Chapter 3
3
It was good to get out of the house. The way Oliver’s mouth had twitched at her verbal faux pas was still playing over in her mind. Actually, the way she’d felt to see those lips twitch was still playing in her mind. The fact she could make him smile made her feel warm inside and that was twice today. Two times too many for someone who had felt cold and numb inside for what felt like forever.
So, some distance was a good idea and having to travel it in Oliver’s latest model Mini Cooper S in British racing green was no hardship. It was a sleek piece of machinery, perfect for a movie star’s son. Perfect for Oliver. Too many men, in her opinion, liked to drive around in grunt cars to prove their masculinity.
Horrible Harvey being a classic example.
Give her a man who was secure enough in his own masculinity to drive a small, iconic, quintessentially British motor any day.
Paige was excited to get into town so she could get the lay of the land and investigate what was available locally to make Oliver’s life as temporarily uncomfortable as she could. Thankfully, she discovered something almost immediately as she spied a battered-looking violin in an even more battered case for sale in an antique shop window. Smiling gleefully, Paige bought the instrument without blinking at the hundred-quid price tag.
She’d played violin for several years when she was a kid, eventually giving it up due to the clash in all her extracurricular activities. So, it’d been a while and might take her a while to get good again but, that wasn’t the plan.
She knew from the pained expressions on her parents’ faces when she’d first started out, that novice violin playing was a particular kind of hell. Her father’s right eye had always developed a very specific twitch any time he’d had to sit through yet another painful rendition of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’.
And it didn’t matter that by the time Paige had given up she could play the violin with a depth and clarity that could make her father weep, it still hadn’t stopped the family jokes about those dreadful strangled cat years as her sister had coined them.
So, death by strangled cat it would be.
With that purchase under her belt, she set out to find her next, buying a cheap burner phone and a dozen SIM cards before finding a café on the sea front to escape the chill. It had a large outdoor area that Paige could only imagine would be crowded on a summer day but that was not today. There were very few people out on the streets and only one on the beach rugged up in a puffer jacket, beanie and scarf to ward off the cold and wind.
‘I’ll have a pot of English Breakfast,’ Paige asked the woman behind the counter who introduced herself as Jiya, the owner.
The broad Cornish accent was not what Paige had expected, which would teach her for making assumptions. Jiya might look South Asian but within a minute of her acquaintance, she’d proudly boasted about her family’s three-generation – about to be four with the arrival of her first grandchild in a few months – history in the West Country.
Paige took a seat by the big plate glass window and got to work immediately. She’d already trawled the internet for harmless pranks and had settled on playing a bot. She slid a SIM into the burner and sent her first text to Oliver, whose number Bella had shared.
Thank you for subscribing to HAMSTER FACTS! We’ll be sending you regular updates about hamsters from around the world. To STOP, reply with STOP. Standard messaging rates may apply.
Paige smiled to herself as she sat the phone down then shifted it out of the way as Jiya delivered her steaming pot of tea. The phone vibrated on the table and Paige picked it up.
STOP.
Grinning now, she consulted her list of facts she’d collated.
Thank you for continuing HAMSTER FACTS! Did you know that all hamsters belong to the family Cricetidae? To OPT OUT of these messages reply OPT OUT! Standard messaging rates may apply.
She hit send and set the phone aside as she poured herself a cup of tea. The phone vibrated against the table almost immediately and Paige grinned. She didn’t bother to look at it or reply just yet – it was important not to overplay her hand.
Taking a sip of her tea, she turned her attention back to the front to discover a skinny-looking dog sitting on the pavement outside the window looking at her with big brown eyes. It was some kind of Border Collie maybe, with brown and white colouring instead of black and white. Its nose was white with brown patches over his eyes that looked like a mask.
Well, they would have been brown back in the dog’s heyday but now they were liberally streaked with grey. It looked at her longingly and Paige wondered who he or she belonged to. It was freezing out there and the dog appeared cold and miserable.
She looked across to ask Jiya if she knew the dog but she must have disappeared into the kitchen and, when Paige turned back to the window, the dog was gone. Sitting forward, Paige craned her neck in both directions to see if she could see the animal but it had vanished.
Maybe he’d been out for a walk with his owner and they’d called?
Pulling out the Get Shit Done list she’d torn from the fridge, Paige did some research on the Marks and Spencer site trawling for gluten free/vegan items and jotted down some things she could grab and cross-referenced them with her Instagram recipe folder.
This was her usual MO. She was neat and ordered and got shit done in a very neat and orderly way. She didn’t create mess and chaos. She fitted in, she flew under the radar.
But she had to admit that playing the flibbertigibbet was fun.
Picking up the phone, Paige looked at Oliver’s reply.
OPT OUT!!!
She laughed out loud this time. Whoever thought tone couldn’t be conveyed through text was wrong.
Wondering how far she could push him before he blocked her ass, she was interrupted mid-thought by the bell over the door dinging and a group of about a dozen women entered chattering away. There were older, sporting varying shades of grey hair – from hip grandma to light purple – and were all in active wear and joggers, some even holding hand weights.
Collectively, they checked their smart watches and compared stats. Had they all been out for a walk together? If so, go them. The only place on a shitty day like today as far as Paige was concerned was inside with something warm to drink.
Tea. Or whisky.
One of the women wandered over to the window, standing the other side of Paige’s table to look over at the view as she unzipped her puffer vest. ‘I never get tired of this sight,’ she murmured as she stared at the vista.
As there was no one else around, Paige assumed she was talking to her. Or possibly herself. Who knew? ‘It’s very special,’ Paige acknowledged. ‘Do you live in the area?’
‘Oh yes.’ The older woman turned sparkling eyes on Paige. ‘For the past sixty years.’
Her accent wasn’t West Country so she wasn’t a Cornish native. ‘How wonderful.’
And it was. Paige wasn’t trying to be facetious. As someone who’d been relatively rootless for the past four years, staying in one place appealed to her in ways she’d only just realised she’d been ignoring.
‘You’re not from around here?’
‘No.’
‘Tourist?’
‘Not really. I’m staying with a… friend of a friend. I’m here til March.’
‘January’s not the best time to come to Cornwall.’
Paige laughed as she looked out over the shifting menace of the Atlantic and the low skittering grey cloud. ‘No.’
‘Still, you get to know the real Cornwall in off season. When the town’s not flooded with tourists.’
‘Dorry, you want your usual?’ someone called from the counter and the woman replied, ‘Yes please,’ before returning her attention to the window.
‘You in some kind of walking club?’
‘That’s right. Every Tuesday without fail.’
‘Even on days like this?’
‘We’re the local WI. Our mothers and grandmothers were WI. They kept this country fed through two world wars. WI women aren’t scared of a bit of weather.’
Paige didn’t think it had been Dorry’s – Doris’s? – intention to make her feel so very millennial, but she had. She looked over at the group of nattering, happy women. Even from across the café their spirits seemed indomitable.
None of them would have driven the ten minutes into town. None of them would have been cowed by a bastard ex. They’d have probably hatched a plan to do away with him and bury his body where nobody would ever find him. But then they hadn’t had phones with cameras back in the day.
Or PornHub.
‘Always come here for a coffee afterwards. In winter anyway. Gotta support local especially when the tourists leave and Jiya gives us a discount. In summer we usually go to Sheila’s for a nice cool Pimm’s.’
Paige laughed. Oh, to be an age where indulging in a morning drinking sesh didn’t require a snowed-in airport. ‘Do you have other regular meetings?’
‘Oh yes, duck. We meet on the first Thursday morning of the month except January. We usually do some kind of craft or cooking or a fundraising activity. Sometimes we have guest speakers like next month. We’ve got Geraldine’s’ – she tipped her head in the direction of a woman with frizzy poodle curls and giant hoop earrings – ‘great-niece, Pippa, who used to work for ITV in London in production. She’s done all kinds of behind-the-scenes stuff for so many television shows including’ – she lowered her voice to a hushed, reverent tone – ‘ Coronation Street . She even wrote a couple of the episodes!’
Partial to a bit of Corrie herself, Paige was impressed. ‘She sounds interesting.’
‘Indeed.’ Dorry nodded briskly. ‘We always try to have some relevant kind of theme and as the BAFTAs are two days after the meeting we thought she’d be a good fit.’
‘Perfect I’d say.’
‘If you’re at a loose end, you should come along. You don’t have to be a member to attend and all are welcome. Plus’ – she dropped her voice again – ‘Myrtle over there makes the best scones you’re ever likely to eat. Worth it for that alone.’
Paige got the impression that Dorry was a WI recruiting wet dream. Always on. Always ready to push her product like any good drug dealer. Or Scientologist. ‘Thanks.’
Paige smiled. ‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Doris.’ A woman with steel-grey hair and an even steelier spine if her almost military erectness was any indication, shot an impatient look in their direction. ‘Leave the poor girl alone and come pay Jiya for your damn order.’
Dorry rolled her eyes. ‘That’s Elizabeth, our dear leader,’ she said in a low amused voice, clearly not cowed by the command. ‘Better go before she has an apoplexy. But it would be lovely to see you at the next meeting. Just drop in. We meet at St Agnes’s church hall at 10a.m.’
Paige got the impression it was an order, not a suggestion. And there was no doubt in her mind that this bunch of spritely women could hunt her down and kick her ass. After all, they were the daughters and granddaughters of women who had fed the country.
She turned to go just as Paige was struck by an idea. ‘Are men welcome?’
‘Of course. Eighty-five per cent of us are widows.’ Dorrie winked. ‘A man is always appreciated.’
And then she was gone, leaving Paige to tuck that morsel of information away as she pondered the possibilities.
* * *
Oliver wasn’t upstairs when Paige got home but the kitchen was once again pristine. Even the cupcakes she’d taken out of the oven and left on a cooling rack amid all the debris had been set on a wooden cutting board and draped with a clean tea towel. The bowl with the frosting had been covered in cling film and placed in the fridge.
Paige smiled. Mr Neat Freak was making her job far too easy.
After unpacking the groceries into the pantry and fridge with zero care and attention, Paige tackled the frosting of the cupcakes. She generously slathered on the chocolate cream cheese, eating the first one as she finished the others. There were crumbs everywhere when she was done. She didn’t bother with cleaning them up and left the rack, the frosting bowl and the utensils in the sink unwashed.
Wandering over to Flower’s cage, she noticed his water dish had been filled and she smiled again. Plucking the rodent out of the cage, she cuddled him close to her chest and stroked him.
‘Methinks he secretly likes you, Flower,’ she whispered.
Flower had no opinion so she kissed his furry little head, placed him back in the cage and decided it was time to work.
Real work. That paid the bills. Not this karma stuff that she was doing to redress the cosmic imbalance. And was, thus far proving to be super fun.
As she mounted the stairs to her bedroom, she heard what she assumed was the television coming from the media room below. Was that what he did all day? Just sat on his ass and watched the idiot box?
Oh, how the other half lived!
Retrieving her laptop and work bag, Paige returned to set up at the table. Not on one end which she’d normally do, so as not to disrupt Oliver’s life too much given he was so generously sharing his home. Nope. Right in the middle to be as much of an inconvenience as possible.
With that in mind, Paige spread out as much as possible. Plonking the violin case on the table, she placed folders with relevant client files on either side of the laptop. Yes, most of her records were electronic but she kept meticulous print copies of everything as well. Just in case she was ever hacked or something else equally calamitous.
She also placed several different notebooks on the table along with a colourful array of Post-it notes – which she could not live without. The last thing on the table was her pencil case containing pens of infinite colour. She’d got into the habit of using a different coloured pen for each client and consequently had quite the collection.
Stupidly it made her happy looking at them. Like she could see the success of her business just by peering into the pencil case.
She’d also snaffled another cupcake which she planned to eat as messily as possible.
Paige worked for a couple of hours, methodically answering emails then running through her daily to-do list before she tackled the proofing of some audio file transcriptions from one of her oldest clients who worked in pharmaceuticals. They’d recently switched to AI for the actual transcription but with a lot of technical medical jargon her client preferred to have an extra set of human eyes to double-check everything was correct.
It was much slower going than usual because the view was exceptionally distracting. There was something soothing and… elemental about the ocean. Even on a grey day with the wind whipping occasional flurries of raindrops against the glass, knowing that the great expanse of water had been around since the very beginning of time was incredibly reassuring.
Life changed but some things didn’t.
One day things could be fine, the next they could be tits up. But some things were constant. Like the ocean. The horizon. Paige had been keeping her head down for so long, she’d forgotten to look up. To fix her gaze on a point in the distance and steady herself. Like now, staring at that moody flat line in the distance.
She was still working as the grey leeched from the sky and the view slowly dissolved into the night. The room dimmed around her, the only light coming from her screen and bathing her face. Due to her ear pods, she didn’t hear Oliver approaching but a strange prickle at her nape alerted her a second before the fancy light above the table flooded her in a pool of warm yellow.
‘You’ll go blind in that light,’ he said as he strode into the kitchen.
Paige pulled out her ear pods, watching him as he grimaced at the crumbs and the dirty dishes in the sink. ‘Thanks.’ She smiled at him. ‘I lost track of time. The view is very distracting. You’re lucky.’
Pausing at the sink, he also stared out over the ocean that was barely visible now. The horizon had long since vanished into sea mist. ‘Yes. I am.’
But it sounded kinda bitter and Paige had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. How awful to be forced to live in Daddy’s Cornish beach-side cottage while his ex-fiancé is picking up the pieces of her broken heart.
Cry me a river, dude .
Switching his attention to the hamster cage, he stared at the rodent. ‘I don’t think Pavarotti has used that wheel once.’
Paige was pretty sure he hadn’t either. In fact, if he’d moved more than the length of the cage, she’d be surprised. ‘I think he’s intimated by it at the moment. Give him time.’
Oliver put his elbows on the bench, peering at the hamster, his expression clearly indicating that he didn’t think Flower had time to just fanny around getting used to it.
‘Maybe he needs a little push?’
For somebody who had clearly not been impressed with having a rodent in his house, Oliver seemed unusually invested in his health.
‘Maybe.’
He glanced at her. ‘Do you mind if I…?’
‘Sure.’ Paige waved her hand. ‘Have at it.’
Permission granted, Oliver addressed the rodent as he reached into his cage to give the wheel a push. The strip lighting around the outside flashed as the wheel turned. ‘See,’ Oliver crooned. ‘It’s fun, my guy. You’re going to love it.’ And he pushed again for good measure.
Paige’s irritation at his poor little rich boy act vanished as Oliver coaxed and cajoled, his voice low and friendly. As he picked up Bunky’s pet and placed him onto the wheel, Paige reached for the burner phone in her bag. Suppressing a grin, she shot him another text.
Here is your latest from HAMSTER FACTS! Did you know European hamsters are critically endangered? Press 1 if you’d like to know what you can do to prevent this unfolding tragedy of extinction. Standard messaging rates may apply.
Without taking his eyes off Flower, Oliver reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. Paige had to bite the inside of her cheek when he scowled at the screen and muttered, ‘For fuck’s sake.’
‘Problem?’ she asked as she placed the burner in her lap.
Withdrawing both hands from the cage, he shut the door. ‘This bloody hamster comes into my life and suddenly I start getting messages from an organisation called Hamster Facts.’
‘Hamster Facts?’ Paige feigned surprise. ‘That’s random.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘But you know what they say about our phones and tech, right? Bots and the like spying on us and all that.’
‘Yeah, well…’ Oliver’s thumbs stabbed at the screen, and, in her lap, the phone buzzed. It killed her not to open it immediately. ‘This one just got its ass blocked.’
Throwing his phone down in clear disgust, he returned his attention to Flower/Pavarotti who was now sitting in the wheel where he’d been plonked having not moved one iota. As if he was expecting to be given a ride.
‘C’mon dude.’ Oliver shook his head. ‘It’s not the sodding Falkirk Wheel. You gotta do the work.’
Clearly unimpressed by the pep talk, Flower slumped, settling into the bottom of the wheel, his arms and legs akimbo, dangling from either side. Paige had the feeling that her expensive hamster exercise machine was about to become Flower’s favourite new couch.
‘Okay…’ Oliver sighed. ‘You win. It’s getting dark now but tomorrow is a new day. Rest up.’
He fist-bumped the cage and Paige laughed. Then she castigated herself for laughing and feeling all warm and fuzzy. But seriously, how could this man who was being so cute with a hamster so carelessly and callously jilt his bride on their wedding day?
Not that it was her job to psychoanalyse him – just explode a few karmic bombs in his life. But still… how?
‘Is there a violin in that case or is that where you keep a stash of crumbs for general strewing?’
Paige fought the laughter pressing against her vocal cords. It was going to be hard to be the angel of karma if she kept laughing at his wry sense of humour. She glanced at the instrument. ‘Violin. I saw it in the window of an antique shop in town and thought why not?’
‘So…’ He frowned. ‘You play?’
‘No,’ she lied. Well, maybe 75 per cent lied. She wouldn’t be strangled-cat bad but it would take her a while to get the instrument to truly sing.
‘Oh. Did you get it for someone else?’
‘No. Figured I’d learn how to play it while I was here.’
He opened his mouth to say something then shut it again, clearly bamboozled by the statement. ‘Have you played any instrument?’
‘I guess. If the triangle counts?’
‘Um, no.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I don’t think it does.’
‘Yeah, I didn’t think so.’ Although it was worth saying for the way he hid his alarm so admirably behind a stiff British veneer.
‘So, you’re just… going to learn the violin? Just like that? Can you read music?’
‘Nope.’ Now, that was a 100 per cent lie. She wondered if, when a person got to a certain accumulative total, it sent you to hell. Directly to hell. ‘Do you?’
He shook his head. ‘I was more into drama class than band stuff.’
‘It’s fine,’ she assured as she reached for the case and flipped it open. ‘I’m sure there’ll be something online. YouTube. Or whatever is the Duolingo for instruments.’
She plucked one of the strings with her fingers and gave an internal wince. It needed tuning badly . Which was perfect in every way. Grabbing the bow, she glanced at Oliver. ‘How hard can it be? I’ve seen five-year-olds playing them on TikTok.’
‘Mmm,’ he said, his brow furrowing as she positioned the violin and raised the bow.
The thing about mastering an instrument was that you also knew how to play it badly. The poor condition and lack of tuning helped but Paige knew exactly where and how to strike the strings to make a truly awful noise. And she did it straight away. It was the worst combination of nails down a chalk board and yes… strangled cat.
The hamster wheel shook as Flower started in alarm. Oliver winced in the same way her father used to, drawing in a breath and blinking rapidly like he’d not only heard something awful but smelled it too. ‘Oh. My.’
She smiled at his understated, heavily curated remark. She’d always admired people who could engage their filters before they spoke. That wasn’t something her family were known for. Hell, her brother would have just blurted, Fuck’s sake Paige, what did we ever do to you? And, to be fair, the nerve endings in her ear were still untying themselves from the spasm that note had caused.
‘Needs some work,’ she admitted.
He was looking at her like she’d just uttered the biggest understatement ever uttered in the history of understatements. ‘Practice makes perfect,’ he agreed with a fixed smile.
‘Right?’ Paige lifted the bow again and struck an equally inhuman chord.
Oliver held up his hand hastily. ‘I think I’ll… leave you to it.’
Pressing her lips together as if in thought, Paige nodded. ‘Good idea. No one likes looking like a fool in front of other people.’
Like, say, being jilted on your wedding day…
But he clearly wasn’t picking up what Paige was putting down. He just looked relieved to be getting out of there. He turned to leave then hesitated, looking back over his shoulder at the cage. ‘Umm… I might take Pavarotti with me.’
Paige glanced at the hamster who seemed to be cowering in the far corner of his cage. It was such a sweet consideration Paige almost let out a nawww . But then she remembered.
Jilted, Paige. Jilted. Get a grip.
She struck a few more screechy chords as Oliver disappeared down the stairs with the cage, stifling a laugh as she heard the door close. Oh, this was going to be so much fun.
Picking up the phone on her lap, she read the text he’d stabbed out.
Listen here, you tosser. There is a particular place in hell for bots. You’re blocked!
Paige did laugh then. Because she had plenty more SIM cards and the means to buy more. She could do this for the next two months.
Returning to the violin, she set up her phone on the table in front of her and scrolled to video. Tapping record, she filmed herself playing a particularly slow and torturous (for the benefit of her downstairs audience) rendition of ‘Three Blind Mice’.
Given it was one of the foundation pieces when learning the violin, the song was pure muscle memory for Paige although it had been many years since she’d played it so heinously. She remembered how proud she’d been when she’d conquered it. How her parents had winced-clapped heartily and her sister had threatened to decapitate her Ken doll if she ever heard it again.
Stopping the video, she did a quick edit, zooming in and cropping until it was just the instrument, then she attached it to a message and sent it to her co-conspirators.
Just Desserts WhatsApp Group. 17.45GMT.
Paige
Guess who decided to take up violin?
Sienna
Holy crap. That’s awful. I love it.
Paige
Sadly, Oliver is not a fan. Bwahahahahahahahaha
Sienna
Poor baby
Astrid
Oh the pain!
Bella
God, I wish I could have seen his face.
Paige
There was wincing
Bella
No one does resting wince face like Olly
Paige
There wasn’t much resting about it.
Astrid
You’re hitting this out of the park, sister.
Paige
How are Horrible Harvey plans coming along?
Sienna
I’m still hatching a plan, but don’t worry. He’s going down. I promise.
Paige
Good. Considering he never went down on me once, I shall enjoy the symbolism of his fall.
Astrid
Ugh. Why does this not surprise me!
Paige