Chapter 6
6
Halsbury Lodge is a lovely house. It’s partly seventeenth century, so all tiny red bricks and tall chimneys. As we swing around the last curve of the drive, the sun comes out properly for the first time, glinting on the white of the window frames. And the estate agent’s still running late, so I can let Tony soak it in without the hard sell. That’s perfect. He can stroll around, gazing up at the high ceilings, and craning his neck to get the most out of the view from the French windows.
I’m fairly sure it’s a good sign, Tony behaving like an overgrown puppy who’s wandered into Wonderland. Though it’s not until he’s staring out over the front lawn, fingers on the faded velvet of the curtain, that he says anything. It’s just, ‘Yeah, I likes this place.’ But it’s quiet, so I think he really means it.
‘You haven’t seen the best bit yet.’
He looks over his shoulder at me. ‘What’s that then?’
‘Come and see.’
My heels click on the checkerboard tiles of the hall. He follows a step behind, trainers silent. I open a door that must once have led out into the yard. Now, there’s an all-glass corridor leading into the old barn. Only, instead of hay bales, there’s a brilliant blue pool, long enough to swim proper laps, and from my perspective, much more importantly, a hot tub. I know I’m supposed to say they’re tacky, but I utterly adore them. It’s nothing to do with the suburban wife-swapping associations, they just combine two of my absolute favourite things, being in the water and being warm. Though I might have more trouble than usual denying the appeal has anything to do with sex, with Tony so close. I can almost feel his breath on my neck.
But that’s not something I should be focusing on, so I use the fact the stone flags are not stiletto friendly as an excuse to stay in the doorway.
Tony smiles at me from across the room. ‘Yeah, I see what you mean. Not bad.’
I try to regain my professional focus. ‘Umm. It’s by far the best pool set-up in the area.’
His laugh echoes against the bare brick walls. ‘You, my friend, have missed your calling. You should be selling houses.’
I look puzzled.
He grins. ‘Anyone’d go for this, if they saw your face. Like you’re staring at a real tasty bit of cake.’
I bite my lip and smile. ‘It is quite dreamy.’
‘Well, if I rent this place, you’re welcome to come swim any time.’
I don’t want to give the impression I’m going to get under his feet, so I tone down my smile. ‘That’s kind.’ Then, over my shoulder, as I’m walking away, ‘Shall we go and look upstairs?’
The current owners haven’t made themselves known in the village, but most of the first floor’s a little shabby, so I guess they ran out of money before the restoration was finished. Luckily, Tony’s only interested in the master bedroom and bathroom. The bathroom is nice in a generic Architectural Digest sort of way, but the bedroom is mouth-watering. The woods behind the house block the sun, but instead of trying to make it look lighter, the walls are the colour of Valpolicella. The damask curtains and the bedspread match perfectly; lying in bed must be like floating in wine.
‘I get why you were so enthused ’bout this one now. This room looks great on you,’ Tony grins, pointing me to the silver mirror and indicating that I should take a look at myself.
Surprisingly, I can see his point. I’m the sort of pale that looks smudged against white walls. Here, my skin’s almost dramatic and my hair looks more Belgian chocolate than its usual Dairy Milk. Only I know, even when I look at my nicest, I don’t come close to a woman like Angharad Jones at her worst, so I shrug. ‘The mirror helps, the antique ones soften out the edges.’
He shakes his head, his face play serious. ‘I dunno ’bout that. You look like the lady of the house to me.’
I smile back, flattered despite myself. ‘Only this is an old hunting lodge, so very much a bachelor pad. The only women who’d ever have set foot in here when it was first built definitely wouldn’t have been ladies.’
Tony tilts his head. ‘Here’s hoping.’ He looks at the brass bed, then at me, eyes narrow, and this time I can’t stop the blush. ‘Speaking of which, this place comes furnished, yeah?’
‘It does.’ I try to keep my face bland.
‘Then how ’bout kicking off them heels and trying this out for size for me?’
Obviously, if he said that to Katia or Skylar, I’d be seriously annoyed. But always being everyone’s big sister, or for the academy kids, their second mum, can get depressing. And that’s my only defence for giving Tony my best confused Bambi look and saying, ‘But I so much prefer keeping my heels on.’
It’s pleasing that for a moment he’s completely quiet, but a twitch of the brows widens his eyes into diamonds. His tongue flickers between his parted lips and he runs his forearm across his mouth. Then he laughs. ‘Got to admit, that’s a visual I wasn’t expecting.’ He stops for a second, looking at me sideways, then smiles slowly and slides his hand along the bedpost. ‘But thinking ’bout it, maybe I should’ve.’
I’m actually confused now, rather than pretend confused. ‘I can’t think why.’
He grins. ‘Well, you told me you like being driven. And if you’re into someone else taking charge, this has gotta suggest a possibility or two.’ He holds his wrist flat against the bedpost, so the gold of his watchstrap looks like the world’s most expensive restraint.
He’s so obviously played me at my own game, I can’t help laughing. But it’s probably for the best that the estate agent appears in the doorway before either of us can say anything more, apologizing but claiming I had made the appointment for tomorrow.
When I see it’s Bunty Conroy, all the confusion over the appointments makes sense. I’ve dealt with her often enough to be convinced she was hired solely to sell this sort of house to her relatives. It’s the only rational explanation for anyone paying her a wage.
‘Oh good, you found your way up here. So sorry I’m late.’ As usual, Bunty’s voice is pitched to be heard from the opposite end of a hockey field.
I do brief introductions, after which Bunty asks, ‘Well, what do you think, Mr Garratt? Is it for you?’
Tony’s smile is of the happy crocodile variety. ‘Oh yeah, I think it’s for me all right. How ’bout you, Genie? You reckon it’ll suit?’
Luckily, since Bunty’s not the sharpest knife in the box, I don’t think she notices anything out of the ordinary in my expression when I say, ‘I can see it has certain attractions.’
Tony laughs. ‘Too right it does.’
I decide it’s time to return to being professional, or actually, that it’s long overdue. ‘OK, Bunty, we’re looking to move Tony in asap. Can we get the paperwork done today?’
She looks horrified, and really it wasn’t a sensible suggestion. Her office will be closing soon and Bunty almost certainly can’t set up a DocuSign without assistance.
‘Or tomorrow morning?’
Bunty shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry, Genie, I really am. But the credit check always takes a few days. We could maybe do a move-in date early next week…’
‘Bunty, this is Tony Garratt.’ My voice is prickly.
She looks perplexed. ‘Yes, you did introductions when I arrived.’
‘He holds the record for most Premier League assists in a season.’ The irritation’s still there, but I manage to coat it with a thin layer of patience.
‘I don’t quite see how that relates to the credit check?’
Tony gives her his laziest smile. ‘Bunty, love, I think what Genie’s getting at is I make a serious amount of money.’
Bunty looks to me for confirmation. I nod and mouth his salary.
‘A year?’ she yelps, and I hope that means she’s reevaluating the need for a credit check or anything else that will delay getting Tony out of an anonymous hotel room.
I shake my head. ‘A week.’ I can see she’s poised to say something unforgivable, so I reach out to briefly brush Tony’s elbow with the tips of my fingers. ‘And if anything, he’s undervalued. So, if we could get the paperwork rolling?’
We leave Bunty battling the security system and stroll to the car. Tony smiles down at me. ‘Thanks, Genie, for getting that sorted.’
I smile back. ‘I hope you’ll be happy here.’
He looks over his shoulder at the ivy draped tastefully over the lead of the porch. ‘Yeah, I kind of think I might be. I weren’t sure the country’d be for me, but this place, I’m quite taken with it.’
‘It should be the perfect home for a player.’
‘How’s that?’
‘It was built to be somewhere to come home to after a hard day’s hunting. You might be after goals instead of foxes, but it’s the same principle, minus the cruelty.’
He grins. ‘Not sure that’s always absent, but you know, that’s a nice idea. Makes me feel like I’ve got a bit more in common with the previous residents than I’d have guessed.’
Interestingly, that suggests a thoughtful– at a stretch even romantic– streak I hadn’t guessed was there. But it’s best not to dwell on that. I try a joke to change the pace. ‘Only there might be more similarity with the hounds than the humans.’
‘You could be right.’ He laughs. ‘And as it happens, you’re not the first woman to point that one out.’
‘I don’t imagine I am.’
He opens the car door and leans on the roof, watching me walking to the passenger side. As I’m about to lever myself in, he says, ‘You know what? We might’ve got off to a rocky start, but I reckon you and me, we’re going to get on.’