We walk to the cottage so I can have a shower and get my clothes washed and dried, then he says he’ll come back later in the afternoon so we can go and pick up my car and drive it round. ‘You must have forced the gate to get in,’ he says, though he doesn’t sound cross. He’s grinning again, and I notice how it lights up his eyes. I confess to taking the chain off and protest that it wasn’t even properly locked.
‘That’s on the to-do list. There didn’t even used to be a gate, but we got it when we realised the car park was becoming a zone for, er, shall we say “adult activities”. Quite a few cars would be parked there late at night at times. The gate was really just for show to nip that in the bud.’
We reach the cottage after about fifteen minutes. It’s beautiful, framed by the trees from the forest and facing a country lane, with a road leading down towards some larger, older-looking properties. ‘It’s nice and quiet around here. And there’s a Tesco Express just a twenty-minute walk away, or only about a five-minute drive. Do you have, er, money and things?’
I shake my head. ‘No … I mean, I do, but my purse and phone are in my bag in the car. I can set up payment to you as soon as I get my phone.’
He looks embarrassed. ‘No, that wasn’t what I meant – I was thinking like teabags and milk and things. For supplies.’
‘Oh, I know,’ I laugh, and he does too, both of us trying to navigate the awkwardness. ‘I’ll be fine for now.’
He unlocks the door and shows me inside. The place still has that slightly solvent-based scent of new paint and wood. It’s been very well kitted out, with a very comfy-looking sofa and a separate armchair. In the open-plan kitchen I can see a coffee machine and a dishwasher. ‘This is wonderful,’ I say, turning around, taking it all in. I’m suddenly aware I must look like Belle discovering the library in Beauty and the Beast, so I make myself stand still.
He looks thrilled. ‘Brilliant. I’m pleased you like it.’
‘Did you do all this yourself?’ I ask.
He shakes his head. ‘No, I had a company do it. I’m more into the sorting-things-out side of things rather than the artistic stuff. That’s why I like managing properties, and the forest of course.’
‘How did you get into it?’
He laughs. ‘God, it’s a long story. I used to live here in the village when I was young, in an estate just on the edge. It’s been knocked down now. Awful place. I was a foster kid. I ran away to London when I was in my early teens and more or less lived on the streets for a bit. Got into some stuff I shouldn’t have done, just to survive. But then this rich old bloke who I met allowed me to wash his car for money, so long as I went back to school. He sorted all that out – I don’t know how he did it. These days the care system is more stringent, I think. But back then it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I got my GCSEs, and got an apprenticeship when I left and went on to do qualifications in bits and bobs. Then, when I met my wife, she had a bit of money saved and we moved up here and bought some property and started a family. That bit didn’t go so well. The marriage bit. But the kids mean the world to me, of course. And I still run the houses and my ex gets a cut. It’s all worked out in the end.’
His eyes glaze over a little, then he lets out another short laugh. ‘Sorry, that was literally my life story. More than you bargained for.’
I smile at him. ‘It’s a lovely story. It’s made … well, it’s made me feel a bit better.’
He smiles back, then returns to showing me round, telling me a few things about the washing machine and tumble dryer. He’s even brought with him some washing tablets from his house, along with a loaf of bread and a new pack of butter. I feel a rush of affection towards him when I see this, though I stop myself showing it.
‘Right. I need to hop off and get my kids now from their mum’s. You sure you’ll be OK? There’s a working landline if you need it. You can find my mobile on the laminated card thing in the visitor’s folder in the kitchen drawer. Honestly, just call if you need anything.’
I tell him I will, and again offer assurances that I’ll be fine. ‘I’ll see you about two-ish,’ he says, and opens the door. But instead of walking through it, he turns and looks back at me. ‘Do you know … it’s a very weird thing but … I feel like I already know you.’
I laugh, and our eyes meet. I look quickly away at the floor.
‘Hmm. Odd. Sorry, this is probably me growing senile already. See you in a bit!’
He closes the door behind him. I move to the window and watch his slim, tall form walk down the gravel path, back onto the country road and through the trees into the forest.
I turn back to the living room in front of me. Its neatness and serenity soothes me in ways I never knew were possible. It’s like the world has been made new again. I know my positivity won’t last. I know it’s only temporary, and there’ll be many nights ahead where I’ll wake up thinking about the many monsters lurking in my past. But today, I feel glad I was pulled from the river. Glad I’m here now in this house, with the thought of him returning in a few hours’ time.
I’m about to go and look round upstairs and have a shower when I hear a sound outside. It’s the sound of someone walking quickly, followed by the crunch of gravel and a knock at the door. I rush towards it and open it. He stands there, a little breathless, looking at me with astonishment and realisation filling his face.
He says just one word. But it’s enough.
‘Kitty?’
I look into his deep, hazel eyes and nod. ‘Hello Levi.’
A smile fills his face. A smile of warmth, amazement, and a thousand other emotions all rolled into one. Then he comes inside, and closes the door to the outside world behind him.