‘So, you’re back for good?’ he asked.
She wasn’t up for sharing half-formed plans with the enemy. ‘Came home for Dad’s funeral,’ she replied as Tiger licked the bare leg below her cut-off jeans. ‘Can’t say we missed you.’ She cursed silently as the words slipped out. She didn’t want Justin to think she was mooning around or looking for him.
But instead, he mumbled an awkward ‘sorry for your loss’ and backed away. Clearly his shame was greater than hers at this moment. Aria relaxed her stomach muscles and pushed out a breath. ‘Please don’t run away again, Tiger,’ she instructed her dog.
At that moment, the estate agent dashed out into the street holding out her phone like an unexploded bomb. ‘Thank goodness you’re still here. Can I take you up on your suggestion and maybe offer you a quick interview with my boss? He’s on the line right now. My child is sick, and I can’t show a home tomorrow.’ She pushed the phone into Aria’s hand and a man on the other end of the line briefed her on thefirm’s mission statement, impressing on her that they could only offer zero hours and minimum wage. As she wasn’t in any position to negotiate, they came to a quick agreement.
‘You’re a real lifesaver,’ said the estate agent when they disconnected. ‘This feels like it was meant to be. So, tomorrow you’ll be meeting a prospective buyer called Stephen to tour a house a few miles around the lake. I’ll forward you the address and details in a moment as well as some instructions on how to get in. Don’t worry, we don’t think he’s a super-
serious viewer for this property, but it’s a good test run.’
8
Nic was so tired this morning that, if he opened his laptop, he’d only be fit to type zzzzs. After a marathon spreadsheet session last night, he grumbled around the kitchen, keeping the shutters closed and the room in semi-darkness. He whizzed up his protein drink before dialling the finance manager who had helped them accelerate into debt. Their conversation was as unpleasant as the sludge in the bottom of his glass. But thankfully it was short. Even now, Nic didn’t have a handle on how far south the projects had gone and had no time or inclination to unpick the mess. Instead, he hoped his brother would make infinite sense of it all as soon as he got back to work. Although he owned only twenty per cent of the business, Theo had an important role as Nic’s second-in-command and put in a hundred and ten per cent effort at all times. Or he had until last year. As he shook the glass, a fresh wave of guilt washed over Nic about the slow slide of the company. He needed Theo more than ever and felt like he could give him nothing in return. He grimaced at the strain of trying to hold it together. Perhaps he should be grateful they hadn’t already run out of money. More than anything, they needed the LakeDistrict project to work. Walking over to the front door of the show home, he opened it and inhaled deeply. In the fresh morning sunlight, the manicured grass looked greener than ever, matched by a lake brimming with pike and perch. It truly was paradise, and it was a shame he was too lost to appreciate it. He shook himself. He was here on one mission only – to ingratiate himself with the locals and push through the next stages of planning permission. He’d been asking himself how he could do that most efficiently before pushing off back to London to concentrate on their other construction projects. He’d need to wait for the crucial meetings, of course, but he guessed the wheels of this small-town society were greased by social contact. He’d joined the town’s Facebook group a few days ago to find events he could attend to get access to the movers and shakers. No one had approved him yet, despite him filling in their three cursory questions. Were they letting him hang while they decided whether to let ‘the outsider’ in? He stepped out of the house. And stood on a slug.
‘Ugh.’ He decided to pop into one of the outdoor shops later to kit himself out with more appropriate clothes for the lakes and mountains. Everyone round here seemed to wear walking boots, thick-knit jumpers and North Face puffa jackets, while he was more of a jeans-and-trainers man when he wasn’t wearing a suit for work. Of course, they weren’t any old jeans. A personal shopper saw to that. He hadn’t meant to slip into that habit, but he was cash-rich and time-poor, and she always seemed to know his body better than he did. Especially a couple of years ago when they’d delighted in quickies in the department-store changing rooms. Was thatthe last time he’d had sex? He wiped the slug off his toe with a dock leaf – at least the wildlife wasn’t treating him like a pariah. In London, people who knew his status fell over themselves to be nice to him. Here, he failed all the tests. His accent was too southern, his demeanour too city, his shoes too shiny, his watch too flashy. And when he added in the battles with local planners and contractors as well as the district and town council, sometimes he felt the entire community was judging him and finding him wanting. He started to call Theo for reassurance before resolving to give him the time and space to settle in. So, instead, he put together online grocery lists for his Lake District and London homes, texting to ask if there was anything in particular he’d like. Two minutes later, his phone rang. His brother’s response was annoyingly predictable.
‘Don’t order any food for me. You have to stop trying to micro-manage me. I told you I’d only stay at your flat on that one condition.’
‘Ungrateful.’
‘Independent.’
‘Pff,’ Nic said, abandoning the grocery list. He flashed back to tense hospital visits, and the endless consultations with doctors, physios and prosthetics specialists. Theo had worked so hard to get well again and walk with a new leg. Nic was so proud of how he had handled everything. Who was he to knock his confidence or sense of independence?
‘I wish you’d been more inclined to micro-manage the books while I was away,’ Theo moved on. ‘I picked up the accounts you sent me and they’re all over the place.’
Although his tone was friendly, Nic understood the message underneath it. ‘I know. I fell asleep at the wheel and let that maniac go wild and crazy with our finances. I sacked him this morning,’ he told his younger brother. ‘Is it as bad as I think it is?’
‘I haven’t gone through the figures properly yet, but at first glance it’s a monumental fuck-up.’
Nic clicked his jaw. Things were fine before the accident. In fact, they were better than fine. Together, the two men had built a kick-ass, trusted team and a solid business. ‘I didn’t have your instinctive grasp of the bottom line, and I realised too late that we continued to build when we should have scaled back in the south. And then there were those planning setbacks here. Keeping everyone sweet required the stoicism of the patron saint of chartered accountants and I am not a religious man, Theo…’
‘Well, you might have to start praying. We have serious capital issues. We’re going to start receiving lawsuits, if we don’t pay our suppliers, and there’s not even enough petty cash left to cover your petrol back to London, so you may have to walk home.’ Nic swallowed while his brother laughed grimly. ‘I’m joking Nic, but not entirely. We are teetering on the edge. You free at lunchtime to drill down into the numbers?’
‘I have a meeting in town. And I need to make it count, if we’re this much in the red.’
‘What about tonight? Let’s jump online and work up an emergency rescue plan.’
They agreed a time to talk it through and Nic said a quick goodbye to his brother. While he sat with his head in his hands, a ping from the security systems broke the heavy silence. Someone was on his patio. He listened for the doorbell, remembering a note in his diary about the estate agent coming this morning to show the house. Straightening the cushions and resolving to put off any more viewings until he’d departed for London, he waited for his visitor to enter. When nothing happened, he accessed his doorbell camera footage, and saw a woman feverishly stabbing at the entry panel, ignoring the procedure he had carefully laid out with the agent. He could easily help her by unlocking the door and letting her in. But a lot was now riding on the sale of these properties, and he wanted to see if the ‘boutique agency’ lived up to its claims. He had half an hour to spare. Maybe he’d hang around and see how she handled a viewing. Slipping out of the back door, he shut it quietly.
9
Aria had a dilemma. Before leaving town yesterday, she had received the details for the house she was to show and immediately realised it was the grotesque structure next door. She’d hastily reached for her phone to cancel the job as she couldn’t possibly sell a house her father had fought tooth and nail against. But Dad had left her in this mess, the agent was her only warm lead on work, and the tinned food in the cupboards wouldn’t last more than a week or two. After tossing and turning all night, she decided her belly trumped her principles. So, here she was, at ten to nine in the morning, showing a house she had no enthusiasm for. After plugging several numbers into the security panel of her neighbour’s front door, Aria rubbed her eyes. Tiger had whined on and off for hours and then peed on her floor in a dirty protest at being banned from the sofa bed. He must have hopped up again at some point, as she awoke squished into a corner while he was contentedly star-fishing across the sheets. She wondered if it was warm enough to put his bed on the balcony and lock him out. But then, the resultant howling would be a surefire way to draw unwanted attention to them. Although she wasgetting used to the quirks of the hut, she was still worried someone would catch her breaking the rules about occupancy. Tapping more firmly at the panel, she reminded herself to get hold of the deeds to the cabin from Dad’s solicitor so she could confirm just how large that small print might be. Maybe she could find a loophole. In the meantime, she needed to stay in the moment long enough to access this property. Consulting her notes, she added a hashtag to the end of a long list of numbers and was relieved when she was granted access.
Calling out a hello in case anyone was present, she gingerly entered, with Tiger trotting behind her. Checking her notes to confirm the name of the viewer she was due to meet, she thanked the stars she’d come early to assess the house before ‘Stephen’ arrived. She tied Tiger securely to a coat hook on the back of the front door – she hadn’t planned to bring him with her, but he’d created such a fuss that she’d hurriedly grabbed his lead.Right, she put on her game face, taking a look around the huge open-plan living space, currently shuttered and dark.
‘Well, this shouldn’t be hard to sell. And that’s before they see the view. Let’s get this place opened up!’ It didn’t take long for her to locate a small panel on the wall, while Tiger snuffled around for the scent of mice. She discovered a series of buttons on one side, with a selection of dials on the other. ‘Bingo!’ Now all she had to do was work out which switch controlled which utility. She dived in, turning the first dial tentatively, then more firmly. Nothing happened. Or did it? In the distance, she heard a clank and whirr. She followedthe noise outside the house, and to her dismay saw the adjacent garage door lifting and shutting with a clatter. Spinning round, she realised the front door had closed itself in the same wilful manner. What was this sorcery? Her phone, her dog, and the complex code were all on the other side. Trying to remember the digits, while quelling rising panic, she was splashed by a sprinkler that had gone rogue on the grass. As the garage door clanged against the concrete and started to reopen, she looked inside and saw a door leading back to the house. Sensing an opportunity to get things back on track before Stephen appeared, she channelled Indiana Jones and made a sprint for it. But the door was moving fast and caught on her cardigan on its way back up. Good God, was she about to be catapulted over the garage roof? When she heard her sweater rip, she gave a silent thanks it was a cheap buy, before ducking under the door. The connecting door into the house was thankfully unlocked and she re-entered to see a robot vacuum cleaner moving across the floor. Skipping over it, she ran at the panel, hitting random buttons to stop the commotion.
And hurrah, the wooden shutters opened.
And then closed.
And opened.
And closed.
It was like they were trying to form an orchestra with the garage door. Flicking randomly at knobs, she unintentionally turned on the TV and the surround-sound system started blaring. Moments later, the coffee machine sprang to life and the oven came on, its timer flashing. Was that thesound of a shower coming from down the hall? It sounded like the ocean! As the vacuum made a kamikaze raid on her calves, she cried out in pain. Then, mercifully, the noise cut out and the shutters lowered. As her eyes adjusted, she could feel tears welling. If a buyer showed up now she would be mightily screwed.
