Chapter 2
Chapter Two
When the doorbell rang on Friday, Flynn groaned into his pillow.
The night shift had been busy, and he hadn’t had anywhere near enough sleep.
Not that long ago he wouldn’t stir at the sound of the doorbell, but six months without night shifts on Scilly had severely diminished his ability to sleep during the day.
He was also on alert for calls from Lily.
The bell sounded again, and he dragged himself up and pulled on a pair of jogging bottoms and a T-shirt.
He ran a hand through his hair as he opened the door to the middle-aged woman who lived across the hall. A week ago he’d hardly known his neighbours at all, but after a week of Lily staying with him, he now knew more about them than he’d like.
“Hello,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“I woke you,” Mrs Patel stated. “I’m a shift worker too. Horrible to be woken, isn’t it?”
He nodded, but noticed she didn’t apologise.
“Flynn, is it?” she said. “We’ve never really met properly, but I heard a bit about you from Lily. Did she make it home safely?”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t about to get into details about Lily’s whereabouts. “She’s fine, thanks.”
“A long-distance relationship must be hard.”
“It is, but I’m moving to Scilly in a couple of weeks.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? That’s wonderful.”
Flynn raised an eyebrow at her enthusiasm. After his landlord's death the previous week, he’d trusted Lily’s judgement when she’d insisted the truth should stay buried. Even so, he couldn’t help wondering how many of his neighbours knew what had really happened.
“Wonderful for you,” she amended. “Of course, we’ll be sorry to see you go.”
Flynn suspected that wasn’t true and that she’d actually be pleased to no longer have a police officer for a neighbour.
A flicker of genuine sadness hit her features. “That means Lily won’t be visiting. Oh, well. It’ll be good for you two to live in the same place. I hear it’s lovely on the Scilly Isles. Perhaps Henry and I will come for a holiday one day. Once he finds himself a job and things are stable again…”
“Sorry,” Flynn said, cutting in. “Is there something you need? I’m working again tonight so I could really do with sleeping a little longer.”
In truth, he was wide awake now and had no chance of getting back to sleep, but he had better things to do than listen to Mrs Patel prattle away. Packing up his flat, for one thing.
“Yes!” She raised a finger. “I wanted to invite you over for coffee and cake on Sunday. Hopefully everyone in the building will be there. Our landlady, Mrs Silverton, would like to come and meet us. It seems as though she’ll continue renting out the flats to us, which is a relief.
Not that it matters to you. Anyway, she wanted to talk about what will happen. I suppose it’s not relevant for you.”
“I’d like to meet her,” Flynn said. “I can tell her I’ll be moving out.”
“Lovely. I’ll see you on Sunday then. Eleven o’clock.”
He winced. “That’s actually a bit early after my night shift. Could you give me her number? I can give her a quick call sometime.”
“I’ll bring it over later.” She smiled warmly. “And if you need any help with your move, just give us a knock. Mr Patel would be more than happy to make a trip to the tip if you have things to get rid of. We also have moving boxes in the cellar if you need some.”
“I have to figure out how much stuff I’ll take with me,” he said through a yawn, the task of packing up his flat feeling suddenly daunting. “I might take you up on the boxes.”
“When did you say you’re leaving?” she asked, stepping forward and peering into his flat.
“Two weeks. Or less. Ten days, probably.” He still needed to book his flight, but since it was out of season, that shouldn’t be a problem.
“And you haven’t started packing?” Mrs Patel asked, disapproval creeping into her tone.
He shifted his weight. “I only found out I got the job a couple of days ago.”
“Are you taking your furniture?” Stepping over the threshold, she stared down the hall into the living room. “Or will you sell it?”
“Sell it,” he said. “Hopefully, I can get rid of it all pretty quickly.”
Mrs Patel fell silent, looking at Flynn intently. “Mr Patel can help,” she said eventually.
“Oh, no.” Flynn didn’t really know the guy and would feel very weird about having a stranger helping him in his flat. “I appreciate the thought, but I’ll manage.”
“Nonsense. Henry has plenty of time to help you. He’s a whizz at selling things online. I’ll send him over to take photos of anything you want to sell.” Her dark eyebrows pulled together. “Shall we say fifteen percent?”
“Excuse me?”
“He’ll sell everything for you and take fifteen percent commission. He knows how to make things sound more attractive in the listings, so he’ll get a good price. And it’ll save you a lot of hassle.”
“I’m really okay doing it myself,” Flynn said, but she was already striding away.
“I’ll talk to Henry and send him over to you,” she called over her shoulder.
He watched the door close behind her, then blearily went to the kitchen. Halfway through his coffee, the doorbell rang again.
“Hi,” he said to Henry Patel. “I tried to tell your wife, but I really don’t need any help.”
“She’s not an easy woman to say no to,” the smartly dressed man said cheerfully. “It’s like she doesn’t hear the word no or any variation of it. Once she gets an idea in her head, that’s it. I’m happy to help, though. And I am very good at selling things online.”
Flynn sighed. “To be honest, it feels awkward…”
“My wife says I’m working on commission, so you can treat me like hired help if that makes it easier.”
“I’m not sure it does,” Flynn said.
Mr Patel glanced over his shoulder when the door to his flat clicked open, and his wife appeared.
“You won’t get much done chatting on the doorstep!” she barked, then made a shooing motion.
“Please,” Mr Patel mouthed. “It’s easier to just go along with her.”
Against his better judgement, Flynn took a step back and gestured for Mr Patel to come in.