FOURTEEN #2
‘Totally private,’ said Oliver. ‘Except for my neighbour.’
Neighbour? What neighbour?
‘You’ve got someone on the other side of the gatehouse?’
‘No.’
I gave a small laugh as the penny dropped that he was referring to me. ‘Oh, well, your neighbour won’t bother you, I promise.’
I don’t know whether I imagined it or not, but I was almost certain I heard him say, ‘Shame’ quietly as if it wasn’t entirely meant for me.
I moved away from the window and started talking about the kitchen, and how well set up it was, how I liked to bake.
‘Even Grainger begrudgingly said he liked the banana loaf I made the other day.’
I was behind the kitchen island now. The counter offered both a physical and mental barrier. Oliver came to stand in the kitchen, on the other side of the counter, looking at me, hands in his pockets. There was a small smile at the corners of his mouth.
‘You cook?’ he said.
‘Bake, not cook. There’s a difference.’
‘And you’ve baked Grainger banana loaf?’ He rested his hands on the countertop.
‘Yes.’
I wasn’t sure if he was being serious now or not.
Oliver nodded slowly, the smile still there, still unreadable.
‘He doesn’t usually eat anything like that.’
He paused, and something shifted in his expression.
‘Right.’ He looked down briefly, and when he looked back up, the smile had deepened just slightly.
‘So, my neighbour bakes. Good to know.’ He pushed off from the counter.
‘And everything is okay here for you? If you don’t think the isolation up here is for you, just let me know.’
‘No. I like it here,’ I said quickly and then paused. ‘Unless, of course, you don’t think I’m right for the job.’ I hated saying it, but a sudden wave of uncertainty washed over me. If Oliver didn’t think I was the right person for the job, I wanted to know so I could make new arrangements.
‘I think you’re doing just fine,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you like it up here.’
‘So, you’re not sacking me?’
He gave a chuckle and shook his head. ‘No, Alex, I’m not sacking you.’
‘That’s a relief. I mean––‘
‘I know what you mean.’ And I think he did. He crossed to the door, pausing with his hand on the door handle. ‘Let me know if there’s anything you need. I’ll catch you later.’
I blew out a slow breath. Okay. I still had my job. That was good. What wasn’t quite so good, was the sensation that Oliver could see more than I wanted him to.
Over the next twenty-four hours, I carried on as normal, or as close to normal as I could manage. That included trying not to think too much about Oliver. Turned out, it was hard work hitting that goal.
Outwardly I managed to keep it professional though and when our paths crossed when he was with Harry and Louise looking at the client lodges, I gave him a nod as I walked by and he gave me one in return.
The fact that we both held onto that gaze for a second longer than necessary was not wasted on me.
Then that evening when I had passed by the gatehouse, I had glanced over at the window, only to see Oliver standing there with a cup in his hand, his eyes tracking me.
I looked away. Looked back. He was still watching.
My heart did a silly little flutter and in that moment, I stopped pretending, even to myself.
It wasn’t the extended phone calls every evening, it wasn’t the way he had held me that night in the cabin, it wasn’t any of the small micro moments I had been rationalising since I’d first ever met him, less than a month ago.
It was that look. It was nothing, yet it was everything and the realisation that I was in a great deal of trouble.
The following day, he called over to the lodge to collect Paddy. He hadn’t needed to come in, but he did. Paddy was already on his feet and at the door before the engine had even stopped.
‘Boss,’ he said, as Oliver stepped past him.
‘Two seconds,’ said Oliver. He moved into the room. ‘Grainger. Alex.’
‘Boss,’ said Grainger.
I didn’t need to look at Grainger to know he was eyeing the pair of us with amused interest.
‘I’m heading off now,’ he said, addressing us both but looking at me. ‘I’ll be back next weekend.’
‘Burns Night on Sunday,’ said Grainger.
‘Yeah,’ said Oliver, still looking at me. ‘Keep the diary free. We’ve got some networking to do in Risk town that night.’
‘Sure,’ I replied, employing every tactic I knew to stop myself from reacting.
‘Have a good week.’ He paused in the doorway. ‘And Grainger? Do as you’re told.’
‘Boss.’
And Oliver was gone. I kept my gaze fixed on the window as the Jeep pulled away. I braced myself for whatever comment Grainger was about to make.
He said nothing.
In the end, I turned to him.
‘Think very carefully about what you say next. Remember, it’s time for your physio session, and it can go one of two ways. Hard or harder.’
He gave a chuckle. ‘I’m saying nothing, only… networking.’
He emphasised the last word.
OLIVER
My apartment always seemed empty without Noah, but since getting back from Risk, it seemed even quieter.
Noah was with Marsha and I didn’t quite know what to do with myself.
I tried to concentrate on the meeting with Harry and Louise, on what we had decided needed doing, the materials, the schedule, and so on.
It had been successful, and things were about to move on a quicker pace now.
All of that was good. But my thoughts were constantly being drowned out by thoughts of Alex.
I hadn’t needed to go to see her either of those times. I could have sent Paddy to show her the lodge. I could have emailed about Burns Night. But I had done neither. Did I regret it? No. Not even slightly. Which was its own kind of answer.
When it was finally time to go and pick up Noah, I was relieved for something else to think about.
He said he’d had a nice time with his mum, but not a lot else.
We’d got pizza on the way home, and he’d asked me how long until we were back at Risk.
I told him soon. It was the most enthusiastic I’d felt about anything all day, which I chose not to examine too closely.
Now we were home, he was in his bedroom playing on a new game Marsha had bought him. I was sitting in the living room, looking at my phone and wondering what reason I could have for calling Alex that evening.
I mean, I called her every evening. I told myself it was to check on Grainger, and it was, partly.
The medical updates were necessary, and the oversight of the estate was sensible.
But somehow around the third call, something had shifted.
The line between good management and something a little less professional, something I didn’t want to name, had blurred.
I stop pretending to myself that I wasn’t looking forward to hearing her voice.
Especially once the conversation moved on from Grainger’s ankle etc and into the small details of our days.
I checked my watch. It was 8pm––the time I usually called. I considered waiting a couple of minutes but reminded myself I wasn’t a teenager who was trying to play it cool. This was a business call as much as anything else and keeping to the schedule was the right thing to do.
Honestly, who was I trying to kid?
She answered on the second ring. ‘Hi, Oliver.’
I could tell she was smiling. ‘Hey, Alex. How’s it going?’ I could hear the smile in my own voice. We chatted for several minutes about Grainger, and I filled her in on the work schedule for the cabins.
‘So, at the end of February I’m afraid your peace will be shattered,’ I said. ‘Not only will I be there with Noah, but there will be a lot of contractors coming and going.’
‘I shall look forward to that,’ she said. ‘Some of it, anyway.’
I stopped myself from asking her to clarify exactly which bit she was looking forward to. ‘We’ll open the rear gate then, so it’s easier for the lorries and construction workers.’
‘Oh, that reminds me,’ she said. ‘The local police officer came up to the estate today.’
‘Ryan Mackenzie?’
‘Yes, that’s right. He said there’d been a break-in at a couple of the local farms. Apparently, a white transit van has been seen in the area a few times. He just said he was giving me the heads up.’
‘I’m sure there are plenty of white transit vans about. Make sure you keep the back gates locked.’
‘I checked them. All secure. Nothing to worry about.’
‘That’s for me to decide.’ I caught myself and adjusted my tone. ‘I can send Paddy up for the week, if you prefer.’