‘No. Not exactly. But usually I’d not . . . It’s just that I would normally be looking for someone who um . . .’ She was running out of steam.
‘It’s okay, I’m not offended. I’ve been in this exact position before with me and Gina. Couples need to be equally balanced. But as I’m working towards a good career I think that goes in my favour and keeping it simple is better.’
‘I’d be more comfortable if it was a role with a little more status. Is that all right? It’s only that I don’t want Dad to think I’m with someone who will sponge off me. Sorry, that sounded awful. No offence.’
‘None taken. I’m hopefully going to be working in computing so you could say that if you like. I can field any questions about computers.’
‘Great. Let’s go with software engineer. That sounds credible and Dad won’t ask any questions as he’s not great with technology.’ Ros merrily added this to the flip chart.
Cameron covered his mouth as he yawned. ‘I’m sorry – I’m knackered. Any chance we can finish this off another time?’
‘But I wanted to introduce you to Dad on Sunday.’ Ros was feeling panicked they’d only covered half of page two.
‘That’s still cool. I’m free tomorrow morning. Let’s catch up then, yeah?’
Ros could see he was tired as he stifled another yawn so she reluctantly agreed. ‘Okay. What sort of time? I can do early.’
He pulled a face. ‘How about eleven o’clock? We could grab a coffee at Costa on the High Street.’
‘I’m not sure about meeting in public,’ said Ros. ‘It feels a little premature.’
‘Is coffee more of a third date thing?’ he asked with a smile.
‘I’m not sure what you mean but I’ll meet you as arranged.’
Cameron got to his feet. ‘It’s been nice getting to know you, Ros.’
Could she say the same? It was merely a process she had to go through. ‘Thank you, Cameron. I do appreciate what you’re doing.’
‘And I really appreciate the cash. And thanks for the tea. Take care. See you in the morning.’ He stood in front of her as if waiting for something. ‘Should we hug or kiss when we say goodbye?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Ros, heat rising up her neck at the discomfort.
‘I meant when we’re in couple mode,’ he said.
‘I see.’ She was greatly relieved. ‘I’ll think about it and let you know.’
‘Cool,’ he said and he made for the door. ‘Night, Ros. Take care.’ As the door clicked shut Ros breathed a huge sigh of relief.
Chapter Seven
Darla was pleased to receive a phone call from the house-sitting agency and even happier to discover that they needed someone immediately. She was working at the cocktail bar that evening so wasn’t able to go and check out the place until she’d finished her shift. She’d sailed through her shift feeling the most relaxed she had done in ages. The constant moving had not been easy so she was looking forward to being in one place for a while.
When Darla finished work it was after eleven at night but she merrily headed off to Netley Marsh. It was a bit further out of the city than she would have liked but this job came with a huge bonus: it was for five months! Up until now her longest stint had been four weeks in an apartment looking after a parrot for a chap who had to go away for work. That had made Darla a temporary neighbour to Ros and an instant friend. Although that wasn’t how Ros had seen it. Ros had been standoffish at first but Darla was persistent, and in a strange city working as many jobs as she was physically able to, she was in need of some female company and Ros had fitted the bill.
Basically Darla had worn her down with invitations to watch TV, sip wine on the balcony, and to try out her famous brownies, which had been what had finally won Ros over. They had discovered that whilst they were quite different in personality they did share some common ground in that they both enjoyed musicals and bitching about incompetent colleagues. Ros reminded Darla of her friend back home in Oxford. Someone who was sadly no longer a friend. The longer she had stood by her con man boyfriend the more friends Darla had lost. Some of them had even put money into his stupid schemes. The shame had stopped her keeping in touch. She had found Ros at a key time and even though Darla had moved out of the swish apartment block they had stayed friends.
Darla couldn’t stop grinning. She’d only had details by voice message but it sounded amazing. A four-bedroomed country house that was awaiting probate and needed someone to tend to the garden and the stock. She wasn’t sure what the latter was but there were no incontinent whippets or trumping French bulldogs so things were definitely looking up. The agency offices weren’t local and usually any handover was done by the homeowner, which obviously wasn’t possible this time. But as Darla was an experienced and confident sitter she wasn’t fazed by an empty house.
The property was just outside the village and surrounded by fields. She pulled onto the gravel drive and got out of the car. It was hard to see the house in the dark but from what she could see it was double-fronted and looked huge. Above the door was a well-worn sign that read The Brambles.
‘Ahh, home for the next five months,’ said Darla through a happy sigh.
She found the key hidden under a plant pot and unlocked the door, heaved in her case and felt around for a light switch. She touched something that might have been a switch but felt more like a cold brass nipple and she flicked it down. Light flooded the long hallway. Darla was struck by the beautiful tiled flooring in blue and white terracotta. Her eyes travelled up to the brass chandelier and the high ceiling – this place was something special. Darla had a little look around to get a feel for the layout. Usually she liked that the houses she stayed in had their owners’ things scattered here and there. But as she knew the person who had lived here had died it felt a little strange being in their house without their permission.
A coat on the hall stand and wellies by the door reminded her this wasn’t hers forever. She flicked the switch in another room and discovered the kitchen but it wasn’t like any kitchen she’d seen before – or at least not like any she’d experienced in real life. It looked like something out of a history book. A chipped butler’s sink was flanked by what she assumed were cupboards, but where there would normally be doors there were grubby floral curtains hanging desperately from bent wire. A battered wooden table sat in the middle and on top she saw a newspaper, a pair of glasses and a mug creeping with mould. She’d sort this out in the morning.
The living room looked lived in and the old leather sofas were comfortable but the lack of a television was alarming. There was a stool with a radio on top where you would have expected to have seen a TV. A quick hoover round and that room would be perfectly liveable.
Upstairs Darla found four good-sized bedrooms but only one of the beds had a mattress and enough space to get all the way around the bed. The other bedrooms were chock full of large pieces of old furniture. The main bedroom had been left as if someone had just got up and gone to get a cup of tea. She always carried her own bottom sheet and duvet cover just in case and this was one of those occasions. She sorted the bedding out and got ready for bed. She went to the last room on that floor: the bathroom. By this stage she hadn’t been expecting a state-of-the-art rainfall shower like she had experienced at the last property she’d stayed in but she also wasn’t fully prepared for the horror that met her.
A dark green toilet and a sink smeared with toothpaste stood next to a large bath – white on the inside and black on the outside. A constant drip tapped a rhythm as she took in the sorry-looking bathroom. She took a breath. It wasn’t the end of the world and once it was clean it would seem a whole lot better. She needed to focus on the two most important aspects of the house – it was free and it was all hers for the next five months. Things were looking up.
***
On Saturday morning Ros was up early and going over the flip charts she’d completed with Cameron as well as jotting the unanswered questions into her notebook so they could carry on when they met. The discussion about children had stuck in her mind. She’d always assumed that she wasn’t cut out to be a mother – her own mother certainly wasn’t, so why would she be any different? No child deserved to experience what she had.
She’d just finished jotting down a few areas that Cameron needed to avoid when he met her dad – mainly Portsmouth FC, billionaires in space and roadworks. They always made him grumpy.
Her phone rang and it was her dad calling. ‘Hi, you okay?’
‘I am but I didn’t sleep too well last night and when I did, I think I was in a funny position because my back is playing up this morning.’
‘That’s not good. Should I call someone?’
‘No, it’s nothing really, but Gazza it sitting staring at me because he wants to go for a W-A-L-K.’ The fact her father had to spell it out to avoid the mutt going crackers made her roll her eyes. ‘Do you think you could take him? Don’t worry if you’re busy.’
‘Of course I can, Dad. It’s not a problem,’ she said, checking her watch. She’d be cutting it fine and Gazza would have to be happy with a short W-A-L-K.
