Chapter Three – Rose
ROSE
The Wham, Bam, Thank You Ma’am Man
“ L ook at that widdle tummy,” I cooed, scratching Hades’ tummy. “Have you been keeping those mousey mouses away? What about the ratties? You’re such a good boy!”
“Rose, you’re risking your life by touching a cat’s belly,” Susan said, leaning on our shared fence as she squinted down at the black furball writhing away on my path. “Although he does seem to be enjoying it.”
“Of course, he is.” I walked my fingers up Hades’ furry belly to scratch under his chin. “He wouldn’t let me do it if he didn’t like it.”
“Isn’t that how you got that scar on your left pointer finger?”
I glanced at my hand and the four little scars that decorated that finger. One by my knuckle, one almost identically placed on the underside of my finger, and two more on the pad.
Not to be dramatic but getting bitten by a terrified ten-month-old kitten had been one of the most painful experiences of my life.
And not even necessarily the bite itself. The resulting infection from his deceptively sharp little gnashers had really done me dirty. Between that making my finger look like a balloon sausage and the antibiotics, I’d been knocked on my arse for about four days.
“Well, that wasn’t really his fault,” I said, brushing it off as Hades got up and walked about six steps before flopping down in the sun to wash himself. “He was spooked by Heather’s puppy, and my finger just happened to be blocking his path of escape.”
“That’s true,” Susan mused. “And he is a sweet little boy. I’d prefer he didn’t leave mice outside my shed, though. It drives me batty having to ask George to get rid of the dead little critters.”
“He’s just bringing you a little present. It means he loves you,” I said, using one of my raised vegetable beds to haul myself to my feet.
“No, it means he thinks I’m too incompetent to feed myself.”
“And he loves you so much he’s helping you out with that,” I replied. “Whatever it is, he pretty much saved us when that bunch of rats moved in over the winter.”
“I know.” She touched her gloved hand to her face, smearing dirt across her cheek. “I just feel so bad when he kills things.”
“It’s a trade-off.” I sighed and picked up my water bottle. “He can’t catch birds to save his life, so I don’t mind the mice and rats. Plus, he’s a natural deterrent for rodents for the most part just by virtue of his presence.”
“I suppose. If he weren’t here, we’d have a nightmare with rats and the chickens.” Susan sighed dramatically. “Then the council would be on our last nerves about managing them, and I suppose Hades is better than poison.”
“What a strange sentence to arrive to.” Isa popped open my gate. “There’s a massive hullabaloo out there, by the way. Do you know what’s going on?”
“Ugh.” I dropped my head back and stared up at the clear, blue sky. “That means he’s here, doesn’t it?”
“Who’s here?” Isa asked. “Prince William? Theo James? Henry Cavill? Tom Hardy?”
“Isn’t Henry Cavill the superman bloke?” Susan asked. “What would Superman be doing in Hanbury?”
“Same as all the other rich people who come here,” Isa replied. “Buying our houses for overinflated prices and killing the property market for locals.”
Ouch.
Why didn’t she tell us how she really felt?
Susan shook her head, sighing forlornly. “It’s getting harder and harder to live an idyllic country life.”
“I think Henry Cavill has better things to do than buy a house in Hanbury,” I said, putting my water bottle down.
“Right, but you still haven’t told us what you’re talking about.” Isa poked around in one of my raised beds. “Hey, you missed a courgette. It’s about to break out and stage a coup.”
Fucking courgettes.
They were the bane of my existence.
“I have no idea how they manage to always hide.” I shuffled over to where she was and moved the leaves aside. Thank God I was wearing my gloves—there was nothing worse than getting stabbed by those spiky little hairs on the stems.
“Hey,” Isa said, staring at the courgette. “How do you always manage to grow vegetables bigger than my ex’s dick?”
“I’ve grown radishes longer than his dick.”
Susan snorted. “Isn’t your ex that handsome vet you work with? He did my Merlot’s annual check-up last week, and I felt like a schoolgirl every time he smiled at me.”
Only Susan would name her dog after her favourite wine.
And flirt with a vet who was young enough to be her son.
Not that I was judging her. If I were, I’d judge her for her crush on George before deriding her for fancying her vet.
You go get yourself a tasty little boytoy, Susan.
Isa spun and pointed an accusatory finger at her. “Wrong ex.”
“She only went out with him for three weeks,” I said, peeking around Isa to look at the older woman. “I don’t know if we can call him an ex.”
Susan narrowed her eyes. “Was there something wrong with his penis, Isa?”
This woman was out here shouting about sexual harassment to George only a week ago, now she wanted to know about her vet’s cock.
Pick a damn lane, Susan.
Pick. A. Lane.
Maybe I was judging her a little now …
“No, his penis was fine,” Isa said, sighing and looking at her nails. “But he did call me by his ex’s name during sex, so what was I supposed to do? I’m far too beautiful and talented to be a rebound for anyone.”
I stared at her. “You’re so humble, Isadora. It’s a wonder more people aren’t aware of your greatness.”
She sniffed, laying a hand dramatically against her chest. “I know. It’s Hanbury’s greatest tragedy. No, it’s Devon’s greatest tragedy. England’s, perhaps. Shakespeare would weep with inspiration if we ever met.”
“Can you believe she says I’m the weird one?” I asked Susan, rolling my eyes. “She should be in showbusiness with the dramatics she throws out.”
Susan tapped her chin. “The drama group is looking for a new member for the panto this Christmas.”
Isa brightened and rushed across my plot to grab Susan’s hand over the fence. “Really? Will you put in a good word for me? I’ve been trying to get in for ages!”
“Consider it done.” Susan clasped Isa’s hand just as tightly, and if the two of them were in a cartoon, they’d have little excited sparks flying off their heads. “Leave it to me, Isa.”
“Susan, you’re a darling.”
Jesus Christ.
This place got crazier by the day.
The last thing Lady Narcissist over here needed was a whole arse stage for her to play out her delusions in front of hundreds of poor, unsuspecting theatregoers trying to rustle up some semblance of Christmas spirit.
“Anyway, who is the he that you said was here?” Isa pointed to my vegetable bed. “There’s another courgette hiding there.”
“Son of a bitch,” I hissed, turning around to that bed. “How do you always see them, but I don’t?”
“I get my eyes tested regularly.”
“Must you mock me so? You know how I feel about those little puffs of air they shoot into your eyes with their little machine.”
“Yes, yes, I know. It feels like a tornado on your eyeballs.”
I cut off the rogue courgette and added it to my basket. “Exactly. It gets windy enough here during storm season without opticians taking liberty with the only set of balls I possess.”
“Well said,” Susan demurred. “But that doesn’t explain who he is.”
I smacked the side of the vegetable bed with my snips. “Pah!”
“Ooh, I know this one!” Isa clapped her hands together and grinned. “There’s only one person who could elicit such a visceral reaction from you. It’s the new Duke of Hanbury!”
I glared at her. “Why are you so thrilled?”
“Ah, simple.” Isa raised her finger, her eyes glittering. “I’ve heard he’s extremely handsome, and I am a big fan of handsome men.”
I was aware. My best friend was basically the village encyclopaedia on handsome men. There wasn’t a thing she didn’t know about every attractive man within a fifteen-mile radius of Hanbury.
She’d probably dated a good chunk of them at least once.
You know what? Good for her.
“Isadora.” I grabbed her arm. “What do you know about him?”
“Nothing you can use to blackmail him, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
I paused. Shoot, she’s got me. “I wasn’t thinking that at all.”
“Your pause gave you away. That and you’re a terrible liar,” she said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Hmm. How much is it worth?”
“You’ll walk out of here with both legs intact. How does that sound?”
“Like we’re in an abusive relationship.”
“Then how about you don’t have to bail me out of jail for an entire month?”
Isa narrowed her eyes. “Are you intending to do anything that’ll result in you being locked up for a timeout again?”
I held up my hands. “I never intend to do anything that’ll make Shaun haul me in for a timeout. It just happens accidentally.”
“You know, Isa,” Susan said, tapping her fingers against the fence. “Given that she was in timeout twice in one week last summer, that’s a good deal. She’s just entering her season of trouble. Anything could happen. It’s why she’s not allowed to light fires here anymore.”
Look. Almost setting my shed on fire happened one time, and it wasn’t even that close a call.
“You should listen to Susan,” I said. “She’s a wise woman.”
“Does that mean I don’t have to do the calendar?” Susan asked.
“I thought you wanted to stick it to George and show him your nice ripe melons?”
“I don’t want to show George anything except the sight of a melon as I hurl it at him.”
Please. The poor dear would put her back out doing that. I’d seen her handle a beach ball, and that was chaotic enough.
“This place is unhinged,” Isa said, cracking her knuckles. “Susan, just tell George you want to play with his cucumber and be done with it.”
Susan gasped. “Don’t be crude!”
That was a bit rich coming from the woman who’d enquired after the state of her veterinarian’s penis ten minutes ago.