by Elise Noble
He laughed and gave me a gap-toothed smile. “Maybe we’ll see a bit more of you, then?”
“You can count on it.”
When I got home, pleasantly full, I parked the bike in the rickety old woodshed at the edge of the garden. It still had a small pile of rotting logs stacked in one corner, but now that Lilac Cottage had central heating, the remainder of the space was empty.
The piles of peril had also yielded a padlock and chain, and I secured the bike to a support beam then walked back down the mossy path to the cottage, cursing softly as I passed the remains of the old sofa. Why hadn’t I remembered it when Tate brought the horsebox? I wasn’t about to impose on him further, so now I’d have to put up with the eyesore until Dave came by with his van again. If I got lucky, the brambles might have a growth spurt and cover it up.
Next door, I heard the click of secateurs—Yvonne was out pruning her bushes. I raised my hand in greeting.
“Hello! Lovely afternoon, isn’t it?”
She looked right through me before turning on her heel and marching back into her house. Great. She’d succumbed to the rumours too. I’d been having such a good day, but now my eyes prickled with tears as I pined for my old flat. I’d take being ignored by my neighbours over this outright hostility any day.
There was only one solution.
“Maddie, it’s Olivia. How are you?”
“They’ve only put me on bloody nights again. I barely get to see Dave as it is, and I’m sure that bitch planned it deliberately. The administrator actually smirked when she told me the new rota.”
Okay, maybe calling Maddie wouldn’t provide the positivity I needed. “I’m so sorry. Could you try looking for a different job? People always need nurses, right?”
“I’ve started keeping my eye out, but what annoys me most is that I enjoyed working there until she came along. It may sound silly, but the stubborn part of me wants to stick it out in the hope it gets better.”
I could understand it—that was how I felt about living in Upper Foxford. Although I didn’t have the advantage of having loved it in the first place.
“I don’t think it’s silly at all. It would be a shame to jump out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
“Thank you—somebody who gets it. Dave can’t understand why I haven’t left already. I can only hope that bitch cracks first. Either that, or I’ll get sent down for murder.”
“Don’t say that. I’m sending virtual hugs.”
“How about you bring real hugs at the weekend? Do you remember Valerie from school?”
“The one with the really thick glasses?”
“She had her eyes lasered and married a doctor. Anyway, she’s having a party on Saturday, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you came as my plus one.”
What would I do if I stayed in Upper Foxford? Sit at home watching an American crime series on channel five? I had quite enough drama in my life already, thank you, and I didn’t even want to think about dead bodies. A trip back to the big smoke was just what I needed.
“Sounds great. I’ll be there.”
And for once, I was glad I’d be reliant on public transport. I could have a glass of wine and maybe a cocktail or two. I’d need them.
Little did I know that my alcohol requirements were only going to increase the next day. I did my eBaying—a sideline that was turning into more of a job than my actual job—then put on my leggings to take another bike ride. As well as the escape, I needed to burn off a few calories because my clothes were getting tighter. Granted, the pub in Stonystead wasn’t the best place to get diet food, but if I ate a bowl of soup and then came straight back, I’d still be able to fit into my jeans.
But I didn’t get that far.
“I don’t flipping believe this!”
Nobody was around to hear my wail, but when I saw my bike in the woodshed, complete with slashed tyres and red paint daubed on the seat, I couldn’t help myself.
It was a testament to how awful my life had become that I didn’t burst into tears or run screaming. On a scale of wild rumours to nasty burglary, slashed tyres only rated as a minor irritation.
Instead of crying, I turned around, walked back into the house, retrieved my emergency bottle of wine, and knocked back most of it. In no time at all, I’d slumped over the kitchen table with my eyes closed. There, that felt much better.
A hand on my shoulder made me jerk awake, and I let out a piercing scream before I snapped my eyes open.
“It’s okay, Olivia. It’s only me.”
“Tate? What are you doing here?”
“You weren’t answering your phone, and I got worried. Even more so when I found your back door unlocked.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight.”
He eyed up my wine glass. “A glass of wine? Or the whole bottle?”
“Not quite all of it.” There was at least a teaspoonful left in the bottom. “But somebody slashed my bike tyres, so I think I was entitled.”
“What? As in slashed them with a knife?”
“I guess so.”
“You mean there’s some maniac running around with a knife, and you left your door open? Anyone could have got in.”
He kind of had a point there. I shuddered at the thought and found I had a headache. “I won’t do it again, I promise. Please don’t be angry.”
His expression softened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”
“No, you’re right. It was stupid.”
“I didn’t even know you had a bike. Where is it?”
“In the shed out the back.”
“I’ll arrange to have the tyres replaced.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Please, I insist. Shall I stay and keep you company this evening? We could get a takeaway, watch a movie…”
“I don’t have a sofa or a television, so that could be difficult.” At least, I didn’t have a television in the lounge. I wasn’t ready to invite Tate up to my bedroom. Yet.
“Then why don’t you come over to my place? My housekeeper was off sick today, but it’s still reasonably presentable.” He gave me a cheeky smile. “I can take your mind off things.”
Now, that was an offer I couldn’t refuse.
Tate did indeed put on a movie, but I couldn’t have told you whether it was a horror flick, a romcom, or a thriller. It might even have been a blank screen. But I could have described every contour of Tate’s face, from his smooth forehead, to his perfectly straight nose, to his angular cheekbones. His lips, with their rounded Cupid’s bow, were pinker than my cheeks went when he started undoing the buttons of my blouse.
He caught my sharp intake of breath. “Do you want me to stop?”
I quickly shook my head no. His touch took me away from everyday life. Well, his touch and the wine, and I relished the trip. Tate might have been clean-shaven, but my lips still stung from overuse by the time he dropped me home again. Despite his previous offer for me to spend the night, he hadn’t got past second base, even though I half wished he’d gone for a home run. I’d need to sit in a bucket of iced water to put out the fire between my legs.
I clutched at Tate’s arm as we walked down the path to my front door, praying there wouldn’t be a repeat of last time. Tate glanced at the window at the same time as I did, and we let out a synchronised sigh of relief when we saw it was intact.
Tonight, I got more than a chaste kiss as he pushed me up against the front door and wrapped his arms around me, leaving me breathless once more. As he made me forget everything, I slipped my hands inside his shirt and ran my fingers over his chest, so warm in spite of the cool night air.
“Goodnight,” he whispered as he pulled away. “I’ll call you tomorrow. And don’t forget to lock your door.”
Words almost escaped me, but I managed to utter, “Goodnight, and I won’t,” in return.
I fanned myself as he climbed back into his car, and it was only once the roar of the
Mercedes’s powerful engine faded into the night that I came to my senses and unlocked the front door.
Prickles rose on the back of my neck the instant I stepped into the hallway. Why was the house so cold? I’d definitely left the heating on, and I could feel a draft that was never normally there. The curtains next to me wafted gently in the breeze, casting eerie shadows on the wall. I knew I’d closed all the windows, and I’d checked the back door twice as usual before I left. The chill spreading through the house and my veins told me that somebody had opened one of them for me.
I could hardly run to Bob and Yvonne’s house this time, not after Yvonne’s reaction to me yesterday afternoon, and I couldn’t see the point in calling the police. They’d only send Graham, and by the time he arrived, whoever was here would have had time to bury my body and fly to a non-extradition country. I was still waiting for someone to take my statement after the last episode. My fingers trembled as I dialled Tate, and I cursed under my breath when he didn’t answer. Of course, he was driving and would be for the next ten minutes.
I picked up a chunky china dog from the nicknack shelf and crept forward, inch by inch, brandishing the ornament in front of myself like a shield. When I cracked the living room door open, what I saw made me retch, leaving a stream of recycled wine decorating the already disgusting carpet.
GET LOST, BITCH
The words had been painted in foot-high bright-red letters, the same shade used on my bicycle seat. Drips of paint had run down the wall, and it looked as if the plaster itself were bleeding.
I dropped the dog and snatched up the heavy metal poker sitting next to the fireplace. Remnants of ash in the grate suggested someone had once used the poker for its intended purpose, but for now, it would have to do its duty as a makeshift weapon.
Fear gave way to anger as adrenaline pumped through my veins. I’d had enough. I almost hoped my tormentor was still in the house, because I’d enjoy sticking that damn poker somewhere painful.
My heart pounded as I threw open one door after another, checking every cupboard, nook, and cranny, no matter how tight a fit they might be. But the only evidence of the intruder apart from the wall art in the lounge was the open back door, its hinges squeaking as it blew back and forth.
I slammed it in a fury, and the house rattled. Thankfully, only one small pane of glass had been broken this time, and at least I was now on first-name terms with the glazier. I taped a piece of cardboard over the hole to keep the draft out and balanced a pile of saucepans on the floor behind it. At least if anybody came back, the pans would topple over, and I’d get some warning.
Cold and fear made me shiver as I climbed into bed fully clothed. If I had any more unwelcome visitors, the last thing I wanted was for the crime scene investigators to stand over my corpse and lament my poor taste in pyjamas. Assisted by the alcohol still swimming through my veins, I fell asleep clutching the poker close to my chest.
Just let anybody try to take it off me.
Just let them.
CHAPTER 18
I ROLLED OVER into something warm and furry on Saturday morning. Twiglet. He’d taken to sneaking into bed with me, and I didn’t have the heart to kick him out. Hang on. What was that cold thing lying across my stomach? A poker? Why did I have a poker in bed with me?
Exactly how much wine had I drunk last night?
Enough, it would seem, because it took a good thirty seconds before the previous evening’s events became clear in my mind. When my thoughts finally crystallised, I leapt out of bed.
Someone had been in my house!
And I’d been stupid enough to sleep there. I smacked my own head. That was it—I was never drinking again. Ever.
Shaking with every step, I picked up the poker again and did a sober circuit of the cottage. Nothing. Nothing but those horrible words on my wall, which told me it wasn’t just kids messing around, no matter what everybody said. When I got back to the bedroom, all my false bravado subsided, and my legs gave way. Twiglet mewed on the bed next to me, and I scritched his head.
“I’ll get you breakfast in a minute, little one.”
Breathe, Olivia. Nobody else was in the house, and I’d even blocked up the broken window. At least drunk me hadn’t been completely incompetent, merely incredibly stupid.
Sometimes I didn’t understand myself. Why hadn’t I just called Tate again? Or better still, 999?
I rectified the situation as best as I could by calling the police to file a report. Graham made vague promises about doing paperwork but gave me no confidence whatsoever.
“We didn’t find any fingerprints last time, so I doubt we’ll find anything this time. Hardly seems worth sending a forensics team out.”
Good to know my taxes were hard at work, wasn’t it? “But somebody’s been in my house. What if it happens again?”
“You might want to try and stop upsetting the locals. Keep your head down for a bit,” he suggested, making me want to throttle him.
I’d hardly gone out of my way to annoy people deliberately, had I?
I sent Tate a text to let him know I’d had another break-in, but when he called back and offered to cancel his weekend golf trip to stay with me, I insisted he go. Having him change his plans would be yet another black mark in my copybook.
In any case, I wouldn’t be at home for most of the weekend. I’d be at Valerie’s party with Maddie, and Maddie had offered her sofa bed for Saturday night. I agonised over whether to stay in Upper Foxford instead, but if I did, I’d give the person out to ruin my life even more control. They could try to destroy my home, but I’d be dammed if I’d let them take my soul as well. I’d just have to hope Lilac Cottage was still in one piece when I got back.
On Saturday, the party was in full swing by the time Maddie and I arrived with Mickey in tow. They’d bonded on our initial trip to Lilac Cottage, and when Maddie mentioned on Facebook that I’d be in town, Mickey had invited himself around for a drink, and we figured he might as well come to the party.
“Valerie won’t mind,” Maddie said. “The more people who turn up, the more popular she looks. She even invited the checkout assistant from Tesco to one of her parties when he asked what all the wine was for.”
As I wasn’t going home tonight, I suspended my teetotal pledge for the weekend. I needed to have fun, and one glass of wine wouldn’t hurt. Or punch, even.
“It’s white wine mixed with Prosecco,” slurred Valerie, who’d clearly been sampling the product. For most of the afternoon, judging by the lack of focus in her eyes. “And I put some fruit in too so we get our vitamins.” She gave me a grin, then hiccupped.
I glanced down, checking she still had all her fingers. How she’d managed to keep them while chopping up the strawberries, oranges, and kiwi fruit was a minor miracle. I ladled myself out a small cupful and took a sip. Not bad.
“Is that all you’re having?” Maddie asked.
“I’m trying to cut back.”
“Why? Life’s too short.”
“I’ve done a couple of really stupid things while I was tipsy, and I want to avoid it happening again.”
She bumped me with her shoulder. “Oh come on, the strip club was fun. You must have seen the funny side of that by now.”
I stared daggers at her.
“Okaaaay, maybe not. So, what else have you done? You’d have to have gone some to top that.” Her eyes widened as her brain went into overdrive. “Did you do something with one of your hot men? Oh, tell me you did.”
“Men? You make me sound like a hussy. I’ve only been out for dinner with Tate.”
She rolled her eyes. “Tate? What’s wrong with Warren? Tate sounds like Edward all over again.”
“You reckon?”
“Rich bloke in a suit, happy to splash the cash when it suits him.”
“Tate’s not like that.”
Maddie topped up my cup with another ladleful of punch. It was good stuff. And the more I drank, the healthier it was, right?
“Yo
u can’t just give me that and stop,” she said.
“There’s not much to tell.” But I couldn’t help blushing.
“So, have you done it?”
She didn’t hold back, did she? Mind you, she never had. “No, Miss Nosey, we have not done it.”
“Why not? You need to have a rebound fling to get Edward out of your system once and for all.”
“I’m not like you, Maddie.” Although sometimes I wished I were. Especially with Tate. I’d spent more than a few daydreams imagining him wrapped around me.
“Maddie! Olivia!”
I squinted at the girl teetering towards us on towering heels. “Rachel?” Another old school friend.
“Yes!” She thrust a garishly coloured cocktail into my hand. “Try this. We’ve been experimenting.”
“What’s in it?” I sniffed, but apart from a hint of coconut, I was none the wiser.
Her eyes flicked up as she tried to remember. “Uh… I don’t know. But there’s definitely alcohol.”
She collapsed in giggles as I tried a sip. There wasn’t anything but alcohol, judging by the way my throat burned.
“Just knock it back,” Maddie suggested.
Oh, what the hell? I’d stop drinking tomorrow.
Sometime later, I’d lost my shoes and also my inhibitions. Plus, I may have dirty danced with two guys I didn’t know then led a conga line around Valerie’s flat. Mickey had been right behind me, and now I spotted him on the improvised dance floor with a blonde girl I didn’t recognise. They only had eyes for each other. Aw, sweet.
I twisted an ankle staggering towards the punch bowl then gave in to gravity, collapsing onto a sofa between Maddie and Rachel before I’d managed to top my drink up.
“Did you see me?” I asked them. “I did the lift out of Dirty Dancing.”
Maddie choked on a laugh. “No, you tried to do the lift, and then three men caught you when the other one lost his balance.”
I giggled uncontrollably. “I know, and it was awesome!”
“Are you only back for tonight?” Rachel asked. “I’ve missed you at events like this.”
“Yes, just the night. But I’ll try to visit more often.”
