“Assuming you meet the criteria, that would be okay. I’ll see you later. Ask for Jean-Paul.”
There was no train to Otley. Rather than travel to the nearest station and catch a bus, she took a bus the whole way. She was surprised at how much better she felt the farther she traveled from London and Lewin. Even her aches and pains seemed less of an issue.
Otley turned out to be a medium-sized market town sitting at the foot of a gritstone escarpment. A wooded hill rose steeply on one side of the town with a white house peeking between the trees. London was so flat, she’d almost forgotten what hills looked like.
She found Netherfield Estate Agency on the high street and went inside. A middle-aged woman sitting behind a desk looked up when she walked in.
“Can I help you?”
“Could I speak to Jean-Paul, please?”
“I’m sorry, he’s had to go out. Can I help? I’m Sandra, his boss.”
“I’d like to rent the cottage that’s just become available. I understand the owners are away for two months.”
“Turning Cottage?”
“He didn’t say the name.”
The woman winced. “I’m sorry but that’s been taken. I’ve already signed a couple up.”
Mollie knew she shouldn’t have felt such a crushing disappointment, but it was as though an elephant had sat on her chest. She also knew there was no point protesting. It had gone.
“I hadn’t had time to tell Jean-Paul. I’m sorry. Let’s see if we have anything else suitable.”
Mollie sat at Sandra’s desk while she went through her computer files.
“I have a nice place available next month.”
“I need somewhere today.”
The woman sucked in a breath. “We’re at the start of the school holidays. Most holiday lets have been booked for months, if not from last year.”
“Ordinary rentals are fine.” She’d walk out if she had to leave inside six months. They’d have to chase her for the remaining rent. “I just need somewhere now.”
She gave the woman her name and telephone number, and left the premises with a handful of details, but not of any short-term lets. She dragged her bag around the town and called in at every estate agent. Once she’d gathered information on everything available, she’d select a few and walk around the town to check them out.
There were tables and chairs set outside a little café in a small cobblestoned courtyard and she sat in the sun, ordered black coffee and a toasted tea cake and began to read.
Easy to maintain living space. Well, that probably meant not enough room to swing a cat. Mollie had always wondered where that expression had come from. Presumably from sailors being whipped rather than any cruel sport involving cats. She shuddered and kept reading. Unexpectedly available. Because the people who were going to have it pulled out when they realized it had rising damp, dry rot, woodworm and a peeping Tom next door. Low maintenance rear garden. Concrete was low maintenance.
She could afford to rent a small house up here, but if she did, her money wouldn’t last long. It seemed prudent to be cautious and go for a room in a shared house. That way she had a chance of making some friends. Maybe she ought to get hold of a copy of the local paper.
“Excuse me? Mollie?”
She looked up to see a fair-haired guy in his mid-twenties staring down at her. She’d never seen him before and her heart rate doubled.
“I’m Jean-Paul,” he said. “Can I join you?”
She glanced at the empty tables either side. “Are you a crazy stalker?”
He winced. “No, er, yes. Well no. I’m gay.” Then he blushed.
“How did you know who I was? You were stalking me?”
“Can I explain?”
Mollie sighed and pushed out a chair with her foot and he sat down.
“I want to talk to you about renting somewhere,” he said.
“Sandra gave me details of all you had on your books. She said the cottage was taken.”
“I didn’t know.”
But when he said that, his gaze slid to the side and Mollie wondered if he was lying.
“How did you know who I was? Where I was?”
“Sandra described you. I thought I’d just have a quick look around town to see if I could spot a pretty girl with dark red-tinged hair wearing a blue jacket and pulling a blue bag.”
No, that wasn’t right. He had to have been following her.
“You’ve been busy.” He nodded at the pile of papers on the table.
“I’m not from around here. I wanted to make sure I didn’t end up centrally located between Chinese and Indian takeaways, or in a garden flat with no natural light or next to someone who hums all night.”
His brow furrowed. “How would you find out about the humming?”
“I was going to knock on doors and say—do you have any annoyingly noisy habits or in fact any annoying habits that aren’t noisy? Screaming babies, toddlers that throw tantrums regularly, Harleys that start up at four in the morning, people having energetic sex in the room next to mine when the walls are paper-thin? That sort of thing.”
He tsked. “You’re very picky.”
She laughed.
“Do you have any annoying habits?” he asked.
“I check for monsters under the bed every night and scream if I find one. Large dust bunnies and spiders count.”
He chuckled, but Mollie was serious. Plus there were worse monsters to check for now. It could be quite a while before she felt entirely safe from Lewin.
“I’ll get into so much trouble if you tell my boss about this,” he said. “But there’s a room to rent in the house I live in. A guy called Lysander owns it. He has the whole top floor. Aden and I share a room on the middle floor and Nikki has the other. There’s a bedroom on the ground floor that’s empty. If Lysander likes you, you could move in today.” He glanced at her bag.
She supposed she had sort of given away her desperation.
“And what’s better about where you live than any of these?” She gestured to the pile of rental details on the table.
“It’s a beautiful stone built house, big garden, near the reservoir, great views, lots of interesting wildlife, quiet and safe. We all get on really well. Lysander’s cool. We’re having a barbecue tonight. Why don’t you come and see if you like us? If you don’t, you can spend the night and I’ll find something for you tomorrow.”
Mollie’s instincts were telling her Jean-Paul was a good guy, but she was still cautious and definitely suspicious. She suspected he’d known that the cottage had gone and saw her as a potential housemate to solve a rental issue. Maybe he’d seen her arrive at the estate agent’s and followed her.
“Look,” he said and picked up the top sheet. “This is horrible inside. Quaintly old-fashioned means some old lady has lived in it forever and probably croaked there. You’d never be certain about that stain on the carpet.” He picked up the next. “Conveniently situated for local activities. Hmm, it’s above a Chinese takeaway and across the road from the youth club.”
She laughed.
“This one is by a pub. Noisy. The landlord of this one is a nightmare, but I didn’t tell you that. Brook Street is surrounded by families with little kids. Oh shit.” He glared at the sheet he was holding. “We were supposed to get the instruction on Penny Lane.” He sighed. “That one’s nice. Well cared for. Convenient. You should go for that, but please don’t until you’ve seen Wood House.”
“Is it in my price range?” she asked.
“Yes. It’s a really great place to live. You look the sort who’s not likely to throw a wild party and wreck the joint. Although if you do, you have to promise to invite me.”
She smiled.
“Mind you, you appear to have already been at a wild party.” He nodded toward her face. “What happened?”
She kept the smile on her face. “Fell down the steps of a bus a few days ago. It braked and I didn’t.” Don’t embellish. That was something Lewin had tol
d her. When people were lying, they often said too much.
“So what do you say? Want to meet us?”
He stared straight at her, his brown eyes wide and unblinking.
“Does the sad puppy look usually work?” she asked.
He grinned. “It got me Aden.”
Mollie bit back her laugh. “Okay. I’ll come.”
“Great. I’ll meet you here just after five and drive you over.” He pushed to his feet.
* * * *
When she saw Jean-Paul hurrying toward her at ten past five, she breathed a sigh of relief. She’d spent the last couple of hours wondering if she’d have to find a cheap hotel.
“Hi, Mollie. Can I take your bag?”
“Thanks. I bought cakes for everyone. Is that okay?”
“Perfect bribe. How can cake not be okay? Come on, the car’s parked a little way away from the town center so I don’t have to pay.”
Mollie hurried to keep up with his long strides. “Do you come from around here?”
“No. I’m from the Midlands. I went to Leeds Met University and decided to stay in Yorkshire. What about you? What do you do?”
“I’m from London. Teach little kids.”
“You definitely don’t want to live in Brook Street then. I’d imagine you’d have had enough of noisy children after dealing with them all day. Though you do get long holidays to recover. Six weeks to laze around? You jammy devil.”
If Mollie had been going back to her job in September, much of her summer would have been spent on preparation and meetings.
“Here’s the car.” Jean-Paul put her bag into the boot and Mollie laid her other things on the back seat.
As she fastened the seatbelt, a rush of anxiety swept over her like a sudden downpour. Was she being too trusting? She’d only just met this guy. No one knew where she was.
“Swear to me you’re legit,” she said.
“I’m totally safe. Well, around women anyway. Don’t look so worried.”
“I was just hoping I wasn’t intended as the succulent meat on your barbecue.”
He gave a loud laugh. “You’ve been watching too much television. We’re all nice. Apart from Nikki, who can be a pain. And Aden when he’s had a problem at work. And Lysander’s sulks could—oh shit. I don’t want to put you off. We rub along well together.”
They pulled out of the town, went over a river and up a long slow hill with houses on either side. Mollie’s unease went up a notch.
“Isn’t the house in Otley?” she asked.
“A few miles outside. A place called Thurston.”
Sorry, Jeremy.
“That’s the local hospital on the left,” Jean-Paul said. “It only deals with minor injuries, though. You need to go to Leeds if it’s a real emergency.”
He continued to comment on the area, then, less than a mile later, they were in open countryside with no houses in sight and still climbing until the view opened out onto a panorama that took her breath away.
“Wow,” she whispered.
“Not bad, is it?” he said with a laugh. “Right on the doorstep.”
Hills rose in the distance, the foreground a patchwork of fields surrounded by drystone walls. The farther they traveled, the more the views opened up of rolling moorland dotted with the creamy mounds of grazing sheep. A checkerboard of colors stretched in every direction, the purple smudges of heather looking like old bruises. Mollie wondered if she’d miss the traffic and bustle of London, the sound of people speaking every language she knew and a lot she didn’t, the mad cyclists, the miserable commuters, the big-city surliness, the availability of everything and the crazy vitality of the place.
“Red kite on your left,” Jean-Paul said.
A chestnut red bird with a distinctive forked tail soared on an updraft.
“Sheep on your right,” Jean-Paul said.
“Oh my God. Is that what they are?” She mock-gasped. “Do you have polar bears, too, up here in the north?”
He laughed.
“It’s really beautiful. I’ve never been to Yorkshire before.” She’d rarely left London, hardly ever been to the countryside.
“What made you come up here? A job?”
“I wanted to do something different.” Oh God. She didn’t want to lie to someone she hoped to live with, but she couldn’t tell the truth, couldn’t cope with sympathy or derision.
Jean-Paul turned right and headed down a narrow winding lane. Mollie’s heart started to beat faster. If she didn’t like them or they didn’t like her, she’d have to get a taxi to Otley, start looking again tomorrow. She wouldn’t stay the night.
“I bet this is fun when it snows,” Mollie said.
“You’d be stuck without a four-wheel drive or a tractor. But you should be okay. It doesn’t usually start snowing until the end of July.”
She laughed and felt the weight lifting from her heart.
“There’s the reservoir,” he said. “And up ahead is the house.”
Mollie sucked in a breath at the sight of the large house with stone mullions and a slate roof so dark it looked wet. It stood all on its own at one end of the dam, surrounded by trees. Jean-Paul parked on the gravel at the front of a detached double garage.
“Lysander will be in. He never goes anywhere, not even into the garden, well not far into it, but the others won’t be back from work yet.”
He lifted her bag from the boot and Mollie gathered her things from the rear seat. They headed for the door and she mentally crossed her fingers. As they reached the steps, the front door opened and Mollie looked up into the eyes of a tall, slim guy with messy dark hair. He wore a tight black T-shirt and jeans that hung dangerously low on his slender hips. He was spattered from head to foot with various shades of paint. He stared at her intently and Mollie stared back. If he hadn’t had such a ferocious scowl on his face, she might have found him attractive, but he glared at her without blinking. Actually, I do find him attractive, even with the scowl.
By now she should have introduced herself, offered the cakes, a smile and shaken hands, but for some reason she felt it was important to keep absolutely still and silent. The guy’s gaze drifted down her body, then over her face. His attention lingered on the marks before he returned to looking into her eyes.
“A guy, Jean-Paul?” he said.
Jean-Paul clapped his hand to his mouth. “I didn’t notice. You are so observant, Lysander. Sorry. Yes, I can see now.” He looked at Mollie. “You’re obviously not a guy. How could I make such a terrible mistake? I—”
“Shut up,” Lysander said. “The answer is yes.” He turned on his heel and walked inside.
Mollie’s jaw dropped and she snapped it shut.
“I knew Lysander would like you.” Jean-Paul grinned as he carried her bag into the house.
“He hasn’t even met me.”
“Yeah, he has. All he needed to do was look at you.”
Mollie frowned. “He wanted a guy?”
“Yes, but I knew he’d like you.”
She went into the house, caught sight of Lysander walking up the stairs and shouted, “Hey. Can I ask you something?”
He turned and came down again. “I said yes.”
“But I didn’t.” Mollie frowned. “If I’d not met your physical requirements would the answer have been no? Had I been the wrong height, weight, color, had blonde hair, spiky ears and whiskers, would you have turned me down?”
The scowl on his face almost shifted to a grin. “I asked Jean-Paul to find a guy. I could have said no to you, but I didn’t.”
“Why did you say yes?” she asked.
“You seem interesting. I enjoy having interesting people around. And as Jean-Paul rightly guessed, I want to…paint you.”
Her heart thumped uncomfortably. She’d noticed that hesitation and he knew she’d noticed.
“You don’t look as though you’ve mastered painting yourself yet,” she said. “You missed quite a few places. Your left ear for a start.”
/> He gave her such a dazzling smile that every single one of Mollie’s internal organs liquefied. Oh damn.
“Rent is a hundred a week, all bills included on the basis that those who live here respect my house. Paid in advance. If you want to leave, then leave. If I ask you to leave, then you leave. There’s a Wi-Fi connection. You have your own bathroom, a shelf in the fridge, another in the freezer, a wall cupboard in the kitchen. Cookware is shared, as are plates, mugs, and cutlery, et cetera. We eat together a couple of times a week, and take turns to cook those meals. Learn if you can’t already produce something edible. You provide your own bedding and towels. There’s a washer and dryer in the laundry room, plus a communal drawing room with a TV, a library and a conservatory that we share. Cleaning the common areas is done on a schedule that doesn’t include me. Put the dishwasher on when it’s full, empty it when it’s done. That’s not my job. Deal with the trash when it needs emptying. Not my job either. No playing drums after eleven. And you’ll pose for me. Any questions?”
She sucked in a breath at the barrage of information delivered like machine gun bullets. “Could you make that eleven fifteen?”
He grinned. He was scarily handsome when he did that.
“I’m Mollie James,” she said and held out her hand.
“Lysander Weldon.”
When he took her hand she felt her stomach lurch.
“So are you saying yes?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He let her go and tilted his head. “Why?”
Mollie thought about it. She didn’t know anything about this guy. Maybe the house was full of weirdoes and she was going to be the meat on the barbecue. Jean-Paul seemed nice, but what if the others were horrible? Maybe the room was damp and smelled bad. She ought to have at least asked to see it. Why hadn’t she? Not a question she needed to ask herself. She knew why she’d said yes. Because of the man standing in front of her.
“Your hesitation is slightly worrying,” Lysander said.
“I said yes because I quite like the idea of you finding me interesting.” Oh God, did I say that out loud? “But more because I’m desperate,” she added. And I had to add that? Christ.
He flung out a hand to point to a door and she flinched. When his eyes widened, she knew he had noticed. Shit.
Talking Trouble Page 8
