Chapter 8
Eight
Despite telling herself she needn’t worry about Tom, Lara could not shift that niggling doubt that something might be wrong, so an hour or so after lunch, when the downpour had stopped, at least for the time being, Lara left Ula and Greg to it and trudged down Old Oak Lane.
The lane was more like a stream than a road, with water running down it, and the grass on this side was a quagmire. She stepped on to the verge at one point and her boot sank at least three inches in the mud. She would stick to the relative safety of the firm surface of the lane.
She spotted the pothole Tom had mentioned. It wasn’t as large as China, of course, nor anywhere near, but it did take up a sizeable chunk of the lane. In the daylight, she could probably drive around it, but in the dark it would be difficult.
Tom’s cottage was only a few minutes’ walk away and close up it was virtually identical to hers, on the outside, although the paintwork was fairly fresh, unlike that on her cottage.
The garden, however, bore no resemblance.
Tom’s was neat and tidy, with an abundance of shrubs, and trees, and even at this time of year, several flowers were in bloom.
Although a few of the plants and flowers did look somewhat bedraggled after the onslaught today.
His garden gate was pristine, too, unlike hers, which was hanging by just one of its hinges. Another thing on her to-do list.
The front door was a deep, forest green; hers was … an indeterminate blend of colour. She intended to paint it a soft shade of blue, and the front gate would match it. Once she had repaired that.
She banged on the door with the brass knocker, but got no answer, and then she spotted the doorbell to the side of the door frame. It was a video doorbell, like the one she had at her flat, but a different make. She pressed it and waited, but still there was no answer.
She wasn’t sure what to do next. She could go back to her cottage, get in her car and drive to The White Lion, and Bonnie’s Diner, to see if he was in either place. She would just try the knocker and the doorbell once more.
The knocker still had no effect, and neither did the doorbell at first. She was about to turn away when a strong, deep, male voice boomed out. ‘What do you want?’ It sounded like a younger version of Tom.
‘Oh, hi! Erm. You don’t know me but–’
‘Whatever you’re selling, we don’t want it, thank you.’
Well that was rude.
‘I’m not selling anything. My name is–’
‘Look. This isn’t a good time. I’m in the middle of … That’s none of your business. I don’t care who you are. Please go away.’
‘But I’m…’ He had hung up on her.
How bloody dare he? If this was Tom’s grandson, she understood everything Greg had said about him. She couldn’t give in though. This was for Tom.
Except … if Tom was fine, she would have to apologise for disturbing this arrogant jerk. If only she had Tom’s phone number, she could send him a text.
‘Phone number!’ she said aloud. ‘I’m such a fool.’
She pulled her phone out from her coat pocket and did a search for The White Lion, and also for Bonnie’s Diner. Having saved both numbers, she called the pub first. A much friendlier person than Tom’s grandson answered.
‘The White Lion. How may we help you?’
‘Hello. This will sound weird, but is Tom there please?’
‘Tom?’
‘Yes, Tom. The elderly man who lives in a cottage on Old Oak Lane.’
The woman on the other end hesitated. ‘Who’s asking?’
‘My name’s Lara. I own the other cottage on Old Oak Lane.
I met Tom yesterday and I’m outside his cottage right now but I can’t get an answer.
He told me your pub is his favourite place for a pie and a pint, so I wanted to know if he’s there.
In which case I’ll go home. Nothing sinister, I assure you. ’
‘Lara, you say? Hmm. Tom did mention meeting his pretty neighbour yesterday. But he hasn’t been in today. He might be in Bonnie’s Diner.’
‘Thanks. I’ll try there. Erm. You don’t have Tom’s mobile number, do you?’
‘No. Sorry but I don’t.’
‘May I leave you my number, and if you do see Tom, could you ask him to send me a text, please. Just to … well, just so that I know he’s okay. He was a bit doddery on his feet yesterday.’
‘Will do. Give me your number. But I’m sure he’s fine.’
Lara left her details and then called Bonnie’s Diner.
She had a similar conversation, and again, the person who answered the phone was friendly, but perhaps a tad cautious.
That wasn’t a bad thing. Better to be safe than sorry, and Lara could be anyone for all they knew.
Perhaps she should go and introduce herself to a few people, as Jenny had suggested.
‘No,’ the person eventually said once Lara had explained who she was. ‘We haven’t seen Tom today. Should we be worried? Have you spoken to his grandson?’
‘Sort of. I think he answered the video doorbell from wherever he is right now, but he said he was busy and hung up. I don’t have his number. Or Tom’s. If I did, I’d call him. Or send him a text. I’m probably being silly and Tom is fine, but … I’m a bit of a worrier.’
‘I’m the same, lovely. We do have a contact number. Hold on and I’ll get it. I know we’ve got it here somewhere. Ah yes. Here it is. Do you have a pen?’
‘No. But I have a good memory, and I can make a note on my phone.’
The woman reeled the number off. ‘I’m sure Tom is fine. He’s a tough old boot. But do let me know if anything is wrong. I’m Maud.’
‘Thanks, Maud. I’ll let you know.’
Lara rang off and took a deep breath. Would Tom be cross if she called him? If she asked him how he was, he might ignore her. Or tell her to mind her own business. But at least then she would know he was okay.
But Greg had said she was spying on her neighbour.
That might’ve been a joke, but it was sort of true in a way.
The only reason she was worried was because Tom’s lights were off last night and again this morning.
Which meant she had been watching his cottage, even if it was only for a few minutes each time.
But there was now the fact that he wasn’t at home, and he wasn’t at the pub or the diner.
Or was she taking this a step too far? She was not a people person yet here she was getting involved in other people’s lives and the only thing she had to go on was that her neighbour hadn’t turned on his lights.
Or answered his door.
Or been to either of his favourite places.
She would send that text.
No wait.
She could send him a text saying that she wondered if he was free for a pie and a pint. He would be bound to text her back if she said that, and it was much better than asking him how he was.
‘Hi,’ she typed. ‘Pie and a pint on me later, if you fancy it. Assuming I can find my way to the pub. I can come and get you. Let me know. Your neighbour, Lara.’
She didn’t have too long to wait for a reply and she breathed out a sigh of relief. Until she read the text.
‘Wrong number.’
What did that mean? She had sent the text to the number Maud had given her. Unless…
Oh no. Had Maud given her Tom’s grandson’s number by mistake? Damn.
But that wasn’t all bad. He would have Tom’s number and could give Tom a call. That would resolve the matter quickly and easily.
This was getting serious. If she called Tom’s grandson and worried him, and then it transpired that Tom was fine, neither the grandson, nor Tom, would be pleased. But would they really blame her for caring?
‘To hell with it,’ she said, dialling what she now assumed was the grandson’s number. Why hadn’t she asked Maud for the man’s name?
The phone rang once and then went dead. She could almost visualise the jerk declining her call because it was an unknown number.
But she did that sometimes. Especially if she was busy.
She would try again.
This time the call went straight to voicemail, but that didn’t give a name, just a brief message, so she still wasn’t sure who she was calling.
‘Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you.’
‘Sorry to bother you, but I’m assuming you’re Tom’s grandson and I’m worried about your grandfather.
My name’s Lara and I’m Tom’s new neighbour.
I met him yesterday. The thing is, he’s not answering his door.
You did. Well, the doorbell. And he’s not in the pub or the diner.
And his lights were off early last night and weren’t on this morning.
I’m just trying to check if he’s okay. Could you please call him and find out.
I know you said you were busy, and if he’s fine then I’m sorry to have troubled you but …
he was doddery yesterday and I’m worried.
Could you ping me a text just saying. ‘Tom’s fine’, please, if he is?
And if he isn’t … erm. No. I’m not thinking like that. Thanks.’
She let out a long sigh. She had rushed her words to ensure she could say everything she needed to say before the voicemail cut her off. But as she went over it in her head, she probably sounded like a loon.
Before she left Tom’s cottage, she would try one last thing.
She stepped off the path and on to the lawn and her heels sank into the sodden grass, but now she could see in his front windows.
There was no sign of him in what was obviously his dining room, so she made her way across the path and on to the grass on the other side and peered in that window.
This was his siting room and there was no sign of him in there either.
She spotted the side gate and went to see if it was unlocked.
Luckily for her, it was so she walked along the side path and ventured to the rear of the cottage.
The first room was a bedroom, but not one that was being slept in by the look of it.
She continued on to the window she assumed would be his kitchen, and peered in there.
Nope. No sign of him in there either, so unless he was upstairs, he wasn’t at home. She had no way of seeing in those windows. Unless she got a ladder and… Now she really was going too far and she tutted loudly.