Nell parked her new car next to the house, got out and studied the vehicle approvingly. Bright yellow wasn’t her favourite colour for a car, but it was supposed to be the safest colour of car to drive. Or so Nick had once told her. She’d bought it because of its reasonable price and modest size, not because of the colour, and because it was an automatic.
She’d not enjoyed changing gear manually on her hire car and was glad the company would be picking it up this afternoon. Well worth the extra money not to have to drive it somewhere and then get herself back here somehow.
She kept wondering how her sons were going on. They’d probably have turned the flat into a pigsty by now, knowing them.
Wait till they ran out of clothes! She wished she could be a fly on the wall when they did their first load of washing. She’d tried to teach them how to sort and wash things before she left, but they’d only said, ‘Yeah, yeah!’ and gone glassy-eyed, so she’d dropped the subject.
She’d sent all three sons an email yesterday from the local library, telling them she’d arrived safely and promising more information when she got online again. She’d ended with an outright lie: ‘I’m loving it here in my tiny cottage.’ She didn’t want them to think she had any spare bedrooms.
Thank goodness she didn’t need to worry about Robbie. He’d always been the sensible one and Linda didn’t put up with any laziness from him.
Nell had only given her new street address to him with strict instructions to keep it to himself.
The other two hadn’t even asked her for it.
When Steve had suggested coming to England with her, she’d been horrified. If either of them dared follow her there, she’d run for the hills. Once they’d learnt to stand on their own feet, it’d be different, but she wasn’t funding a long holiday for them.
Anyway, she was pretty sure they didn’t have any money saved for the airfare, so she ought to be safe in her new domain for a good while.
She hadn’t mentioned their father in her emails and had cut all connections with him. She’d put him on the ‘block senders’ list when she got her own email again. The only ties left between them now were their sons – and the invisible scars from their unhappy marriage.
Well, enough of that. She had to look forward now, not backward.
In a few minutes Angus was coming to help her set up her new computer system and Internet connection. She’d asked him to get her a screen to which she could attach her laptop for the time being. Using a laptop for long gave her a crick in the neck.
She could probably have managed to set things up on her own, because she was reasonably capable with technology, but she’d rather have help getting connected in a different country. Just in case.
Anyway, he seemed a nice guy and she needed to make friends here. It was good that he, too, was taking an interest in helping Winifred. She hated the thought of a woman in her eighties first being mugged then having her summer house deliberately burnt down, with threats made of further attacks.
A car stopped in the street and she looked down the drive. Not Angus. He drove an old rattletrap and this was a recent model, large and luxurious.
The man who got out of it stood for a moment studying her house, looking at it so intently she continued to keep a surreptitious eye on him. He was showily dressed and she quickly decided he must be trying to sell something.
Seeing her at the side of the house, he turned away from the front gate and came along the drive. ‘Miss Chaytor?’
‘Ms Chaytor,’ she corrected.
‘I’m Grant Jeffries.’ He held out a business card.
He hadn’t corrected the way he’d addressed her, which was a strike against him as far as she was concerned. She glanced at the card he’d shoved into her hand and saw it was from an estate agent’s and his name had the title ‘Manager’ after it.
She thrust the card back at him but he didn’t take it. She’d have tossed it on the ground, only she’d have been the one who had to pick it up again. ‘I don’t want to sell my house, thank you.’ She said it firmly and turned to go indoors.
‘Could I beg the favour of a few minutes of your time, Miss, er Ms Chaytor? I’m sure you’ll be pleased with what I have to tell you.’
She sighed and turned round, thinking ‘persistent toad’!
‘I’m here to present an excellent offer from a client who wishes to buy your house.’
‘Why would anyone make me an offer when I haven’t put it on the market?’
‘My client knew the former owner had died and asked me to keep an eye on it. When I heard you’d moved in, I came to see you on his behalf.’
She did not, she decided, like Jeffries’ smarmy smile. Her guess had been correct: he was a salesman. ‘I’ve already told you that I do not wish to sell my house. What part of that statement did you not understand?’
He blinked in surprise at her sharp tone and a scowl replaced the practised smile for a few seconds. ‘You haven’t even heard the offer, my dear lady. And this house is, if I may say so, in need of a great many expensive repairs. You can save yourself a lot of trouble by selling it as is.’
‘Who’s made the offer? Perhaps they understand English better than you do.’ She spoke more loudly. ‘I do not – wish – to sell my house.’
He winced and pressed on. ‘The offer is from the developer of the over-50s housing project just down the street from you.’
‘Ah. I see.’ Angus’s car drew up outside her house and when he sat waiting for her to finish dealing with her visitor, she beckoned to him.
Jeffries carried on speaking in a soft, earnest voice. ‘The two houses next to yours on the downhill side have just been sold to the same developer, as well as the house uphill from yours. He also owns the nearby plots in the next street behind your back gardens. Your property would neatly round off what my client needs to add another short street to his over-50s project.’
When she said nothing, he continued speaking. ‘The developer has even had the street’s name approved in theory by the council: Cinnamon Gardens. Pretty name, isn’t it? The planning department is very much in favour of this development. Why don’t I come in and discuss the matter with you?’
‘Because I’m not interested. Please leave my property and don’t come back.’
‘But—’
‘Damned well go away!’
Her words must have carried clearly, because Angus was grinning as he joined them. ‘Is this fellow giving you trouble, Nell?’
‘Nothing I can’t handle. He wants to sell my house and his English is so poor, he doesn’t understand me when I say I have no desire to sell it at this point.’ She turned and made a sudden shooing gesture towards Jeffries, who took a couple of hasty steps backwards. ‘Let’s try some other words … Scram! Vamoose! Get lost! Rack off! Am I making myself clear yet or do we need an interpreter?’
When she paused, Jeffries opened his mouth as if to say something else, so she turned her back on him and said loudly, ‘Come inside, Angus. If that nong wants to stand there all day talking to himself, he can.’
Keeping his face turned away from the angry man and looking as if he was dying to laugh, Angus hurried towards the kitchen door. ‘Nong?’ he queried once they were out of earshot.
‘An old Aussie word for a fool. I’ve always liked it.’
Jeffries bellowed after them, ‘You will be hearing from me again, Ms Chaytor! The council is very eager to encourage more housing suitable for the elderly in this town. You should strike while the iron is hot. A good offer doesn’t last for ever, you know, and there are such things as compulsory purchases.’
A minute later they heard a car door slam then the engine start up.
‘Just out of curiosity, how much was he offering?’ Angus asked.
‘Haven’t the faintest. I don’t want to sell, so I didn’t ask.’
‘Wouldn’t have hurt to find out, though. Always gather information about your opponent.’
She gave him a rueful smile. ‘I suppose you’re right, but he approached me at a time when I was enjoying a quiet moment in my new home. And he got right up my nose with his patronising tone. Maybe I’ll call him in a week or two and find out what his client is offering. Even if I decide to live permanently in England, this house is too big for me.’
‘You should call him sooner than that. As I said, it pays to know your enemy.’
‘He isn’t my enemy, not exactly. He said he was acting for the developer of those retirement villas in Sunset Close, who has apparently bought the nearby houses on the next street as well.’
‘That’d be Gus Nolan. Not my favourite person on this planet – but don’t let me prejudice you against him. He’s perfectly capable of doing that himself.’
‘OK.’
‘But if what your visitor said was right, Nolan’s well on his way to putting together another stage to this development. You can be sure he has a couple of people on the town council in his pocket, so if you’re the last one to hold out, there may indeed be pressure put on you officially not to stand in the way of the project.’
‘In which case, maybe I can get them to up their price. But I don’t want to move anywhere yet. I’ve just done one house clearance and move, the first for twenty-five years, and it wasn’t fun.’
‘Are you really thinking of staying in England permanently?’
She shrugged. ‘Probably not permanently. I want to keep in touch with my sons, and there’s a grandchild on the way.’
He grinned at her. ‘Well, mine just arrived early. It was supposed to be a boy, but it turned out to be a girl. It happens sometimes, apparently. Ashleigh is very annoyed. She’d bought boys’ things for it.’
‘Congratulations on becoming a double granddad.’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t get to see them very often. She’s a two-hour drive away, and you have to book weeks in advance to hit a gap in her social life.’
‘Yes. I have to bear in mind that my sons may move away from Western Australia. It’s like a juggling act these days, isn’t it, keeping up with your children? Anyway, I’ve only just arrived in England and all I’m planning at the moment is to enjoy having a house and life to myself. Fliss’s house came at the perfect time.’ Then she remembered something.
He picked up her change in mood instantly. She’d never met a guy as sensitive to other people’s moods as he was.
‘What’s wrong, Nell?’
‘The roof has been leaking at the back and there’s fungus growing in one corner of the top floor. I have to do something about that.’
‘If you like, I’ll have a look at it once we’ve sorted out your Internet connection.’
‘I can’t keep taking advantage of you.’
‘I offered. You didn’t ask.’
She gave him a puzzled look. ‘You’re being extraordinarily kind to a stranger.’
‘I am, aren’t I? I haven’t quite figured out why myself.’
He reached out to tuck a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear and she sucked in her breath involuntarily because even that light touch got to her.
She edged away from him, unnerved by her own reaction. It had been so long since she’d responded to a man’s touch. ‘Do you, um, know much about house repairs?’
He looked down at his hand as if it had acted of its own accord, then stuffed it into his pocket and took a deep breath. ‘I know a fair bit because I have a large old house to take care of too.’
‘Ah. Well. All right, then. But I’d better invite you round twice to meals as a thank you.’ He could easily say no if she was misreading the situation and he wasn’t interested in her.
‘I won’t say no. You don’t know how to make chocolate mousse, do you?’
‘It’s my favourite dessert.’
‘Mine too, actually. I’ll make you one.’ She gestured to the vehicle. ‘Before we go inside, how do you like my new car? Do you know about cars as well?’
‘I know far less about cars. That one isn’t new but the bodywork looks in good nick. Come to think of it, I’ve read some excellent reviews of that model.’
‘I thought you said you weren’t into cars?’
‘I may have to buy a newish one for myself soon, so I’ve started gathering information. Mine is wearing out fast. Well, it is twelve years old. I only need that police harridan to find something wrong with it and I’m in trouble.’
‘Police harridan?’
‘Long story.’
‘I’m not in a hurry.’
He flushed slightly. ‘I suppose you’re bound to find out so I might as well tell you. As it happens I’m related to an earl and that makes me an honourable. A certain police constable, Edwina Richards by name, is from a family which hates the aristocracy with a passion. She’s carrying on her father’s tradition of picking on the Dennings. And I’m the only Denning left round here.’
Nell smiled. ‘I don’t care either way, so I promise to forget about your title.’
‘It’s not really a title and I don’t usually mention it.’
‘I read a novel once with an “honourable” in it. If I remember correctly, you only write it, not use it when speaking to the person.’
‘Yes. Um, how did you decide on this car?’
He was clearly trying to change the subject and looked so embarrassed she followed his lead.
‘I went to the car yard in town and thought this one looked about the right size and price for me. It felt right when I sat in it, so I told them it was too expensive.’
‘A demon bargainer, are you?’
‘I’ve had to be. Craig might have paid the basic maintenance for the boys on time, but he was never generous about anything else they needed.’
She could have kicked herself for bad-mouthing her ex, so went on hastily, ‘When the salesman tried to persuade me to consider buying that car, I said I’d think about it but wanted to check other car yards out. Then I left.’
Angus grinned. ‘Definitely a demon bargainer. Good for you.’
‘I went to a couple of other places to compare prices, then to the library, where I got online to research this model. The price seemed fair and the reviews said it was a reliable car with low running costs, so I went back two hours after my first visit and allowed the guy to persuade me to buy. I managed to knock him down a bit first, though.’
‘Well done, you. Now, let’s get this computer fixed up. I’ll just fetch the various pieces of hardware in from my car.’
‘I’ll help you carry the boxes.’
‘I can—’
But she’d already gone down the drive.
He caught up with her and pinged to unlock the car. ‘Are you always so ferociously independent, Nell?’
‘Yep.’
He put on a mock Aussie accent. ‘Good on yer, lady.’
They both chuckled and she thought how pleasant it was to joke with him. She’d been avoiding men of her own age socially for years, not only because of Craig, but because she’d worked with some selfish masculine prats, even if they did have legal degrees.
‘Just a minute. Let me jiggle with my car lock. It’s a bit wonky.’
Her thoughts continued to wander as he fiddled with the old vehicle. Her life in Australia had been quite pleasant, if busy, but oh, it had been so very tame! There was no other word for it. Tame. Motherhood, her day job, an occasional coffee or meal out with her women friends, and always something needing doing in the house or garden.
No real excitement, certainly no towering joy. She was fed up of that sameness.
She didn’t want to marry again – no way! – but she’d not say no to a relationship. She wasn’t very experienced with men, though, because she’d married young, so she was going to tread warily.
She stole a glance at Angus. He was rather nice, in a nerdish sort of way. She loved the way his spectacles magnified his eyes – pale-blue eyes, the colour of winter skies. He must have gone grey early because his hair was pure silver now, even though his face looked young still. In her experience, people turned old inside their heads much more than on the outside. It wasn’t grey hair but facial expressions that betrayed whether they considered themselves old.
Why was she thinking about Angus like that? Because he’d touched her, that’s why. One damned touch and her whole body had reacted to it. He was dangerously attractive.
She nodded her head. Good! About time her emotions had an outing.
‘There you are. I think the catch needs oiling again. Or something.’
She grabbed a couple of the boxes and led the way inside the house. ‘I’m going to keep the computer in the dining room. It can sit on the table for the moment. Fliss had her connection there, so there’s a connection point. See.’
He got her online quickly, which was great, but then his phone rang and when he looked at the message, he sighed. ‘I’ll have to come back another time to look at your attic. I need to deal with this straight away.’
And he was gone without another word.
Saved by the bell! she thought. She’d actually been thinking of inviting him to stay to tea.
And was disappointed that he’d had to leave.
Oh, she was a fool! She hardly knew the man. But she wanted to.
Dan Shackleton had been out of circulation for a few days, having a minor procedure done at the hospital. The doctors had expected it to be a day surgery only, but his stupid elderly heart had chucked a wobbly and they’d kept him in for a couple of nights.
How he hated being shut indoors! Hated hospitals, too. He’d spent too much time in them in recent years, watching his wife’s health follow her mind downhill.
When he got home, he obeyed instructions and didn’t do anything strenuous, just pottered round the house and leafed through his latest gardening catalogues. But he could look out of the window and watch the birds in his garden. A cheeky little robin soon had him smiling.
Well, he didn’t feel up to doing much, he admitted to himself, but he might sit outside in his garden once he’d made himself a decent cup of tea. He had a table and chairs in a nice sunny spot.
The next day Dan felt much more lively and since the weather was fine again, he strolled across to see how his allotment was going on. He wasn’t going to do anything to it, except maybe a bit of watering. The doctor had told him short walks were good for him and it was only three streets away, after all.
To his relief, someone had watered his seedlings. It’d be young Janey. She loved gardening nearly as much as he did.
There was no one else at the allotments and he admitted to himself that even the short walk had tired him more than usual, so he sat outside his hut, enjoying more of the mild sunshine on his face.
The sound of a squeaky wheel made him open his eyes, and to his delight, it was Janey with little Millie sitting in the buggy, watching the world with a big wide smile.
‘That wheel needs oiling again,’ he said.
‘You stay where you are, Mr S and I’ll get the oilcan. I came to check whether the seedlings needed watering. I thought you’d be resting at home today.’
‘I am resting. But it’s nicer to rest here.’
‘I bet you walked here.’
‘Well, yes. But it’s not far and they said to do some gentle exercise.’
She parked the buggy where Millie could see what was going on around her, then studied him. ‘How are you really, Mr Shackleton? I rang your neighbour and she told me you’d been kept in the hospital, but I couldn’t visit you there because it’s a bit too far out of town. I didn’t dare miss my classes at tech after starting the course late.’
‘I’m fine. They had to put in a pacemaker as well as a stent, so they kept me in prison for an extra day or two.’
‘Prison! That’s a bit unfair to hospitals, isn’t it?’
‘It’s what it felt like. Those nurses were so bossy. Anyway, never mind them. What’s been going on round here? Did I miss any excitement?’
‘You did. I’ll put the kettle on, then tell you about all the goings-on.’
‘Good goings-on or bad?’
‘Both.’ She came out of the hut and sat beside him, bringing him up to date on what had been happening to Winifred.
‘Well, I never! You’re sure she’s all right?’
‘Yes. And you’ll never guess what’s happened!’
He saw tears fill Janey’s eyes, but she was smiling so that was all right. ‘Go on. Tell me.’
‘She’s invited me and Millie to go and live with her. Isn’t that wonderful, Mr S? She needs to have someone around and I’ve been feeling so lonely in that flat. And it’ll save me money as well.’
He fumbled for his handkerchief and passed it to her, so that she could mop her eyes. ‘I’m glad for both of you, lass. If Winifred’s been having trouble, she definitely shouldn’t be living on her own. She’s ten years older than me, you know. She’s wonderful for her age. She’ll see me out, that’s for sure.’
‘Don’t talk like that!’
He laughed softly. ‘By my age most people have faced the fact that life doesn’t go on for ever. The important thing is to enjoy what life you do get.’
‘Well, I hope yours goes on for a long time yet. Anyway, there’s something else wonderful. I know we said you two were like honorary grandparents, but people know you aren’t. She’s asked me to call her Auntie Winnie instead. People can’t tell immediately whether that’s right or not. Neither of us has any actual family. Not now.’
‘Eh, that’s really good.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘You could, um, call me Uncle Dan if you wanted. I’d like that. I never see my grandchildren and I enjoy young company.’
‘Really? Oh, I’d love to.’
He reached out to take hold of her hand. ‘That’s good, lass.’
She patted his leathery old hand. ‘Won’t your sons mind? You do have relatives.’
He snorted in disgust. ‘I don’t see much of my sons. Terry lives in Reading. Simon’s wife left me some food in the fridge and they rang up last night to check that I’d got home safely, but they didn’t come near me.
‘They left a message that they’d come round to see me at the weekend. I could die and they’d not know it.’
He shrugged but she could see he was upset about that.
To take his mind off it, she said, ‘You know how we were talking about setting up a garden-share scheme at Auntie Winnie’s?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, once I’ve settled in and you’ve recovered properly, will you help us plan and organise it? You could be the expert adviser, no hard digging but helping folk get going. You know so much about plants. It’s far too big a garden for me to look after and it frets Auntie Winnie to see it looking such a mess.’
To her relief he brightened up at once.
‘Well, if Winifred’s still OK with the idea, I’m in for it too. It’ll give us both something to do and it makes sense for folk with too much garden to share it with those who don’t have one. Think of the good vegetables we can grow for you and young Millie once we’ve got the soil up to scratch, and without all those nasty chemicals. I shall start making plans and checking my catalogues when I get home. That’s something I can do without tiring myself out.’
He’d have liked to go and visit Winifred today, but the extra walking would have been too much for him, he knew, so he contented himself with phoning her later on and having a good long chat.
He saw his smiling face in the mirror as he put down the phone. Well, he should be happy: he had friends now, an adopted niece and something to look forward to.
He missed his wife, always would. Alzheimer’s was a dreadful thing to happen to anyone. But Peggy had passed on and that was that, so very final.
You had to make a new life for yourself when you lost someone or you’d just moulder away.
But it would be good if he could still be a useful member of the community. He didn’t like to sit around watching TV all day like some retired people he knew. He liked to do things.
In Australia, Steve was woken by the alarm clock his mother had bought him ringing loudly in his ear. He hadn’t set the stupid thing, so why was it going off?
Cursing, he fumbled for it and knocked it off the cardboard box he was using as a bedside table in the new flat. Only it carried on ringing, out of reach now.
He groaned as he sat up. His head was thumping and his mouth tasted foul. He tried to remember the previous night and couldn’t work out what he’d been drinking. No, it hadn’t been booze. His friend Nate had scored some pills that were supposed to make you feel good. Only Steve couldn’t remember a thing, good or bad, after taking one, and he felt awful now.
He’d tried a few things to get high, but they didn’t always work.
He struggled to his feet and found the alarm clock, fumbling till he’d stopped it making that awful racket.
As he turned to get back into bed and continue sleeping, the door of his room opened and his brother Nick yelled, ‘Don’t go back to bed, you dill! It’s Monday. Good thing I set your alarm clock. Hurry up or you’ll be late for work.’
Steve gave him a rude sign, but on consideration he decided Nick was right. He’d better not be late again or his supervisor would go ape.
His brother was already dressed and ready for work, but Steve couldn’t find any clean clothes.
‘Can you lend me a clean shirt, Nick?’
‘No way. You spilt coffee down the last one I lent you, then left it on the floor. I washed and ironed all mine and I told you to do yours but then your so-called friend rang and you went rushing off to meet him.’
‘What do you mean by “so-called friend”?’
‘He’s bad news, that one is. The word is he’s dealing.’
‘No way. Nate just uses a bit of the good stuff occasionally for recreation. Everyone does these days. He didn’t sell it me, he gave it me to try.’
‘And look what it did to you.’ Nick stared at him. ‘You’ve got a really dopey look on your face.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘We both promised Ma we wouldn’t do drugs. If I find you getting into them again, I’m out of here, and then how will you pay the rent? You owe me for the next two weeks, by the way.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
When Nick had left for work, Steve went to raid his brother’s room for clean clothes, but found a brand-new lock on the door.
For two pins he’d break it down.
He raised one fist, then let it drop again. No, better not. He might damage the door, then he’d have to buy a new one.
He fumbled through the clothes scattered around his bedroom floor and found a shirt that didn’t look too bad. He’d have to do some washing tonight.
It was all his mother’s fault for abandoning them so suddenly. She should have been here, helping them get used to it.
What the hell was she doing in England that was more important than looking after her sons, anyway?
He agreed with his dad that she was hiding something from them. But what?