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?’
‘Okay. But a couple of feet is literally as high as they can get. They can’t take off, so they won’t fly away. And if you want another tip, you need to stand your ground with The Captain.’
‘With who?’ asked Darla.
But Elliott was already pointing at the strutting rooster.
‘I didn’t know they had names,’ she said.
‘Horace only named him and the goats. He didn’t like to get too attached to something he would later be eating.’
Darla grimaced. ‘He ate his pets?’
Elliott laughed. ‘They’re not pets. They’re livestock. Your chicken korma looks a bit different when it’s on your plate, but this is how it starts. You knew that right?’
‘Yes. And I’m not a big fan of Indian curry by the way.’
‘Nor me. I prefer Thai.’
‘Me too,’ said Darla. ‘Tell me what the goats are called.’ She walked around to their pen and he followed.
