Aria frowned. ‘When? We’ve been standing here for ten minutes.’
He glared at her, before hitting the box with his palm.
‘Oh, that’ll sort it,’ Aria scoffed.
‘I use the internet to read my horoscope, you know. Not all that technology malarkey is bad!’ the woman accompanying Aria chirruped.
‘Did it predict you’d meet a security-obsessed man who can’t work his own gate?’
Belinda shook her head. ‘Not exactly. It said I’d be influenced by Neptune, receive some life-changing health news and tackle my sock drawer.’ Her expression clouded as she scrutinised his face. ‘Although I’m still waiting to meet a long-
lost relative resembling Chewbacca in a hat from last week’s prediction…’
Giving up on the pad, Nic suggested they climb over the gate if they were in a hurry. ‘The builder seems to share a phone with his son who isn’t the most reliable of—’
‘They’ll be in the pub,’ Aria interrupted. ‘The weekly quiz starts in an hour.’
‘How do you know?’
‘They invited me.’
Nic felt a pang at being excluded from yet another club, but didn’t let his reaction show. Instead, after firing off a text, he grabbed his car keys. ‘I’ll move the car over there and give you guys a leg up.’
‘You can buy me dinner before making me that kind of offer!’ The older woman tinkled a laugh. When he returned, she took his hand and looked game enough to stand on his shoulders, but he wasn’t insured for that. Instead, he guided her leg towards a beam of wood halfway up the gate, and then another a bit higher up, before climbing over himself and helping her down the other side. He asked Aria to pass over Tiger, along with the shopping, which he put on the grass his side. He sensed her fuse was shortening by the second as she clambered up, threw a thigh over the fence, wobbled at the top and almost crashed down onto him. He helped her lower herself safely to the ground without a word.
She wasn’t so courteous. ‘While I’m appreciative of the white-knight-on-a-horse treatment, you must realise, if we can scale the gate, then other people can too. Surely that negates the whole point of it.’
He scowled. ‘It’s a deterrent not a fortress.’
‘You’d probably be happier if Spanner delivered on his promise to castrate all intruders,’ she countered. He’d raisedan eyebrow for her to explain, when she picked up the flowers and jabbed him with them, shedding pollen onto his shirt. ‘I might have let you help me out twice today, but don’t go assuming I’m some kind of damsel-in-distress,’ she spat out.
‘If they’d set the code up properly, we wouldn’t be climbing over the gate, Rapunzel,’ he answered, teeth gritted. ‘I thought those flowers might be for me as a thank-you for my sterling efforts in helping you out earlier. But I suspect they were picked from my verge, which is technically theft.’ He rubbed at the yellow flower stain as he started walking down the new tarmac road to his house, quickening his pace when he felt raindrops on his head and shoulders. The women followed a pace or two behind, and he heard Aria pointing out his house and her cabin, before beginning a character assassination she presumably thought he couldn’t hear. It started with his monopoly of the lake, moved to his behaviour in the shop and ended with their encounter at the gate.
‘Why would I give him flowers? Honestly Belinda, he’s done nothing but embarrass me all day, and then he put us in a prison! He may as well have…’
Well, that took the biscuit. ‘Embarrass you?’ he retorted, spinning around. ‘I think you’ll find—’
‘Do you always talk over women?’ Aria proceeded to talk over him.
‘When I am trying to help them, perhaps.’ He upped his pace as he’d had enough of this nonsense. When his path diverted from theirs, he nodded a terse goodbye.
The woman he didn’t know held her hand out. ‘I’m Belinda. Nice to meet you and thank you for helping me piggybackover the gate.’ She turned to Aria, holding out a hand to assess the weather. ‘The rain is getting worse. Perhaps I should shelter until it goes off? It’ll be miserable to walk.’ He groaned inside. The Wilson girl only had a rickety shack and the woman with her looked like she’d blow away in the wind. They might be a pain, but he was on a new mission to make friends with the locals and it wouldn’t be very chivalrous to walk away when he had access to a big-ass house only metres from where they were standing.
Belinda seemed to be thinking along the same lines. ‘I could really do with a cup of tea, if anyone is offering?’
‘Why don’t you both come in until the rain stops?’ he reluctantly suggested.
Aria Wilson looked horrified as it started to pelt onto their heads and shoulders, but Belinda jumped at his offer. ‘Ooh, I’d love to see your house. It’s been quite the talk of the town…’
‘Just quickly, then,’ said Aria, with a face on her as she fiddled with Tiger’s lead.
He smiled at the small victory. ‘Tea?’ he offered, as they entered the show home, rain now bouncing on the path outside.
‘Do you have green tea?’ Belinda asked, placing her sticks carefully next to his coat rack.
‘I think I have some in my treasure chest. Come in.’ As Nic led them into the lounge, he waited for a reaction. It was a pretty spectacular building and, if Belinda wasn’t wowed, then buyers used to luxury sure as hell wouldn’t be. Thankfully she gave him an appropriately enthusiastic response. But ashe glanced around, he noticed once again how unloved the house looked, with strange things on the shelves simulating what target buyers might want. Despite the light coming in from the windows, the kitchen was a dark green, and the only other colour came from a feature wall of vines the designer had been keen on. The rest of the building was a smorgasbord of greys, which on reflection he found a little depressing. Back in London, his flat was entirely white with his framed covers from manga comics drawing the eye to the walls. His trips to Japan with his mother over the years had inspired him to value clutter-free spaces, but there was a difference between uncluttered and bland. He hadn’t thought of bringing anything that would put his stamp on this house, as he didn’t intend to stay – so no wonder Aria had assumed no one was living here when she showed it. He rifled in a cupboard for the English tea hamper delivered to every new homeowner on moving-in day along with champagne in a branded bucket. He passed the box to Belinda who pounced on it. ‘Beware of the exotic flavours like rosehip, liquorice and hogwart,’ he said.
‘Isn’t Hogwart a fictional school?’ Belinda chipped in, a giggle on her lips.
