‘Not if Jason has his way,’ Jen said, before turning in the direction of the kitchen. ‘He’d happily duet with you, any day of the week.’
Bella rolled her eyes. ‘He knows duets, musical or otherwise, are definitely off the table!’
Jen’s voice drifted from over her shoulder as she moved away. ‘Never say never, love.’
Bella shook her head. ‘She’s incorrigible.’
‘And you are clearly a woman of many talents.’ Noah smiled up at her, where she was hovering with his plate in her hand. ‘Cat wrangler, bartender, and now potential pub singer… is there anything else?’ He shook his head to himself; the drink and the atmosphere had obviously calmed him. It almost sounded like he was trying to chat Bella up.
Bella, for her part, took his enquiry good naturedly, grinning back at him. ‘I’ll leave that for you to find out!’ She left his table, and Noah found his eyes were following her through the kitchen door. She had long legs, and generous curves, and the jeans she was wearing accentuated both. The vibrant cherry red of her hair wasn’t quite his thing, but on Bella the colour definitely worked. He felt a stir of attraction and tried hard to push it to one side. It had been a while since he’d had a steady partner, and he wasn’t looking. Definitely not. Besides, it couldn’t lead anywhere. Bella lived here, and he was based in London, and as soon as his grandfather’s house was sold, he’d have no reason to come back to Lower Brambleton. Holiday romances weren’t his thing, and neither was long distance.
Christ,he thought,I need to get out more. Fancying the barmaid of the local pub, when it’s not even my local, screams desperation!He shook his head and finished the inch of lager that was left in his glass. He was about to head back to his grandfather’s cottage for the night when his mobile rang. Glancing at the screen, his heart sank. It was sod’s law that his brother, Marc, would ring just when Noah had started to relax.Don’t harsh my mellow, he thought wryly, grinning at the phrase that he’d only recently learned from the younger staff in the estate agency. Sighing, he grabbed his jacket and headed straight out of the pub, hitting the green answer button on his mobile and bracing himself for another difficult conversation.
14
‘All right, mate?’ Noah tried to inject a cheerier tone into his voice than the sight of Marc’s name on his phone screen had provoked. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his brother, he just resented Marc’s tendency to be somewhat of a control freak, especially where their inheritance from their grandfather was concerned. He knew that both of his brothers, and to a certain extent he himself, harboured an unfair resentment towards their father for dying so unexpectedly and leaving them with the responsibility for their grandfather and his estate. Even though it would ultimately leave the three of them better off, the wranglings and machinations of the legal system, no matter how straightforward his grandfather’s will, had left them all more stressed than they needed to be. Marc, especially, had more to deal with than most with Tessa’s illness, but unfortunately Marc had a tendency to bite the hands that tried to help him.Not unlike Monty, Noah thought wryly as he tried to tune in to Marc’s shotgunning of questions. His brother never wasted time on pleasantries, at least, not on the phone. Noah supposed it was because he had been used for so long to dealing with such high levels of stress in his life, he needed to cut to the chase all the time, but sometimes he wished Marc would at least pause and ask him howhewas for a change.
‘So, is there any progress on the house sale yet?’ Marc’s voice, tense as ever, came down the line. ‘Have you taken the photos?’
Noah shook his head. ‘Not yet. Things have been a bit complicated.’
‘Well, you need to pull your finger out. The longer the place is unoccupied, the more it’ll cost us.’
Noah bit back a response that, currently, it wasn’t costing his brothers anything. Especially Marc, who seemed content to issue orders but not worry about actually making any contributions to the process, financial or otherwise. ‘It’s all in hand, Marc. But I need to make sure the cottage is saleable first, and there’s some stuff to sort out.’
‘You’re not talking about that bloody cat again, are you?’ Marc’s impatience was clear. ‘Can’t you just get him put to sleep?’
Marc had never liked Monty. Noah remembered, with a slight smile, that Monty had never liked Marc, either. Every time Marc had entered Monty’s space the cat had hissed and growled at him until Jack had put Monty back into the kitchen. It wasn’t that Marc was a nasty person, far from it, but there was something about him that the temperamental Bengal had really taken against. But then Monty didn’t like anyone much, except Jack.
‘It’s not that simple,’ Noah replied. ‘He’s not ill, just old. It doesn’t seem right to euthanise him for that.’
‘Well, whatever you do, you’d better do it quickly.’ Marc had assumed a bossy tone that was starting to get under Noah’s skin. ‘We can’t let the estate business run on forever – no one wants that. Best to get it all wound up and move on, eh?’
Logically, Noah knew Marc was right, and if he’d been the one sitting in France waiting for the loose ends to be tied up, he might well have been thinking the same. The difference was, he wouldn’t have been quite so blunt about it. ‘I’ll keep you posted,’ Noah said. He paused for a second, wondering if now was the time to apprise Marc about the roof and the electrics in the cottage, but some deeper instinct told him to keep quiet. ‘As soon as I know anything more, I’ll be in touch.’
‘Make sure you do.’ And with that, never one for prolonged goodbyes either, Marc rang off.
Noah upped his pace, trying to walk off the irritation that had now all come fizzing back into his system. So much for feeling relaxed at the pub. As he let himself in to the cottage, he couldn’t help brooding. He knew Marc had a lot on his plate, but he sometimes wished his brother might consider what he, Noah, had to do as well. Admittedly, he could understand exactly why Marc might think that putting Monty to sleep was a more pragmatic and easy option, so that they could all proceed, but Noah couldn’t justify having Monty put down because it was more convenient. He knew his grandfather would never forgive him. Similarly, he also knew his grandfather wouldn’t have wanted the cat to stand in the way of all three of his grandsons moving on with their lives.
‘I wish you were still here, Grandpa,’ he murmured. His eyes burned in a way they hadn’t done since he’d sat by his grandfather’s side in the nursing home and watched him slip away. Shaking his head impatiently, he pushed the sadness to one side. He’d done that a lot lately. There wasn’t time to lose the plot, not with Marc, or their other brother, Joel, breathing down his neck, urging him to speed things along.
They were right, of course, he thought as he filled the kettle and made a mug of coffee. He’d been to the small local shop that afternoon and bought a jar of instant and a pint of milk to tide him over. Caffeine wasn’t a great idea in the evening, but he felt as though he needed the mental clarity. Things needed to be tied up so they all could move on with their lives. So why did it hurt so much? The prospect of saying goodbye to the cottage felt unbearable. He realised that he’d fallen into the trap of thinking that his grandfather, and by proxy, his home, would always be there for him no matter where life took him and how infrequently he visited. Brambleton had become a touchstone for Noah; a reassuring escape from the stresses of London life, working too hard and the emotional demands of his family. Knowing the cottage was there, knowing his grandfather was, too, had done a great deal to soothe Noah over the years, and he was now beginning to realise how much he was going to miss it when the cottage was on the market.
Thinking about it now though, he couldn’t deny that that line of reasoning was incredibly self-indulgent. His grandfather had had a whole life of his own; his presence wasn’t merely the human equivalent of a comfy armchair for Noah to fall into whenever he needed it. Even in the years that he had been widowed, Jack had been an active part of the community of Lower Brambleton, and sharing the cottage, Monty had been a huge part of that too. That was why, Noah knew, he felt so conflicted about making the final decisions about his grandfather’s legacy.
15
The next Saturday morning, having had a hectic week of yet more newcomers into the rescue centre and feeling guilty that she hadn’t spent as much time with him as normal, Bella approached Monty’s enclosure, determined to make up for it. The scratch on her wrist that he’d gifted her the previous weekend had almost healed, and since she had no desire to get a matching scratch on the other arm, she chatted away to him while she sorted out his litter tray and then gave him his breakfast bowl, but made sure to give the old moggy a wide berth.
The cat, hearing her voice, lifted his head from his front paws, gave her a filthy look and settled down again. Clearly he’d missed her, despite all outward appearances to the contrary, if he was sulking more than usual.
Bella sighed. They’d tried changing his food and offering him toys. They’d added extra things for him to climb on, but Monty hadn’t shown much improvement. Bengals loved to climb, but he seemed to have lost interest in that. Even taking into account his age, he was lethargic and very, very sad.
‘What are we going to do with you, old fella?’ Bella murmured. She picked up the miniature rod with the catnip-scented fish on the end of the line and dangled it in front of Monty. Monty responded with a low, ominous growl.
‘Well, I’m going to help you, one way or the other,’ Bella said. ‘You might not appreciate it, but I’m actually quite fond of you, really.’
‘Glad to hear it!’ Mollie’s amused tones from behind her made Bella jump. ‘He needs all the friends he can get right now.’
