Chapter 13
‘That couldn’t have been more nightmarish if I’d been naked, falling from a cliff, and late for my high school exams.’ Alyssa yanked the passenger seatbelt of Rufus’s car around herself and thrust in the metal clip with a satisfying clunk.
‘I cannot believe you actively lied about Devan’s name not being anywhere near this deal, when he created the stupid damned app.
Then you let me get paired with the two-timing arsehole, kick-starting the pantomime with a death-defying balloon flight for four.
Is there anything else I should know right now?
’ She wished her glare could burn a hole in the side of his dumb head.
‘You saw that beast of a contract. There wasn’t time to talk through everything.
Anyway, I didn’t want you to cut off your hooter to spite your face.
This is a great opportunity for you, and why should some poke from the past screw things up?
I just want the best for you. Honestly. And I did think we’d get away without seeing him, with Teijo running things.
Nobody could have known the two of you would be paired.
That was in the hands of the algorithm. Weird, hey? I guess he was the most viable match.’
‘Devan Shaw is married.’
Rufus shrugged and revved up the BMW, its wheels spitting up grass and mud as they turned.
‘Anyway, algorithms don’t have hands. Although the people who create them do.
’ Alyssa wouldn’t have put it past Devan to have concocted this match, although she still didn’t know why.
He’d agreed it was all just business. Maybe he wanted his pathetic app to make him rich so he could afford some T-shirts that didn’t show his belly button.
They drove through snaking country roads towards the converted barn accommodation that Alyssa had yet to see.
She just prayed it wasn’t dreadful. She clung to the shoebox containing her mouse friend, noticing all was quiet inside.
From what she’d discerned, Pikachu mostly slept in the day.
Perhaps she should set him free, but right then, his little box was warm against her lap, and it gave her comfort after such a horrendous day.
Feeling inside her coat pocket she pulled out her other comfort – her phone.
Some people liked to disappear inside the pages of a book.
For her, it was her online world. A place where nothing was quite real, and that you could shove back into your pocket when you’d had enough.
‘All good on the socials?’ Rufus asked. ‘Hope my bum doesn’t look too big.’
‘So vain,’ she muttered, as she scrolled to check through.
She breathed a small sigh of relief that the photos posted about the first task so far weren’t too unflattering, and the comments were mostly positive.
There was some chat about whether she was the mysterious Beryl, but if it kept people talking, then their posts would stay current – and that much could be a good thing.
The video she’d posted of herself pretending to look brave before she’d got into the air balloon had lots of likes and shares.
Aggravating @garypratt had said he hoped to see a close-up of her arse trying to get into the balloon’s basket, though it had caused backlash from female fans, which simply boosted the post’s popularity.
And that was how an algorithm should work.
She’d even had two enquiries about her coaching, though they both looked a bit spammy, and she was too exhausted to think about fixing other people’s catastrophes today.
‘Let’s hope for a juicy long task next time, ’cus we’ll get paid more,’ said Rufus, rubbing his hands together even though they should have been on the steering wheel.
‘I’ll be telling the app I like short ones,’ she huffed. Maybe she would add that to the post-task questionnaire she still had to complete.
The narrow, winding roads did nothing for Alyssa’s dizziness – but when they finally opened out again, she was surprised to remember how spacious this part of the country felt – even if the trees were looking a bit like skeletons and the grass was probably not greener.
It was certainly different from the busy London streets and built-up suburbs she’d become used to.
Though she’d always embraced the city hustle, because when you were busy, there wasn’t much time for thinking.
The Cow Shed was on farmland on the outskirts of the town.
Teijo had found it for her, as he was in charge of campaign logistics.
She’d been sure to get photos of inside and out, after the grotty Hackney flat situation.
At least he would presumably have picked somewhere reasonable, if they wanted her to stick out these tasks.
Rufus had promised he’d checked things – for what that was worth – and he had the details they needed to get inside.
Hartglove would still be her closest place for food and essentials, but she’d hopefully be at a safe distance from any small-town gossip, and from her parents, whom she still hadn’t seen and was in absolutely no rush to.
In fact, one of the last times she’d properly seen her mother had left her eyeballs and her thoughts about ‘love’ scarred for life.
The image appeared again before she had chance to stop it, making the taste of bile rise up her throat.
It had been the night she’d rushed home heartbroken, having just been publicly rejected by Devan.
And Pearl Bagnor had been distinctly naked and bouncy – with a man who was not Alyssa’s father.
Yet despite that, and her father’s various affairs, her parents were still together – presumably pretending that all was fine and dandy.
She couldn’t trust or respect either of them and it was no wonder she’d come to be sure love was a joke.
‘We’re here,’ said Rufus, rousing her from her thoughts. Thank God.
She wiped the clammy moisture from her top lip, willing her heart to slow itself.
She’d have to face the Bagnors at some point.
Her dad would ramble on about her appalling pink hair and the fact she should get a respectable job.
That much was comical. Her mum would probably be too busy eyeing up the milkman to care that her only daughter was back in town.
Rufus pulled into a muddy courtyard, with a decrepit-looking tractor in one corner and a huge pile of old tyres in another.
There were no other vehicles or signs of life.
Clutching Pikachu’s shoebox, Alyssa climbed out of the car.
The courtyard was flanked by ramshackle barns, most without doors or roofs.
Only one looked habitable, and she hoped it was hers because it had been a long day, and she just wanted to eat, sleep and forget.
Unless the barn still contained cows, it would do.
Alyssa paced to the door and read the sign. ‘The ow hed.’ It had lost a C and an S since the rental agent’s photos had been taken, but it just about summed up how she was feeling. Though she wasn’t going to cry over missing consonants.
Rufus darted back and forth behind her, unloading her things like he was terrified she’d change her mind. ‘Key’s behind the sign,’ he told her. ‘The owner’s away, but I’m sure the place will have everything you need. It’s a luxury conversion. High end. Bijou.’
Alyssa knew he was spouting random estate agent speak, and she doubted it was true.
Though strangely, she didn’t need his big talk.
Something inside her already liked the place.
It was quiet. There were no people around.
And having been used to that horrible, stinky tower block, she was determined to make the best of whatever was inside, however fleeting her stay might be.
Rufus made a show of checking his watch. ‘Anyway, gotta go. Call me if you need me.’ He waved his phone over his head, already getting back into his car.
She knew he’d be driving back to London, so wouldn’t bother answering anyway. But that was fine. She was desperate for some peace. So she waved him off, took a deep breath and opened the door to her new little sanctuary.
‘Oh,’ she said, stepping inside. Far from being full of modern, stylish furniture, like in the photos, it was more or less empty.
The front door opened straight into what she assumed was the lounge area, if people liked to lounge on hardwood floors.
Well, she wasn’t one for lolling about, so that was probably fine.
She remembered there being an open-plan dining area on the pictures, but the table had clearly grown feet and walked off too.
‘Reasons to be cheerful – I get to eat my beans on toast from a tray,’ she said to the lid of Pikachu’s box. ‘Fewer surfaces to clean.’
A challenge was simply an opportunity dressed in crap clothes, as she told her coaching clients – when she had any. It was cheesy, but it helped. She put the shoebox down and dragged the rest of her things over the threshold.
As she looked around The ’ow ’hed, she could almost feel its potential.
The walls were a plain but warm shade of cream nothing would clash with, and the exposed oak beams gave the place a cosy yet classy feel.
If she was the sort of person who stuck around, she might have strung twinkly lights around them.
And she wasn’t sure why she was starting to imagine quirky art on the walls and plants dotted around, some dangling from macramé hangers.
Macramé? She must have been spending too much time on Instagram.
She was not here to make a house a home.
Getting back to logistics, she was relieved to see that the kitchen had the essentials, like a fridge, cooker and washing machine, and there was a double bed in the bedroom, even if it was crying out for new bedding.
Another look at the letting agent’s bumf, which was still stuffed inside her knock-off handbag, told her the barn was only meant to be partly furnished.
Well, that was another lesson in reading the small print – much like the situation with the ’Appy Together deal.
‘I needed to get food and supplies anyway,’ she announced to herself in a pep-talk fashion. ‘Let’s see if I can get to the Hartglove shops and back in one unnoticed, undisturbed piece.’