Monty blinked.
‘I do love an appreciative audience!’
Because she was alone, and because her phone was plugged in by the table lamp, Bella decided to do a brief recording. It wouldn’t do any harm, and it would remind her that, despite the failure of her commercial music career, she had talent. It was only about two minutes of music so far, but it was a very good start.
‘Well, it’s something,’ she said.
Monty blinked again.
That night, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
* * *
Waking up late the next morning, Bella stretched luxuriously. She hadn’t bothered closing the curtains, and she’d left the bedroom window open for a breeze, and now the light wrapped warmly around her, speaking of another lovely summer’s day. She remembered how calm writing songs used to make her and felt as though she’d recaptured something she’d been missing by leaning into her creativity the night before.
Monty had no such perspective, though. It took her a moment to realise that the old cat was staring at her from the bedroom’s doorway, silently reproaching her for sleeping late and forgetting his breakfast.
‘Bugger, sorry, old chap.’ Bella pulled on a vest top and a pair of joggers and bunched up her hair into a messy bun. ‘Let’s get you sorted, shall we?’
There didn’t seem to be much point in showering after she’d fed Monty. In fact, a day chilling at home with nowhere to go felt like bliss. Maybe she’d work on the song for a bit.
The morning passed in a flurry of creativity, and by the end of it she’d recorded a second, tighter version of the song. Smiling as she listened back to it on her phone, she felt a flare of pride. She was good when she put her mind to it. Soon it would be time for lunch, and then she’d think about getting ready for work.
The shrill of the old-fashioned doorbell broke into her relaxed mood. She wasn’t expecting a delivery. Padding to the living room window, she was frustrated to see that she couldn’t see the doorstep because of the squat walls of Jack’s open porch. Should she just ignore it?
The doorbell rang again. Sighing, she thought it was better to answer.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Can I help you?’
The man on the other side looked at her, aghast. ‘What the hell are you doing here? This place is supposed to be empty.’
‘Then why did you ring the bell?’
‘I saw someone moving around from the road. Who the hell are you?’
‘I’m, er, Bella West. I’m living here.’
‘Since when?’ The man had a bossy, demanding tone, but he seemed vaguely familiar. There was something about the shape of his eyes and his jawline that made something click in her mind.
‘Since about a month ago,’ Bella replied. ‘Why? What’s it to you?’
The guy looked her up and down. ‘Are you a squatter or something? This isn’t your house.’
Bella’s irritation began to rise. Did she look like a squatter? All right, so her red hair dye was growing out, and she was scruffily dressed, but she wasn’t going out anywhere, and she certainly hadn’t been expecting visitors.
‘I’m not a squatter,’ Bella replied. ‘And I have every right to be here.’
‘Says who?’ The man was sneering at her now, and made to enter the cottage, but Bella barred the way with an arm. ‘Get out of my way.’
‘No. I’m meant to be here, and I don’t know who the hell you are, so unless you can give me a good reason why I should let you in, I’m closing this door.’ Her words sounded more assertive than she felt, but she was buggered if she was going to let this wanker over the threshold. She didn’t like feeling as though she was being threatened, and this guy definitely had the air that he could turn even nastier if he chose to.
‘Meant to be here? I don’t think you are. This place has been empty for months.’ His eyes were flashing now, and Bella began to feel nervous. She’d dealt with aggressive guys in the past – when she’d been on tour, there had been plenty of men who’d wanted to get too friendly with her stage persona – but having this happening on her own doorstep felt horribly intimidating.
‘Look,’ she tried again. ‘I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but I promise you, I’m supposed to be here.’
‘Well, where’s your rental agreement, then? Surely you must have one if you’remeantto be here.’
Bella paused, and that pause was enough for the guy to seize his advantage. ‘You don’t have one, do you? You’ve moved in here because you’re a bloody little opportunist who saw a vacant property and decided to get in and wreck it. Your type are all the same. Bloody work-shy scroungers. Why don’t you bugger off, like a good little waster, and find somewhere else to live?’ He took another step towards her and that was when Bella finally let him have it as she saw as red as her hair.
