Not What it Seems Read online

  ‘Well…’ he began, but at that moment the doorbell went and roused Gizmo, who barked furiously.

  ‘He’s a good guard dog,’ I smiled, ‘especially as it’s not even his house. Excuse me a minute.’

  Conscious that my hair hadn’t even been brushed, I smoothed it ineffectually on my way to open the front door and tightened the belt of my dressing gown.

  ‘Owen.’ I opened the door wide, really pleased to see him.

  ‘I just called to see if you wanted to come out for breakfast.’ He looked at my undressed state and added, ‘I can wait while you get ready.’

  ‘Oh, that would have been lovely,’ I began, ‘but I’ve got a guest and we’ve already eaten breakfast.’

  ‘Oh,’ Owen sounded surprised, shocked even.

  I was about to add that he was welcome to come in and join us, but he had already turned on his heel and was making his way back down the path.

  ‘You don’t have to rush off, do you?’ I called after him.

  ‘A lot on,’ he said abruptly.

  The next minute he had climbed into his four-by-four and roared off leaving me to close the door slowly and wonder what on earth his problem was.

  ‘That was my…’ as always I found myself hesitating over Owen’s correct title because there wasn’t really one that fitted our unique circumstances, ‘friend.’ I elaborated, ‘It was Owen the guy I used to share a house with.’

  ‘He’s not coming in?’ Arthur asked, looking as if he might have quite enjoyed someone else to talk to.

  ‘No, he said he had a lot on.’

  ‘Yes, and I expect you have a lot on, too,’ Arthur said, getting to his feet a little stiffly and gathering up Gizmo. ‘I did enjoy the cheese on toast and the chat but you needn’t be afraid I shall be making a nuisance of myself and forever popping round.’

  ‘Nothing was further from my mind,’ I assured him. ‘It’s been lovely meeting you both and I shall know where to come when I need to borrow a cup of sugar.’

  ‘I don’t take it myself,’ he said with a twinkle, ‘but I’ll be sure and keep some in.’

  By the time I’d had my shower and headed off with my shopping list, I had convinced myself that Owen had spoken nothing but the truth. He did have a lot on and was probably relieved his offer of breakfast had not been accepted. It was just like him to make time in a very busy day for such a kind gesture, aware, as he would have been that I had very little food in the house.

  I returned hours later, having spent the best part of the whole day in the huge Sainsbury’s just outside of town, eating my lunch there before I began a mammoth shop the likes of which I hadn’t undertaken since my days of catering for five children and two adults. I’d even managed to buy photo frames, cushions and a couple of ornaments that might help to make my pristine home look a bit more lived in. I found it amazing and very handy the sheer variety of what could be bought in a supermarket these days.

  I was still in the process of transferring bags from the car to the house when Owen suddenly appeared by the side of me.

  ‘Oh, am I glad to see you,’ I said with feeling and handed him a couple of loaded carrier bags. ‘You’re just in time to give me a hand.’

  ‘What happened to the guest?’ he said obediently following me inside and looking around.

  ‘Oh, he went home hours ago,’ I said blithely, encouraging, ‘just put the bags down over there. I’ll start unpacking once they’re all inside,’ and then I plodded outside again and repeated the process a couple more times with Owen following me backwards and forwards silently.

  ‘You’re welcome to chat while I put the stuff away. I can still listen,’ I told him and had worked my way through several bags, finding homes for the contents before I realised he still hadn’t said a single word. ‘Cat got your tongue? I asked in the end.

  ‘Something like that,’ he replied in a clipped tone that was very unlike his usual lazy drawl.

  I stopped what I was doing and faced him. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Well,’ he said, and then stopped.

  ‘Come on, out with it,’ I said chirpily, ‘something bothering you?’

  ‘Well,’ he said again, and paused. This time I didn’t prompt him, just waited for him to go on. ‘I know it’s none of my business...’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But, you certainly didn’t waste any time, did you?’

  I just looked at him, and when he didn’t elaborate, I said, ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t have a single clue what you’re talking about.’

  ‘If it was someone you’ve been seeing recently, why haven’t you said? We’ve always been honest with each other.’

  I gave his words some thought, and then said, ‘No, sorry, but I still don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake stop playing the innocent with me. It isn’t clever and there’s absolutely no need to be so secretive. It’s me, Owen, and I know you too well.’

  I just stared at him, shook my head and shrugged my shoulders.

  ‘This morning,’ he spoke slowly, as if I was stupid or something, ‘you opened the door in your dressing gown with your hair all over the place, informed me as cool as you like that you’d just had breakfast with “a guest”. ‘

  The penny finally dropped with a deafening clang and I wanted to laugh. Instead I began to explain ‘Oh, that was…’

  ‘Spare me the details,’ he snapped nastily. ‘You can say it’s none of my business, but…’

  I kind of lost it a bit then. Suddenly this wasn’t funny and I didn’t like his tone. I didn’t like it at all.

  ‘You’re right,’ I snapped back, ‘I can say it’s none of your business, because it damn well isn’t. I don’t have to explain myself - or any “guests” I might entertain to you and I’m not going to. Thank you for your help with the bags. You can go now.’

  With that I marched past him to the front door and stood there pointedly holding it open. Without another word he left and I slammed the door behind his back and then stood there staring at it.

  ‘What,’ I said out loud, ‘was that all about?’

  I put the rest of the shopping away, going over and over what had been said and managed to come up with only one conclusion.

  ‘Was it possible he was jealous – of Arthur?’ I asked myself and then roared with laughter at such an absurd notion.

  Chapter Four

  I didn’t actually laugh for long before the anger came back and wiped the smile from my face.

  Where Owen had gained the impression that I had to keep him informed of any changes to my life and the people in it, I wasn’t sure. We had always known that at some point we would be moving on and living separate lives, though there had never been any question that we would remain friends.

  However, his peculiar conduct couldn’t be excused on the grounds of friendship as far as I was concerned. I couldn’t understand it, or excuse it at all. Thankfully a telephone call with some unexpected news distracted me or I might have wasted hours of my time pondering on Owen’s strange behaviour and what lay behind it.

  I’d snatched up the ringing phone fully expecting to hear a sheepish Owen on the end of the line ready to offer a grovelling apology. However, the deep voice though pleasant was unfamiliar.

  First checking my name, he then continued, ‘this is Bill from Brankstone Carpentry and Joinery. I’m just contacting you to let you know we’ve just finished the last job ahead of time and, if it’s all right with you, we can be round at yours first thing in the morning to make a start on your home office.’

  ‘Really?’ I was shocked. If I was being honest I was far more used to trades people arriving either days later than agreed or not at all. ‘You can start tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, if that’s OK with you.’

  ‘But that’s brilliant, a whole week ahead of schedule. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Is there anything I need to get in?’

  ‘Tea and coffee would be great.’ I could hear the smile i
n the man’s voice. ‘Biscuits would be a bonus.’

  The minute I got off the phone I raced up the stairs and stood in the middle of the loft conversion, trying to picture it with the brand new office fittings in place. I had been happy to make do with furniture from the family house for my new home, but this room was to be my one luxury and it had been meticulously designed to my own specifications the minute I knew the bungalow was going to be mine.

  Obviously originally planned as an extra bedroom this room even had an en-suite, so it was going to be just about perfect. I felt a smile creeping gradually across my face and growing until it stretched into one huge beam.

  I was awake far too early the next morning on what promised to be a grey day, but knew it was going to take more than a bit of cloud or a spot of rain the dampen my enthusiasm. Showered, dressed and looking forward to the day ahead, I had already boiled the kettle for tea, the coffee was perking and I was reaching for the mugs when I noticed Gizmo patrolling the garden. I wondered if Arthur had realised yet that he was missing and knowing how worried he would be I hurried outside.

  ‘Arthur, are you there?’ I called, unable to see through the dense and neatly clipped Leylandii hedge.

  ‘He’s over there again, is he?’ the old man surmised. ‘I was afraid he might have got out of the gate.’

  ‘I’ll close the back door and open the front. Just come round when you’re ready. There’s no hurry, he seems quite happy.’

  I put the door on the latch for him and went back to pour sugar into a bowl and put biscuits on a plate and was once more reaching for the mugs when I heard the door close.

  ‘Come on through, Arthur,’ I called, and turned to find it was Owen behind me.

  ‘Had his breakfast and coming back for his elevenses now, is he?’ he said sourly eyeing the plate of biscuits and the tray currently holding just two mugs.

  Before I could think of a cutting reply, the doorbell went and pushing past him I went to answer it. Fully expecting to find Arthur on the step, instead I found myself face to face with a very fit guy, probably in his thirties wearing a t-shirt and jeans and carrying a tool bag.

  ‘You’re early,’ I beamed.

  ‘We aim to please,’ he said with a grin, and was already making his way straight up the stairs before I could suggest a tea or coffee.

  If he was always this eager to get started, I reasoned, it was small wonder he completed jobs before time. I was still smiling when I went back into the kitchen and found Owen still standing in the same place with a huge scowl firmly in place.

  ‘He’s keen,’ Owen said, as if that was a crime.

  ‘Isn’t he?’ I agreed, refusing to be riled.

  ‘Like I said before, you haven’t wasted much time, and is that a dog out there?’ He indicated the garden with a nod of his head.

  ‘It is.’ I didn’t add that it wasn’t mine.

  ‘Not much of a man if that’s his dog,’ he said disparagingly.

  ‘And that would be any of your business because…?’ I folded my arms.

  ‘Because I care about you.’

  I almost said he had a funny way of showing it, but I wasn’t rising to anything he could say this morning. I had decided that on my way back from opening the door.

  ‘I care about you, too.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said it as if he didn’t believe me.

  ‘But,’ I continued, as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘you don’t find me on your doorstep making disparaging remarks about your visitors.’

  ‘That’s because I don’t have any – yet.’

  ‘Well, perhaps you should change that and then you wouldn’t be quite so interested in mine,’ I returned swiftly.

  ‘Oh,’ he hurrumphed, ‘there’s no talking to you’ and with that he turned on his heels and left, slamming the front door – my front door I thought with annoyance – behind him.

  The doorbell rang immediately and I whipped it open ready to demand what the bloody hell he wanted this time, only to find another very nice looking guy on my step. This one I recognised, since he was the one who had priced and planned my new office.

  ‘Something eating him,’ he nodded a head towards Owen’s van roaring away, yet again, from my property. ‘He nearly took my door off.’

  ‘And nearly this one off its hinges,’ I said ruefully. ‘Must have got out of the wrong side of the bed – not mine,’ I added hastily in case he got the wrong idea, ‘I live alone.’

  ‘Is Bill here?’

  ‘Upstairs.’

  ‘Excellent. We can start bringing everything in.’

  ‘Tea or coffee first?’

  ‘You obviously know how to get the best out of your workmen. I can already smell the coffee brewing. We’ll make a couple of trips while you get it ready and then take a ten minute break.’

  Arthur followed them through the front door as they hefted pieces of wood up the stairs and couldn’t wait to ask me what was happening.

  ‘My study/office/den - whatever the in word is for such a space - is being constructed ahead of time,’ I told him, allowing my pleasure to show. ‘Isn’t that great?’

  ‘You won’t know yourself,’ he told me, sharing in my excitement. ‘Rose made Ron’s old bedroom into a sewing room – she was a dab hand with a needle or sewing machine,’ he added by way of explanation, ‘and now I’m just thinking I could do something with it and make a little office of my own.’

  He accepted my invitation to join us for coffee and was soon chatting away about his plans to Bill and Stuart, with Gizmo sitting under the table happily accepting the tiny pieces of biscuit surreptitiously being slipped to him by the two carpenters.

  ‘Want us to come round and give you a free estimate?’ Stuart offered, reaching down to pat the little dog’s head.

  ‘It’d be too grand for me,’ Arthur said, while thanking him for the kind thought, ‘and show up the rest of the place. ‘No, a nice old desk and filing cabinet would be enough for me – and perhaps a book case, because I do have a fair few of those. Rose was always on at me about cluttering the place up with them. She’d be pleased to see them tidy.’

  He left soon after to be there for his grocery delivery.

  ‘Nice old boy,’ said Stuart thoughtfully.

  ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ Bill queried.

  ‘That office we refurbished? We never did get round to getting rid of the stuff and it might be just what he’d be looking for.’

  ‘Oh, that is kind. I’d be happy to pay for it,’ I said.

  ‘We wouldn’t want paying. It’s really just cluttering the place up. Happy to bring it round, but are we sure he would really want it?’

  ‘It would be lovely to surprise him,’ I mused, ‘but leave it with me and I’ll talk to him some more.’

  With that they clattered back up the stairs and soon banging and sawing could be heard to a radio accompaniment, along with a bit of whistling and tuneless singing now and again.

  It reminded me of those far off days when Owen was working as a self-employed builder during the day, and evenings and weekends on making the house we purchased between us into a family home big enough to accommodate two adults (unattached) and five children with ages ranging from three to eight years. I’ll never know how he did it, but the result after months of knocking down walls and adding an extension was a beautiful house with six bedrooms on the first floor and big family-sized rooms downstairs.

  Only our two youngest daughters – Mai and Ella - had to share a room but at three and four years old respectively they had no problem with that and continued to share even when the older ones eventually started moving out. They were so close and similar in colouring that they were still often mistaken for twins.

  It was just a shame the two of them hadn’t managed to gain places at the same university, but being a year apart and on different courses was bound to send them in different directions and perhaps that was a good thing – a good thing for each of us to find our own way in life and th
at included Owen and me.

  Circumstances and necessity had put us all together - and I still shuddered to think how different and how difficult life would have been had I been obliged to struggle on alone – but it had been an elaborate arrangement that was never meant to be forever. Owen no longer had to feel responsible for me and so I would tell him next time he came poking his nose into my business.

  I could feel my temper beginning to rise again so was almost relieved when Gizmo popped through the hedge and made his way confidently to my back door. He was quite happy for me to pick him up now, so I tucked him under my arm and made me way next door. It would give me the ideal opportunity to mention the offer of a desk.

  ‘Little devil,’ was Arthur’s greeting when he opened the door, ‘I’m going to have to do something about that gap or he’ll never give you a moment’s peace. Bring him in and have a cup of tea with me for a change.’

  It was interesting seeing how my own bungalow must have looked originally, with all the rooms separate and therefore much smaller, though it lacked the clutter of many older people’s homes and merely looked cosy.

  ‘He’s no trouble,’ I assured Arthur, adding ‘but when I go back to work next week I shall have to lock the gate so you won’t be able to come round and get him back. I’m not sure how secure my garden is either, so he could get out onto the street and we don’t want that.

  ‘Perhaps the guys next door can find a bit of spare wood to block the gap,’ I suggested, and then continued, as if I’d just thought of it, ‘they were saying they had a desk and filing cabinet going begging at their yard. They brought it away after they fitted a home office, but it’s just in the way.’

  ‘They haven’t just said that because of what I said earlier?’ he looked suspicious.

  I laughed. ‘Don’t be daft, Arthur. They couldn’t have conjured up what you needed out of thin air. They haven’t even left my house. Honestly, it sounded to me as if you would be doing them a favour – it would be a shame if it went to the tip.’