’s a good job I don’t have self-esteem issues.’ There was a momentary pause. ‘I don’t have self-esteem issues, Erin.’
‘Of course you don’t.’ Her voice turned soothing, as if I was one of her rabidly insecure clients. ‘That’s not the point, though,’ she added. ‘He’s a persuasive bastard, which you’d know if you’d ever watched the show.’
‘Don’t make it sound as if I haven’t got a mind of my own.’ I was getting heated now. ‘I’ve been a teacher for several years, and an adult for even longer. I’m capable of assessing a situation and deciding on the best course of action.’
As Erin remained silent, no doubt resisting the temptation to fling my impulse-based move to Shipley in my face, I slumped down on a bag of kindling and glanced around.
Although the padlock had been a bit rusty, requiring some frantic key-jiggling, the inside of the shed was almost as immaculate as the cottage, with only one visible cobweb draped across the window. Apart from a lawnmower, and a shiny spade leaning against one wall, it contained only stacks of logs and bags of kindling. A fire waiting to happen, Dad would have said. The air smelt pleasantly of seasoned wood and I breathed it in, trying to soften the knot of tension in my stomach.
‘I’m starting to think this might not have been the best move for him,’ Erin said at last. ‘Or you.’
Now it was my turn to be exasperated. ‘It’s too late to back out,’ I said. ‘He’s here, and it’s happening, and he seems perfectly happy about it.’ I remembered something he’d said. ‘Did you know he wants to be an actor?’
The noise she made was like an old-fashioned foghorn. ‘I thought he’d got all that out of his system,’ she said. ‘He tried it once and was bloody terrible.’
‘The vampire movie?’
‘Honestly, you should look it up,’ she said. ‘It mostly flew under the radar, which is where it should stay.’
‘Didn’t you get him the part?’
‘No, I did not.’ She sounded horrified. ‘He did it when Players was on a break, without telling the agency. A friend of his father’s was directing, and agreed to give him a part. Big mistake.’
‘It clearly hasn’t put him off.’
‘Clearly,’ she said. ‘He said he’d be better next time, but hasn’t mentioned it for a while.’
‘And you don’t think there’ll be a next time?’
‘I doubt it,’ she said. ‘Unless he signs up for acting lessons for about twenty years.’
‘So, what kind of future does he have?’
She sighed. ‘If this one-off show goes OK, then maybe a crawl back to the reality circuit. I’ve been working on the idea of a series, maybe something themed. Ollie Goes to… could be the title, and he’d visit different countries and go white-water rafting, or play the slots in Vegas, and soak up the culture.’
‘But do the public want to see some privileged posh boy doing things he could easily afford to do anyway?’ I felt a twinge of disloyalty at referring to Ollie as a ‘posh boy’ when I actually really liked him. ‘I would have thought that… if this thing they’re doing here’s a success… it would be more interesting for him to take on something out of his comfort zone. Working at a food bank, or visiting the homeless, that sort of thing.’
Erin was quiet for a moment. ‘Can you honestly see Ollie Matheson mixing with the poverty-stricken at a food bank? Surrounded by cans of baked beans?’
‘Who knows?’ I
said. ‘It would be different.’
‘He’d just make a donation,’ she said, rather wearily. ‘He gives a lot to charities, I’ll give him that, but he won’t want to do the dirty work.’
‘Maybe I could persuade him?’
‘By sleeping with him?’ Her voice rose. ‘Don’t sleep with him, Lily. You don’t want to be one of those girls.’
‘Erin, what are you talking about?’
‘Another notch on his bedpost.’
‘Erin, for goodness—’
‘I think I should come over.’
‘What? No!’ I stood up. ‘Honestly, it’s as if you and Mum think I’m completely helpless.’
‘What’s your mum got to do with it?’
‘She’s on her way, already.’ I told Erin about Ollie coming into the kitchen to ask for a towel, while Mum was on the phone.
‘Shit a brick,’ she said. ‘Don’t tell me he was parading around in his undies.’
‘He… concealed himself.’ I blinked away a momentary flashback. ‘He wasn’t showing off, or anything.’
‘Oh, Lily.’
‘Will you stop saying my name like that!’
‘I should call him,’ she said.
‘What, and warn him not to sleep with me? That doesn’t show much faith in your client,’ I said. ‘Or me, for that matter.’
‘Fine,’ she said, after a long pause. ‘Sorry. I didn’t sleep much myself last night.’
‘Oh?’ I perked up. ‘Did you have a date?’
‘A date?’ she said, in an old-lady voice. ‘People don’t date any more, Lily. They sext and swipe, and send photos of their ugly genitals.’ She sighed. ‘No, I wasn’t on a date, I went for a curry with some friends and got the runs.’
‘I wish I hadn’t asked.’
* * *
Back inside, Craig was kneeling in front of the open fireplace, and had arranged some scrunched-up newspaper in the grate. ‘I had one in my bag,’ he said, looking round to see me gaping.
‘How did…?’
‘Oh, it was easy.’ He gestured at the sheet of copper lying on the rug. ‘It was a false front, that’s all. The grate hasn’t been used for a while, but the chimney looks clean.’
