She nudged his elbow as an affectionate thank you. ‘You know, you aren’t the ignorant pig I had you down for when we first met.’ His grin was her reward. As they strolled on, she noticed cleavers had proliferated in the furthest garden – a weed that stuck to clothes like Velcro. When he was distracted smelling a rose, she picked up a clump of the thin, straggly stems, lightly hooked it to the back of his jumper and giggled.
He turned to her, looking confused. ‘Did I spill my lolly down my front or something?’
‘No…’
‘Then what’s tickled you?’
‘I’m laughing at your sticky willy.’
Quick as lightening he replied, ‘No one has ever had any complaints before.’ When he examined his crotch and found nothing, he held out his hands.
‘Try your back,’ she said, leaving him reaching for the weed as she started to run. Quickly out of breath, she could hear him pounding behind her as she legged it to the car. She swung around before he could replant it on her and was taken aback when he pulled out her top and stuck it down her chest. His hands brushed her skin as he withdrew. Perhaps realising he’d gone too far, he stilled, and they both looked down at the scratchy whorls. Putting on a head teacher voice, she informed him if his invasive action with the sticky willy put seed balls in her bra, she’d be claiming for the dry cleaning.
‘Seed balls, eh?’ he repeated, one eyebrow raised. ‘Please don’t fish them out and risk making us pregnant on the drive home.’
30
Each day, they got up at dawn to continue the process of getting to know each other while the clock ticked away on the meeting with Donna Rushton. Nic felt he knew more random details about Aria than his own mother, while she had extracted more information out of him than he’d shared with a woman in years. She had a disarming honesty, an enthusiasm when their likes and interests collided, and she genuinely seemed curious about him in a way that other people weren’t. But even during their most comfortable conversations, on long dog walks, Nic kept Theo’s accident to himself. On this subject, fear of judgement outweighed the reward of confession. He found himself looking forward to the dinner, reassured once again of his fake fiancée’s culinary skills as they tucked into a lunch of goat’s cheese frittata accompanied by a spinach and pumpkin seed salad. As promised, he discussed his ideas for how she could upscale her campaign to clean up the lake.
‘You know the charitySurfers Against Sewage? Check out what they do. Perhaps you could start your own local group. You could organise a protest at water companies dumpingstuff, and it’s always worth writing to the local MP on this kind of matter. If it was me, I’d organise a two-pronged attack based on speaking directly to the people who are doing the damage and those in a position to put pressure on them.’
Afterwards he grabbed the dishes while she suggested a quick dip in the lake before they got on with work. ‘I know people were sick, but it’s a compulsion with me and I don’t put my head in anymore. It would be fun to swim together?’
‘I don’t swim.’ He picked up their water glasses and clutched them in his fingers.
She looked at him curiously. ‘Can’t or don’t?’
‘Won’t.’
‘Ever?’
He paused. ‘Not since a jet-ski ride spooked me.’ That was all he was prepared to give her and he walked briskly to the sink.
‘They can be dangerous. When I first arrived back in Inglemere, I came down to the lake and there was this idiot blasting around, almost killing himself and certainly putting both me and the ducks in danger.’
He recognised that idiot. He’d been angry and had taken it out on the water. The feelings came back in a rush now as he turned the tap on and lifted his dirty glass up to it, clipping the fragile object and cutting his finger. He gasped at the sharp pain, dipping his hand into the bowl of water, where he was confronted by the blood dispersing. All at once, he saw ripped flesh in salt water and heard Theo screaming. Aria had heard the crack and seeing his reaction, reached for a tea towel and then his hand.
He closed his eyes and hissed at her, ‘I’m fine. Stop fussing.’ Opening his eyes again, Nic could see the hurt in hers. He adjusted his tone as she backed off, telling her not to worry as it was no more than a paper cut. But he could tell she was upset as she grabbed Tiger and started cuddling him. ‘Why don’t you get to your swim and then I’ll give you a lift to work,’ he suggested, not wanting to discuss his overreaction. When she left the room to get changed, he picked up his laptop and logged on, taking exaggerated breaths to calm himself down.
***
She walked in from her swim dressed in a dry robe, sat along from him on the sofa and granted Tiger access to her lap. Casting a subtle glance at her brown legs, he was curious about her ‘compulsion’ to dive into the lake at every opportunity, despite her campaign.
‘Why is cold-water swimming so important to you? You told me you miss your dad the other day. Do you feel closer to him in the lake? I would imagine it might also trigger difficult memories?’ He realised the question was partly projection as she looked at her phone and declared it was later than she thought.
‘Have you ever worn a watch?’
‘Of course not. I use my phone. What kind of boomer question is that?’ she laughed, leaning over, and twisting his arm to see his smartwatch. He looked down as her fingers came to rest on his wrist. ‘Oh wait, yeah, your watch controlsyour entire universe,’ she said, softer now as she traced around it with her index finger. As they both froze, he looked up and saw her lips clamp together. A second later she let go and he grabbed a cushion, placing it on his lap. Like any bloke, his universe was controlled by his cock, but she didn’t need to see that right now.
‘I’ve set up a bunch of meetings, so I won’t be around till late tonight. Are you OK doing the small jobs in advance for the dinner?’ he asked her.
‘Absolutely. I’ve got a viewing in town and then I’ll start browning the beef so I can marinate it in wine and herbs overnight,’ she replied. ‘Did you buy the bottles of wine we discussed?’
‘Yep. Two cheap-as-chips bottles for the beef bourguignon. I’ve put the dog’s-bollocks wine in the garage, by the way. We can schmooze her in style.’
31
Aria woke early and opened the bedroom blind with a good feeling about the day. Her viewing had gone well yesterday, and the couple had seemed genuinely interested in the property. Thanks to Nic, she’d sent in a new proposal for the gardening work, which the agent was happy to put to the client. And because she was living rent free, her bank balance had stopped nose-diving, meaning she could start putting a little something away. Although she was still out of her comfort zone in Nic’s house, life was definitely easier. Tiger seemed settled and happy. She’d successfully navigated pre-heating the oven without setting fire to the house and the garage door had thankfully stayed closed. She admitted to herself she enjoyed the routine they’d settled into; in fact, she was becoming addicted to posh coffee, enjoying it more because Nic made it for her.
