Outside, the fresh June air hit his face. He took a deep breath and stared down the quiet street. Time to head home.
The cottage lights were off. Prom would be asleep somewhere inconvenient.
Kieran lingered by his gate, hands shoved into his pockets, telling himself that he needed to make more of an effort. To try and fit in, even if it pained him to do so.
Across the road, a couple of neighbours were chatting beside a parked car, laughter bubbling easily between them. They noticed him and smiled.
Right. This is it.
‘Hi,’ Kieran said, moving closer. ‘Evening.’
‘Evening,’ one of them replied, friendly and open.
‘I’m Kieran. Just moved into the cottage there.’ He nodded vaguely behind him, instantly annoyed at how defensive that sounded.
‘Oh yes,’ the woman said. ‘Janette mentioned you. From Edinburgh, aren’t you?’
Again with that.
‘Guilty,’ Kieran said. ‘Trying village life.’
They smiled and nodded. Pleasant. Waiting.
He searched for something to add. ‘Nice place,’ he offered, gesturing at the street as if they might have missed it.
‘It is,’ the man agreed. ‘Quiet.’
‘Very,’ Kieran said, too quickly.
A pause settled. Not awkward for them. For him, it stretched.
‘Well,’ the woman said kindly, ‘good luck getting settled.’
‘Thanks. Yes. Lots of boxes.’
They returned to their conversation.
Kieran stood there for a beat longer, waiting for … something. An invitation. A follow-up question. Proof he hadn’t already overstayed his welcome.
Nothing came.
He nodded, retreated through his gate and let himself into the cottage, closing the door softly behind him.
Prom opened one eye.
‘I tried,’ Kieran told the cat.
Prom yawned, turned his back and went back to sleep.
What exactly have you got yourself into?
Chapter Six
If Kieran had been the sort of man who enjoyed euphemisms, he’d have described recent hours as ‘a learning curve’.
As he wasn’t, he called it what it was: a barrage.
Cranley didn’t do gentle introductions. It did full-frontal friendliness, served with pastry and unsolicited personality analysis.
