Eight
Despite telling herself she needn’t worry about Tom, Lara could not shift that niggling doubt that something might be wrong, so an hour or so after lunch, when the downpour had stopped, at least for the time being, Lara left Ula and Greg to it and trudged down Old Oak Lane.
The lane was more like a stream than a road, with water running down it, and the grass on this side was a quagmire. She stepped on to the verge at one point and her boot sank at least three inches in the mud. She would stick to the relative safety of the firm surface of the lane.
She spotted the pothole Tom had mentioned. It wasn’t as large as China, of course, nor anywhere near, but it did take up a sizeable chunk of the lane. In the daylight, she could probably drive around it, but in the dark it would be difficult.
Tom’s cottage was only a few minutes’ walk away and close up it was virtually identical to hers, on the outside, although the paintwork was fairly fresh, unlike that on her cottage. The garden, however, bore no resemblance. Tom’s was neat and tidy, with an abundance of shrubs, and trees, and even at this time ofyear, several flowers were in bloom. Although a few of the plants and flowers did look somewhat bedraggled after the onslaught today.
His garden gate was pristine, too, unlike hers, which was hanging by just one of its hinges. Another thing on her to-do list.
The front door was a deep, forest green; hers was … an indeterminate blend of colour. She intended to paint it a soft shade of blue, and the front gate would match it. Once she had repaired that.
She banged on the door with the brass knocker, but got no answer, and then she spotted the doorbell to the side of the door frame. It was a video doorbell, like the one she had at her flat, but a different make. She pressed it and waited, but still there was no answer.
She wasn’t sure what to do next. She could go back to her cottage, get in her car and drive to The White Lion, and Bonnie’s Diner, to see if he was in either place. She would just try the knocker and the doorbell once more.
The knocker still had no effect, and neither did the doorbell at first. She was about to turn away when a strong, deep, male voice boomed out. ‘What do you want?’ It sounded like a younger version of Tom.
‘Oh, hi! Erm. You don’t know me but–’
‘Whatever you’re selling, we don’t want it, thank you.’
Well that was rude.
‘I’m not selling anything. My name is–’
‘Look. This isn’t a good time. I’m in the middle of … That’s none of your business. I don’t care who you are. Please go away.’
‘But I’m…’ He had hung up on her.
How bloody dare he? If this was Tom’s grandson, she understood everything Greg had said about him. She couldn’t give in though. This was for Tom.
Except … if Tom was fine, she would have to apologise for disturbing this arrogant jerk. If only she had Tom’s phone number, she could send him a text.
‘Phone number!’ she said aloud. ‘I’m such a fool.’
She pulled her phone out from her coat pocket and did a search for The White Lion, and also for Bonnie’s Diner. Having saved both numbers, she called the pub first. A much friendlier person than Tom’s grandson answered.
‘The White Lion. How may we help you?’
‘Hello. This will sound weird, but is Tom there please?’
‘Tom?’
‘Yes, Tom. The elderly man who lives in a cottage on Old Oak Lane.’
The woman on the other end hesitated. ‘Who’s asking?’
‘My name’s Lara. I own the other cottage on Old Oak Lane. I met Tom yesterday and I’m outside his cottage right now but I can’t get an answer. He told me your pub is his favourite place for a pie and a pint, so I wanted to know if he’s there. In which case I’ll go home. Nothing sinister, I assure you.’
‘Lara, you say? Hmm. Tom did mention meeting his pretty neighbour yesterday. But he hasn’t been in today. He might be in Bonnie’s Diner.’
‘Thanks. I’ll try there. Erm. You don’t have Tom’s mobile number, do you?’
‘No. Sorry but I don’t.’
‘May I leave you my number, and if you do see Tom, could you ask him to send me a text, please. Just to … well, just so that I know he’s okay. He was a bit doddery on his feet yesterday.’
