‘Thanks. It was a shock when we got back.’ I blow my fringe out of my eyes, wishing I’d put a bit of make-up on this morning. Tilda always looks so immaculate. It must be a shock to his system to see the state of me. I step back. ‘Sorry, come in.’
‘Place is really starting to look like your own now.’ He steps into the living room, looking around at our possessionsscattered here and there. He walks a few steps past me and stands in front of the windows. He’s loose-limbed and relaxed and at least a foot taller than I am. He stares at the scratched glass. ‘Jeez. Someone really went to town.’
‘You should’ve seen it before the red paint got cleaned off. The new glass is on order, should be replaced in the next couple of days.’
‘Must be vindictive locals. You rang the police, I assume?’
I nod. ‘We reported it and they gave us a crime number for insurance purposes. They haven’t been out. They said to take pictures and call them back if we get any more problems.’
‘Hmm, that’s poor. Sign of the times, though, I’m afraid.’ Simon frowns, looking out to the terrace. ‘Is Dev around?’
‘No, he’s out working through a list of stuff we need now we don’t live in a shoebox.’ I grin. ‘Not sure when he’ll be back. What a shame the night came to an end like this. We really enjoyed seeing you and Tilda.’
‘Yes, it was good.’ Simon shifts his weight, glancing past me at the half-unpacked mess behind me. ‘I just came by to pick up the adjustable wrench I lent Dev. He said he’d only need it for a day, but I’ve got a stubborn wheel nut I need it for.’
I try to remember if Dev has said anything about borrowing a wrench. I’m sure he hasn’t. ‘Oh, right. Maybe it’s in the garage, let me check.’
‘There’s no rush,’ Simon says, moving well away from the door. ‘Mind if I get a glass of water? It’s a warm, dusty walk up here.’
‘Yes, course. Sorry!’ I hesitate. ‘Would you like a coffee, too? Dev ground some fresh beans earlier.’
‘Sounds good,’ Simon says, walking to the windows and looking out. My eyes are drawn to his profile. His strong, square jaw. I pour him a glass of water and set it on thecounter before starting up the coffee machine. I take out two Denby mugs, part of a set given to us by a friend of Dev’s three years ago as a wedding gift.
While the coffee is brewing and Simon is sipping his water, I remember seeing Dev fiddling around under the sink, so I crouch down and have a rummage. After a few moments, I spot a wrench, half buried under a heap of cleaning cloths.
‘Is this what you’re looking for?’ I stand up and turn to find Simon watching me with an intensity I wasn’t expecting. His eyes meet mine and, for a second, I feel a ripple of something shift in the air between us.
‘Thanks,’ he says, taking it from me. His fingers brush against mine and I get a discreet whiff of sandalwood scent.
‘I’ll sort out the coffees,’ I mumble, heading across the kitchen, my face full of heat. I swear I can feel his eyes on my back as I go. ‘Let’s sit outside,’ I suggest, leading him to the terrace a few minutes later. The sun hangs low over the garden, casting everything in its warm, golden light. We settle into Adirondack chairs, both of us quiet for a moment, sipping our drinks. But I don’t feel relaxed in his presence: the silence is too charged, like the air just before a storm.
‘What a place you have here, Merri.’ His eyes sweep over the garden, then return to me. ‘You’re living the dream. You really are.’
‘It is incredible, but you and Tilda have a beautiful home too,’ I say. ‘Your place has got so much character, and it’s beautifully furnished. You’ve both done a great job.’
Simon laughs, a short, humourless sound. ‘Yeah, well, it’s not really a joint project. I can’t take any credit. Tilda’s got the eye for that kind of thing. I just do the heavy lifting.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.’
His gaze lingers on me. ‘I’m stronger than I look, you know.’
I think he’s flirting with me, but I’m so out of practice, I can’t tell for sure. I force a smile and busy myself with staring into my coffee, letting the steam cloud my thoughts.
I clear my throat. ‘Well, it sounds like Tilda’s lucky to have you around.’ My voice emerges a little too breezy to disguise the uneasy feeling winding through me.
Simon doesn’t respond straight away, just keeps watching me with that same odd intensity. It’s like he’s daring me to respond, pushing at a boundary I didn’t realize we’d drawn. It feels a bit off, like stepping on to unstable ground.
I remind myself that I’m happy with Dev, that whatever Simon’s playing at isn’t my problem.
I became good friends with Dev before our connection developed into something more. We met at Christmas, in a bar, both of us with other friends. He was someone I could talk to easily, someone who made me laugh. We met for coffee a few times, went to the cinema, that sort of thing. Our casual meet-ups stretched over a few months.
Then I caught myself noticing the way he looked at me, the way his hand lingered just a second longer when he passed me something. I started seeing him as an attractive man, a potential lover.
It was like a slow-burning fire I hadn’t realized was spreading. And by the time I did, there was no going back.
‘You’re liking it here so far?’ he asks, shifting the conversation away from Tilda.
‘What’s not to like?’ I laugh, giving a nod to the view and the expanse of water that chills my blood. ‘It’s early days, but the neighbourhood seems nice, apart from what I’m praying was an isolated incident. Everyone’s been friendly. It’s just … difficult. Getting used to somewhere new, I mean.’
