In at the Deep End

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Winchester, UK

Owen Lane was losing the will to live.

“I am never, ever, doing this again,” he muttered as he navigated his way through piles of boxes covering virtually every inch of floor space of the combined sitting and dining room.

The movers had finally finished emptying the huge van that had contained everything he owned, and they were on their way to their next job.

Leaving me with chaos incarnate.

“You could’ve got them to put all this stuff in the right rooms, you know.” Callum was in the kitchen.

Owen snorted. “Where’s the fun in that?” He glanced in the direction of Callum’s voice. “I don’t hear a kettle boiling.”

A loud guffaw erupted. “That’s because I’m still looking for it. Maybe if you’d bothered to label the box ‘Essential’?”

“You’re here for your muscle power, not sarcasm and insults. And if I get any more lip from you, the first night you spend here will be in the barn at the bottom of the garden.”

Callum chuckled. “Don’t go saying things like that. I’d move in there in a heartbeat.”

That put a dent in what was left of Owen’s good mood, and that was hanging on by a thread.

I wouldn’t be his age again, not in these times.

Owen couldn’t imagine being forced to live with a parent because he couldn’t afford to get on the housing ladder. Cyn had the room, that wasn’t an issue, but for God’s sake, Callum was twenty-seven.

He has his own electrician’s business. He should have his own space too, his privacy.

If Owen had had to resort to living with his parents, he’d have been climbing the walls. Not to mention having blue balls the size of oranges.

“Aha!”

Owen had to smile at the triumphant tone. “You found the kettle.”

“Yup. Now all I need is the teabags and we’re sorted.”

“Tesco bag by the sink. There’s milk too. I’ll be in the garden when it’s ready.”

Callum chuckled. “Don’t forget to leave a trail of breadcrumbs.”

Owen shook his head. “It’s not that big a garden.

” He glanced at his surroundings. This had to be one of his two favourite rooms in the house.

Floor-to-ceiling windows stood between him and the garden.

He was looking forward to when the summer finally got its act together and he could stack the windows and open the room up to the whole space beyond.

A patio sat outside, with five steps leading up to a lawn bordered by trees and shrubs. A low black barn at the far end was almost hidden from view, and off to the left was the pool with its pool house.

Owen slid open the middle window and stepped out onto the patio. The early afternoon sun painted the tree tops a vibrant green. It would have sparkled on the surface of the water too, if not for the pool’s covering.

A low wall separated the patio from the raised lawn, and Owen perched on the edge of it.

All I need is a ton of cushions, and I’ve got a lot more seating space.

That would come in handy. He envisaged plenty of guests filling the space. Not to mention the low barn.

This place was made for parties.

Don’t run before you can walk. Get the house presentable first.

Butterflies landed on one of the shrubs, and Owen climbed the steps to get a better view. A rustle of leaves overhead alerted his attention, and he caught his breath at the sight of a squirrel, sitting on a branch above him, tail twitching, eyes locked on him, little fluffy white chest heaving.

“You’re safe with me, Mr. Squirrel,” he murmured.

He couldn’t hear any birds singing, but only the other day he’d watched a nature programme on TV where someone had said that birds took a nap during the day.

Which made sense, considering what time they were awake.

Owen made a mental note to buy a bird feeder and supplies.

He smiled. Ben, you would have loved this.

The sweet ache that accompanied the thought had lessened a lot, but it was still there, a link to memories. They’d spent so much time in the garden that last year.

The house in Reading had come with an adequate-sized plot out back, and Ben had stocked it with every type of shrub and plant imaginable.

The only thing missing from this place is the sound of running water.

Maybe that was a future project.

Owen’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he removed it and peered at the screen.

Phil: So when does Casa Owen open for business?

Owen chuckled, his thumbs sliding over the keys.

Not yet. Patience. When I do the whole housewarming thing, you’ll be one of the first to know. Except you won’t get an invite to *that* one. LMAO

[grin emoji] Your neighbours have no idea, do they?

Owen grinned. At least there was an empty piece of land between his house and the one next door. A buffer zone.

“Contemplating your new kingdom?” Callum joined him on the lawn, holding out a mug. “Hey, it feels warm out here.”

“It’s May.”

He snorted. “That means nothing. This is Britain, remember? Tomorrow it could drop back into single digits and we could be up to our armpits in frost. Or rusting because of the torrential rain.”

Owen sipped his tea. “Not bad. It’s not how I would make it, but it’s not bad.”

Callum let out another chuckle. “Your version is always strong enough to stand a spoon up in it.”

“Strong tea builds character.”

Laughter burst from him. “You mean like eating sprouts builds character? Doing my homework? Unpacking the shopping?”

“Well, obviously.” Owen rolled his eyes. “I mean, look at how you turned out.”

A damn fine example of a man.

Callum smirked. “That could almost be a compliment. Careful there, Dad. Don’t overdo it.”

That earned him a mock glare.

Callum glanced at the flower beds. “I have to say, this is the part that surprised me.”

Owen blinked. “Why?”

“Dad… It’s over an acre.”

“So I’m not allowed to have a big garden?”

“Of course you are, but your track record is pretty shit.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Callum’s lips twitched. “You could kill a plastic plant.”

“Cite your source.”

He cackled again. “Mum. She said she planted a load of lavender once, ’cause they thrive in poor soil. You killed them. Then there was the time you pruned a holly bush and it died. No one in the history of the world has ever killed a holly bush.”

“Your mother’s memory is far too good.”

“Except she’s not my only source. Ben wouldn’t let you near a pair of pruning shears. He told me as much.”

Owen gave a wistful smile. “Okay, I can’t argue with that.”

Callum sipped his tea. “This is beautiful, though.”

“And it’ll be the last garden I ever own. Because the only way I’m leaving this house is feet first in a pine box.”

He snickered. “I was looking at those prepaid cremation plans they keep advertising. I thought we might turn you into kitty litter.”

Owen pointed his mug in Callum’s direction. “Remarks like that will get you crossed out of my will. One day, this could all be yours.”

Callum didn’t smile, and the sight sent a shiver through Owen.

“What if you have a partner to leave it to?”

Owen suppressed his sigh. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’m perfectly happy as I am.”

“I know that too.”

“And I have no plans to change anything.”

Callum cocked his head to one side. “Never say never, Dad. None of us know what’s waiting right around the corner.”

Owen drank some of his tea. “Lightning doesn’t strike twice, kid. And neither does true love, not in my book at any rate. I’ve had my moment in the sun. And it was a damn good moment too.” The words didn’t upset him, not anymore. He’d healed a lot in six years.

But there were moments when he recalled a look, a touch, a kiss…

He straightened. “So… what do you think of the neighbourhood?”

“That’s Dad-speak for ‘Change the subject.’” Callum took a breath to drink more tea.

“And you can’t tell a thing from the lane.

All the houses are hidden behind hedges.

” He chuckled. “And that lane is narrow. The moving van only just made it through. I thought it was going to take out a few hedges turning into the driveway.”

Owen hadn’t seen any of his new neighbours yet. Research on Google Maps had shown large houses of between three and five bedrooms. The only other house with a pool was next door.

“How’s the saving up for a deposit going?”

Callum’s groan tightened Owen’s chest. “I’m hoarding very bloody penny I get. Mum’s been great about it. She won’t accept any money for food, and she takes a tiny amount of rent.” He chuckled. “Anyone would think she wanted me out from under her feet.”

“Gee, imagine that.”

“By the way, I looked for biscuits in the kitchen, but I couldn’t find any.”

Owen smiled. “Then you didn’t look hard enough.”

Callum narrowed his gaze. “You bought good stuff, right? Not the crap Mum buys.” He shuddered. “I mean, who likes Rich Tea? They’re boring as fuck.” He froze. “Oops. Sorry, Dad.”

He laughed. “I’ve heard worse. And you’re not a kid anymore. I bought stem ginger cookies. Good enough, Oh Picky One?”

“Well, if I have to slum it…” Callum grinned. “Your packing skills are really shit, you know. It took me forever to find the mugs.”

“You found them, didn’t you? And I drew a mug on the box.”

Callum widened his eyes. “That was a mug?” He snorted. “I can’t see the Royal Academy asking you to contribute to an exhibit anytime soon.”

Owen gave him another mock glare. “By the time I order food tonight, your fat lip will make it really difficult to eat.”

“That means you’re not cooking?” Callum’s eyes twinkled. “My luck’s getting better by the minute.” He wandered over to the pool, and Owen followed. “You used to talk about having a pool when I was little.”

“I couldn’t afford it back then.” But now the hotels had all been sold, all business ventures completed, and Owen was finally a man of leisure.

“So what will you do with all this free time? And in case I haven’t mentioned it, fifty-two is way too young to be retired.”

“I’ve earned it. I’ve worked my arse off since university.” Owen inclined his head towards the house. “I’ve got a load of cardboard boxes filled with books I haven’t had time to read. I haven’t taken a break since…”

Since 2020.

He drew in a deep breath. “It’ll take me a while to get this place the way I want it. I need wardrobes, storage space, bookcases…” The house didn’t need decorating, thank God, but his furniture was in need of an upgrade. And now he had four bedrooms and five bathrooms to think about.

“Well, if you will buy a place that could house three families all at once…” Callum drank some of his tea. “Seriously, though, Dad. I love it.”

“I’m glad. And you know you’re welcome to visit anytime you want.

The trains from Southampton run frequently.

” Owen smiled. “Your mum will be visiting soon, I have no doubt.” Then he sighed.

“Except I hope she waits a while.” He glanced at the house.

“You know, this looked like a big space when I did the viewing.”

Now it resembled a forest of cardboard boxes.

Callum cocked his head. “Was that the doorbell I just heard?” He laughed. “It’ll be the movers. They’ve found a box they missed.”

“You stay here and enjoy the sunshine while it lasts. I’ll go see who it is.”

Owen descended the steps and went back inside. In the entrance hall, the tall narrow pane of glass at the side of the wooden front door gave no clue as to who was out there. The bell rang again, and he opened the door.

A tall man stood there, a casserole dish in his hands. Brown hair laced with grey swept up off his face, his beard virtually solid silver, although his moustache was darker.

“Hey. Welcome to South Drive.” He held out the dish. “I live next door. We thought you might appreciate something to throw into the oven.” Then he became very still, his grey-blue eyes focused on Owen.

Familiar grey-blue eyes.

Owen squinted, his breath catching.

No. No fucking way.