‘So the first place was too noisy,’ Alice announced as they drove into Briarwood. ‘And the second one was too . . .?’
‘Wrong in every conceivable way.’ Dex slowed down as they passed the ivy-clad pub on the left. That was something else he’d have to check out; no point moving into a village with a rubbish pub.
‘So let’s hope this one will be just right!’
Please don’t explain, please don’t explain . . .
‘Like Goldilocks and the three bears,’ Alice added, and his enthusiasm for her dropped yet another notch. She was a sweet girl, but it was never going to work out.
‘Or if it’s no good,’ Alice went on cheerily, ‘we’ll just have to keep looking, maybe make a weekend of it next time.’
‘Hmm,’ Dex murmured vaguely, because she was waiting for him to say something.
‘You have reached your destination,’ intoned the satnav.
‘In fact, I kind of don’t want you to like this one now.’ Becoming bolder by the second, Alice rested her hand on his knee. ‘Coming down for a weekend sounds like a fantastic plan.’
Oh dear. He’d have to tell her tonight.
The estate agent was blonde, buxom and businesslike. The cottage had been empty for four months, she explained, hence the musty smell, but it didn’t mean there were any problems with damp because there definitely weren’t.
Dexter wasn’t bothered with whether there was a damp problem or not. He liked the cottage. It had a good feel, there was just something about it. The rooms might be empty but you could picture them full. The kichen was large with sun streaming in through the south-facing windows. There was an Aga, which was something he’d never seen in real life before but he knew people regarded them as a desirable feature. The living room had French windows opening out on to the overgrown back garden. And upstairs there were three good-sized bedrooms and an old-fashioned bathroom in serious need of a revamp.
Oh yes, he liked it. It felt right. This could definitely be the one.
‘Why’s it been empty for four months?’ Dex decided he quite liked the musty smell.
‘A previous sale fell through. The chain collapsed. It just came back on the market last week.’ The estate agent nodded briskly. ‘And let me tell you, it’s going to be snapped up again in no time at all.’
Of course it would be. Standard estate agent spiel. Dex said, ‘I bet there are other people already interested.’
‘Absolutely. We’ve had a lot of interest.’
‘So, what are the neighbours like?’
The woman didn’t miss a beat. ‘I hear they’re great.’
‘Well, that’s lucky. They’re the best kind to have.’
Her eyes gleamed. ‘Does this mean you might be making an offer?’
‘It’s a possibility,’ said Dex. ‘I’ll get back to you on that. I need to do some homework first.’
‘Where are we going now?’ said Alice as he pulled the car into the car park of the Saucy Swan. As if the answer might conceivably be, ‘I thought we might climb Kilimanjaro.’
‘To do our homework.’ Dex regretted the ‘our’ as soon as he’d said it, implying as it did that she was included in his plans. ‘Come on, let’s see if the natives are friendly.’
He soon had his answer. Basically, they weren’t. Attempting to strike up a conversation with the locals at the bar met with a crushing lack of success. The trio, of retirement age and grumpy demeanour, were evidently far more interested in their pints; it was like trying to gatecrash a private party filled with A-list celebs. Only the barmaid’s saucy wink reassured him that not everyone was as spectacularly unwelcoming as the three stooges.
Giving up and taking their drinks outside, Dex and Alice sat down at a wooden table in front of the pub.
‘Well, they were charming,’ said Alice.
When the barmaid came out to collect the empties from the surrounding tables, Dex beckoned her over.
‘Can I ask you a question?’
‘Of course you can, my darling. And the answer is yes, I am single. So that’s a bit of good news, isn’t it?’
He grinned. She was in her thirties but wearing the clothes of a teenager and glittery earrings the size of saucers. ‘Excellent news. But the other question is, what have I done to upset that crew in there?’
‘The grumpy old farts? Oh, don’t take it personally, darling. They hate pretty much everyone. But the ones they hate most of all are people like you.’
Alice was shocked. ‘People like us? What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Townies, pet. Whizzing down here in your fancy cars, on the lookout for a country pad you might bother to visit every couple of months, if the weather’s good enough.’
‘How do you know that’s what we are?’ said Alice.
‘There’s your fancy car.’ The barmaid raised a pencilled eyebrow in the direction of the Porsche. ‘You parked it outside Gin Cottage, got shown around the place for twenty minutes, now you’ve come to the pub to check us out, see if we’re up to scratch. It’s not rocket science, darling.’
Dex was liking this woman more and more. ‘And they don’t approve?’
‘We’re lucky here in Briarwood, haven’t had too many weekenders. But some of the villages get it bad, you know? So many houses standing empty for weeks on end . . . it just sucks the life out of the community. We don’t want that happening here if we can help it.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Dex. ‘Why did you just call it Gin Cottage?’
‘Oh, it was Dorothy’s house. Did you notice the juniper trees growing in the garden? She used to make gin in her kitchen and sell it to the locals. Lethal stuff, it was. Sent a few people blind.’
‘Really?’ Alice’s eyes widened in horror.
‘Not really.’ Amused, the barmaid said, ‘But it was strong liquor, and that’s why everyone called it Gin Cottage. So now you know.’
‘Thanks.’ Dex lowered his voice as the door opened and one of the disapproving pensioners left the pub. ‘And could we not mention this conversation to the grumpy old farts?’
‘No problem. Soul of discretion, me. Hey!’ the barmaid bellowed across the car park. ‘Guess what, Dad? This one just called you a grumpy old fart!’
‘Thanks for that,’ said Dex as the man paused and shook his head in disgust before heading off.
‘My pleasure. You’re not the first, you won’t be the last. So what d’you think?’ She shifted the tray of stacked-up dead glasses to her other hip. ‘Are you two going to be buying Gin Cottage or not?’
You two.
‘Might do.’ Dex decided he liked her even more. ‘Might not. What’s your name, anyway?’
Her heavily outlined bright eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘Me? I’m Lois.’
Chapter 5
‘Lois fancies her chances with you.’ Alice slipped a proprietorial hand into his as they strolled towards the car park.
‘I think she was just being friendly.’
‘Oh come on, she was totally obvious. Now where are we going?’ She looked baffled as he walked straight past the car.
‘I like the sound of the juniper trees,’ said Dex. ‘I want to see what they look like before we leave.’
Back at Gin Cottage, they followed the path round to the side of the house. The garden had probably once been well tended but was now overgrown, with a dandelion-strewn vegetable patch against the far wall, a pretty rose arbour in need of pruning, and colourful shrubs and flowers jostling with an explosion of weeds in the borders.
They had to Google juniper trees in order to identify them. And there they were, separating this garden from next door’s, three evergreens with twisty trunks, sporting spiky needles and clumps of dark berries with a dusty blue bloom.
‘I feel like Alan Titchmarsh.’ Dex pulled down one of the branches, mindful of the sharp spikes. Some of the less ripe berries were smaller and still green. He picked one of the larger blue-black ones and squeezed it between his thumb and forefinger, inhaling the
smell. It had a piney aromatic scent, like a mixture of Christmas trees and gin. Unable to resist, he bit the berry in half and experienced the flavour on his tongue.
Alice was watching him. ‘What does it taste like?’
‘Can’t describe it. Like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. It’s sharp and dry . . .’ He tilted his head back in order to concentrate on the unfamiliar flavours. ‘Kind of piney and weird.’
And that was when Dex saw the fish cartwheeling through the air towards him as it fell from the sky. He leapt back, yanking Alice with him, as the fish hit the paving slab with a wet FLHUPPPPP.
‘Aarrgh!’ Alice let out an ear-piercing shriek. ‘WHAT’S THAT?’
‘Oh no, oh shit,’ exclaimed a female voice on the other side of the wall of trees.
‘It’s OK,’ Dex told Alice. Because of course the fish hadn’t fallen from the sky, it had been launched over the treetops by someone who was now seriously regretting it.
‘How is it possibly OK? I could have been killed by that thing!’
‘But you weren’t. You’re fine.’
‘I’m definitely not fine. Ugh.’ Alice was shuddering with revulsion and rubbing at her bare arms. ‘Did you see the spray? I’ve got fish water all over my skin.’
‘It was me. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you were there. I didn’t know anyone was there.’ Molly wanted to die; tempting though it had been to run back inside her house and hide in the airing cupboard, she’d known she had to stay and face the music.
And at least some of the music, she discovered as she made her way up the path, appeared to be pretty angry.
‘So you just threw a fish into next door’s garden? A bloody enormous fish, for crying out loud.’ The girl’s eyes blazed as she pointed at the creature on the ground before her. ‘And it splattered all over me when it landed. It’s just gross!’
‘I know, I’m sorry. The house has been empty for months. I saw you pulling up outside in your car earlier, and the estate agent turning up. Then you all left.’ Molly’s scalp prickled with mortification. ‘I didn’t know you’d come back.’
‘Hey, don’t worry, it was an accident. Could have happened to anyone.’ The girl’s husband or boyfriend appeared far less aggrieved.
‘Fine for you to say,’ the girl snapped.
Which was fair enough, Molly had to concede. He wasn’t the one splattered in fish juice.
‘Come over to my place and have a shower,’ she begged. ‘Please, you must.’
‘I don’t want a shower. But I’ll come and have a wash, get it off my arms. Are you just planning to leave it there?’ the girl demanded as they set off back down the path. ‘It’s going to reek to high heaven!’
Molly said simply, ‘I know. That’s why I threw it next door.’
Having shown her impromptu guest the bathroom, Molly headed downstairs and rejoined the husband outside.
‘Look, I’m really, really sorry—’
‘Shh, no need to keep apologising. And you don’t have to worry about Alice. She’s a nurse so she should be used to getting up close and personal with gross stuff.’ He flashed a smile as he said it, his dark eyes creasing at the corners, and Molly realised with a thud how attractive he was. She’d been in too much of a fluster to take in the details before.
‘Well, thanks. But maybe she thought she wouldn’t have to put up with it on her day off.’
‘True. I’m Dex, by the way.’
‘Molly.’
‘So can I ask you one thing? Was the fish already dead when you catapulted it over the trees?’
Molly liked his deadpan manner. ‘It was, I promise. And I didn’t use a catapult either.’ She clasped her hands and held them out at arm’s length. ‘It was more of a shot-putt technique.’
‘You’re going to have to tell me why.’ Dex pulled out one of the garden chairs. ‘Otherwise I’ll always wonder.’
It was a reasonable request.
‘My ex-boyfriend caught the fish. He brought it over for me as a present. Basically, I’d rather cut off my own ears,’ said Molly, ‘than try and cook something like that. But I didn’t know how to get rid of the thing. It’s twelve days till the next bin collection. I thought this way, maybe foxes would eat it . . . well, anyway, it seemed like a good idea at the time.’
‘What about all the people viewing the place?’
‘There haven’t been any viewings for four months.’
‘Well, that’s because they’d had an offer accepted and the sale was going ahead,’ said Dex. ‘Until it fell through last week.’
Molly shook her head at him. ‘No offers made either. Did the estate agent tell you that?’
‘Yes. To hear her, you’d think they were beating buyers off with a stick.’ He frowned. ‘But there’s nothing wrong with the cottage. Why hasn’t there been any interest?’
‘Are you serious?’ What kind of world did he live in? Although from the look of him and his car she could hazard a guess. ‘It’s massively overpriced. After Dorothy died, her daughter cleared the place out and put it on the market, but she wants far too much for it. Like, around fifty thousand too much.’ She paused. ‘Did it not seem like a lot to you?’
Dex was looking nonplussed. ‘To be honest, no. Compared with London prices everything looks like a complete bargain.’
‘Well, take it from me, it isn’t. You’d be mad to pay that much. So are you thinking of buying it, then?’
‘Maybe.’ His eyes glinted with amusement. ‘Would you hate it if I did?’
‘Why would I hate it?’
‘The old guys in the pub were grumbling about weekenders. That’s what I’d be.’
Molly shrugged. ‘Well, obviously you wouldn’t be living here. But these things happen. If you’re not going to be around for months on end, just promise me you won’t have one of those burglar alarms that sets itself off every time a mouse squeaks.’
Dex said gravely, ‘I promise. But other than that, you wouldn’t mind too much?’
‘I wouldn’t mind. You seem OK. Would you be holding noisy parties that go on all night and disturb the peace?’
‘It’s a possibility.’
‘Thank goodness for that,’ said Molly. ‘And you think your wife might forgive me for nearly killing her with a fish?’
‘Don’t worry about Alice. She isn’t my wife.’ The way he almost imperceptibly shook his head as he said it indicated that the relationship wasn’t destined to be the lasting kind. Molly had already guessed what he was like; that laid-back manner, those sparkling brown eyes, the moneyed air . . . it all belonged to someone used to getting whatever he wanted and whoever happened to take his fancy.
Honestly, though, that car of his was a bit much. Wouldn’t most girls find it off-putting to know that he was happy to drive around in something that was both canary yellow and a Porsche?
To change the subject, Molly said, ‘What made you come back for a second look anyway?’ Mischievously she added, ‘Keen on gardening, are you?’
‘I heard about it being called Gin Cottage. Wanted to see what juniper trees looked like.’ He shook his head and grimaced. ‘Those juniper berries taste weird.’
‘Oh my God, you mean you ate some?’ Molly let out a gasp of horror. ‘Are you serious, you actually swallowed them?’
‘Not some. Only one.’ He looked alarmed. ‘But . . . people use them in cooking.’
‘Cooking, yes! Once they’re cooked they’re OK. But you can’t eat them raw!’
‘Shit, I didn’t know they were poisonous.’
‘It’s OK.’ Molly broke into a smile, putting him out of his misery. ‘They’re not.’
‘What’s going on?’ Alice rejoined them, her arms bright pink from being scrubbed clean.
‘First she almost killed us with a fish. Then she tried to give me a heart attack.’ Dex clutched his chest. ‘I guess it’s all part of the master plan to keep the village safe from interlopers.’
‘Oh, I love that word,’ said Molly with enthu
siasm. ‘Interloper. It’s so . . . lollopy.’
‘Loopy,’ Dex countered.
‘Lollipoppy!’
Alice had been watching the two of them like a toddler not remotely keen on sharing her favourite toy. Tugging at Dex’s shirtsleeve, she said, ‘Anyway, we’ve seen the garden. All done now. Shall we go?’
Dex didn’t say a word; he didn’t need to. Molly could tell just by the look on his face that he was aware of Alice’s possessiveness and found it less than enchanting. Put it this way, if her birthday happened to be a few weeks from now, she probably shouldn’t hold her breath waiting for a present.
‘I guess we should. Well,’ he turned to Molly, ‘thanks for letting Alice use your bathroom.’
Alice made a tuh noise of disbelief.
‘No problem at all.’ Molly kept a straight face.
His eyes glittering, Dex said, ‘It’s been . . . interesting to meet you.’
Man-wise, he fell into the category of Utterly Dangerous; anyone daft enough to get involved with someone like that would have to expect to get their heart broken as a matter of course. On the plus side, if you weren’t romantically entangled with him, he’d undoubtedly be great fun.
‘Same.’ Molly wondered if he’d buy the cottage. ‘And don’t forget what I told you. If you offer them the full price, you’re mad.’
Chapter 6
The party was being held at a house in Notting Hill that belonged to someone whose name Dex had forgotten, but never mind. The man was in his sixties and wore the permanently startled look of someone whose recent eye-lift has yet to bed in. But his home was spectacular and he’d had the foresight to invite along plenty of pretty girls.
Dex helped himself to another drink; the music was loud and people were dancing with abandon. He could have stayed in tonight, but Rob and Kenny from work had talked him into coming along.
‘You can’t stay at home!’ Kenny had been incredulous. ‘If you do that, you’ll never know what you might have missed out on. It could be the party of the year.’
Rob had added, ‘Could be the night your life changes forever.’
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