‘Um… now?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m working now.’
‘Then, um, whenever youaren’tworking?’ Ugh. I hated this. Old Jenny, relying on favours and handouts.
‘I’m going for a run in a couple of hours. I’ll drop it round then.’
‘I could just use it here…’I could just come in and explore the secret innards of your mysterious house…I was dying to know what kind of furniture and paint colour and photographs Mack had. Or whatever else it was that meant he never let me across the threshold.
‘What, and leave you loose in my fully functioning, disaster-free home?’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll bring it round.’
I resisted the urge to argue. ‘Thank you for trusting me with your computer. I promise I’ll be exceptionally careful.’
I started to walk away, when he called my name. ‘Jenny.’
‘Yes?’
He held out his hands. What? Did he want a hug? Did I want to hug him back? I looked at those big, lightly tanned, toned arms and found out I did.
‘Oof.’ The tub I’d somehow managed to forget I was holding slammed into Mack’s chest. I’m not sure who said ‘oof’. I think it was both of us.
He blinked, reaching up to grab the tub. ‘You forgot to leave the cake.’
Yes. Of course. Um. ‘Enjoy!’ I trilled, and practically sprinted across to my open door and dived inside.
A mouse was sitting on the kitchen table, laughing at me. I threw a dishcloth and it ran back into the mess. I swear I could hear it still laughing from behind the skirting board.
* * *
Two hours later, as promised, Mack knocked on my door. Without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside, forcing me to back towards the table. I made a mental note to copy his tactics when I returned the computer. Mack scanned the room, ignoring me.
‘I know. It’s still a shambles.’
He tipped his head to one side. ‘Are you keeping food down here now?’
‘I’ve bleached everything! And it’s all in plastic boxes to keep the mice out.’
‘Are they a big problem?’
‘No.’ I grimaced. ‘Just lots and lots of little ones.’
He kept looking around. ‘I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled.’
‘Try neither. Try minding your own business!’Here we go again…‘Look, the table’s clean. Your computer will be fine.’
He nodded, placing it on the table. ‘How long do you need it for?’
‘Not long. An hour?’
‘See you in an hour, then.’ He winced. ‘Please be careful.’
I waited for him to leave, then settled myself at the table. A bad thought had crossed my mind. This was Mack’s computer. What if I accidentally stumbled across some personal information? A file? An Internet history? Glancing at the window, I clicked on the mouse pad and tried not to look at the icons coming up on the home screen, while sort of looking at them at the same time out the corner of my eye.
My attempt to resist temptation was futile. I had been set up as a guest user, with access to no files, no history, nothing.
Slightly peeved at the missed opportunity to do the right – and, let’s be honest, maybe the teeniest chance of perhaps the wrong – thing, I set about discovering who the car belonged to.
And then I searched Dougal and Duff.