James walked round Cassie and over to the porch outside her front door and placed the first two of his suitcases on the dry ground there. Hopefully, by the time he’d got back to the car to get the other two cases, she’d have buggered off back to the neighbour’s house.
He was an adult. He didn’t need to be shown round the house by its owner; he needed to look around and unpack in peace. The drive up from Boston to Maine via the scenic coastal route had been glorious, but the long queue for the ferry out to the island had been pretty un-glorious, as was this bloody rain. He clearly didn’t want to talk to a complete stranger right now.
The complete stranger was ranting at him, he realised, as he turned round. He couldn’t hear a word that she said, due to the rain and the fact that she was about fifteen feet away from him. He also couldn’t see her face, or anything of her other than some long dark hair escaping from her hood and the fact that she was quite short, but her body language was clear. She had one hand on where her hip would be underneath her enormous coat, and with the other was gesticulating in a finger jabbing kind of way.
Whatever. If he didn’t engage, hopefully she’d just go away. The only thing he needed from her was the front door key.
‘Great,’ he said, when she’d finished her inaudible tirade. ‘Is the front door open?’
She took a couple of steps closer to him and said, ‘Great?’ Okay, so she was within earshot again.
‘Yes. Is the front door open?’
‘What do you mean great?’
James shook his head slightly. He turned back round to try the door. It was open. Good news. He would need the key, though.
He turned back to Cassie. ‘This is great,’ he said. ‘Fantastic. Thank you. Kind of you to welcome me. Could I get the key?’
‘Frankly, that’s a poor apology.’
‘Sorry, what am I apologising for?’
‘As Isaid, I moved heaven and earth to change my dates for you, and I think a lot of people would have acknowledged that.’ She had a very attractive accent. He’d noticed it on the phone and again now. Scottish. Or Irish. He could never tell the difference, which he knew was shocking, especially given that Matt was from Dublin, but in his defence he was pretty sure that there were a lot of similarities. Her voice was attractive too, warm and soft. Her attitude, however, wasn’t that soft. She’d been snippy from start to finish. She’d been reluctant to provide the extra documentation he’d asked for – very reasonably, surely, in that they were entrusting each other with their homes. She’d been awkward about the start date for their swap, with no reasonable explanation given. And now she wanted ‘acknowledgement’. Her face was obscured by the ridiculous bright-blue fake fur all the way round her large hood, but at a guess she’d be looking angry.
Well, fine. He’d both apologise and thank her, and hopefully she’d just leave, immediately.
‘I’m sorry and I’m very grateful,’ he said. ‘Thank you. Very kind. If I could just get the key?’
Cassie pulled it out of her pocket, took a couple of steps forward and plonked it into his hand.
‘Have a great stay,’ she said. ‘Let me know if you need anything.’
‘I’m sure I’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘Thanks again. Have a good flight.’ He hoped she was leaving tomorrow.
‘Thank you.’ She didn’t sound like she meant it, which made no difference to him. Hopefully they’d never speak again.
‘Bye,’ he said. His feet were soaking. These loafers were new, and they were probably ruined. If Cassie hadn’t been here, either he’d have waited in the car until this shower blew over – if it was indeed short-lived – or he’d have got himself inside quickly. Either way, his shoes would probably have survived a lot better.
‘Goodbye.’ And, thank God, off she squelched.
By the time James had all his luggage inside the flamingo-wallpapered – yes, really – hall, the rain had, as Cassie had predicted, suddenly stopped. Probably a good idea to explore outside now, in case another shower started.
The setting was as perfect as Cassie’s photos and Google Earth had indicated. When Cassie had quibbled about the start date, he’d nearly pulled out. He’d had his eye on another couple of options, one in Vermont, in the mountains, and the other by a lake in New Hampshire, but he’d liked the idea of island living, and the tourism business opportunities it might present, and now that he didn’t have Cassie in his face, he could see that this was looking great.
It didn’t seem likely that he’d be disturbed by neighbours, which was ideal. Cassie’s plot was on the tip of a headland at the end of the island furthest away from the little ferry terminal, down a lane from the centre of the nearby village, in a cluster of five or six houses.
The house itself was low, wide and wooden. James walked round the side of it and found a large and beautiful garden. The views from the garden were stunning – the ocean, some other islands, or fields and woodland, depending where you looked. He nodded. Idyllic at first sight.
He continued through the garden towards the ocean. And, yes, there was an actual gate onto a little beach. The beach was the stuff of fantasies, particularly those of investors in the tourism industry. Fine white sand. Blue ripply sea. Great views including nearby uninhabited-looking islands. Silence apart from sea birds, lapping water and an odd animal clicking kind of sound somewhere to his right. Essentially unspoilt and yet easily accessible from the East Coast of America. Pretty spectacular. There had to be some great business opportunities here. People loved holidays in this kind of environment.
James pulled his jumper off over his head – incredible how much warmer it was now that it had stopped raining – and turned to walk back towards the house. Time to check out the interior. Maybe he’d unpack and then go for a swim if the weather stayed like this for the rest of the day.
Wow. He hadn’t focused on Cassie’s garden furniture on his way towards the beach. Now he was seeing it in its full psychedelic glory. On a patio outside double doors at the back of the house, which appeared to lead into the kitchen, were metallic chairs and a table in a riot of purple, orange and pink stripes merging into each other. Where could you even buy stuff like that? Andwhywould you buy stuff like it?
The colour theme continued inside the house. Seriously. Cassie really loved her colour. The flamingo wallpaper was pretty muted by comparison to some of the rooms. No wonder she’d included mainly photos of the garden and its surroundings on the swap website. Too many up-close images of the interior could definitely scare some potential swappers off.
The woman also loved her books. There were full bookcases everywhere, with no discernible filing system. On one shelf alone she hadGolf for Beginners,The Portuguese Cork Industry,Harry Potter, a couple of Mills & Boons, Charles Dickens and some modern fiction, with block-coloured spines and authors James didn’t recognise.
