‘That’s certainly not a local accent.’ He cocked his head as he handed her a small package.
‘We’re from London. We’re moving here permanently though. It’s not a second home.’
She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to defend herself. His demeanour wasn’t hostile. She smiled, glad to see it returned.
‘Well, let me know when you’ve chosen a safe place for me to leave anything when you’re not in.’
‘Thanks, I will.’
As she turned to go back into the house, she noticed her neighbour, Richard, in the garden and waved to him.
He waved back. ‘Lovely day again,’ he shouted.
‘Beautiful,’ Juliette replied. Then she sighed with relief as he went back to the job in hand, thankful that he wasn’t the nosy neighbour they’d originally joked about.
CHAPTER FIVE
2015
‘I can’t believe we’ve come this far for a painting,’ I said. ‘What is it with this bloke, anyway? And how can you afford it?’
‘It’s for our parents, and we’ve all chipped in. It’s something they’ve wanted for ages and not many couples get to their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary without killing each other.’
Martin, my friend, grinned at me. He’d been smoking and his breath smelt like potato peelings but at least I’d got an afternoon off.
Martin and I worked at the local biscuit factory. It was a bugger of a job for low pay and awful conditions and we both hated it. Today we were on late shifts, so I’d offered to ride from Derby to Mapleton, to keep him company.
Martin and I weren’t an item. We were just really good friends. Besides, he was dating Mandy Pilkingtonand I loved teasing her. She hated that he wanted to spend time with me; she got so jealous it was laughable. So once I found out she didn’t want to go and see some ‘crappy pictures’, I jumped at the chance. My life was so exciting – not.
We drove there in Martin’s Mini, small and compact and falling apart. I was surprised it got us there and back to be honest. It was a death trap, a tin can on wheels. But it was Martin’s pride and joy. He loved all things retro – and the Mini was definitely older than us.
The air in the car was hotter than it was outside. I wound down the window and thrust my hand out, waving it about in the breeze.
‘So who is he, the artist?’ I over-pronounced the wordartistto prove I didn’t believe he would be good.
‘He’s called Richard Sykes-Morgan. I doubt you’ll have heard of him.’
‘Sounds like a ponce to me.’
‘He’s really good. I scoured the internet for someone who would draw a bespoke piece. Richard came highly recommended and when I saw some of the pieces he’s created, I knew my mum would fall in love with one in particular.’
‘What of?’
‘Wait and see.’
Twenty minutes later, almost at the top of a hill, we turned into a gateway and pulled up in front of a stone farmhouse, with a large garden and what looked like aforest behind it. I reckoned the house must date back a fair few years.
‘Wow.’ Martin whistled. ‘Some property.’
‘Indeed. He must be doing well for himself.’
A man came striding towards us as we got out of the car. I stretched my back after sitting cramped for so long and then raised a hand to my eyes to shield them from the sun.
‘Hi, I’m Richard.’ He offered his hand to Martin, then did the same to me. ‘Right then, let me show you what I have.’
I let the men walk slightly in front of me as I studied Richard’s physique. He was built like a rugby player, most probably in his late thirties. I fell in love with him there and then.
Close up, he wasn’t much taller than me and his face was gorgeous. He had these twinkling eyes and a cheeky grin that made him look younger than he was. I found out later that he was nearly forty to my twenty. I had no idea at the time of his previous relationships either. Well, you don’t, do you? You just take at face value everything someone says to you.
