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.
‘Dusty, Panda and Nibbles,’ said Elliott as he pointed first at the white one that looked like it had grubby knees, next to the black and white one and then the brown one with a white line down its face. ‘And these...’ he pointed at the three predominantly black ones ‘...are Curly, Larry and Moe.’
‘Sorry I missed which was which.’
‘I don’t know exactly. And if I’m honest, I don’t think Horace did either. But it’s okay because they’re not like dogs – they don’t respond to names.’
‘Good, then at least I won’t offend anyone. Any sign of Winston?’
‘I was coming to ask you the same thing.’
‘Elliott, I’m sorry. You must be so worried about him.’
Elliott gave a quick shrug but Darla could see the concern on his face. ‘He is a wanderer but he’s never been away this long before. He has a favourite food, maybe I could drop some down to you in case he’s hanging around here somewhere.’
‘Sure.’
Elliott checked his watch. ‘I’d best get back.’
‘Of course,’ she said.
Elliott turned to leave.
‘Oh and Elliott, thanks for the advice,’ she added.
He nodded before walking away.
***
It wasn’t warm but for early April it was sunny and in between fluffy clouds, the sky was an unexpectedly brilliant shade of blue. It gave Darla an idea. If she could set up her phone to film her with an upstairs window behind her, she could pretend to be literally anywhere. As she hadn’t video-called her parents for a while she decided it was worth the effort of rigging something up. A phone call with them was nice but she missed them. It would be good to see them even if it was only on a screen, and they were always keen to see her too and worryingly they were increasingly interested in her surroundings.
It took her quite a while to work out what she could stand her phone on. She could have held it but that wasn’t ideal as she was prone to gesturing with her hands and she needed to be careful not to reveal too much, so a carefully angled shot was safest. Also she had decided to elaborate on her genius idea and go for a full costume change to aid the deception. She’d been lugging around her beachwear for six months. She’d packed a few nice bikinis and some colourful sarongs, none of which had seen light of day, thanks to her not getting any further than Southampton docks.
Darla got changed into a pretty purple bikini and a floral sarong. It was a bit chilly in the upstairs back bedroom but she could tough it out for ten minutes to reassure her parents that she was somewhere sunny and having the time of her life. She dug out her sunglasses and popped those on her head so it looked like she’d just come in from the pool.
She checked the angle was right. They would get a good view of most of Darla plus a good splash of blue sky behind her – perfect. She pressed the button to dial her parents.
There were excited shouts and a blurred view of her parents’ kitchen before the image settled and her parents’ smiling faces appeared in front of her. It squeezed at her heart, she missed them so much. Of course they irritated her, as all parents do, but she loved them and as an adult she’d also realised that she actually liked them as people, which was an added bonus.
‘Hiya,’ she said and they both waved as they greeted her.
‘Where are you?’ asked her mum, bobbing from side to side as if trying to see around Darla. ‘Are you still in Italy?’
She’d thought this through and she’d checked the map so she could sound authentic. ‘No, I’m done with eating pizza. I’m now in Corsica. It’s a beautiful little island between Italy and France. They speak French here. It has some stunning beaches and is quite mountainous in places so I’ve been doing some hiking. Look it up on Google after this call.’
‘What do they eat there then?’ asked her mum.
Bugger, she’d not looked that up. ‘It’s a bit French and a bit Italian. I’ve been eating salads, which are basically the same wherever you go.’ She made the last bit up but her parents had only been as far as Jersey so they nodded in agreement.
‘Must be warm if you’ve got your bikini on,’ said her mum. ‘Have you got sunscreen on?’
‘No need,’ said her dad, waving his phone. ‘It says it’s twelve degrees there today.’
Oh great, now they decided to get smart and start checking up on her. The last time she’d checked temperatures it had been for Turkey and that had definitely been warm enough for sunbathing. She’d not expected such a temperature change with such a short jump on the map. Darla tinkled a laugh. ‘It definitely feels warmer than that and can you see that blue sky?’ She leaned to one side and pointed over her shoulder. Her parents both squinted. Darla had a glance out of the window and it was looking a lot cloudier than it had five minutes ago. The British weather was really unhelpful sometimes.
‘Are you okay for money?’ asked her dad.
‘I’m fine. I’ve got a job as a cleaner.’ At least that bit was true.
‘That’s good honest work,’ said her mum. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘I’m—’ But Darla didn’t get to tell them because all hell broke loose outside. It was as if all the animals had decided to kick off at once. She could see from her dad’s expression that they’d heard it too. ‘Sorry. Gotta go,’ she said with a forced smile and she dashed to end the call. She puffed out a breath – that was a close one. Darla’s sigh of relief was premature because when she looked out of the window all she could see was flapping feathers. She had no idea what was going on. She dashed downstairs and out the back door. She’d have to conjure up an explanation for her parents later. Now she had to see what had unsettled the animals so much.
As she ran outside she felt the first spots of rain on her skin and the chill breeze whipped up across her bare shoulders and up her sarong, but the noise the animals were making was her priority. They definitely looked and sounded in distress. As she went through the gate the door to the chicken pen burst open and the chickens poured out. ‘Shit!’ she said, running too late to close it. That was when she saw what was causing the problem. There was a weird-looking brown and white creature racing around the coop and now it was heading her way. It had a long body and she’d not seen anything like it before. When it saw her it darted in the opposite direction, making the ducks increase their noise and flapping.
Darla wasn’t sure what to do but getting the chickens back inside seemed like a priority and she opened the hen enclosure door fully. What Elliott had said about them not flying flashed through her mind. But she’d been pretty sure he’d been joking. She turned around to begin coaxing the chickens back inside but they had all disappeared. ‘What the hell?’ She spun around full circle as the rain started to fall harder. ‘Chickens can’t fly, my arse,’ she said to herself as she looked skywards, but there was no sign of them.
While she was searching everywhere for the chickens she did spot the strange brown and white furry creature scurry past, which signalled calm in the other animals. The goats were still a bit skittish but she figured they’d been set off by the birds because whatever the invader was the goats could easily have stomped on it. To be fair, she couldn’t see it was that big of a threat to any of them. It was no longer than a ruler. But then there was a reason that people used the phrase bird brain . Not that she was feeling particularly clever as she peered into bushes, with the rain now lashing down making her sarong stick to her thighs and legs. She looked around. This was hopeless.
She decided to go inside and quickly get into dry clothes and a coat and then resume the search. As soon as she stepped in through the open back door things became clearer. The chickens had invaded the house.
There was one on the kitchen table pecking at the cupcake and three on the floor pecking up the resulting crumbs. ‘Hey!’ said Darla but to no avail. It seemed the chickens were scared of the small furry brown creature but not of her. At least that was four hens accounted for. But where were the others? She raced through the kitchen, dripping water as she went, and into the hall, shutting the door behind her. She found three more in the living room; one scratching at the rug, one pecking at its reflection in the television screen and The Captain pooing on the windowsill. She reopened the kitchen door and shooed them from the living room into the kitchen. She’d deal with the poo situation later.
She ran upstairs where she found one chicken pecking at her phone where she could see she had a number of missed video calls from her parents. At least the chicken hadn’t managed to answer one. She had no idea how she would have explained that. She ushered the hen out. She had one more chicken to find. The last hen was one of the fluffy ones that looked like it was wearing trousers and she found it snuggled up on her bed between the pillows.
‘Come on,’ she said, pointing at the door. The chicken didn’t move. Darla walked over and picked it up and escorted it downstairs. In the kitchen her cupcake was no more than a pecked paper case. She shooed all eight chickens but now they seemed to realise they had the numbers advantage and they looked at her quizzically, jerking their heads about. Elliott had said she had to stand up to them. ‘I mean it.’ She put her hands on her hips. They ignored her.
She had another idea. She went to the sacks in the cupboard by the back door, filled up a jug and returned to the kitchen. She sprinkled a little grain on the floor and that got their attention. She laid a sparse trail as she reversed outside into torrential rain. She was bent over with the rain hammering on her backside and the sarong sticking to her when she heard someone burst out laughing. Elliott.
‘I see you decided to let the hens out then?’ He grinned at her. But in her bedraggled state she found it hard to see anything amusing.
***
Ros didn’t adjust well to change. She knew this about herself. Having Cameron living in the apartment was proving to be a bit of a test. He’d found a home for his bike in the underground car park but other items of his kept popping up. They weren’t out of context like Darla and her odd socks on the sofa or mugs in the bathroom but it was still a big reminder that Ros was sharing her space with someone she knew little about. She quite liked the pot plants he’d introduced and she’d overlooked the Hula Hoops appearing in the tinned food cupboard and the tube of squeezy garlic in the fridge but when she walked in on Saturday afternoon to face a life-size cardboard cut-out of a Doctor Who Cyberman she felt a line had been crossed.
‘Cameron?’ she called.
He appeared a few moments later. ‘Hiya.’ He pointed at the Cyberman. ‘I see you’ve already met Cyril.’
‘Please tell me he’s only a temporary guest.’
‘I won it,’ he said proudly. ‘Are you not a Doctor Who fan?’ He looked shocked.
‘I watched it occasionally as a child but quite frankly it creeped me out. Especially things like this.’ She jabbed a finger at the Cyberman.
‘Cyril’s not creepy.’
‘He is a bit,’ said Ros. ‘I can’t believe you’re scared of sharks and ghosts but not this.’
‘He’s not real. Sharks definitely are and they can take a big chunk out of you, which is definitely something to be scared of.’
‘Not likely in Southampton though. And ghosts aren’t real.’
Cameron wobbled his head. ‘I’m in two minds on that one. My gran swears she saw her old PE teacher walk through the wall of Aldi, which was built on the old school playground.’
Ros wasn’t sure how to respond to that. ‘Not a particularly scary encounter. Unlike me bumping into this chap in the dark.’
‘He won’t come to life you know.’ Ros was alarmed at the prospect, which likely showed on her face. ‘I can put him in my room if you’d prefer,’ added Cameron.
‘Yes please.’
Cameron picked up the cut-out. ‘Perhaps I should have chosen the Ant and Dec one instead. Although it was smaller.’
‘Goodness, no. That would be far more terrifying,’ said Ros with a smile. Cameron grinned at her and took Cyril to his room.
Ros put the kettle on and Cameron joined her in the kitchen area. ‘What did you get up to today?’ he asked, getting out two mugs.
‘I went to look for a new bedside lamp because mine appears to be faulty but I couldn’t find any I liked.’
‘I could see if I could fix it for you,’ he said. ‘No promises though.’
‘Thanks. How was your day?’
‘Good,’ he said, nodding. ‘I spent some time in the uni library mapping out some ideas I have for my dissertation and I walked Gazza.’
Ros was instantly concerned. ‘Why did you walk the dog? Did Dad call? Is he okay?’
‘He’s fine. It was a nice day and I thought it would save your dad taking him.’
‘That was thoughtful of you,’ said Ros. ‘How was Dad?’
‘He seemed good. He did suggest he come with me until I pointed out that that defeated the object. We had a cuppa when I got back and a chat.’
Ros’s jaw tightened. She busied herself with making the drinks. ‘Anything in particular or just small talk?’
‘You’re okay; we didn’t talk about you,’ he said, passing her the milk from the fridge.
‘As long as you’ve not gone off script.’
‘It’s all good. Don’t worry.’ She handed him his tea. ‘Although at some point we’re going to need to tell him that I’ve moved in.’
The situation was playing on Ros’s mind as she got ready for bed and she decided to have a chat to Cameron about it. He was one of only two people she could discuss her concerns with although he was increasingly becoming her go-to for other things too. She found Cameron in the kitchen.
‘Are you hungry?’ she asked, watching him load bowls with popcorn, mixed nuts and crisps before putting them onto a tray.
‘No, this is vital preparation. There’s a rundown of the best Doctor Who episodes as chosen by the public and I’m here for it.’ He raised the tray. ‘Hang on, no dips.’ He put the tray down and went to the fridge.
‘Right. I can see you’re busy. I’ll speak to you in the morning. Goodnight,’ said Ros, feeling that she’d now be mulling over her worries into the small hours but that couldn’t be helped.
‘Hang on. Is everything okay?’
‘Er it was just... actually it’s nothing. Don’t miss your programme,’ said Ros and she went to leave.
‘Come on, Rosanna. I know you well enough now. There’s something bugging you. Here,’ he said, handing her a bottle of milkshake and picking up the laden tray. Ros ferried the milkshake to the sofa and waited for Cameron to get settled before handing it to him. ‘Sit down.’ He indicated the space next to him.
‘I was going to bed.’
‘But you wanted to talk. You know you won’t sleep so you might as well join me. We’ll watch a bit of Doctor Who and we’ll solve whatever it is that’s bothering you too. I mean it can’t be as bad as being caught in the middle of a Dalek and Cyborg altercation now, can it?’
‘I do feel like I’m torn between competing forces,’ said Ros as Cameron waved her into the space next to him. She sat down and he pulled the throw off the back of the sofa and laid it over both of them, making her feel quite cosy.
‘You’re worrying about our situation, am I right?’ he asked, wriggling about so that his body was against hers, not an altogether unpleasant sensation, Ros noted.
‘It’s more the development that we now appear to have taken quite an important step forward in our relationship by moving in together.’
He tucked the throw around them and balanced the tray on top of their blanket-covered laps. ‘I get it. It’s a big commitment and not one you would make lightly.’
‘Exactly.’
‘But then,’ he said, offering her a tortilla chip. She hesitated. She’d need to redo her teeth. He waved the bowl a second time and she took one. ‘Circumstance has presented us with the opportunity to live together. Me moving in now could be a chance to see how we manage because dating and living with someone are two very different set-ups.’
‘That is true.’
He thoughtfully munched on a tortilla chip. ‘I think we’re the sort of couple who would seize the opportunity and view it as a test bed. I’d still be moving into new student digs come July because I’ve made a commitment, but we would have a fun few weeks living here and we’d know each other better at the end of it. Both the pluses and minuses. What do you think?’
It did make a lot of sense. ‘I think it’s actually far more sensible than moving in with no end date,’ she said. ‘That’s always very awkward. There’s implications that it is indefinite and relationships rarely are. Also as you say seeing each other casually is very different to sharing a home.’ She dipped her tortilla in the proffered dip.
‘Shall we tell Barry that?’ he asked, snuggling under the blanket. ‘Then we’ll be sound.’
‘Yes, I think we will be.’
They watched the lengthy Doctor Who programme and chatted. Cameron had a wealth of Doctor Who knowledge and was able to answer all of Ros’s questions. After too many snacks she found she was dozing off and missing bits of the programme but as the plot of each episode was basically the same – land in a strange time or place, fight a baddie or right a wrong and go on to the next location – she was able to keep abreast of proceedings.
‘Damn near broke my heart when Rose went,’ said Cameron, shaking his head at the screen.
It had become apparent that the tenth Doctor’s sidekick was his favourite. ‘They do have a very strong connection,’ she said, watching Billie Piper cry on a beach. As the actress told the Doctor she loved him, Cameron reached for Ros’s hand and squeezed it. It was nice to feel that for a change she was there for him, even if it was only a fleeting moment brought on by a fictional TV programme.
They debated the merits of the number-one voted episode ‘Blink’, whilst a gripping and slightly troubling episode it did appear, to Ros, to be rather lacking on the key component of the popular series as there were few scenes with Doctor Who in them. The programme ended and the credits rolled.
‘Goodness,’ said Ros, astonished to see it was gone 4a.m. ‘I’d better get to bed.’ She tried to free herself from the blanket that bound her to Cameron’s side.
‘That was a great night though, wasn’t it?’
Ros smiled. ‘I had a very pleasant time. Thank you.’
‘And now you can say you’ve had an all-nighter.’
‘Can I?’ Ros hadn’t really understood the concept but if this was it she could see the appeal.
‘Apart from the lack of sex,’ added Cameron. ‘But I think I like this better. Added Doctor Who and no pressure to perform.’ He got to his feet and kissed Ros gently on the cheek. She paused, unsure how to react, or more importantly in a quandary over how her body wanted her to respond. ‘Night, Ros.’
She pulled away. ‘Good night, Cameron.’ She went to bed alone but feeling very much part of something special.
On Sunday morning Ros was woken by a tapping sound. It took a few blinks to realise someone was knocking at her bedroom door. She quickly wiped sleep from her eyes and checked her hair wasn’t sticking up like a pineapple top before answering. ‘What is it?’
The door opened and Cameron peeped in. ‘Sorry, did I wake you? I did, didn’t I?’
‘Kind of but it’s fine.’
‘Sorry. I went for an early run and I got you a coffee on the way back.’ He came in and deposited the cup on the bedside cabinet.
‘Thanks, that’s really kind. I usually head over to Dad’s about half ten. Does that work for you?’
Cameron pulled a face. ‘Yeah, about that. A friend of mine messaged to say they’re in Southampton just for the day today and I’d really like to have a catch-up. But it means I’ll miss Sunday roast at your dad’s. Is that okay?’
Ros tried hard not to look as disappointed as she felt. ‘Sure. Not a problem. It’s not like couples are joined at the hip.’
‘Exactly. Thanks for understanding.’
‘I’ll tell Dad the truth that you’re catching up with a mate,’ she said, feeling that was what Cameron would want her to say.
‘Cool. I’d better get showered and get my swank on. Well, my best jeans anyway.’
‘Ooh best jeans,’ said Ros, having a sip of coffee. ‘Where are you off to then?’
‘I’m going to give Gina a mini tour of the sights of Southampton,’ he said with his trademark grin and Ros felt something unpleasant burble in her gut, but before she could ask questions he was heading out the door. Who exactly was Gina? Although the name did ring a bell and she had a feeling Cameron had mentioned her, she couldn’t recall any details. ‘Give Barry my best,’ said Cameron. ‘And tell him I’ll thrash him at Scrabble next week. Don’t wait up – it’ll probably be a late one. See ya.’
‘Will do, bye. Have a lovely time. With um... Gina.’ But she didn’t mean it one bit.
On her way to her father’s, Ros decided that she needed to have a firm word with herself. There was nothing in the contract about Cameron seeing other people. Not that he’d said he was seeing Gina but the mention of another female had kicked Ros’s risk brain into overdrive. There was a risk that Cameron could be seen out with Gina by someone who would report back to her dad. Although she wasn’t sure who might do this. Mrs Pemberly next door was a possible but then as long as Cameron didn’t show any obvious signs of affection with Gina, like kissing, then they were fine. If questioned he was out with a friend. The fact that friend was female was irrelevant. Although it didn’t feel irrelevant to Ros. This was a level of risk she was considerably unhappy about.
She was mulling over other possible lines of enquiry her father may take if Cameron was spotted out with another woman, when she walked up the steps to his house and pulled her key out. However, there was no need to let herself in today because the door was already being opened. Ros smiled in anticipation of her dad’s greeting only to be met by someone altogether unexpected.
‘Mother? What on earth are you doing here?’