‘Hello?’ I bent down to speak into a rusty intercom. The buttons and speaker were almost completely hidden by prickly vines and it very much looked as though no one had used it in a long time. ‘I’m here to deliver a package for Ms M. Moore?’
There was a crackle of static as the speaker activated.
‘Bring them to me.’
Short, sweet, straight to the point.
‘Hi, yes, hello?’ I replied to the disembodied voice. ‘Sorry, but the front gate is locked and I can’t see another way in?’
Another crackle, another command.
‘Bring the packages to me.’
‘Bring them to you how?’ I asked, equal parts loud, confused and polite, the perfect cocktail of a Brit abroad.
A screech tore through the speaker and I reared backwards, almost falling over.
‘You have five minutes.’
And then it went silent.
‘Not creepy at all,’ I said, staring at the rusty little box, not quite sure what I’d got myself into.
Prowling the perimeter of the property gave nothing away. The gates were bolted into tall, concrete walls topped with less-than-inviting six-inch spikes which meant climbing over was not an option, especially since I couldn’t remember when I had my last tetanus jab. But what about climbing over the gate itself? Tucking my two little packages into my pockets, I calculated a route: climb the tree, shuffle along a branch and hop over the gate. It didn’t look too difficult; when we were kids, Suzanne and I used to climb trees all the time. Yes, it was twenty years ago, but climbing a tree was like riding a bike, you never forgot how. Although, much like riding a bike, I suspected the injuries might hurt a lot more at thirty-three than they did at thirteen if my plan went tits-up.
I set the toe of my trainers against a helpful knot in the tree trunk and scrambled up to the first branch that looked strong enough to hold my weight. There had already been so much more climbing on this trip than I’d anticipated. If only Ren was around to hoist me up on his shoulders again or even better, call one of his hawks down to grab the packages and deliver them by bird mail. But no, I was on my own for this one.Thankfully the branch was sturdy and thick and I was able to pull myself along towards the gate with relative ease, grateful for the lack of witnesses on the deserted street. Bel was right, literally no one walked in LA.
‘OK, this is higher than I thought,’ I muttered, hanging a good seven feet above the ground as the branch began to bend under me. ‘Not an ideal situation.’
But it was too late to turn back now. I reached out with one exploratory foot, making sure I was definitely on the other side of the gate, and when I heard a cracking sound coming from the tree, I knew it was time to either jump or fall. Before I could second-guess myself, I let go of the branch and hurled myself at the ground, landing in an inelegant heap next to two small, somewhat battered packages.
‘At least I had a nice relaxing morning,’ I said, groaning as I stood to dust myself down and make sure all my bones were still intact. They were. I had done it. I had defeated the gate. I had climbed a tree like my ancestors before me, there was nothing I could not do.
Coasting on my new-found power, I marched up the driveway, ignoring the beautiful gardens, the elegant rose bushes and ornamental ponds, focused on nothing but my mission. I would deliver these bloody boxes if it was the last thing I ever did and if I had to climb back up the tree to get out, there was a good chance it would be.
There she was. An older woman sat outside the house, enormous sunglasses covering most of her face, a green silk turban on her head, matching caftan covering her body and a long, lacquered cigarette holder held between her pursed lips. Without a word, she pressed a big redbutton on a small black box. Behind me, I heard a loud mechanical whirr as the foreboding gates of 4101 Parva Avenue opened slowly.
‘Did you hear me on the intercom?’ I asked, confused.
The woman gave a single nod.
‘And you saw me climbing over the gate?’
Another nod.
‘But you decided not to open them?’
‘I considered it,’ she said in a slow, husky drawl. ‘But where was the fun in that?’
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
‘Some of your packages were delivered to my sister’s house,’ I said, tiptoeing along the fine line between just about normal and completely hysterical. ‘She asked me to drop them off.’
Behind the sunglasses, I saw one eyebrow arch. ‘Interesting. She usually throws them over the gate.’
Even though I couldn’t confirm or deny the accusation, it did sound like something Suzanne would do.
‘Today you’re getting special delivery,’ I explained. ‘Here you go.’
