‘Was he?’ Ros wasn’t sure how she felt about that comment. A little pride perhaps?

‘Yeah. Most of the admin team were drooling over him.’ She leaned closer, and Ros had to stifle the urge to move the same distance away. ‘The thing none of us can figure out is how you landed him. I mean no offence or anything.’

How could you not take offence at that? Berlinda and her coven obviously had discussed them as a couple and decided that Cameron was out of Ros’s league. Annoyingly it now made Ros consider it too. They were the same age. She currently had a more lucrative job although he would hopefully secure something of a similar calibre when he graduated. Ros realised Berlinda was most likely more focused on looks – they were a shallow bunch. Cameron wasn’t classically good-looking but he certainly couldn’t be described as ugly. She didn’t know where she would class herself in the looks department – it wasn’t something she thought about. Cameron had certainly tidied himself up since their first meeting. He had a strong jawline and an almost constant smile. A little off-putting at first but she was getting used to it. Ros rarely smiled.

Right at that moment she made a point of pasting on a smile. Now to answer the question. She took Cameron’s advice of being comical so as not to be in conflict or cause offence. ‘He offered me a screaming orgasm. How could I resist?’ she said.

Berlinda looked like she’d been hit in the face with a spanner and Ros resisted the urge to wave a hand in front of her eyes to check if she was still functioning.

‘It’s a cocktail,’ clarified Ros when there was no response other than the shock on Berlinda’s face. ‘He works in a bar,’ added Ros. It definitely lost something when you had to explain it.

Ros’s phone pinged. A timely response from Cameron. ‘That’s him messaging me now,’ she said.

Berlinda seemed to recover. ‘Oh right. I see . . . still doesn’t really explain it. But then it takes all sorts.’ She forked up a heap of noodles and chewed thoughtfully.

‘There you go then,’ said Ros, now keen to escape. She grabbed her Tupperware box from the fridge, waved it at Berlinda as if it were evidence and exited the break room. On her way back to her desk she read the message from Cameron.

Good, thanks. I got my tyre fixed and some uni work done. Loving the peace and quiet here. Hope you’re having a good day. See you later.

Ros read it a number of times. There was definitely no mention of him moving out. In fact he seemed quite settled. After mulling over a number of possible responses she went with:

OK

Ros unlocked the apartment door and was immediately met by a delicious aroma. She scanned the kitchen area and was pleased to see the bike had gone. Cameron was standing over the hob, stirring with one hand and his mobile in the other. ‘Okay, Gina. I’ve gotta go. Yeah, you too.’

Cameron turned in her direction. ‘Hiya,’ he said, shoving his phone in his pocket. ‘Your timing is perfect.’ He left the cooker, took a bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured a glass for Ros. ‘Dinner will be ten minutes. Kick off your shoes and relax – or whatever it is you usually do.’

‘I usually make dinner,’ said Ros, feeling quite thrown by the change in routine.

‘Not tonight. I thought I would cook you my speciality – paella – to say thanks for letting me stay.’

‘That’s very nice of you and really not necessary. But now you’ve brought it up I—’

‘This is such a great apartment. I am so grateful for you letting me crash here but we need to agree on rent. Would it be too weird to say take it off what you’re paying me?’ He pulled an awkward face.

‘To calculate that we would need to know how long you will be staying.’ There, she’d broached it.

The kitchen timer sounded and Cameron raised a finger. ‘Hold that thought. I need to serve up.’

Ros sipped her wine. It was perfectly chilled and she noted he must have bought it specially even when she had bottles in the rack. She glanced around. There wasn’t anything out of place. Even when Darla stayed some of her things migrated into the main living area – odd things like her hair straightener and socks. She watched him plating up the meal he’d clearly cooked from scratch. She was frequently tired when she got in from work, but the pre frozen batches of lasagne and chilli had become a little humdrum. What was it Darla had said? Don’t be hasty. Maybe she had a point.

They sat down to eat.

‘How was your day?’ asked Cameron.

Ros was surprised by how much the question threw her. She couldn’t remember ever having this sort of domestic chat. Her last boyfriend had been keen to tell her all about his day, the highs and lows and how brilliant he’d been, but showed zero interest in her job. ‘It was okay. Berlinda seems to think you’re out of my league.’

‘Blimey, she’s blunt. And I disagree; I’d be punching well above my weight with you. How’s the meal? Is it okay?’ He was watching her carefully.

Ros was impressed. ‘This is really good.’

‘Special family recipe,’ he said.

‘Paella is Spanish. I thought you said your family has Italian ancestral roots?’ she asked.

‘I did but this is nothing to do with that. Nan picked up one of those recipe cards in Sainsburys but over the years we’ve tweaked it a little. I’m glad you like it. There’s more where this came from.’

Ros eyed the pile on her plate. ‘Oh I have more than enough, thank you.’

‘I meant I have a few other DeFelice dishes I am a dab hand at that I’ll rustle up while I’m here.’

‘You’re thinking of staying for a while then?’ The prospect was seeming less daunting somehow.

‘Only until I sort out a new house share. I put some feelers out today so hopefully someone will have a spare room when they take up their new rental agreements at the end of term. Shouldn’t be more than a few weeks. End of July tops. If that’s okay with you.’ He paused to judge her reaction.

‘I think that will be fine,’ she said, having another mouthful of paella.

Chapter Twenty

Darla was having an altercation with the rooster. When she’d finished cleaning out the animals there was a cupcake with her name on waiting for her in the kitchen. The cockerel was getting more bolshy and despite Darla trying to stand her ground he was quite intimidating when he came at you beak first with feathers flapping. ‘Eek!’ she squealed, darting behind the henhouse.

‘Ahh . . . the master at work,’ said Elliott. She wondered how long he’d been lurking there. Darla stood up straight and pulled her shoulders back but at the same time kept a close eye on the chickens and one in particular.

‘Mistress would be more accurate.’ Although as soon as she’d said it, it conjured up thoughts of adultery, which was not the image she wanted to portray. ‘Anyway how can I – whoa!’ The cockerel was on the attack again. Darla dashed for the exit and took a few pecks to her calves as she fumbled her escape. Once out of the chicken run she was faced with Elliott’s smirking face. ‘And you could do better could you?’

‘I did all right until you arrived,’ he said with a certain smug lift of his chin.

Darla had wondered who had been looking after the animals in between Horace dying and her moving in. ‘Any top tips?’

‘You can let the chickens out from time to time.’

‘Nice try. Are you trying to get me fired?’

‘No. I’m serious. They like to stretch their legs and they’ll find a variety of bugs and things to eat, which are good diet supplements.’

‘But they’ll fly away and then I’ll be in deep . . .’

Elliott was proper belly-laughing and Darla was lost as to why.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Chickens can’t fly,’ said Elliott, clutching his side as he was gripped by a fresh wave of hysteria.

‘Yeah they can. The big boy one definitely can.’

‘The rooster,’ he said as the laughter faded to a broad grin.

‘Yes, I know. Him. He flies at me all the time. Did you not just see him do that?’