Chapter Ten
Darla was exhausted by the end of the day. She’d been up extra early, thanks to the noisy cockerel. She’d worked her cleaning job only to come back to The Brambles and clean the kitchen although despite all her efforts it still looked only marginally less grubby. She’d had better results in the bathroom where the bath now gleamed, the taps shone and she no longer needed to hover her bum over the toilet seat. She’d not managed to fix the dripping tap so the constant noise made her feel like she was on Countdown and had to hurry up. She’d vacuumed and dusted throughout. The bedroom windows had been open most of the day and it now looked and felt fresher. She’d endured a long and busy shift at the cocktail bar thanks to a hen night and now she was ready for her bed.
She pulled onto the drive and cut the engine. She let herself in and walked through the house. She went to get herself a glass of water and through the kitchen window she could see a light bouncing around outside. Her breath caught in her throat – she had an intruder.
Darla picked up the nearest thing there was that might pass as a weapon and crept outside with the soup ladle. She clutched her phone in her other hand. She could video the intruder as evidence or perhaps she should go back in and call the police. It dawned on her how vulnerable she was with just a soup ladle to protect her and she froze by the gate. The intruder was bending down on the other side of the bird pens but there was no sign of the animals as they’d probably gone into their little wooden huts to sleep, which was what she’d hoped she’d be doing around about now.
Suddenly the intruder stood up and started to head her way. In her panic to get back inside unnoticed Darla tripped over her own feet, stumbled into the low wall and tipped right over the top of it, landing in a heap on the other side and losing the ladle.
Big thudding footsteps approached her as she felt around for her weaponised utensil and scrambled to her feet without it. ‘Stop! I’ll call the police!’ she yelled.
For a moment she was blinded by torchlight. Her heart was thumping hard and blood was rushing through her system. ‘Is this yours?’ asked a gruff voice, shining the light on the soup ladle lying on the grass. It looked quite menacing as the torchlight glinted off it. She wished she’d kept hold of it now.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, reaching for it.
He stepped in her way. ‘Who are you?’ asked the gruff voice.
‘I live here. More importantly, who are you, creeping about the place in the dead of night?’ she countered, wishing she hadn’t used the word ‘dead’ in case it gave him any ideas. ‘Get that torch out of my face and explain yourself,’ she said, trying to make herself as tall as possible.
The light swung to one side and a face loomed in front of her out of the darkness. ‘Heavens, not you again,’ he said.
Darla was baffled. She didn’t know this bloke, did she? She blinked a number of times but still, all she could see was the bright white blob the torch had left on her vision, but the face in front of her was vaguely familiar. Then it all clicked into place. He was the guy who had stopped the day Spindle had run into the road and if she remembered correctly he’d been quite rude to her. ‘You!’ At that moment she also noticed he was holding the pretty grey cat. ‘Hey! You can’t steal my cat.’ Darla went to take the feline but the man stepped back.
‘Definitely not your cat.’
‘Erm, I think you’ll find it comes with the house.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m confused. There’s no way you’ve bought this already. Horace only died a few days ago and I’m pretty sure he didn’t have any family.’
‘There’s a distant relative in New Zealand apparently. Everything is being dealt with through a solicitor. I’m house-sitting. And I’m looking after all the animals including the cat.’ Darla held her hands out.
‘The cat doesn’t live here. He’s mine but he is a cheeky bugger who would come up here to stare at the chickens and try and cadge some tuna off of Horace.’
Darla wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. ‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’
‘You don’t. Just like I don’t know if you’re lying or not. You might be a squatter for all I know. But this cat won’t let just anyone pick him up.’
‘He let me,’ said Darla.
‘Huh. Well, usually he’s picky.’
‘Rude! If he’s yours what’s his name?’
‘Winston,’ he said, and Darla noted the cat look up at the sound of the name. Perhaps this bloke was telling the truth.
‘I don’t suppose the birds and goats are yours by any chance, are they? That would save me a job.’
‘Nope, they’re all Horace’s, along with about two hundred sheep over the way.’ He tipped his head behind him.
‘What?!’ Darla’s mind was racing. How on earth was she going to look after sheep? ‘B... but...’
‘I’m joking; the sheep are mine.’ He freed up a hand for her to shake. ‘I’m Elliott. I live over there at Nettle Bank Farm.’ He gave another nod behind him. ‘My land joins Horace’s.’
‘That makes us neighbours,’ she said with a big grin. She was feeling hugely relieved she wasn’t looking after umpteen sheep and was always happy to make a new friend.
He frowned at her. ‘I suppose it does,’ he said.
***
On Sunday morning Ros decided it was best that she and Cameron arrived separately at her dad’s. Mainly because she usually got there just after ten so they could have coffees and a chat while making the dinner at a leisurely pace. That was far too much time for questioning so she’d told Cameron to get there between half twelve and one ready for a one o’clock lunch. She wasn’t so sure that had been the best plan because now she was worrying about what time he would arrive. Too early and she would be busy in the kitchen, which would allow her dad an opportunity to interrogate Cameron alone. Too late and her dad would likely judge him for his tardiness. Or worse still, what if he was a no-show?
‘That’s a lot of pepper you’re putting in the gravy,’ commented Barry, leaning over her shoulder.
Ros stopped grinding. ‘I wasn’t concentrating,’ she said, throwing the dry gravy mix in the bin and starting again with the Bisto tin.
‘You seem out of sorts. Is there anything about this Cameron I should know beforehand?’ asked her dad as he whisked his Yorkshire pudding mix.
‘No. It’s best that you just meet him.’ Ros nodded more to herself than her father. She needed to stay focused and keep calm. They had done all the prep work, and they were going to keep the duration as short as possible by offering to walk Gazza after lunch, which would tick the job off Ros’s to-do list as well as give them an opportunity to debrief and regroup.
‘He’s not got two heads then?’ asked Barry with a smile. ‘Or worse still a Portsmouth fan?’ The smile changed to a flat line.
‘No to both. And I thought we agreed you wouldn’t turn this into an interrogation.’ The timer went off for Ros to turn the roast potatoes over.
‘I’ll be on my best behaviour. I promise.’
Gazza barked and ran to the front door a moment before the doorbell sounded.
‘I’ll go,’ said Barry, moving faster than Ros had seen him do in a while. As she already had the oven gloves on she had to concede and turn the roasties as quick as humanly possible whilst trying to keep an eye on the hallway.
Barry opened the front door. ‘You must be Cameron.’
‘Hello, Mr Foster. It’s lovely to meet you.’
‘Come in, lad. Mind the dog – he can be a bit funny with strangers.’
Cameron crouched down and the little dog went bananas. ‘You must be Gazza. Hello, mate. Aren’t you a handsome fella?’
‘Bugger!’ said Ros as she went to grab a potato with the tongs and missed because she wasn’t paying full attention and the potato shot off the tray and bounced across the kitchen floor.
‘Everything okay?’ called Barry.
‘Errant roast potato,’ said Ros, slinging the tray back in the oven, shutting the door and binning the escapee roastie as she dashed to join them in the hallway still wearing the oven gloves.
Cameron stood up from greeting the dog and for the first time that day Ros got a good look at him. He was wearing a white polo shirt and jeans, thankfully without any holes in them, but the most noticeable thing about him was that he’d had a haircut and a shave, which made him look quite different. He appeared far less studenty and more than presentable.
‘Hi, hon,’ said Cameron casually, leaning in and kissing her cheek.
Ros froze. And then realised her dad was watching them both closely. ‘Hello, Cameron.’
‘This is for you,’ said Cameron, handing Barry a bottle of white wine. ‘I’m hoping you drink the same as your daughter.’
Barry admired the bottle. ‘Pinot Grigio. Nice. Thank you, Cameron. You didn’t have to do that. Ros has got dinner under control so how about you come through to the living room?’
‘Actually I could do with a hand in here,’ said Ros in a panic, raising her oven-gloved hand.
‘What with?’ asked Barry.
‘Err... gravy boat. I don’t know where the gravy boat is.’ Ros headed back to the kitchen, checking over her shoulder that they were following her.
Barry started looking in cupboards, which gave Cameron a chance to mouth ‘Are you okay?’ to Ros.
Ros mimed her head exploding and he grinned. He looked very different. So much smarter than he usually did. ‘ I like your hair,’ she mouthed. ‘Thank you for...’ She mimed scissors in the air.
‘You’re welcome,’ he mouthed back. They smiled at each other.
‘Here it is!’ said Barry triumphantly, recovering the gravy boat from the back of a cupboard. He looked at Cameron and then at Ros. ‘What did I miss?’
‘Something smells good,’ said Cameron, taking two strides to stand next to Ros.
‘It’s just chicken.’
‘My favourite,’ he said.
Barry opened the bottle of wine as Ros got out three glasses.
‘Did you drive here, Cameron?’ asked Barry.
‘I cycled over so I’ll only have one small glass please.’
‘Very wise. That’s not a local accent. North somewhere, is it?’
‘Midlands. I’m from Derbyshire.’
‘What brings you to Southampton?’ asked Barry, pouring the wine.
‘University,’ said Cameron.
‘And you settled here.’ Barry handed out the glasses of wine.
‘It’s a lovely part of the world,’ said Cameron.
‘Cheers to that,’ said Barry and they all raised their glasses.
Ros had to admit she was impressed with how Cameron had handled the initial grilling. He’d answered everything confidently and whilst he may have withheld some facts, he hadn’t out-and-out lied to her father, who so far was smiling. Gazza trotted in and went to have a sniff around Cameron’s feet. He pawed at his leg until he gave him a fuss.
‘I have to say I’ve not known Gazza react to someone like that. He usually does a lot more barking and is quite standoffish. But he certainly likes you.’
‘Gazza likes everyone, Dad,’ said Ros, realising that the dog had met Cameron the previous day and already associated him with getting a lot of fuss.
‘Not when they come to the door. He’s fine when he’s out meeting new people but when they come here he’s quite territorial. Remember that charity collector a couple of weeks ago? I think the poor bloke thought Gazza here was going to savage him.’ Barry laughed at the memory. He watched Cameron scratch the dog behind his ears. ‘He’s a good judge of character is Gazza.’ He nodded at Ros before taking a sip of wine, making Ros feel like they’d cleared the first hurdle.
***
Ros served up while the men discussed the weather, a safe topic she was comfortable to not be included in. ‘These must be the legendary Yorkshire puddings I’ve heard all about,’ said Cameron, pointing at his plate. ‘Impressive.’
‘Thanks,’ said Barry, looking proud. ‘The secret’s in the amount of warm water I add. Also, not too much mixture and an extra hot oven.’
‘I’ll remember that,’ said Cameron and they all started to eat. At last Ros felt she could relax a little.
Barry took a pause to drink some wine. ‘You know you’re a bit of a surprise,’ he said to Cameron.
‘Am I?’
‘Ros only mentioned you yesterday. How long have you two been dating? You do still call it dating, don’t you?’
Ros was instantly uncomfortable. Had they covered this? She was pretty sure they hadn’t. ‘Err...’ Too short an amount of time would make it weird that she’d brought him home. Too long would look like she’d been hiding him.
Barry was waiting for a response. Cameron stepped in. ‘We met just before Christmas and started seeing each other in early January.’
‘Not long then,’ said Barry.
‘Long enough,’ said Cameron, giving Ros a lingering look that made her concentrate on cutting up a piece of carrot that didn’t need cutting.
‘How did you meet?’ asked Barry before loading up his fork.
Ros could take this one. ‘In a cocktail bar in town.’
‘We had a new wine that we were trying to upsell and I persuaded her to try it,’ said Cameron.
‘You work there?’ asked Barry.
‘Yes,’ said Cameron.
Ros’s stomach felt like it had turned to ice. ‘Only part-time,’ she said whilst trying to signal to Cameron with her eyes that he’d made a major blooper. This was not the fake career they had agreed for him.
‘What do you do the rest of the time?’ asked Barry, focusing on Cameron.
‘Computers,’ said Ros quickly.
‘Computer science,’ said Cameron. ‘I’m studying it at university.’
Ros would have banged her head on the table had she not had a gravy-filled plate in front of her.
‘You’re a student?’ Barry looked confused.
Cameron chuckled. ‘I know I look a bit older than most. I’m a mature student. I missed uni the first time around. No one in my family went to university so getting a job was the normal thing to do. But however hard I worked I just couldn’t seem to progress. I found it was a stumbling block in a number of things. People looked down on me. So I decided to retrain as a computer engineer.’
‘Right,’ said Barry. Ros was holding her breath. ‘Well, good on you for wanting to better yourself.’
‘Thank you,’ said Cameron with a wink at Ros, who was growing increasingly uncomfortable with his maverick approach of telling the truth.
‘But I’m guessing that means Ros here pays when you go out.’
‘Sometimes,’ said Cameron. ‘But we don’t go anywhere expensive. Yesterday we went to the park.’
‘Hmm.’ Barry didn’t look convinced. ‘Are you living in student digs?’
‘A house in Portswood. There’s six of us sharing.’
‘Ros’s penthouse flat must make a nice change then.’
‘Dad!’ said Ros. ‘That’s really unfair. He’s only been to my apartment once.’ At least that was true. ‘Cameron will likely get an excellent job when he graduates and until then what does it matter who pays for stuff? And it’s not a penthouse just because it’s on the top floor.’
‘You’re already thinking long-term then,’ said Barry, seeming surprised.
‘Yes,’ said Ros firmly.
‘I’m sorry, Cameron, if I was rude,’ said Barry. ‘But Ros here is very special to me. I think dads and daughters have a unique bond and her being an only one just intensifies my protective nature.’
‘I understand. No apology needed. I hope I’m the same when I’m a dad.’
Ros could not believe it. Cameron had walked straight into the children conversation. Had he not paid any attention during their flip chart session?
‘You want kids?’ asked Barry with a quizzical look on his face.
‘Definitely,’ said Cameron.
Barry gave Ros the side-eye. ‘Before you say anything, Dad. Yes, we’ve discussed this and Cameron knows how I feel about children. I think it’s time for pudding.’
Cameron hastily replaced his cutlery as Ros whisked his plate away and stormed out. This was not going well. Ros plonked the plates down on the worktop and was startled when Cameron appeared with the gravy boat. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked in hushed tones.
‘What’s the matter?’ Ros was incredulous and struggled to keep her voice to a whisper. ‘You went off piste. Like not even a little bit off into fresh snow. This was skiing with abandon through loads of trees and into a car park.’
‘What?’
‘I took the skiing analogy too far. My point is Dad now thinks you’re a gold digger so he’s going to be worried about who I’m with instead of happy I’m not alone. This was a bad idea. I might have to murder Darla.’
‘Calm down,’ said Cameron. ‘I think you’re overreacting,’ he added as she started to pace around the kitchen.
‘Do you not see that we’ve made the situation worse?’
‘How?’
‘Either we carry on with this charade in which case he thinks I’ve hooked up with Amber Rose—’
‘Who?’ asked Cameron.
‘Famous gold digger. Dated Kanye West,’ said Ros.
Cameron shook his head.
‘Anyway, if we split up then he’ll die thinking I’ve had my heart broken.’
Cameron was looking over her shoulder. ‘But that’s not going to happen because we’re rock solid.’
‘What are you t—’ Ros didn’t get to finish the sentence because Cameron swooped in and kissed her.