She smirks. ‘Got a taste for the local beer, have you?’
‘Something like that. The locals are interesting people. There was a young man in there. Curly black hair.’ He pauses, watching her reaction. ‘The landlord said he runs Mower World. He was in there with the fella who’s just won Lakeview House.’
Monica frowns, setting down her cup and saucer. ‘Jack was withhim?’
‘Yes. You seem surprised.’
‘Well, Jack’s got more reason than most to disapprove of the big glass house.’
He tilts his head. ‘How so?’
She settles back in her chair. ‘His grandfather built that house. The old one, I mean, that was demolished. Had it in the family for nearly forty years. Jack grew up running around the place, spent every summer up there with his grandparents. Then DreamKey came in, tore it down, put up the modern monstrosity you can see from your window.’ She pulls a face. ‘All that prize-draw nonsense. Jack was more vocal than most about it in the village planning consultation as I recall.’
Nowthatis interesting.
He takes another bite, chewing slowly. ‘You know, Monica, this just might be the best date and walnut loaf I’ve ever tasted in my life.’
‘Oh, go on with you,’ she says, flapping a hand.
He smiles. Everything here is going better than he could ever have imagined.
It seems like he can’t put a foot wrong.
28
Friday
Merri
I open the gates, and while I’m waiting for Tilda’s cab to arrive, I stand in the living room, front door ajar, looking out. I try to force myself to look at the lake, telling myself it’s just water. It doesn’t have to signal everything that’s bad about the past.
I narrow my eyes, trying to focus on the cluster of trees about halfway down.
There’s a shape, and it’s too still, too solid to be wind or wildlife. I stumble back from the window. It’s a man, I’m sure of it. He’s standing just inside the treeline – half obscured by leaves and shadow, but he’s there.Watching. Every instinct screams at me to move, but I can’t get my legs to work.
I hear the crunch of gravel as the cab pulls up outside the house. It spurs me into moving. I lock the front door and climb inside. I’m not going to put a dampener on our day by telling Tilda what I think I just saw.
The cab rolls smoothly down the hill into Windermere, past stone cottages with ivy-clad porches and overflowing hanging baskets. I lean back in the seat, letting the motion lull me.
When Dev got home from the pub yesterday afternoon, he looked stressed. I pushed myself up from the butter-soft leather of the chair to greet him.
‘Well, that was a waste of time.’ He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
I frown. ‘What was?’
‘Meeting Jack at the pub. Thought I’d go down, say hello to the locals, maybe get a feel for the place.’ He shakes his head, leaning back. ‘Big mistake. Felt like I’d walked into a bloody Western. You know, where the stranger steps inside and the piano stops playing?’
I give a little laugh. ‘Was it really that bad?’
‘Worse, Merri. Literally no one spoke to me. Even the landlord basically ignored me, apart from his one snide comment about the “glass palace”. Just stared, like I’d escaped from a zoo. I think they were trying to work out if they should let me stay for a drink or throw me out. A proper warm welcome. Not.’ He rubbed at his jaw. ‘I take back everything I’ve said about there not being a local agenda against us. After that it feels like nobody wants us here.’
I’m not sure what to say. It’s not like Dev to be this way. That’s usually my job.
‘Sarah told me Jack climbed over the gates to get to us on the terrace the other day. He lied about them being open.’ I swallow. ‘I hope we can trust him, Dev.’
He shrugs. ‘Cheeky of him, but so what? Only way he could get in when we were out back, I suppose. He opened up a bit about him and Sarah. He implied she might be having an affair.’
‘What?’
