At that moment, I hear a buzzing sound and remember the mosquitoes. Shit, we’ve only got two nets. I was going to pick up some more to hang over the kids’ beds—before their arrival was brought forward.
I decide to give one to Mabel and the other to Callum, provided he’ll let Archie share his bed, just for tonight.
“Yes!” cheers Archie, bouncing into the room in his pajamas. “Sleepover!”
Callum groans and pulls a pillow over his head. “This is proper shit!”
“Cal, don’t swear!” booms Theo.
From outside comes thetwit-twooof an owl.
“Dad, is this house haunted?” shouts Mabel from upstairs.
“Why, do you want me to come and give you a cuddle?” Theo shouts back at her.
Mabel screams and slams her door.
By the time Theo and I finally collapse onto our bed, we’re too tired to even kiss.
And I’m really annoyed at myself.
I’ve made a mess of our first day. The holiday didn’t have to start so badly. I’ve let myself down. And I’ve let Theo down.
I’ll have to make up for it tomorrow.
Chapter 5
I’m woken by the sound of a cockerel crowing. I’ve no idea where it’s coming from. I turn over and squint at my watch. It’s just before six a.m.
Well, I’m awake now so I might as well get on with it.
I sit up and take in my surroundings. Light’s streaming through a little window we left open because it was so hot—and some of it falls on Theo’s face. He’s gorgeous when he’s sleeping, but he looks very different when he’s awake. Ordinarily, he’s strong and authoritative, especially when he’s around his kids. But there’s a gentleness to him when he’s asleep, a vulnerability, a fragility. It offers me a glimpse into the man who tried to protect a trans pupil from bullying only to end up having a mental health crisis of his own, a crisis that led to him coming out. I’m overcome by a need to care for him, to make sure he’s never hurt again.
I feel an itch coming from my lower body. I look down and see a trail of mosquito bites on my left leg and a cluster around my right ankle. Shit! They must have got in through the open window.
I stand up as quietly as I can and close it. I’m pretty sure there’s some antihistamine cream in a drawer in the kitchen. I put on a pair of sliders and a light dressing gown I found in Wilf’s wardrobe and sneak downstairs.
As I pass through the house, I don’t open any of the shutters as I don’t want to wake anyone. Once I’ve found my cream, I pull open the big front doors as quietly as possible—which isn’t very quietly at all as they catch on the floor. I pause and listen to see if there’s any stirring from upstairs. When there isn’t, I step outside and onto the patio. I slather my bites in cream, then sit down on a wooden bench, holding my dressing gown open so the cream can dry.
Even though the house and the grounds—myhouse and grounds—are starting to look familiar, I’m struck by their beauty all over again. There’s much more greenery than when I first came here at Easter. The trees and bushes are in full leaf, various grasses and ferns have shot up and fanned out, and there’s even the odd prickle-covered cactus. The vine twisting in and out of the pergola is bursting with heart-shaped leaves, and hanging from it are bunches of small, not-yet-ripe purple grapes.
The view of the valley and the rippling hills is also much greener. It’s still specked with the gray of buildings and the blue of swimming pools but it no longer contains much brown. Although, curiously, the lawn and patches of grass around the house have turned brown, presumably burned by the sun. I realize they won’t have been watered since Wilf died and make a mental note to do this regularly. Likewise, the plants at the edge of the lawn bear signs of neglect, although some of them—presumably the hardier ones—have come into flower: bursting out of the green are lilacs, pinks, oranges and a dash of blue. I wonder if the edge of the hill has eroded over the years. Where was it when Wilf arrived and has it crept back, closer to the house? I can’t escape the sense that, not only are we surrounded by nature, but we’re almost battling it, trying to hold it back or halt its advance.
A white butterfly flutters from flower to flower and a twittering comes from the birds swooping through the sky. I’m hopeless at identifying species but I can tell that these are swallows because I once dated a man called Mark who had a tattoo of a swallow on his right thigh. Until he got to know what I was like and dumped me for a nude life-model who had pierced nipples with bolts through them. Not that this was the first time he’d cheated on me;from what I heard, when I wasn’t around he’d behave like a sailor on leave. In fairness, he had told me on our first date that he was struggling with sex addiction—but I convinced myself I could help him beat it. Actually, had I? Or was Ian right when he said the whole relationship was some form of self-sabotage? Some way of proving to myself that I wasn’t good enough?
Although my relationship with Mark is hardly a happy memory, I’m glad it’s popped into my head. Because it reminds me of what I have with Theo—however challenging the kids may be. It reminds me of why I want to fight for it. And it makes me even more determined.
But before I do anything, I need a coffee.
I fasten my dressing gown, go back into the kitchen and twist open the gas canister that’s under the stove. Then I make myself a coffee in Wilf’s old aluminum moka. When I first took possession of the house, I had to Google how this worked, but now I can whiz through the process in seconds. Once the pot’s smoking, I pour my coffee and go back to sit on the bench.
By now the population of the valley is stirring. I can hear the ringing of church bells, the low hum of light Sunday-morning traffic, plus a bus giving a hoot of its horn as it rounds a tight bend in the road that winds up the hill.
Oh, the kids are bound to come round. Theyhaveto like this place. And if they don’t, there must be some way ofmakingthem like it.
I look up the opening hours of the supermarket and decide to slip on some clothes and drive down. But first, I’m going to clean out the kitchen cupboards and remove all trace of the rodents.
Yes, those kids are going tolovethis place!
