Back at last.
Her flock of hens clucked and fussed in their large enclosure the moment they saw her. They’d been penned in all day for their safety from the foxes, so she let them out to roam and enjoy what was left of the evening. They gathered at her heels and followed her to the house, expecting their usual evening treat of corn.
“Not yet,” Helen cooed. “Let me get out of these wet clothes first.”
She unlocked her back door and stepped inside her kitchen, the quiet striking her like it always did. It had been five months since Ada passed away, but Helen still expected to hear her television blaring through the house.
Helen stripped off, dumped her wet clothes in the bath, and padded naked to her bedroom next to the kitchen. It used to be the sitting room, but when Ada needed around-the-clock care, Helen had converted it so as to be closer to Ada’s room.
She should really move her stuff back upstairs, but she’d grown so accustomed to waking up with the gorgeous view of the garden and falling asleep to the expanse of nighttime sky. In fact, one day, she’d like to extend the cottage to make herself a permanent, larger bedroom at ground level.
Oh, she had so many plans for this dear little house!
But until she’d secured enough money to keep it, she’d be wise not to get carried away with her dreams. Helen slipped on leggings, a T-shirt, and a pair of old woolen socks, then she pushed her feet through the old boots she kept by the French doors and stepped out into the garden.
In a bundle of feathers and fluffy bottoms, the hens gathered around her again as she made her way to the old shed for their corn. The way they waddled and clucked made her smile, soothing the shitty day away. But as they pecked the scattered corn, Helen’s idyllic visions for the cottage faded and were replaced with her usual worry.
What would happen if she was forced to move?
For one thing, what would she do with all of Ada’s belongings—eighty-four years’ worth of belongings? It wasn’t until Helen had rummaged through Ada’s old wardrobe the other night, looking for something to wear for her court hearing, that she’d truly acknowledged just how much stuff there was to sort through. She’d tidied away Ada’s bedroom downstairs as soon as health care services had collected the hospital bed, only too happy to remove medicines and incontinent pads and anything else that reminded Helen of Ada’s frailness, but upstairs, there was a whole wardrobe of vintage clothes and knickknacks that had once meant a great deal to Ada. Helen couldn’t just throw them away.
And what would happen to her beautiful hens? They’d have to be rehomed or—much worse—slaughtered, and she couldn’t let that happen. She’d miss them. She’d missthis—thiswas her home. She glanced up at her cottage, at the wisteria climbing wild over the wooden pergola by her bedroom door.
She’d do anything to save her home, because really, how could she ever live anywhere else?
Chapter 6
“I’mtellingyou,Jimmy,she was wearing a goddamn badge!Cassie Phillips. Who else did I think she’d be?” As the dawn sky turned red over the city, Seb paced his hotel room, still getting his head around the clusterfuck of yesterday. “The next thing I know, she’s jumping into a red car.”
“Did you get the plate?”
“No, I didn’t get the frickin’ plate. What the hell was I gonna do with it? Call the police and demand an investigation?” Seb tugged his hair and sighed. “Hey, I’m sorry, Jimmy.” It wasn’t his fault Seb had blabbed his secret plan to a total stranger. “I don’t mean to take it out on you.”
“What’re you gonna do now?”
“I don’t know.”
And not even the weight workout nor the swim drills Seb had bashed out at 3 a.m. in the hotel pool had helped him to come up with any solutions.
Shortly after Fake-Cassie had run out on him, the real one had messaged, telling him her father had had a stroke at his holiday home in France. She’d dashed to the airport with her distraught younger sister and, understandably, hadn’t thought to call Seb until her father was out of danger. She’d texted Seb again late last night explaining she’d be spending the summer in France while her father recovered and wouldn’t be back in England until September.
Operation Fake-Girlfriend was officially a failure.
“You wanna know something ironic, Jimmy? Before Fake-Cassie ran away, she said I should tell everyone Cassie had a family emergency and needed to leave the country.”
“Cool.” Jimmy hooted. “She’s psychic. You should’ve asked her if you’ll win gold at the next Olympics.”
“Huh. If I make it that far.” At this rate, with his training schedule on semi hiatus while he worked in England, Seb wasn’t even sure he’d get through the qualifiers. “Thanks for your help anyway, buddy.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out, but hey, at least she promised not to tell anyone.”
Seb snorted. “And if I can’t trust someone who sneaks into a hotel to steal food, who can I trust, eh?”
After chatting for a few minutes about Jimmy’s teaching at the University of Chile, Seb disconnected the call and flopped back onto his barely slept-in bed. He should never have lied to Mikey, but at least later today, when Seb told everyone Cassie Phillips would be spending the summer in France, he’d be telling the truth. He just wouldn’t be referring to theCassiethey’d met.
But there would be questions.
From Mikey and Evie. From Brenda and Grice.
