Chapter 17
NANCY
‘What on earth’s going on?’ Nancy demanded, glaring at the three men in front of her. Slate was strumming his guitar. Decaf was playing the drums behind him, on the left. On the right was a tall, skinny man with short grey hair and glasses, playing a bass guitar. Oxo, she guessed.
They all stopped playing and the two men glanced at Slate, obviously waiting for him to answer.
‘What are you doing?’ she repeated, although she could clearly see what was going on; they were having a band practice. How could he do this? Goodness knows what the neighbours would be thinking about all this racket.
Slate put his guitar down and walked over to her. ‘Hello, Nancy. I wasn’t expecting you home yet.’
‘Clearly not.’ She folded her arms and waited for his explanation. How dare he invite his bandmates over as soon as they’d all gone to work.
‘Sorry, Nancy but we’ve got a gig on Friday night. None of the other lads’ homes were available, so I thought we could use here, as everyone was out. I didn’t think it would be a problem but we’ll pack up if you want.’
The other two men were looking at her expectantly. She hesitated. Was she overreacting? She didn’t want to lose one of her lodgers, especially so soon. ‘How long will you be?’ she asked.
‘We’re halfway through so just another forty-five minutes.’ Slate was waiting for her answer.
They’d already been playing for forty-five minutes! She’d have the neighbours up in arms. Although… actually they would all be at work. She was only home because it was her afternoon off. She hesitated. It seemed mean not to let them finish their practice.
She nodded. ‘Okay, you can finish. But I hope this is a one-off? This is a quiet street and I don’t want to upset the neighbours.’
‘Sure, no problem. Thanks, Nancy. Stop and watch if you want, join in the songs.’
He walked back over and picked up his guitar again.
Nancy left them to it and went to make herself a cup of tea, feeling rather grumpy.
Then she noticed that the kitchen was clean and tidy, the dishwasher was on, there was washing blowing on the line – and the kitchen bin had been emptied.
Slate must have done it; everyone else was out at work.
It stunned her for a minute. Clifford had never done anything to help around the house; he left it all to her.
Because he worked longer hours, he had pointed out.
And over the years she’d got into the habit of automatically doing everything.
It seemed that now she didn’t have to, which actually was a very nice feeling.
She sat down with her cup of tea, mulling things over as the music started again.
Slate and his rock band having a practice session wasn’t something she’d bargained for.
She thought as her lodgers were in their sixties they wouldn’t be much bother but now she had a rock band playing in her dining room.
Val would tell her she was being a soft touch.
She had to admit they were good though, she thought as Slate started singing ‘Stairway to Heaven’.
He had a good voice and it was one of her favourite songs.
She’d loved listening to Led Zeppelin when she was younger, and she couldn’t help humming along to it.
She was transported back to her youth, playing records in her bedroom and her dad coming in to tell her to turn the sound down.
She swayed to the music and tapped her feet as she finished her drink.
Then she got up, her feet leading her, as if they had a mind of their own, into the dining room.
The door was open, so she stood in the doorway listening.
When Slate began singing the Eagles hit ‘Hotel California’, her feet wouldn’t keep still and she found herself singing along.
Slate smiled over at her as he strummed his guitar and Decaf and Oxo grinned, too, putting their thumbs up.
Nancy clapped enthusiastically when they’d finished. ‘That was great – you’re brilliant,’ she said.
‘Thanks for accompanying us. You’ve got a good voice,’ Slate told her.
She felt her cheeks flush at his praise.
‘And massive thanks for letting us practise here,’ Oxo and Decaf both touched their foreheads in a salute. They helped Slate take the instruments back out into the van, then they all went off, Slate included. Leaving the room tidy. And clean. Slate had vacuumed, she noticed.
Nancy went back into the kitchen, her mind in a whirl.
She’d really enjoyed listening to their songs and joining in too.
They were good. But if she hadn’t left work early, she would never have known that Slate had invited his mates around for a rehearsal.
Should she be firm and stick to what she’d said about no more rehearsals?
Would he take advantage of her good nature if she said they could?
Was Phyllis already taking advantage by having her cat here?
Had she banked on Cobweb coming after her and Nancy falling in love with her and letting her stay?
She’d always been a soft touch, liking a peaceful, easy life.
Oh God, clearly she wasn’t cut out for the landlady business, she thought in despair.
She was supposed to keep things professional but instead she was treating everyone as if they were her friends.
The very thing Val had warned her not to do. This was going to be a disaster.