‘Not necessarily. We like a bargain. Right, Merri?’ Dev chuckles, and I respond with a tight smile. ‘I don’t suppose decorating’s included in your repertoire, is it? Some bright spark thought it was a good idea to paint the biggest wall in the kitchen bright red.’
Jack brightens. ‘Not really my bag, but my girlfriend, Sarah, she’s brilliant at all the interior stuff. I can ask her to pop round and take a look if you like.’
I frown. It’s starting to sound a bit like a free-for-all for Jack and his mates. ‘We’ll have a think about it,’ I say, before Dev can agree.
‘Cool. Sarah’s just finished her university course and she’s waiting for her first teaching job, so she’s got a bit of free time at the moment.’
Seems I was a bit hasty with the free-for-all assumption. ‘OK. If you let me have her number, I’ll give her a call.’
‘I do the odd bit of gardening, too,’ Jack adds. ‘Nothing fancy, just the grunt work. Mowing, trimming hedges. That sort of thing.’ He indicates the numerous potted topiary trees that dot the ceramic paving of the terrace. ‘Those prize-draw people are all about show, but this stuff can soon get out of hand if you don’t keep on top of it.’
‘Makes sense,’ Dev says. ‘We could definitely use help. This place is going to take a lot of maintaining and we aren’t gardeners.’
While they discuss the merits of various gardening tools, my mind drifts back to the old house and the scrappy patch of lawn at the back. When we viewed the place, Dev had been full of ambitious plans to build a small deck with wooden planters and maybe even a pergola. Needless to say, once he’d priced up the materials, it was barely mentioned again.
I hang back, watching their exchange. Jack looks at me briefly, and in that split second, his gaze is sharp and calculating. He’s sizing me up. Trying to get the measure of me.
Dev doesn’t notice. He’s talking about plans for the already perfect garden, about the possibility of designing a fancy outdoor kitchen with Jack’s help.
‘You’ve got your work cut out for you, managing a place this grand,’ Jack says, glancing up at the house before his eyes settle on me again. ‘No denying she’s a beauty, although plenty might think the modernity is a bit out of place around here.’
I say, ‘How long have you lived in the area?’ I’m not really interested, but I want to interrupt Dev committing to Jack doing all this work without us even discussing it.
Jack turns his gaze on me again, his face turning serious. ‘Lived in Windermere all my life. My family’s been here for generations.’
‘Impressive,’ Dev says. ‘That’s why we’d like to try to use local labour where we can. Support the locals.’
Jack looks pleased. ‘Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me. The shop’s open from eight until around six every day but Sunday.’ He tips his head towards the house. ‘Trust me and I’ll do my best to make life easier for you here.’
I watch as Jack walks away and disappears around the corner of the house. I’m relieved he’s gone, but his unexpected presence still hangs in the air.
‘He seems like a good guy,’ Dev says, breaking me out of my thoughts. ‘He could be a big help to us.’
‘I’m more interested in how he got up here so easily,’ I say. ‘And you as good as told him you’ll set him on without knowing him at all.’
‘That’s how it’s done in places like this, Merri. Everyone knows each other.’ He grins. ‘You’re naturally suspicious, I know that, but he seems like one of those people who can turn his hand to most things and we could use someone like that around here.’ He picks up his laptop and opens it.
While Dev busies himself googling ride-on mowers, I retrace Jack’s route to the terrace. Back along the gravel path, down the side of the house and out on to the bright emerald AstroTurfed front lawn. I walk across it and pause at the top of the driveway where I have a clear view all the way down to the road.
I stare at the six-foot-high sheets of polished wood with their sturdy end pillars.
The electric gates are closed.
23
Monday
I make myself a cup of tea and head outside. The crisp air helps clear my head and I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of damp grass and petrichor from the light rain we had during the night. It’s quiet here, almost too quiet.
On the photographs I’ve seen on the DreamKey website, this place looks idyllic. And it is. But in real life, it also feels far more isolated than I expected and all this glass … It’s like a goldfish bowl anyone can look into when they choose.
My phone buzzes beside me. I answer the call. Too late, I see it’s a FaceTime.
‘Morning,’ Tilda calls, with a little wave. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Great!’
She looks alert and dressed. Her hair is neat and she has make-up on. I’m sitting here in my dressing-gown with still-bleary eyes.
